Worldliness in the opposite direction is still worldliness.
When I was a teenager, I wore a lot of Christian t-shirts.
My favorite one had a Christian ichthus fish swimming against the current in the midst of various other fish swimming in the opposite direction. “Go against the flow,” it proclaimed. Here’s a picture of it I found on flickr.
The concept, of course, was that Christians should be “not of this world.” Romans 12:2 says, “Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” It’s a solid Christian principle: Christians should be different.
As a teenager, I thought I had a pretty good idea of what it meant to be different from the world. In my mind, it meant that I shouldn’t curse, smoke, drink, or have premarital sex. It meant that I should avoid any kind of sin, no matter how small or insignificant it might seem to others. It meant that I should avoid unhealthy influences on my mind, from porn to violent movies to obscene music. And it meant that I should take a bold, public stand on controversial issues—including political issues—where the Christian point of view was different from a worldly one.
In general, I still think that most of these are good advice for Christians, though perhaps with a few modifications. I no longer think that Christians are obligated to abstain from all alcohol, for instance, but I still think it’s a good idea not to get drunk.
But as a teenager, I focused way too much on that last one—taking public stands on controversial issues—and I see a lot of Christians today doing the same thing. And to be frank, I don’t think that’s what Paul meant when he said we shouldn’t conform to the pattern of this world.
Let’s face it: The pattern of this world is chock full of people taking controversial stands on issues. Our world loves taking stands on issues. The worldly approach is to shout your point of view whenever possible and use any means necessary to make sure your team wins. And when Christians follow the same pattern, it doesn’t matter if the stand is different; we’re still following the same pattern.
What isn’t the pattern of the world is a position of humility. Of love. Of stopping to listen to the person you disagree with. Of compassion for your enemy.
Which is exactly what Paul talks about in Romans 12.
“Do not conform to the pattern of this world,” he says, “but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” And what does it look like to be transformed?
Yes, avoid sin and love God. But also:
- Rom. 12:3 - “Do not think of yourself more highly than you ought.”
- Rom. 12:10 - “Be devoted to one another in love. Honor one another above yourselves.”
- Rom. 12:13 - “Share with the Lord’s people who are in need. Practice hospitality.”
- Rom. 12:14 - “Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse.”
- Rom. 12:16 - “Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited.”
- Rom. 12:17 - “Do not repay anyone evil for evil.”
- Rom. 12:18 - “As far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.”
In fact, the tone of this whole chapter—and, indeed, much of Paul’s letters—is that Christians should be models for humble service and love beyond what others deserve.
That’s what it means not to conform to the pattern of the world.
Because in the world at large, when you disagree with someone, you make them your enemy and you fight them. You shout your views and shout down theirs. You build a coalition to steamroll over them if you can. And if they show weakness, you exploit it. Your political party/activist group/sports team/whatever you’re part of has to win. That can only happen if the other guy loses, right?
And yet we Christians are called instead to be like Jesus: turning the other cheek, showing hospitality, giving more than is necessary, being humble, caring about the folks who oppose us and who may not ever love us back.
Others will call it madness. They jeered at Jesus and told him to take himself down off the cross if he could.
He didn’t. He let them crucify him.
And in the end, he won.
It’s time for everybody’s favorite game show: What’s My Sign?
I love the (old?) title of Matthew Paul Turner’s blog, “Jesus Needs New PR.” It’s so true. Sorry, folks, but in my opinion, those Testamints on your coffee table are less likely to turn people on to the gospel than they are to turn people off to all things Christian. Testamints want to be a cute way of sharing a message about God’s love for all. Instead, the message I’m afraid they send is, “Christians are crazy! Come join us in our massive cult! Here, have some Kool-Aid! And a mint!”
But Testamints are nothing compared to the Crazy Sign People.
You know the ones I’m talking about. The protesting folks with the megaphones and the giant crazy signs (I’m not saying that the people are crazy, but the signs definitely are) that so easily become emblematic of everything people hate about (what they think is) Christianity.
You know, like this:
Oh man. There it is, the gospel encapsulated. Just one question: WHY DO YOU (HEART) THAT FONT?
Now, when I see an image like this, there’s one part of me that wants to have a serious theological conversation about what it does and doesn’t symbolize, the intended message versus the conveyed message, and why this damages Christianity’s credibility. Unfortunately, it’s hard for me to hear what that part of me is saying when the rest of me is giggling madly.
So if you’re hoping for an insightful and thought-provoking analysis, you might want to skip this post. This one is for those of you who giggle in church and at all the wrong times. That’s right, it’s this week’s edition of “Analyze My Crazy Sign!”
This sign does have a lot to teach us. It’s the kind of divine message that wouldn’t fit on a church flyer or even on two stone tablets; it takes nothing less than a vinyl skyscraper. I know a message this impactful can be overwhelming, so let’s start at the very beginning. (A very good place to start.)
The diatribe begins by asking us, “Why do you (heart) the devil?” Now, before scrolling down, I thought this was some kind of ad campaign, like “Why do YOU love Hamburger Helper?”, to be followed by a list of reasons to heart the devil. Apparently not. I now realize the truth, that these people—or the things they own—heart the devil. And while those devil-hearting people might complain that the apostrophes on this sign are “unnecessary” or “wrong,” that’s only because they love details, and as we all know, the devil is in the details.
Besides, you can tell that the sign-maker is a good Christian because of his generosity in giving out apostrophes to so many words—words that didn’t have any apostrophes at all until he graciously shared his with them! He’s literally bestowed his generosity upon every plural word ending in S on the entire sign. Every one. Well, except “Druggies.” The druggies don’t get an apostrophe. (They probably did get one, but they misplaced it. You know how they are.)
But the core of this message isn’t about grammar. It’s that the sign-maker cares so much about so many different types of people that he’s willing to ask them all why they heart the devil instead of jumping to conclusions. And it’s really thoughtful of him not to leave anyone out. Some of my favorites:
HOMO’S - Homo Sapiens, Homo Erectus, Homosexuals, Homeowners—no one gets left out here. Why do you heart the devil, homeowners? Shouldn’t your treasure be in heaven, not in a mortgage?
GANGSTER’S - Like Al Capone!
EMO’S - Like Emo Philips!
BAHI’S - Here it might be tempting to think that he means Bahá’ís, but I’m pretty sure this is a reference to the sound sheep make when they try to say hello: “Baaaahi.” As everyone knows, sheep love the devil—and hate Serta mattresses.
WIFEBEATER’S - Yes! Yes! Yes! Please don’t wear these in public. If you do, you love the devil. Also, could we all start calling them tank tops, please? Thanks. (Side note: While this sign is ridiculous, there is absolutely nothing funny about spousal abuse.</disclaimer>)
NEW AGER’S - Only Old Agers get into heaven.
ENVIRONMENTALIST’S - That’s right: when you hug that tree, you might as well be hugging the devil. The devil loves hanging out in trees, you know; remember Eden? (The garden. Not Barbara.)
GOVERNMENT RECIPIENT’S - So true. Don’t receive any government, y’all. If the fire department tries to put out the flames when your non-environmentalist-approved trash fire spreads, just say, “Get thee behind me, government!” and shoo them away. (This also works for police, IRS agents, and political robocalls.)
LOUD MOUTH WOMEN - You’re forgiven if this one confused you at first (why no loud mouth men or large mouth bass?), but I’m pretty sure he’s thinking of when you accidentally have your GPS turned up too loud, and it keeps shouting at you to make a left. Of course she wants you to go left; that’s all part of the devil’s plan.
EFFEMINATE MEN - Yikes, men! Put down that vacuum and go turn on some football!
SPORT’S NUT’S - …or not. And hey! There’s the missing apostrophe from the Druggies! The sports nuts are hogging them! Oh, you crazy sports nuts. (Planters nuts, by the way, love God. And peanuts… aren’t nuts.)
HIGH FULLUTENT - You guys, no lie, the first time I read this, I was sure it said High(ly) Flatulent. And yes, I’m pretty sure that’s of the devil.
FREELOADER’S - This one was a subtle message to his live-at-home adult son.
P.K’S - I wasn’t sure at first if this meant “Promise Keepers” or “Preachers’ Kids” (both of whom clearly love the devil), but then it hit me. PKS actually means Proper Kapitalization and Spelling, which is something the devil definitely LOVES. Stay out of skool, kid’s.
SOPHISTICATED SWINE - It’s true. God likes the dumb pigs. Dumb pigs only, you guys. None of those highly flatulent sophisticates like Emo Philips.
Well, folks, that’s it for this week’s edition of “Analyze My Crazy Sign”! Tune in next time when we try to determine whether that church down the road meant for its inspirational message to be a double entendre!
Sick of Christianity? This one’s for you.
Do you ever get sick of Christianity?
Are you a Christian, but embarrassed to be seen as one?
Are you a non-Christian who secretly (or not so secretly) wants to run the other way every time someone near you self-identifies as a Christian?
Are you tired of the politics that seems to have overtaken compassion in religious circles?
Sick of the televangelists who rake in money from people drowning in debt?
Angry at the hypocrisy of self-righteous loudmouths who are quick to talk about other people’s sins but slow to recognize their own?
Do you long for a Christian leader to stand up and say, “Enough!”? Someone with the guts to call out his or her own people and lead the church back in a more generous, compassionate direction?
Ever wonder why no one seems to do that?
I’m right there with you.
But you know, it’s not fair to say that no one is standing up. I know a lot of Christians who are standing up and saying those very things. All too often, though, their voices get drowned out by others who claim to represent the same faith but do so in a way that, in my opinion, makes us look really bad.
I’ll give you a great example. I know a young pastor who grew up in a religious family and was upset by the rampant hypocrisy and legalism he saw in the church. Instead of just grumbling about it, he decided to do something about it. In his sermons, he began preaching about religious hypocrisy, calling out his fellow church leaders for their self-righteous attitudes, all the while spending his personal social time getting to know the most non-churchy members of his community and not only inviting them to become members of his church, but naming them some of its most visible leaders.
This created no minor controversy with the local pastors, who insisted that God’s people aren’t even supposed to eat or drink with sinners. They pushed him to publicly condemn people who (like me) were considered by his denomination to be “living in sin.” When he refused, they accused him of being soft on sin, and called for him to be disciplined. They successfully turned the community against him, claiming he wasn’t a true believer and that his teachings were of the devil.
He ultimately lost everything, including his dignity. Yet through it all, he continued to practice the compassion he preached, refusing to get political even under tremendous pressure, and spending his free time tending to the needs of the hurting in his community rather than worrying about what others might say. In my opinion, he’s the kind of guy we ought to be listening to, someone who truly gets the meaning of grace, someone who says that my job as a Christian is to strive to live my own life as morally as possible, while showing you grace when you sin, not the other way around.
If he were the head of the Christian church in America today, I think it would be a much different place to be.
And that’s why I call myself one of his followers, even though in the 2,000 years since he walked the earth, so many people have used his name to justify the very behaviors he so strongly opposed.
Hey, that’s not really a compromise!
One of the issues I frequently encounter in conversations about controversial issues is what I call the “false compromise.” (There is a related logical fallacy called “false compromise,” but here I’m using the term in a way that is slightly different.)
Stick with me on this; I’m about to get all philosophical on you.
False compromises can exist whenever one side makes an exclusive claim about what is true or good and the other side makes a non-exclusive claim, but then offers to “compromise” with a similarly non-exclusive claim.
For example, let’s say that Alice and Bob are having an argument.
“I believe that Jesus is the only way to God,” says Alice. “Without Jesus, our sins would separate all of us from God. No other path to God can get you there without Jesus.”
Bob disagrees. “There are lots of religions in the world,” he says, “and they offer a number of different, equally valid paths to God. Jesus is one path to God, but not the only one.”
The two of them argue back and forth. Alice continues to argue that Jesus is the way, and Bob argues that Jesus is one way of many.
Finally, Bob attempts a compromise. “Well, how about we meet in the middle. Maybe Jesus is the only path for you, but he’s not the only path for me.”
In Bob’s mind, that’s a reasonable compromise. In Alice’s mind, it isn’t.
Why? Because it isn’t really a compromise at all. It’s actually just another version of the position Bob already held.
See, Bob already believed that there were multiple valid paths to God. By suggesting separate paths for himself and Alice, he’s continuing to believe that. So this “compromise” doesn’t require him to change his mind about anything; it’s just another way of saying something he already believed. By contrast, this “compromise” flies in the face of what Alice stands for, which is that there is only one valid path to God, a path that applies to everyone on the planet, including Bob.
That “compromise” isn’t really a compromise. It’s a false compromise that makes Bob feel good about himself while making Alice look like the extremist jerk when she rejects his proposed compromise. But it was never really a fair suggestion to begin with.
Another example: In the homosexuality debate, there are two basic positions. One (“Side A”) argues that we should celebrate loving, committed relationships regardless of gender. The other (“Side B”) argues that sex is designed to be between a man and a woman. In other words, Side A says that gay sex is acceptable (within the right context), and Side B says that it’s never acceptable, because it’s inherently sinful.
I used to be on Side B, and now I’m on Side A. But I often hear my fellow Side-Aers try to suggest a “compromise” position to the other side: “Well, how about we just agree that gay sex would be wrong for the people on Side B, but it’s not wrong for those of us on Side A.”
See, that’s not really a compromise. That’s really a Side A position.
As a Side A Christian, it’s easy for me to say, “I also respect the consciences of those who believe God calls them to celibacy.” I can do that without abandoning my Side A beliefs. It’s much harder for someone who is Side B to do the same for me, because they believe that gay sex is sinful for everyone; that’s part of what Side B means. So asking both sides to agree that the other’s approach is “right for them” isn’t really fair; it’s really biased in favor of Side A.
I hear about these sorts of false compromises all the time, and the group on the exclusive end of one issue may be on the non-exclusive end of another.
For instance, if I believe that ex-gay therapy is inherently harmful, then no, I don’t think it’s a “fair compromise” to say that it should be offered “only to those who want it.” Similar false compromises show up on questions about whether we should teach things as fact in schools (like evolution or the Holocaust). The same person who is irritated by Bob’s false compromise on multiple paths to God might not see any problem with a false compromise on teaching multiple theories of creation in school, and vice versa.
So in any given issue, whether you’re on the side of exclusivity or the side of non-exclusivity, keep in mind that not all compromises are really compromises. (And if you disagree with me on this, let’s meet in the middle and just agree that I’m right.)
What every woman wants. Or not.
Today I received an email from a well-known Christian organization, promoting a new book about biblical (“kingdom”) manhood. In this book, the email tells me, “men will be empowered to exercise the God-given leadership they were created for by giving them a kingdom understanding, vision and perspective on their identity. It also covers a biblical worldview of a man’s responsibilities, along with practical steps on how to be the man they were destined to become!”
The email includes a couple of quotes, promoting the book.
“This book is a must-read for any man who wants to live up to God’s design for male leadership of the family!” one trumpets.
“Every woman wants a kingdom man,” the other boasts; “the man of every woman’s dream is found in these pages.”
Sigh.
I don’t have to tell you that there’s a lot of serious disagreement within Christian communities about gender and the question of male authority. Many Christians strongly believe that men and women should be equals in the church and at home, pointing out that all of us are created in God’s image and that Paul said that in Christ there is “no male and female.” Other Christians just as strongly believe that the Bible prescribes differing roles for men and women, with men as the heads of the church and the family. We could argue all day about whether a view like this is biblical or sexist, correctly applying scriptures in conflict with our culture or incorrectly letting the patriarchal culture of Paul’s day overshadow the deeper Christian call for equality.
I have a lot of thoughts on that one, but for the moment, I actually want to focus on something else.
What bothers me most about this email isn’t the controversial questions about gender roles. It’s the related assumptions we Christians so often make about people.
“Every woman wants a kingdom man.” Really? Every woman?
Some women find the most joy in celibacy. Some women are gay and aren’t attracted to men at all. Some women are straight but their ideal man doesn’t match this particular guy’s description of an ideal man.
Women are not all the same, and to suggest that they are is really troubling to me.
This isn’t just a Christian thing. In the days leading up to Valentine’s Day, I heard a lot of ads saying that “every woman wants” a box from a particular jeweler, or that “every woman wants” roses or chocolates from her sweetheart. But no, not every woman wants these things. Not even close.
It’s hyperbole, of course, and we expect some of that from advertisers. But it matters, and we shouldn’t let it infect the church.
As human beings, most of us fear being alone and excluded on some level. Even introverts like me want to be understood and appreciated by others. Most of us have, at one time or another, asked ourselves the question, “Am I normal? Are other people in this world like me? Am I the only one who feels this way or worries about this thing or has this experience?” We want to be normal, but we’re not all the same. When other people try to put us in boxes, telling us that everyone experiences things a certain way, it can make us feel deeply alone.
I know, I know. It seems like it’s not a big deal. But so much of my job involves talking to people who feel alone and misunderstood in their own churches, people who are constantly hearing others say that “everyone” is like this or like that, and if they’re not, they wonder if the church is really a place for them. I’m not just talking about gay people. I’m talking about anyone who doesn’t fit into other people’s boxes. Not everyone can walk up those stairs. Not everyone is able to hear that music. Not everyone is married, and not everyone is planning to be. Not every woman loves to cook, and not every man loves football. Not everyone who defies the expectations for their gender is gay, and not every gay person defies the expectations for their gender. Not every Christian feels joy all the time. Not everyone in your church feels confident about their faith.
We’re all normal, and none of us are.
I have more to say on this, so I’ll write some more next time. In the meantime, let’s stop the hyperbole. There’s no such thing as a man or diamond or flower that every woman wants. Instead, let’s try to be a church where every woman—every person—can be welcomed and feel normal, just as they are.
The made-up war.
Okay, let’s get this straight, once and for all.
Christians are always going to be at odds with “the world” in certain ways. The Bible calls us to humility, sacrifice, and generosity, and there will always be people who will take advantage of that. There will always be forms of persecution and ridicule aimed at us, and we need to be prepared for it.
But, my fellow Christians, could we please stop making up persecution where it doesn’t exist?
For years I’ve been hearing American Christians complain about a so-called “war on Christmas.” They’re upset when secular retailers wish people “happy holidays” instead of “merry Christmas,” and they view it as evidence that our society is trying to take Jesus out of the most important holiday of the year. In response, they write letters and stage angry protests to pressure these stores and their employees to say “Christmas” as much as possible. Merry Christmas. Light the Christmas tree. Shove people out of the way for the Christmas sale. And don’t you dare abbreviate it “Xmas,” or you might as well be defacing nativity scenes.
“After all,” they remind us, “Jesus is the reason for the season.”
As a committed Christian, I find so many things wrong with this that I almost don’t know where to start.
First of all, there’s nothing wrong with “happy holidays.” There are multiple holidays celebrated around this time of year. Here in America, the period of time from Thanksgiving through New Year’s is often called “the holiday season,” and though it includes and focuses on Christmas, it’s not only Christmas people celebrate.
Secondly, not everyone is a Christian. Acknowledging that non-Christians are celebrating this season too isn’t just respectful; it’s also important if I actually care about the spiritual meaning of the season at all.
If you don’t believe in Jesus, why on earth would I want to force you to refer to him as if you did? Isn’t that like forcing non-Christians to put “Jesus fish” on their car as a fashion statement? Let’s face it; “Christmas” has become a big secular celebration for gift-giving in our culture. For me, though, Christmas is something more: a time to reflect on the most important gift God has given me in the form of Jesus Christ. If someone else wants to swap Target gift cards on that day and say “happy holidays,” I’m okay with that. I’d honestly rather that they didn’t feel the need to refer to my Savior if he means nothing to them. Otherwise, wouldn’t it be like a form of taking the Lord’s name in vain?
That’s especially true for the big secular retailers. What does buying a flat-screen TV have to do with worshiping the guy who told a rich man to give all he had to the poor? As far as I’m concerned, shopping malls can call this time of year whatever they want. Just leave Christ out of it. I don’t really want to see Jesus as the unpaid celebrity endorser for Walmart.
And while we’re on the subject, no, Jesus isn’t entirely the “reason for the season.” Roman winter solstice festivals in late December predate the observation of Christmas. Historians argue about whether the church chose December 25 for Jesus’ birth in order to coincide with those festivals or whether it was for other, more theological reasons, but it seems certain that many elements of today’s Christmas celebrations (like that Christmas tree) actually come from pagan celebrations, not Christian ones. And let’s be honest here. From a theological standpoint, Easter is the more significant holiday, because that’s when Jesus rose again, conquering death once and for all and bringing us all delicious marshmallow Peeps—argh! No, that’s wrong. See what happens when you don’t distinguish the sacred from the secular?
Oh, and “Xmas”? It isn’t, as some have thought, an attempt to “take the Christ out of Christmas.” It comes from an old practice by Christians of using the Greek letter “X” (chi) to represent “Christ.” Chi (which looks like an “X”) and rho (which looks like a “P”) are the first two letters of the Greek word for Christ, and are often used together in Christian art as a symbol of Jesus.
So go ahead, wish me “happy holidays.” Or “merry Christmas.” (Or “happy Christmas” if you’re British.) As for me, I’m celebrating two holidays on December 25. One of them is a religious reflection on the goodness of God and the birth of my Savior. The other is a loud, showy secular holiday with Santa Claus, wasteful spending, and too much food. They’re both called Christmas, but hey, if you wanted to call that second one something else with no relation to Jesus, I wouldn’t mind that one bit.
“But I believe sexual immorality is wrong!” “Um… me too.”
As the executive director of The Gay Christian Network, I get to talk to a lot of LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender) Christians every day. I get to hear about their faith, their joys, and also their biggest frustrations.
Today, I’d like to talk about one of the most common frustrations I hear from them over and over again.
When someone comes out to their friends or family as gay (or bi or trans) and Christian, it can be a very difficult step for them. Often, their (well-meaning) friends or family members respond in ways that are unintentionally hurtful. We examined some of those ways in our film Through My Eyes.
Non-Christians tell us we’re foolish to belong to a religion that doesn’t want us. Christians quote Bible verses from Leviticus or 1 Corinthians, imagining that we’ve never read them. (Hint: we have, and many of us spent years agonizing over how to interpret them in light of our experience.) People on all sides make a lot of assumptions about us and what we believe.
But for many people I talk to, the most frustrating response of all is when they try to explain themselves, only to have a Christian friend or relative say something like this:
“I love you, and I know this is hard for you. But I believe that what God says matters more than what feels good. All of us sometimes have to put our own desires aside to serve God. I might have a desire to cheat on my wife or look at porn, but part of being a Christian is turning from sin, and that’s what I do and what you have to do, too.”
It’s good Christian theology, right? So what’s wrong with that?
These Christians no doubt believe that they are compassionately holding a loved one accountable. What they often don’t realize is just how condescending this sounds from the other side.
See, those of us who are committed Christians already know that turning from sin is important. We are already seeking to follow God with our lives. The issue isn’t that we believe sin is okay or that we think our own feelings matter more than God; the issue is that we don’t agree on what the right or wrong thing to do in the given situation is. We don’t agree on whether the behavior in question is sinful, or what God is calling us to do in the present circumstances.
The committed Christian who is in a gay relationship isn’t in that relationship because he thinks “God’s Word doesn’t matter” or that it’s “okay to sin.” Not at all! He’s in that relationship because he believes God has called him to it and that the Bible passages used to condemn gay relationships have been misinterpreted.
Now maybe you believe he’s wrong. Fair enough. Maybe he is. But if he’s wrong, he’s sincerely wrong. He’s doing what he honestly believes is right.
In another blog post, I imagined a situation where one Christian preaches at another for praying with her head uncovered, uncharitably assuming that she must not believe the Bible if she was ignoring what Paul said on the subject. I got some strong reactions from that one. It’s immediately obvious to us all that the woman in question isn’t ignoring the Bible; she just interprets those passages differently. It’s frustrating to us and to her, then, when someone assumes she’s just deliberately ignoring it. But what we may not realize as quickly is that that same condescending attitude is behind the paragraph I quoted above.
Gay Christians, just like straight Christians, believe in avoiding sin. We believe in putting God’s will first, not our own. We also condemn sexual immorality, and we seek to live our lives in the way that is most pleasing to God. If we disagree about whether a particular relationship or response is sinful, it’s not because we’ve stopped believing in avoiding sin and therefore need to be reminded.
Certainly, let’s talk about the reasons we disagree and how we came to our respective conclusions. But first, let’s give each other the benefit of the doubt and assume that we’ve both done a lot of thinking about this and are honestly trying to live rightly. That can go a long way to building healthy relationships in the midst of disagreement.
Heads, I win; tails, you lose: 5 spiritual flip-flops Christians must avoid.
Remember the other day, when I wrote about Trendianity, Christianity’s copycat cousin? One way you can distinguish the two is when a disagreement arises.
Genuine, gospel-focused Christianity should lead us to be gracious in disagreement (Romans 14). In some situations, that means agreeing to disagree, while in others, we may be called to take a firm stand on something. When we do take a firm stand, I believe we’re called to do so in a way that is humble and gracious, demonstrating our love for the other person and our understanding of their position, even while carefully explaining where our own views differ and why.
Trendianity doesn’t bother with all of that. Trendianity has no room for humility or the possibility that I’m fallible and might have made a mistake. Trendianity insists only that I know I’m right and that I’m willing to resort to unfair, oversimplified arguments to win the debate at all costs.
One of Trendianity’s favorite tricks is like an old comedy routine about flipping a coin: “Heads, I win; tails, you lose.” In other words, whichever side of an argument I’m on, Trendianity has an overly simplistic argument I can use to “win” by pretending to be more spiritual than the other person.
Here are five scenarios where Trendianity stacks the deck with unfair spiritual trump cards. I’ll bet you’ve heard some of these before.
Scenario #1:
Someone gets a flat tire on the way to an event.
Trendianity Asks: Was it an event I approve of?
- Yes - “Well there you go; that’s proof you were doing the right thing, because the devil’s trying to stop you.”
- No - “Well there you go; that’s proof you were doing the wrong thing, and God’s trying to get your attention.”
Scenario #2:
Someone quotes a Bible passage to make a theological point.
Trendianity Asks: Do I agree with their point?
- Yes - “It’s right there, in black and white. If you disagree, you’re not just disagreeing with us; you’re disagreeing with God. God said it; I believe it; that settles it.”
- No - “That doesn’t mean anything. Even the devil can quote Scripture.”
Scenario #3:
In a disagreement about the right thing to do or believe, one person feels a strong internal conviction about the right way to go.
Trendianity Asks: Is that person me, or someone disagreeing with me?
- It’s me - “I’ve prayed about this, and the Holy Spirit has shown me the right answer. You can’t argue with what the Spirit says.”
- It’s someone else - “The Bible says that the heart is deceitful and untrustworthy. You can’t rely on your feelings in a situation like this; that’s just your heart leading you astray.”
Scenario #4:
Someone is questioning a church tradition or longstanding belief.
Trendianity Asks: Do I agree with the tradition?
- Yes - “How can you go against 2,000 years of the wisdom of the church? Do you think you’re better than all the great Christian thinkers who came before you?”
- No - “Traditions are just man-made. What really matters is what the Bible and/or Holy Spirit says about this, and if that contradicts the tradition then so be it.”
Scenario #5:
A controversial issue is being discussed, and someone brings up a Bible passage. On the surface, the passage would seem to make one point, but many Christians argue for an alternate understanding.
Trendianity Asks: Do I agree with the surface reading, or with the alternate reading?
- Alternate reading - “You have to understand this passage in context. It’s actually talking about [insert historical explanation here]. It doesn’t apply in the same way to Christians today.”
- Surface reading - “The Bible is written so we can understand it. Why would God allow this passage be here if it didn’t mean what it seems to mean on the surface? God wouldn’t want to confuse us.”
A few final words:
Some of these arguments do have a legitimate place in Christian theology. For instance, some passages do need to be read in proper historical context to be understood, and the heart can be deceitful and untrustworthy. The issue here isn’t with those ideas themselves; it’s with their use as simplistic trump cards to “prove” that I’m right and you’re wrong. In reality, the questions of whether historical context changes the meaning of a passage or whether someone’s inner feelings are deceitful are often challenging questions that deserve more than bumper-sticker slogans. These kinds of discussions require careful examination of all the facts and the humble acknowledgement that I might be wrong even when I’m sure I’m right.
Why is it important for us to avoid flippantly using these kinds of arguments? Because this is precisely what discredits Christianity in the eyes of non-Christians. If Christians use these kinds of arguments, it only lends legitimacy to the idea that Christianity is built on self-serving logic, when in fact this approach isn’t Christian at all.
Can you think of more of these unfair flip-flops? Share yours in the comments.
Trendianity.
I’m a Christian, and proud to be one. I believe the gospel is the most powerful, life-changing message there is.
But sometimes I don’t want to admit to people that I’m a Christian.
Am I ashamed of the gospel? Ashamed of Jesus? Not at all. I just don’t want to be associated with some of the terrible attitudes and behaviors that pass for Christianity in our culture. I’m sure you can think of plenty of examples. If you can’t, your non-Christian friends certainly can.
Frustratingly, if I talk too much about these problems in the church, I’m afraid I’ll unintentionally contribute to the idea that these things actually represent Christianity.
But they don’t represent Christianity! They represent something else entirely, something that only masquerades as Christianity.
I call it Trendianity.
Trendianity isn’t the Christianity of the Bible. It’s what Tony Campolo and Brian McLaren call “culture-controlled” Christianity. It’s Fool’s Gold Christianity. The cubic zirconia of the Good News.
Trendianity is the Gospel According to My Social Circles.
At its head is I-Can’t-Believe-It’s-Not-Jesus, the God made in our image who never challenges our preconceptions and always shares our political and cultural biases.
When I call it Trendianity, I’m not referring to fashion or technology trends. If your church is preaching the gospel, I don’t care if you’re reading from papyrus scrolls or broadcasting over a JumboTron. No, I’m talking about when we allow culture-bound ideas and priorities to take over Christ’s place of supremacy at the core of the faith.
See, at the heart of Trendianity is an obsession with the things most important to me. Trendianity says that my priorities are also God’s priorities. It says that the most pressing issues for the faith are the trending hot-button political and social issues of my own time and culture. If I disapprove of Elvis’s hips, then so does Trendianity. If I have a strong opinion about my country’s economic policy, Trendianity is there to back me up. And if, in fighting for my political beliefs, I talk down to people or treat them poorly, Trendianity makes me feel justified. After all, surely the Golden Rule isn’t meant to apply to situations where I’m fighting for the Really Important Stuff. Right?
The thing is, followers of Trendianity consider themselves Christians. They’d say they’re among Jesus’ most devout followers. And sometimes they are! Even those of us who actively criticize Trendianity don’t always avoid its seductive draw. We’re following Jesus faithfully when something shiny catches our gaze, and before we know it, we’ve gotten sidetracked following a false Christ who promises to save us from the People We Don’t Like Very Much. It may look like Jesus from a distance, but that’s not Jesus.
The Biblical Jesus was famously countercultural. He defied the sexism and racism of his day. He befriended the outcasts and ate with the sinners. When the religious leaders in his culture were focused on legalistic rules, he broke them. When his contemporaries were focusing on political controversies with Rome, he ignored them to feed and heal people. Jesus was not the Messiah his culture expected. The faith he demonstrated was one of overwhelming grace beyond all cultural boundaries.
By contrast, Trendianity is hopelessly tied to the culture. We laugh or cringe at the silly things its followers said and did in generations past, but we’re sure that no one will think that about us. No, Trendianity assures us, our issues really are the most important ones. We’ve finally gotten it right. God really is more concerned with passing this piece of legislation than with all that humility stuff. It says so in the Bible.
Well, maybe not in the Bible, but it was in a trendy religious magazine I read, and that’s almost as good.
This comic (via St. Thomas the Doubter) captures so perfectly something I’ve said time and time again: If we’re convinced that those who came before us got important things wrong (like slavery or the earth’s place in the solar system) and those who come after us will get important things wrong (like, say, being way too permissive about sexuality), then we have to ask ourselves, just how arrogant are we, thinking we’re the only ones who got it all right?
Yes, passionately strive to get it right. But we must be humble enough to recognize that we’re just as fallible as everyone else.
