Self-Sabotage

I argued in my last blog that it is the church’s hour. What I mean is that the church has opportunities for influence that it is has not had for decades, largely because, considering the decline of social institutions across America, it faces little competition. The condition of our culture, as conflicted and depressed as it is, is begging for the church to step into the vacuum, however indirect and unconscious that entreaty is.

As Jesus observed, the field is “white unto harvest.” The need is there; the opportunity is there, too. Jesus laments that there are not more workers poised to take action and reap the harvest.

The church has faced such conditions before, some far more severe than our own. The decline of the Roman Empire comes to mind almost immediately. The church responded, at least in part, by establishing monastic communities across Europe. Out of the cultural ruins grew an institution that provided manifold services to society and brought renewal to the church.

I often hear church members complain about the opposition Christians face. In the current “culture wars,” as some call it, the powers of media, higher education, and entertainment challenge Christianity at every turn. Christians feel besieged.

Perhaps so. But Christians in America still enjoy many privileges and exercise a great deal of influence. They often complain about marginalization and powerlessness. Some even claim to suffer “persecution,” which renders a disservice to Christians living in the past and present who faced, or are facing, real persecution.

The greatest enemy we face is not opponents “out there.” It is ourselves. We excel in self-sabotage.

It is a universal problem, of course, and certainly not unique to Christians. I excelled at self-sabotage when I was a young student. However smart, I would turn assignments in late, if at all. I would neglect to study for exams. In one class I flunked the first exam every quarter and earned an A on the second exam, which resulted in a C at the end of the year.

It was a classic case of self-sabotage.

The church sabotages itself, too. Christians tolerate egoistic leaders, apathy and ignorance, immorality, partisan political involvement, trivial concerns, and worldliness. And so much more. Paul was right: we hold the treasure of the gospel in cracked clay pots.

But one example of self-sabotage stands out as the deadliest, far more menacing and destructive than the most acerbic critic and secular threat that comes from the outside.

It is the tendency to subordinate Jesus Christ to any cause and concern we hold as more important and relevant than the gospel itself.

The church’s original confession of faith, predating the Nicene Creed by nearly three centuries, was captured in a mere three words: “Jesus is Lord.” Lordship implies primacy; lordship dethrones all rivals; lordship orders all of life under one primary commitment.

It seems obvious enough. But Christians tend in the face of cultural conflict to promote some cause and concern even above the Lordship of Jesus, especially when the conflict heats up.

Of course many of these causes and concerns matter. How could anyone dispute the relevance of climate change? Or racism? Or poverty? Or abortion? Or sex and sexuality? Or marriage and family? Or the education of our children.

But therein lies the problem. Important can become ultimate, a good thing the main thing.

C. S. Lewis identified the problem nearly a century ago. In The Screwtape Letters a senior devil, Screwtape, writes a series of letters to his apprentice, Wormwood, to instruct him in the art of devilry. At one point Screwtape urges him to lure his “patient” to commit himself wholly to an extreme cause. It doesn’t matter what cause it is. “All extremes,” he writes, “except extreme devotion to the Enemy [God], are to be encouraged.”

Initially the patient will believe the cause is subordinate to his Christian faith. But over time it will come to dominate. Religion will take on a lesser role, gaining its value only if it supports “the cause.” Screwtape concludes: “Once you have made the World an end, and faith a means, you have almost won your man, and it makes very little difference what kind of worldly end he is pursuing.”

Christianity is innately and creatively adaptive because Christians take their cue from the Incarnation. Christians fit in almost everywhere because they have an expansive view of the relevance of faith to life in the world. Everything matters to God, and thus to them, too. The confession that Jesus is Lord summons Christians to embrace all kinds of causes and to pursue all kinds of concerns, all in the name of Jesus.

But Christians must refuse to surrender to idolatry, even the idolatry of good causes. Their willingness to adapt stops right there.

Jesus is the center. Life revolves around him. In fact, nothing works rightly, including the best things, unless those things are subordinate to him. Acknowledging Jesus as Lord, Christians will always function a little differently in the way they take up causes and pursue concerns. They will challenge prevailing fads, fashions, parties, and ideologies. They will contribute but not conform, pursue justice but never become jaded, move slightly left when the majority is moving right, or slightly right when the majority is drifting left. They might identify with a party, but always uncomfortably and incompletely. Both Republicans and Democrats will wonder why they aren’t “all in.”

Well, they are. To the Lordship of Jesus.