The Cost of Bad Religion

What happens when Christianity runs amok

Photo by Diego San on Unsplash

I used to meet regularly with a woman, back when I pastored in another state, who had grown up in a fairly well-known religious community that was considered by many to be a cult. When she got old enough, she ran away from the group, trying to escape the constant abuse and trauma that came from the leader of the community, as well as other adults who carried out his agenda.

The stories she told me were very troubling, to say the least. But over the course of a few months, she slowly began opening up to me, deeming me to be trustworthy. As time went by, despite it not being my agenda at all, she kept promising me she’d show up to my church sometime, but she never did. It was just too hard for her. She apparently wasn’t sure if she could trust a religious group again.

I thought of her recently, over a decade later, as I finished reading a book and listening to a podcast that intersect in their own ways with what I would call toxic Christianity. The book is Jesus and John Wayne, by Kristin Kobes Du Mez, which details what Du Mez calls the “militant masculinity” that has been characteristic of so much of conservative Christianity in America over the last century or so. This “militant masculinity” expresses itself in a deep-rooted patriarchy, conflating the gospel with a militaristic political agenda in America, as well as the uninhibited submission of women to men, and a shame-based sexuality.

Though the book in my estimation has some glaring flaws, Du Mez nevertheless does a masterful job of pulling back the curtain on a toxic form of Christianity that has, unfortunately, held large sway within the current American religious landscape.

Similarly, the podcast, published by Christianity Today, focuses on one of the figures Du Mez examines in her book: Pastor Mark Driscoll, who, at one time, was one of the most popular—if not controversial—figures within evangelical Christianity. The podcast, called The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill, traces out the story of an incredibly abusive environment at his Seattle church, as he sought unmitigated power and control, which finally led to his ultimate undoing there (though, sadly, not elsewhere).

As I’ve processed these three stories, reflecting on the terrible fallout that has resulted in religion gone awry, I’ve realized that all three of the stories are tragic reminders, in their own ways, of what I hear my friend Ty Gibson often say: there is something far worse than no religion, and that’s bad religion.

That’s the sobering truth. It’s one thing to act in abusive, controlling, and manipulative ways; it’s another thing altogether to do so in the name of God. That’s next-level stuff—a poisonous and potent concoction that is arguably the worst type of abuse. And the ramifications have been tragically far-reaching.

Bad Religion: The Cause of Atheism?

Three decades ago Brennan Manning, a humble and understated disciple of God’s unrelenting grace, offered a provocative thought that resonated deeply with many sober-minded and self-examining Christians. “The greatest single cause of atheism in the world today,” he proposed, “is Christians, who acknowledge Jesus with their lips, then walk out the door, and deny Him by their lifestyle. That is what an unbelieving world simply finds unbelievable.”

Understandably, most atheists would likely dispute such a simplistic explanation, and many Christians push back against it as well—partly due, perhaps, to an aversion to any self-reflection or healthy self-criticism. For others, however, including myself, the idea resonates deeply and, just as significantly, seems to align with the story the Bible tells.

I think, for example, of what the prophet Ezekiel wrote as he critiqued Israel’s immorality. Ezekiel was one of a long line of prophets, according to the Bible, that God sent to call attention to the debauched and debased levels to which Israel had sunk. The nation, chosen of God to be a beacon of light and love to the world, became characterized by oppression, exploitation, and abuse. At one point, kings, following the example of the nations around them, were even sacrificing their children by fire (see 2 Kings 16:3).

Needless to say, such behavior raised the ire of God—and understandably so. The God of Israel, according to the story of Scripture, was a God who had a jealous regard for the widowed, orphaned, and foreigners. He was a God who was trying to instill righteousness and justice in the world—and trying to do it through Israel as His embodied representatives on earth. Yet Israel, led by its kings and priests, failed God repeatedly.

What was most troubling to God, according to Ezekiel, was the effect such behavior had on the surrounding nations. Israel was supposed to reflect to the world the justice and mercy of God. Instead, they made God look like a tyrant. And thus, in just four short verses in Ezekiel 36, God repeats five times that Israel had “profaned” His name among the nations. “When they came to the nations,” God declared in verse 20, “wherever they went, they profaned My holy name.” Again, in the next verse, He repeated that “I had concern for My holy name, which the house of Israel had profaned among the nations wherever they went.” After repeating this rebuke again in the next verse, God ended this section by adding: “And I will sanctify My great name, which has been profaned among the nations, which you have profaned in their midst” (NKJV).

Writing some 600 years later, Paul echoed Ezekiel’s critique, when writing to the Romans, even paraphrasing the prophet, when he noted that hypocrisy among the Jews led to “the name of God [being] blasphemed among the Gentiles because of you” (Romans 2:24).

This wasn’t an ego-trip on God’s part. This was God realizing that if His ways of righteousness and justice were going to move the needle in a world that was characterized by abuse and exploitation, He was going to have to prove Himself trustworthy and demonstrate that His ways were worthy of emulation. Yet Israel undermined that project by taking on His name and yet acting in abusive and exploitative ways.

This is the cost of bad religion. We make the God of love look like a God of hate. And it drives people away from Him.

Jewish Rabbi Abraham Heschel, writing almost 70 years ago, understood this. In the opening paragraph of his classic God in Search of Man, he offered this sobering assessment:

It is customary to blame secular science and anti-religious philosophy for the eclipse of religion in modern society. It would be more honest to blame religion for its own defeats. Religion declined not because it was refuted, but because it became irrelevant, dull, oppressive, insipid. When faith is completely replaced by creed, worship by discipline, love by habit; when the crisis of today is ignored because of the splendor of the past; when faith becomes an heirloom rather than a living fountain; when religion speaks only in the name of authority rather than with the voice of compassion—its message becomes meaningless.

Perhaps more poignantly, writing 50 years before, one of the pivotal figures in my faith community, Ellen White, put it this way: “Many take it for granted that they are Christians, simply because they subscribe to certain theological tenets. But they have not brought the truth into practical life. . . Men may profess faith in the truth; but if it does not make them sincere, kind, patient, forbearing, heavenly-minded, it is a curse to its possessors, and through their influence it is a curse to the world.”

In short, when we look at the declining state of Christianity in America and the rest of the Western world, we should start with self-criticism. Many people have seemingly rejected Jesus—or at least our version of Jesus—not because they’ve deemed the cost of following Him too high (as many conservative Christians are inclined to think), but because Christians have cheapened Christ’s name and marred His reputation.

To put it simply: if the only encounter one has with “God” is through the lives and abusive ideas of those who take on the name of Christ, one can’t entirely blame them if they deem atheism to be the only palatable option. And thus, it is no wonder that America, like other countries in the West, is increasingly turning away from traditional Christianity.

The Good News

There is, of course, hope. Just as there is bad religion, there is also—or at least can be—good religion. In fact, as a Jesus-follower, I would say that religion, when true to the principles of Christ, is the most attractive force in the universe. The human heart yearns for acceptance and love, and when the Church embraces such a posture and commits to living it out—however imperfectly—it is a nearly-irresistible movement.

Remarkably, just as God’s reputation is marred in the hands of those who take His name “in vain,” so, too, is it vindicated by those who embrace His self-emptying love and choose, by His grace, to live it out. I love how The Message renders John 15 to this end, communicating the magnitude of the Jesus-project. “This is how my father shows who he is,” the translator offers, “when you produce grapes, when you mature as my disciples” (v. 8).

What a staggering thought! What a humbling invitation! What an exciting opportunity!

Why I Write

My goal in this newsletter is to, just as the title indicates, reimagine faith. I realize the project I outlined above—of trying to promote a movement that not only proclaims a love-centered faith but, more importantly, lives it out—is necessarily limited by the nature of this medium. At best, I can only communicate these ideas via writing, but I can’t demonstrate them to you. That’s why my favorite part of ministry is walking side-by-side with people, getting heart-to-heart and skin-to-skin. I wish I could enter into that experience with every reader.

But ideas are important as well. They have a way of moving us toward living better lives and being better people.

So to that end, I’m inviting you into a journey of reimagining faith—of considering better ways to think about God, better ways to think about what it means to live the Jesus-centered life, and better ways to process what has happened in the name of God throughout history. I will discuss theology—that is, views about God—discuss ecclesiology—the nature and purpose of “the church”—and discuss missiology­—how we live out and communicate our understanding of God to those who see and live it differently.

Right up front I will tell you where I come from: I am a pastor in the Seventh-day Adventist Church. In many ways, my denomination, following the trajectory of Protestantism, has lived out a tension in relation to the rest of Christianity. We have lived as sort of insiders but also sort of outsiders. To some degree, our denomination has lived as a critique of traditional Christianity, embracing various theological ideas that are considered by some to be outside the normal bounds of “acceptable” Christianity (the most glaring example would be that of observing, as Jews do and Jesus did, Saturday as the Sabbath).

I happen to think, of course, as I will no doubt unpack in future posts, that Seventh-day Adventism’s “peculiar” teachings and practices, when properly understood and lived out, not only present the most biblically faithful understanding of God, but also the most compelling, attractive, and love-centered version of the Jesus-way to a world that is increasingly skeptical of biblical faith (of course, my faith-community has major, major problems as well, which is something I partly hope to redress by this newsletter as well). In that sense, I believe Adventism is positioned to speak and live in unique ways to a world that has been burned by traditional Christianity.

So I invite you to take this journey with me, as we seek to reimagine faith.