the new legalism (I)

A few days ago I read an article on what the author calls "The New Legalism": the idea that true devotion to God manifests itself in doing life-changing, amazing things; and that the depth of one's devotion can be seen in one's radical lifestyle. I remember being in high school youth group, being told that the best thing I could do for God was change the world. People prophesied over me, prayed over me, repeatedly told me that God had "great and amazing things for me." The thing was, I didn't want great and amazing things. My dream was simple: get married, have kids, work at a church. I wanted a quiet life. I wanted to settle down. And when I got to college, people started telling me that wasn't right, that my priorities were selfish, that if I really loved God, I'd go to Africa or something like that. The evangelism professor seemed to weigh one's love for God upon how many souls that person won, or whether that person worked either (a) in the inner-city or (b) in a foreign country. It was simply unacceptable to desire a quiet life. I felt ashamed for wanting that quiet life, and subsequently when those moments when I thought such a life could be mine were crumpled like tissue paper origami, it was obvious that God was keeping it from me because I wasn't devoted enough, because I didn't love him enough. But the thing is, as the article makes clear, there's no shame in such a dream. In fact, Paul encourages such desire in his first letter to the Thessalonians: "We urge you, brothers, to... aspire to live quietly, and to mind your own affairs, and to work with your hands..." (4.10-11) 

The article made me think about where I'm at now compared to where I was at in high school. During my senior year, at one point I led three bible studies and participated in another throughout each week. I also had weekend commitments; usually stuff with the youth group, but it wasn't uncommon for me to go speak at another church. Flash-forward eight years, and I only have one solid "church activity" a week (and that's church). There's some residual guilt there: "If I were where I should be, I'd be way more involved in church." People have told me so often (as recently as this past year) that "God will do so many awesome things through you." That may very well be the case, but why am I, or anyone, to suppose that means something specific? It's a damned vague prophecy. It's easy to assume that "awesome things" refers to, say, mission work, or pastoring, or spearheading some great movement, or writing lots and lots of Christian books. But perhaps one of the most radical and awesome things I can do is stay married and raise kids who love God? Since when did being a good husband and a good father raising his family in the faith become "not good enough"? 

This New Legalism, that we have to do great things for God and that simply settling down, living a quiet life, and working with your hands doesn't make the cut for true love for God, erects all sorts of performance barriers: we want to move forward, deepen our love for God, but we measure our love for God with those things we're doing (or not doing). We feel unable to live up to God's expectations, OR we simply burn ourselves out by stretching ourselves too thin. Focus on the Here & Now is thrown to the wayside as we're constantly looking to the future, to that point when we change the world for God, and we feel incomplete or unsuccessful if we haven't done just that. The article encourages a reorientation of focus: the focus should be pulled back to God and loving people, not on changing the world for God by doing all sorts of incredible things. The focus, I think, should be on becoming like Christ in our daily lives and in our communities, not on how active we are in the church, or how many programs we're involved in, or what social causes we "like" on Facebook.

It's a strange phenomenon, that sometimes the more we try to attain something, the farther from it we get. Christians want to change the world for God, so we start programs, build churches, and organize mission trips. The early church didn't seek to change the world (in their mind, it was all but over), but they did. And I can't help but ask, "How?" Not by trying to change the world but by putting into practice, in daily life, death to sin and life to Christ. They loved God and loved others. It wasn't their preaching that won converts but their life lived in Christ, their conformity to the pattern of Christ, their love for others (even their enemies), and the strange hope they clung to. What a contrast to today, when Christians are known simply for being vocal about what they condemn and then doing that very thing in secret. Christianity stands as a mockery to most of the western world, a residual hungover to be assuaged with the coffee of science, and one of the key reasons, I think, is that we have failed to pay attention to ourselves and have instead paid attention to social causes, humanitarian reform, and rhetoric against those who disagree with us.

If we're honest, how often do we find someone possessed by the fruit of the Spirit? You know, those things that the Spirit cultivates in us as we grow in Christ. How many Christians are stricken by love, compelled to love others, to show mercy and grace and forgiveness, and to live sacrificially? How many Christians radiate joy, endure life's troubles with the peace of God, and who are wrapped up in kindness, goodness, and gentleness? How many Christians are known for their faithfulness and self-control? Of course, since sanctification is an ongoing thing, no one lives up to it perfectly. During the days of the early church, you could tell who was a Christian by the way they lived, their lifestyle and the way they talked. Nowadays "Christian" is a label you can put on a dating site profile where you're inviting people for casual sex, and no one raises an eyebrow. Who's going to pay attention to a Christian who fills out the vice list of Galatians 5.19-21 but is absent of any of the fruit of the Spirit? Oh, people pay attention to Christians, all right, but there's hardly ever anything surprising.

Brennan Manning remarks in his book The Importance of Being Foolish that the church-at-large seems to be waiting for the next Pentecost, something big and grand, a fresh wind of the Spirit. But we don't need a new Pentecost. The first one was quite enough. What we need is people engaging the Spirit and being transformed by the Spirit, for that IS Pentecost, and it's here. But we turn it into a doctrine and put it on the shelf.