People are craving community and stability. (Photo: Pedro Lima via Unsplash).
Philosophers have for millennia discussed deep questions about the nature of reality, knowledge, meaning, and purpose. Pop culture has engaged these same questions in ways which have significantly shaped individuals, families, communities, and entire nations. They have been sung, danced, narrated, taught, and modelled in ballads, ceremonies, myths, tales of lore, and other traditions which have shaped people since the dawn of human civilisation. And now influencers and pop icons from Jordan Peterson to Joe Rogan to Taylor Swift use the internet and social media to shape an anxious generation who are seeking new norms to rescue them from nihilism.
People are moving away from greedy, selfish hedonism and towards more noble, humane, socially beneficial beliefs and ways of life. Associated with that, people seem to be rejecting the kind of contemptuous dismissal of religion advocated by ‘new atheists’ like Richard Dawkins (who is now neither new nor as contemptuous towards religion, even if he’s still atheist). They are more open to the supernatural, and to the stability and connection offered through spiritual communities.
But a hunger for stability and spirituality is not the same as a willingness to worship the crucified and risen Jesus as Lord and God. And the benefits of hope, embodied connection, and stability are not themselves the gospel. They are the fruit of the gospel, which can be mimicked by any other religion or community. Different religions have been part of these identity-forming, value-shaping traditions. Tom Holland and Glen Scrivener have shown the Christian basis of ‘Western’ values like equality, freedom, and democracy. The most populated nation in the world, which is also a constitutionally-governed democratic republic, is India. It’s never been a Christian-majority nation. Hinduism has underpinned its civilisation for millennia. And Islam underpinned the Ottoman Empire, which stretched all the way from just east of Vienna to the Middle East and North Africa and lasted from the 14th to the mid-20th century.
Morality, social harmony, and religion make people genuinely strong, confident, decent, kind, and courteous. That moral formation builds families, communities, nations, and empires. But that makes them more effective idols, more dangerous distractions from Christ. In the Bible and throughout human history, sin manifests itself more through morality (e.g. Rom ch 2; Php 3:1-11) and false religions (as both Old and New Testaments constantly warn) than through atheist secularity.
This kind of religious moralism will always be more attractive than the gospel because it strokes the ego; as though religious observance is the key to God’s approval. That’s very different from the gospel, which demands that we confess ourselves to be sinners who have rejected God our creator and sustainer, and admit that we rightly deserve his wrath. People don’t naturally crucify their egos in that way. Only the Holy Spirit makes us willing to do that.
TGC’s Nick Harsh is confident that “[c]hurches that actively seek to reach Gen Z will probably see results,” but I’m concerned this will lead to inquirers feeling exploited and manipulated, because (well-intentioned but impatient) church leaders might rush them to make a profession of faith. Inquirers will need time to count the cost and understand what it means to hand over control of their lives to Christ. And I’m worried that church leaders may become proud if they see ‘results,’ or discouraged if they don’t.
That doesn’t mean we just ignore people or turn inquirers away. It means we need to exercise patience and discernment. We need to work out how any one particular person’s openness to morality, religion, and the supernatural, interacts with the Bible, the gospel, and Christian theology. Harsh is right: “[t]here’s no one-size-fits-all method to accomplish this”; it will “get even messier.” Part of that mess might come when we gently, but clearly, help them realise that what motivated them to come to us in the first place—their desire for meaning, purpose—will not be found in morality, self-help, or social connection alone.
And as we work with individuals and their particular beliefs, we may have to urge them to repent of the way they have knit those beliefs into a new, individualised form of spirituality—which is the topic of our next post.
[This is the second of three posts about the ‘vibe shift’ in Western culture. In his previous post, Kamal showed how people are shifting away from the meaninglessness and emptiness of atheist secularity.]