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J.just before Christmas, New York Times columnist Ross Douthat responded in his newsletter to the ongoing controversy over Francis’ papacy in a surprising way.
What was surprising here was not that Douthat, a convert to Catholicism, wrote about the stormy politics of the Church; he does it all the time. Nor is it surprising that he is almost desperate about Francis’ papacy; he is almost surely the Pope’s most widely read Roman Catholic critic.
His conclusion, however, is surprising: there has never been a better time to be a Roman Catholic. Over the past year, I have come to a similar conclusion: There has never been a better time to be an evangelical Christian.
Douthat comes to his conclusion the long way. He writes of his own conversion to a Church led by Pope John Paul II and then by Benedict XVI, as the Catholic future seemed to be moving even more toward the type of conservative Catholicism that had attracted Douthat in the first place.
He had come to Times hoping to be an advocate for the Church, but then the terrifying scale of the sexual abuse crisis became clear. Then the pope resigned, leading to all the ambiguity about where the Church would now go on issues such as marriage, family, sexuality and even the authority of the papacy itself.
Douthat asks the distressing question: “Who would choose to be Catholic at a time like this?”
In this, Douthat argues that conservative Catholics like himself are perhaps sympathetic to the plight of the more liberalized Catholics in the era of John Paul II, who were often asked: If you don’t like the direction of the Church, why not just become an Episcopalian?
Regardless of the Church’s current tumult, Douthat argues, these progressive Catholics sincerely believed that the reform they sought was God’s will and that they would be vindicated in the long run. The same impulse is present, he writes, in those who are dismayed by the confused state in which the Church currently finds itself.
Douthat argues that what has evaporated is not a Catholic view of history or its own authority, but the erroneous assumption from the start that Rome was a “refuge” against modernity or a “fortress against the struggles of the time.”
“When I meet people who are becoming Catholic now, at a time like this, the fact that these struggles are present within the Church does not seem to particularly bother them,” Douthat writes. “They are accustomed to struggle and uncertainty, they do not expect mere refuge, and they recognize that any space of true spiritual power – which I promise the Catholic Church still is – will be inevitably also a zone of contestation. Douthat argues that this has always been the state of the Church “from the beginning, from the failed and irresponsible popes to the failed and even treacherous disciples.”
The real question, he writes, is whether the Christian story is true. If so, then the Church will emerge from this crisis intact as it has from all those that preceded it, Douthat concludes. “And whether you’re a liberal, a conservative, or just a believer trying to stay out of the crossfire, you need to be confident that what’s happening within Roman Catholic Christianity will show some of those ways forward.”
Far be it from me, as a low church Protestant, to give advice to Catholics on their struggles. As Pope Francis would say: “Who am I to judge? ” But neither can I, being what Douthat calls the “strict conservative Protestant type,” see any of this as “mere justification for Calvin, Luther, or their contemporary heirs.”
For an evangelical, especially one American evangelical – to display any form of triumphalism in light of another group’s identity crisis would be, at best, a failure to read the room, and, at worst, the kind of blindness that Jesus tells us spoken can only arise among those who insist that they can see (John 9:41). However, when it comes to the crises in evangelical Protestantism, I find myself in a very similar situation to Douthat. I truly believe there is no better time to be born again. Here’s why.
Although we are not Romans, we all profess to be “Catholics”, in the sense that we believe that the Church will eventually endure “the dangers, the fatigues and the snares” – not to mention the ravaging abominations – that the gates of hell (or the judgment of God) could gather. And, on top of that, evangelicalism has brought certain emphases to the broader body of Christ that should lead us to expect and endure times like these.
Word evangelical is contested, of course, but sometimes we act as if it were a recent revelation. Evangelical is, quite intentionally, neither an institution nor an ideology. Rather, it describes a revival movement that emphasizes and emphasizes certain aspects of universal Christianity – aspects that are perhaps best described as personal aspects. .
Jesus told us, “You must be born again,” and revival movements have warned that implicit faith in a church—much less in national, ethnic, or political identity—is not enough. The question “Do you have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ?” This may sound cliché and carry the baggage of a certain type of hyper-programmed business savvy, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t the case. TRUE.
At its best, evangelical Christianity reminds the world and the Church that the Good Shepherd sees not only the flock but also the lost sheep in the woods. “God so loved the world” (John 3:16) is an important truth. The same goes for “Christ loved the church and gave himself for her” (Eph. 5:25). But we must also hear and believe that Jesus “loved Me and gave himself for Me» (Galatians 2:20, emphasis added).
Even our view of biblical authority—often derided as naive and literal—emphasizes the personal. The problem is not just the objective truthfulness of Scripture (although that is a necessary condition), but whether personally read, hear and live the Word of God. Underneath is the confidence that God – as in the days of Josiah – can speak with the voice that creates life and new creation, even when structures and institutions have collapsed.
In fact, this is what happened again and again. The Wesleys never “won” a battle for the Church of England. But even in the coldness of those Laodicean times, hearts were “strangely warmed” and a revival has appeareda revival which, as is often the case, was not a return of institutions but a circumvention of them to reach people, one sinner at a time.
Whether in an established church or outside of it, evangelicalism at its best has reiterated that a government or culture can neither establish nor hinder the gospel.
This is really relevant today, at a time when some left-wing secularists think they can make religion disappear. And on the right, what is Christian nationalism if not an attempt to establish a religion – established simply by the anger of populist crowds rather than by the traditions of parliaments or kings?
This doesn’t happen with a strategy or a plan. Indeed, personal renewal and renewal of the Church – what we might say evangelicalism has aspired to maintain – almost always begins with despair and perplexity.
Can these bones live?How can a man be born when he is old? The answers seem both obvious and intimidating. That’s why Jesus said, “The wind blows where it wants.” You hear its sound, but you do not know where it comes from or where it is going” (John 3:8). Much of evangelical Christianity, at least in America, is disparaged and confused, misleading and deceived. That’s true – and it shouldn’t come as a surprise at all, at least to evangelical Christians.
But even when we are surprised, and even when so many churches and institutions stumble in the dark – in the absence of a lampstand, they don’t even remember to miss it – Jesus still says, “Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me” (Revelation 3:20).
In fact, evangelical Christianity should be made up of people reminding everyone that trends do not define the future. After all, the trend of an individual life is always bad. The gospel does not ameliorate the trend – it interrupts it: “I was once lost, but now I am found, / I was blind, but now I see.” »
All sorts of imbalances can arise. Evangelicalism can morph into individualism and pragmatism, but the reason evangelicalism—whatever it’s called—erupts so often in church history is because it speaks to those who have lost faith in their own efforts or in the efforts of an institution. they had confidence.
Reinhold Niebuhr wrote“It is therefore healthy for the Church to suffer the scathing rebuke ‘God is able of these stones to raise up children to Abraham,’ a rebuke in the form of a statement of fact that history has repeatedly validated.” In fact, the Bible tells us that this rebuke is good news (Luke 3:18) because these “stones”, again and again, are the tax collectors and sinners whom everyone has abandoned, who have renounced themselves.
Revival tents can collapse. Cathedrals can fall. But if the tomb in this garden is truly empty, if these women did not lie, there would still be a church, even if all other hope gave way. And in this church there will still be people who say, “Jesus loves me, I know it / because the Bible tells me so.” » Perhaps the deadliest, most cynical, most hostile person you can imagine – maybe even you? – could be the one leading this cry.
In an age of seeking justice without forgiveness, of self-realization without new creation, people are longing for something many of them don’t even know how to call “grace.” When they find it, they will be amazed. We should do it too.
We are born again at the right time. “Behold, now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of salvation” (2 Cor. 6:2, ESV) might just be another way of saying this: There has never been a better time to be an evangelical Christian.
Russell Moore is the editor-in-chief of Christianity today and directs its public theology project.
