Too often, what the church communicates to the world is a weak faith. Within our contemporary Christian culture, I see a belief in a weak gospel. This lack of confidence demonstrates itself in the insecurity with which we attempt to make our faith relevant to the world. We dress it in popular culture, hoping that the candy coating will allure people into swallowing the antidote of the gospel.
Consider youth groups, conferences, Sunday school curricula—what are the attractions? The Word of God? The power of the cross? Or is it games, prizes, and music? None of these things is inherently problematic, but I think it worthwhile to ask whether, underneath the fluff, we have lost the substance. And perhaps more disconcerting: do our endeavors to gift-wrap the gospel reveal a doubt in the value of the gift itself? As soon as the church enters the business of trying to sell the gospel, the inherent value of the good news is obscured behind the flashy veneer of popular culture. If it is powerful, then why do we feel the need to dress it in Batman’s utility belt? If it is beautiful, then why do we doll it up? If it is relevant, then why do we try to fabricate relevance through pop culture references?
If we continue to use thin threads to tie Christ’s message to our world, the sad result will be a disregard for the all-sufficient bride of Christ. When we neglect the riches of our inheritance in Christ, all we have left to give are trinkets. What do we communicate when the primary selling point of our Christian community is mere accommodation of secular culture? We communicate that we have nothing more. We suggest that the bread of life leaves us craving Twinkies. Why should that attract anyone? The world doesn’t need the rhetoric of the day wrapped in WWJD paraphernalia. It needs Christ.
We face a world aching with injustice. What hope do we bring to citizens of war-torn countries suffering from PTSD? Do we believe that Christ might have something to say to them? Do we have enough confidence in Christ’s message of forgiveness to see its role in empowering ethnic and racial reconciliation?
Why do we rely more heavily on human strategies than on the strength of the gospel itself? The effort to meet spiritual needs is considered invasive and ethnocentric – an imposition of our religious preferences; meanwhile, responses to physical and emotional needs are applauded. Why, if the gospel is relevant, powerful, and life-giving, do we hesitate to share it?
What we, as the church, believe about the gospel, we profess is critical. It determines what we communicate to the world about this gospel and, in turn, how the world perceives our biblical truth-claims. So what is the gospel? Is it relevant? Is it hope-inspiring? Is it powerful? Is it a message worth sharing?