Church Over Christ

The true “believer” is revealed by the consistency between his beliefs and his behavior. If someone truly believes that eternal destinies are at stake — that heaven and hell are real, that the consequences are everlasting, and that salvation depends upon faith or works — then the stakes are not merely high but infinite: infinite in degree and in scope, with the effects propagating into the future as humanity continues generation after generation. The number of souls at risk is not just in the billions today but expands indefinitely into the future. If that framework is taken seriously, then the rational response would seem to be an overwhelming sense urgency by those who claim to appreciate the stakes. Everything else — career, comfort, reputation, leisure — would become secondary to the singular task of “saving” as many people as possible. Yet, despite the billions who claim to be Christian — or who claim to believe in any God — there are precious few who make this their life’s purpose. 

This is not primarily a question about denomination or theology. At its core, it is about belief itself. If one affirms that eternal joy or eternal loss hinges on whether people accept a particular message, then ordinary religious life appears inconsistent with the responsibilities inherited as a “believer”. A belief in infinite consequences should be followed by unmistakable action. If it is not, then either the belief is not held with conviction or the believer has vacated his inherited responsibilities. The tension lies not in the doctrine’s complexity but in the apparent gap between its significance and its lived expression.

What most people encounter in contemporary Christianity is not relentless, all-consuming urgency. It is structured and institutional, a matter of routine: church attendance, social life, occasional Bible study and charitable activities. This suggests a distinction between what might be called Biblical Christianity and what could be described as “Church-ianity”. The former, as presented in the New Testament, reads as radical, sacrificial, and mission-centered. The latter appears moderated, domesticated, and woven into ordinary life. From this perspective, the absence of frantic evangelistic intensity is not puzzling. It is evidence that, over time, institutional religion has tamed (or toned down) a message that, if taken at full force, would be existentially disruptive, and might chase away status-driven congregants who enjoy the social aspects of church and community, but who aren’t interested in the risks or tests that come along with being true and faithful believers.

The argument, then, is not merely a critique of individuals. It is an observation about systems. If infinite stakes are truly believed, maximal urgency would be expected. The fact that this urgency is largely nonexistent among “believers” suggests that the lived form of the religion has shifted from its original radical edge into something more focused on status or long-term social continuity. Or perhaps it simply goes to show that most “believers” don’t really believe. Whether that shift is a necessary evolution or a fundamental departure from the Word is the deeper question, but it is clear that the institutions leading the “believers” have, over centuries, seen the size of their congregations swell at the same time that their intensity and sense of urgency have essentially vanished. 

What is most striking and undeniable, however, is that true believers — the ones who truly believe in heaven and hell, eternal salvation and eternal damnation — have only one option in life: scramble to “save” as many as they can. Those who fail to even get started along these lines, those who prioritize comfort, convenience, expedience or indulgence, can (in their professed “belief”) only be lying or selfish. For, if they truly believe, their actions would follow, and where they “believe” and yet take little action to “save” others, they are failing to alert their fellow man (potentially deaf and standing on the tracks) of the train that is fast approaching. The truth of the matter is this: with such a belief, there is likely nothing (other than incapacitation) that could keep the true believer from making this his life’s purpose. 

Just imagine having uncovered the greatest treasure map in all the world. And imagine believing in it completely. There is, in such a case, nothing that could keep a person from doing everything in his power to get to the treasure, or to alert the public of the map’s existence. Given the fact that precious few of the billions of professed Christians around the world ever take it upon themselves to spread the Word with urgency or to plead with people for their time and willing ears, it is clear just what kinds of “Christians” they are. 

Put another way, they aren’t Christians at all. These billions have more than a mere treasure map; they have the claimed Word of God Himself. However, almost all of them would be more thrilled to have the treasure map than the Word of God, and one thing’s for certain: they’d sure be motivated to take action with the treasure map in their hands. Between the treasure map and the claimed Word of God, it appears that they have at least one thing in common: above all, both are generally used as means to gains in wealth and status. Perhaps that is all that they really are. 

Author’s Note

Despite numbering in the billions worldwide, modern Christians manage to achieve very little in the realms of moral instruction, defense, and progress. 

Whereas it has its basis in a history of conflict and often harsh judgment, it is a feel-good religion in its modern iteration. 

In this capacity, modern Christianity is worse than useless — it often gets in the way of true Christianity and people who are serious about wisdom and universal ethics. 

Seldom do you ever see Christians banding together against injustice, even in its most conspicuous forms. They would rather maintain appearances of civility and avoid dealing with such emotions as anger, hatred, and frustration; emotions rooted out of the modern Christian, as if those emotions are themselves signs of the devil rather than our God-given and time-tested impulses to defend that which is good, right, true, and just. 

Avoiding those emotions makes cowards out of men, just as it does to sin in silence where good people are all that stand between bad people and their ends. After all, the only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing. 

This is, perhaps, the one capacity in which modern Christians have proved exemplary: making a show of their righteous morality while staking, risking, and doing virtually nothing to spread practical wisdom or root out evil. 

The feel-good religion is good business, and for the modern Christian, there is nothing better than good feelings and good business — nothing better than the donations going to the institutions and the donuts offered to the congregation as their reward for showing up to mass, checking the box, and maintaining appearances. It’s a win-win: tax-free donations to the institutions and the unbeatable feeling of moral superiority for the congregants; all at the small price of waking up early on Sunday morning and pitching in a few bucks when the collection plate is passed around.