Breakpoint

A recent tweet featured a clip of a sermon on Psalm 139. In that Psalm, David famously declares, "For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb." The preacher applied the passage to the place of abortion in our culture, noting that abortion is a subject that makes people feel uncomfortable and has been politicized to the detriment of society. So far, so good. Then the pastor, wearing vestments emblazoned with Planned Parenthood's insignia, went on to celebrate abortion, complaining about harmful messaging from pro-lifers and the Church's "failure" to uphold Roe v. Wade's abortion regime. She then claimed that she felt "no guilt, no shame, no sin" for her own two abortions. A seared conscience is far worse than a guilty one. The Church has failed on the issue of abortion, but the failure is that anyone could enter a pew, much less the pulpit, and still think that God considers abortion anything less than an abomination. For more resources to live like a Christian in this cultural moment, visit Colsoncenter.org

In The Gay Science, Friedrich Nietzsche tells "The Parable of the Madman." In it, a madman lights a lantern in the early morning, runs to the marketplace, and declares, "God is dead." Nietzsche's point was that though Enlightenment philosophers had embraced atheism, they had not yet realized the huge implications. So, Nietzsche told them, via a rant from the Madman, which ends when he bursts into church buildings and asks, "What after all are these churches now if they are not the tombs and sepulchers of God?" In 2023 in America, that last question feels uncomfortably relevant, even for those of us who know God is alive and well. U.S. church membership, as a percentage of the population, is now at a record low—down more than 20 points in the twenty-first century. For years, this statistic could be attributed mostly to the decline of mainline Protestantism, a once dominant force in American life that is now a kind of hospice for graying liberal theology. However, recent news that the Southern Baptist Convention, America's largest Protestant denomination, lost half a million members last year makes clear that decline is no longer just a mainline problem. Evangelicals, as a share of the population, have sunk to pre-1980s levels while the religiously unaffiliated have swelled to nearly a third of the population. Ryan Burge, a statistician and co-author of a forthcoming book entitled The Great Dechurching, calls the emptying of pews and the rise of the unaffiliated "the most significant shift in American society over the last thirty years." It is significant for reasons most Americans probably don't yet realize. Like the people in Nietzsche's parable, secular observers may shrug off or even celebrate America's "great dechurching." But a less religiously observant society is, statistically, a much worse place to live. As Jake Meador wrote in his review of The Great Dechurching at The Atlantic, this change is "bad news" for America as a whole, because, "Participation in a religious community generally correlates with better health outcomes and longer life, higher financial generosity, and more stable families—all of which are desperately needed in a nation with rising rates of loneliness, mental illness, and alcohol and drug dependency." Faith, particularly Christian faith, is an irreplaceable force for good in society. Its decline will leave America less healthy, less charitable, less connected, and less capable of dealing with major social ills without government intervention. Evidence suggests it already has. At the same time, it is essential to remember that these benefits are byproducts of faith, not the main point. Anyone who hopes to halt and reverse church decline must remember what that main point is. It's not to entertain people, as Carl Trueman reminded us recently in WORLD. For example, services with a Toy Story or Star Wars theme (I wish I were making these examples up) neither attract serious seekers nor make true disciples. Therapeutic appeals about how Christian principles can supplement or enrich otherwise complete lives also miss the point. Counterintuitively, part of the trend of decline may be churches that ask too little of those who darken their doors. The authors of The Great Dechurching suggest that low expectations of those in the pews and widely embraced individualist assumptions have led to fewer and fewer Americans finding time for church. If Christianity is merely a kind of hobby or weekly pep talk designed to enhance psychological wellbeing or career success, then we can find better stuff on YouTube or Spotify. Why make time for this type of church every week? But what if Christianity is a way of life, the thing it's all about. What if it demands our allegiance? What if following Christ restructures our priorities and pursuits, our beliefs and our behavior—including career, family, and even personal identity? Everything else in our society directs our gaze inward, to ourselves, our feelings, our priorities, and our problems—as if every individual is the center of his or her own universe. Churches that accept and even participate in this idolatry may be leading millions away from Christianity, not by demanding everything of them but by demanding nothing. Those who are happy or indifferent about the decline of American churches are beginning to get glimpses of what an America without Christian influence will look like. It can and will get worse. For 2,000 years, the knowledge and fear of a transcendent God, not helpful social programs, has built and filled churches. If the magnitude of that claim is forgotten or even obscured, our churches will indeed become sepulchers—but not for God, who lives and reigns forever and ever. They will become memorials of the squandered heritage of a once deeply, but no longer, Christian nation. This Breakpoint was co-authored by Shane Morris. For more resources to live like a Christian in this cultural moment, visit Colsoncenter.org

A recent BBC article questioned what last year's Dobbs decision could mean for in vitro fertilization. The owner of a self-described "boutique fertility clinic" in Austin, Texas, told reporters that she's worried abortion restrictions will be bad for business: "If you say life begins at fertili[z]ation, then how can I grow an embryo in a lab, or biopsy it for genetic testing, or freeze it or thaw it, or implant it in somebody, or leave it frozen?" These questions should have been asked before IVF became big business. In most fertility clinics today, human lives are put in real danger, especially those embryos designated "extra." These are either aborted, left indefinitely on ice, discarded, or donated for medical experimentation. The few clinics committed to a more (though not completely) ethical IVF, by creating a single embryo at a time or requiring that every embryo is implanted, won't be affected by abortion restrictions, but most of them will. And they should be. For more resources to live like a Christian in this cultural moment, visit Colsoncenter.org

Are bodies something we merely "have," or are our bodies essential to who we are? In an advertising video for a local fertility clinic, a doctor asks, "Are you ready to have children, but your body is not?" And then he goes on to describe the services on offer. The question is an odd one. Even more, it's downright misleading. Of course, the desire to have a child and not being able to conceive is a terrible experience. Still, the assumptions in that question—that we are somehow disconnected from our bodies, and that what we feel or want is superior to our physical realities—are dangerous indeed. Versions of these same assumptions have permeated Western culture since its alignment with the ideas of the sexual revolution. For example, think of the man who after an affair says to his wife, "It just happened. She meant nothing to me." As if his body's desire, which meant everything during the act of adultery, wasn't really his desire and was therefore not important. Or think of the young gender-confused Christian who says, "I prayed that God would make me feel like a boy, but he didn't. Therefore, I must be a girl." While God may not have changed the young man's feelings, it's important to note He also didn't change the young man's genitalia. So, why should a change of feelings be relevant to his identity but not a change of biological reality? Or consider this example from an article authored by my Colson Center colleague Shane Morris of the Christian who justifies watching smutty movies or movie series with sex and nudity by saying, "They're just actors" or "It advances the story." Even a ridiculous amount of makeup cannot change the fact that a real body is on display and therefore a real person is being exposed. These examples are just new expressions of an age-old heresy—one of the first heresies, in fact, dealt with and condemned as such in the early Church: gnosticism. Gnosticism divides reality between the physical and the spiritual. The spiritual is labeled good, while physical matter is labeled bad, or at least irrelevant. Gnostics within the Church taught that Jesus could not have really taken on physical flesh because the physical is bad. He only appeared to be a man. But the Church fathers saw this for the heresy that it was. If Jesus did not really have a body, who was crucified? And who rose from the dead? And how could He really be one who, in every respect, has been tempted as we are, yet without sin as Scripture says? Didn't Paul say if Christ has not risen from the dead, our faith is pointless, and we're without hope? Contrary to gnosticism, Christianity does not teach that reality is divided between physical and spiritual. Christianity divides reality between Creator and creation. Think of the creation of Adam. God forms man out of the dust of the ground—that's physical—breathes into him the breath of life—that's spiritual. And man becomes a living soul. We don't have souls: We are souls. And to be a human soul is to be embodied. Our bodies are essential, not incidental, to our humanness. For many of the ancient pagans, the most scandalous of Christian teachings was the resurrection of the body. Just as God raised Jesus' body from the dead, He will someday raise our bodies, too. When Jesus says in John 6 that He will raise believers "up on the last day," He's talking about our bodies. How our glorified, resurrected bodies will resemble our current bodies is a mystery. But we do know the disciples recognized Jesus after the resurrection because of His body, including the wounds of His crucifixion. As Paul says, our bodies will be sown as perishable, but raised imperishable. Or, to quote the late R.C. Sproul, "For the Christian, redemption is of the body, not from the body." It's odd that after years of being accused by atheists and materialists of being trapped in our spiritual fantasies and ignoring the real world, Christians now find themselves as the ones saying that the physical world—especially the human body—matters, is real, and is of utmost significance. But here we are. If Christ came in the likeness of men, if He promised to redeem humanity, and if our humanity includes the body, then our bodies really do matter. For more resources to live like a Christian in this cultural moment, visit Colsoncenter.org (This commentary originally aired February 22, 2017.)

Recently, ADF International's Lois McLatchie Miller tweeted out her "radical takes" for 2023: "1. Biological men shouldn't compete in women's sports. 2. Silent prayer is not a crime. 3. Ending the lives of babies in the womb is wrong." She then offered this conclusion: "Radicals of the past got to say things that were groundbreaking. We're stuck with defending the obvious." She's right. We ought not underestimate, at least if we take seriously Paul's description from the first chapter of Romans, how prone fallen humans are to deny what is obviously true and embrace what is obviously false. That's why, in this cultural moment, stating the obvious is so "radical." Still, reality eventually wins. For example, many Western nations are backing away from trans-extremism. Tragically, until they do, many lives will be ruined. Ideas have consequences; bad ideas have victims. Thus "radical" Christians must be ready to combat bad ideas and care for their victims. For more resources to live like a Christian in this cultural moment, visit Colsoncenter.org

A few years ago, a Philadelphia area Apple store featured a display in which a vibrant rainbow of the latest iPhones broke through a greyscale crowd of people. What was particularly striking about the advertisement wasn't the use of contrast nor that this was not some thinly veiled "Pride" month display. The multi-colored iPhones were positioned like veils, so that no face, or even part of a face, could be seen. If Apple hoped the display would inspire new eagerness to join the technicolor life awaiting customers behind their screens, instead, by veiling human faces, the campaign unveiled the depersonalizing effects of our most ubiquitous technologies, especially smartphones, social media, and the internet. This combination–which makes up our brave new world of new media–regularly functions as a barrier to other people and to the outside world, behind which we hide. Think of the socially anxious teen whose face is "glued" to the screen or think of the man who surfs for sexually explicit content online. New media offers them and others a place of anonymity, where they can live and move and have their being, unencumbered by others. Our "digital veils" also function as a source of power and control, in a way depicted long ago in C.S. Lewis's classic, Till We Have Faces. The main character and narrator in the story is Orual, the unattractive and tomboyish older sister of the goddess Psyche. Orual convinces Psyche to disobey her husband, the god Cupid, who then banishes Psyche and ends their marriage. As a result, Orual decides to live out the rest of her days wearing a black veil. The veil, which starts off as "a sort of treaty made with [her] ugliness," quickly becomes a form of power and control. Whereas her ugliness and mannishness caused others to disregard her, the veil gives her a kind of power over others. Her father, the king, takes her seriously, suitors flock to her, and enemies respect her. By shrouding her face in mystery, the veil even led some to imagine she was a dazzling beauty or even a spirit. Like Orual's veil, new media can become a kind of digital veil that enables us to hide from others, influence their perceptions of us, and control our personal images. Social media especially functions in this way. We build profiles of perfectly lighted and cropped snapshots, snippets of the latest vacation, nights out with friends, and personal projects. Through this, we shape others' perceptions of us, giving them the impression that our lives are constantly happy, fun, and productive. Through the process, some even become online "influencers," influencing what others post, buy, or do. Ultimately, the veil's power and control are short lived. Despite their apparent advantages, digital veils leave us anxious and unknown. As one popular YouTuber, Samuel Bosch, shared in a video earlier this year: "I sometimes think that many of you have this very wrong impression that I'm always happy, traveling, and productive, that I can buy anything I want to, get any job I desire, or date whoever I want to." Yet, for all his success as an online influencer, MIT Ph.D. student, and tech entrepreneur, Bosch is, admittedly, unhappy. This is because we were made by God to be known. It is, in fact, a central conclusion of the psalmist David that, wherever we go, we are known. Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me. If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night," even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you. The psalm begins with the definitive statement that God has indeed searched and known him and ends with an invitation to God to search and know him. That's the tension, isn't it? Years ago, as I wrestled through Psalm 139 with a group of college students facing graduation, they articulated that tension, of both comfort and fear, that they are always known and always seen. Ultimately, all veils are an illusion. They may hide us from others, but they cannot hide us from God, who not only sees us and knows us, but created us to be seen and known both by and for others. Toward the end of Lewis' masterpiece, Orual visits the widow of her beloved servant Bardia. Upset that the widow might be jealous of the time Bardia spent with her, Orual jumps up in a burst of rage and lifts her veil to show the widow that she had nothing of which to be jealous. However, rather than being met with fear or hatred or disregard, Orual is met with the widow's compassion and kindness. Orual finds herself no longer alone, no longer unknown, no longer unloved. Like Orual, we can lay down our digital veils. When we do, we will find that we are already truly seen, truly known, and truly loved by God, and we can be truly seen, known, and loved by others. This Breakpoint was co-authored by Jared Eckert. For more resources to live like a Christian in this cultural moment, visit Colsoncenter.org

Last month, the Colson Center hosted a conference from Bay Harbor, Michigan on our changing culture. John Stonestreet was joined by Kristin Waggoner from Alliance Defending Freedom and Jim Daly with Focus on the Family to discuss how Christians should respond to everything from critical theory to the Barbie movie. Find more information on the event and watch the full recording at greatlakessymposium.org. For more resources to live like a Christian in this cultural moment, visit Colsoncenter.org

According to an article in Vancouver's Globe and Mail, after years of struggle and a recent traumatic event, Kathrin Mentler sought medical care at a local hospital for her suicidal ideation. Like America, Canada has spent millions on public service campaigns encouraging those contemplating suicide to seek professional help. Katherine, however, was not offered help. Instead, she was offered death. The hospital staff told Katherine that it would take a long time to see a psychiatrist and suggested she consider Canada's Medical Aid in Dying program instead. A story like this might be funny if the consequences weren't so severe, but they are. In this brave new world, killing is called "medical aid," harm passes for help, and healthcare professionals recommend suicide to deal with suicidal ideation. The so-called "right to die" becomes an "option to die," then an "expectation to die," and eventually the "duty to die." And people like Kathrin Mentler are in grave danger exactly where they should be able to find help. For more resources to live like a Christian in this cultural moment, visit Colsoncenter.org

On August 19, 1662, French philosopher, mathematician, and apologist Blaise Pascal died at just 39 years old. Pascal, despite his shortened life, is renowned for pioneering work in geometry, physics, and probability theory. His most powerful legacy, however, involves the ways he engaged with life's biggest questions. Pascal's intellect garnered attention at an early age. At 16, he produced an essay on the geometry of cones so impressive that René Descartes initially refused to believe it could possibly be attributed to a "sixteen-year-old child." Later, Pascal advanced the study of vacuums in the face of a prevailing (and misplaced) belief that nature is completely filled with matter, and thus "abhors a vacuum." In 1654, his work on probability took a new turn when he was sent a brainteaser by a friend. Applying mathematics to the problem, Pascal laid out rows of numbers in a triangle formation, a formation that now bears his name. As author John F. Ross described, Here was the very idea of probability: establishing the numerical odds of a future event with mathematical precision. Remarkably, no one else had cracked the puzzle of probability before, although the Greeks and Romans had come close. In 1646, Blaise Pascal encountered the kindness of two Jansenist Christians caring for his injured father. Their love in action earned Pascal's admiration. Then, on the evening of November 23, 1654, Pascal experienced God's presence in a new and personal way, which he described on a scrap of parchment that he sewed into his jacket and carried with him for the rest of his life: FIRE—God of Abraham, God of Isaac, God of Jacob, not of the philosophers and scholars. Certitude, certitude. Heartfelt joy, peace. God of Jesus Christ. My God and thy God. Thy God shall be my God. In his writing, Pascal's notions of probability met his faith in God. A compilation of his collected manuscripts was published after his death in a volume entitled, Pensées, or "Thoughts." Best known is his famous "wager" that, facing uncertainty and in a game with such high stakes, it makes far more sense for fallen human beings to believe in God's existence than doubt it. "If you gain," he wrote, "you gain all; if you lose, you lose nothing. Wager, then, without hesitation that He is." Pascal also offered among the keenest diagnoses of humanity: The human being is only a reed, the most feeble in nature; but this is a thinking reed. It isn't necessary for the entire universe to arm itself in order to crush him; a whiff of vapor, a taste of water, suffices to kill him. But when the universe crushes him, the human being becomes still more noble than that which kills him, because he knows that he is dying, and the advantage that the universe has over him. The universe, it does not have a clue. Or, even better: What a Chimera is man! What a novelty, a monster, a chaos, a contradiction, a prodigy! Judge of all things, an imbecile worm; depository of truth, and sewer of error and doubt; the glory and refuse of the universe. He also described our moral conditions as human beings, "[W]e hate truth and those who tell it [to] us, and … we like them to be deceived in our favour" (Pensées 100). Apart from God, Pascal observed, people distract themselves from the reality of death. But the diversions run out, and then mankind feels his nothingness, his forlornness, his insufficiency, his dependence, his weakness, his emptiness. There will immediately arise from the depth of his heart weariness, gloom, sadness, fretfulness, vexation, despair. (Pensées 131) "Between us and heaven or hell there is only life, which is the frailest thing in the world" (Pensées 213 ). With a poetic nod to his work on vacuums, Pascal concluded: What is it then that this desire and this inability proclaim to us, but that there was once in man a true happiness of which there now remain to him only the mark and empty trace …? But these are all inadequate, because the infinite abyss can only be filled by an infinite and immutable object, that is to say, only by God Himself. A generation later, as waves of the Enlightenment swept over Europe, the continent's most prominent thinkers could not escape Pascal's brilliance. According to philosopher Dr. Patrick Riley, Holbach, as late as the 1770s, still found it necessary to quarrel with the author of the Pensées, Condorcet, when editing Pascal's works, renewed the old debate; Voltaire throughout his life, and even in his last year, launched sally after sally at the writer who frightened him every time he—a hypochondriac—felt ill. On the human condition in particular, the French Revolution would prove Pascal right and Voltaire wrong. Divorced from God and instead committed to the worship of "pure reason," France devolved into a violent, anarchic wasteland. Even today, Blaise Pascal's intellect, passion, and eloquence have lost none of their fire, dedicated as they were to the God who claimed his total devotion. As he wrote on the parchment sewn into his jacket, Jesus Christ. I have fallen away: I have fled from Him, denied Him, crucified him. May I not fall away forever. We keep hold of him only by the ways taught in the Gospel. Renunciation, total and sweet. Total submission to Jesus Christ and to my director. Eternally in joy for a day's exercise on earth. I will not forget Thy word. Amen. This Breakpoint was co-authored by Kasey Leander. If you enjoy Breakpoint, leave a review on your favorite podcast app. For more resources to live like a Christian in this cultural moment, visit Colsoncenter.org

We often hear of folks forced to endure "sensitivity training" for holding opinions everyone did five years ago. But, in an unusual turn of events, a U.S. District court judge has ordered corporate lawyers for Southwest Airlines to undergo training with the Alliance Defending Freedom about the nature and importance of religious liberty. On August 7, a U.S. District Court ruled that Southwest Airlines violated Charlene Carter's rights when they fired her for posting pro-life opinions on her personal social media. The ruling also declared that Southwest notify their flight attendants about protections for their religious views. Southwest did not follow through, and instead notified their flight attendants that the company policy did not violate their religious freedom. To say the least, the judge wasn't happy, ruling that more training was in order and that ADF was the group to provide it. Not surprisingly, Southwest appealed the decision while media outlets feigned disbelief and expressed outrage. Hopefully the inconsistency will be obvious to everyone. For more resources to live like a Christian in this cultural moment, visit Colsoncenter.org