A Church Beyond Belief: Reclaiming the Power of Religious Community for Justice, Healing, and the Common Good
This article was originally published on Progressive Christianity by a participant in the USC Center for Religion and Civic Culture’s Compelling Preaching Initiative.
People have been steadily walking away from churches in recent years – and with good reason. We’ve all seen or experienced: a lack of compassion, confusing theology, hypocritical leadership, and the rise of political ideology, including Christian Nationalism. It feels increasingly difficult to connect with the ineffable when we’re constantly on devices and increasingly relying on artificial intelligence. Not to mention that the Christian story is a lot to swallow, and it’s being taught poorly, even among pastors and religious leaders.
These issues and more have led to some Evangelicals “deconstructing” their faith. Noted authors such as Rob Bell and Barbara Brown Taylor wrote attractive narratives about satisfying spiritual experiences outside of traditional church structures, and curious (or fed-up) Christians began poking holes in their inherited beliefs.
I went to the same Evangelical college and seminary as Bell did, and about a decade ago, I, too, walked away from church. But after a few years, I realized something: once you’ve deconstructed your faith (if you’ve done a really good job of it), you’re actually left with nothing. And while there can be great value in stripping away everything you’re sure of, eventually, it gets lonely.
Like the Prodigal Son, maybe those of us who left church…maybe we aren’t squandering our inheritance on wine, women, and song, but are we squandering other gifts? Churches are still meaningful, even in a post-Christian society. We just have to remember what they’re for.
Throughout history, the church has often been a disaster — politically and spiritually — working against the teachings of Jesus. Yet, there’s a reason that churches still exist and have survived the centuries, despite difficulties like the Great Schism, the Crusades, the Protestant Reformation, and the Spanish Inquisition.
Even in the darkest eras, there were always faithful people – mystics, monks, teachers, and those who’ve stood up to the ugliness that the religious Institution gets tied up in. They did the quiet, local work of feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and imprisoned, caring for children and the elderly; eventually, these small acts of service turned into hospitals, schools, nursing homes, and charities.
Originally, Jesus and his followers did not focus on what people believed; instead, they emphasized rescuing people from despair, creating communities of mutual support, and resisting empire. Doctrinal tests like creeds and the Scriptural canon came later.
Today, as a nation, we are suffering from rampant individualism and tribalism, and deconstruction can fall right into this temptation. We are so busy deconstructing the harmful parts of religion that we are missing the healing and changemaking that is only possible in a community of faith.
It doesn’t have to be this way.
Americans are a spiritual bunch. The latest Pew Religious Landscape Study found that “large majorities of U.S. adults believe in the existence of a soul,” in God or another universal spirit, and in the afterlife. Political conservatives have exploited this to fill their churches. Even though the way of Jesus is arguably more closely aligned with progressive values, for years liberals have relinquished spirituality, allowing apathy and humanism to slowly shrink their membership rolls.
Though the same Pew study suggested a “plateau” in the decades-long decline of American Christianity, it also noted that “other indicators suggest we may see further declines in the American religious landscape in future years.” However, if we embrace the idea of church as an organizing force for activism and a haven for misfits, perhaps we can chip away at this apathy and reclaim its widespread power to positively influence society.
In the mid-twentieth century, churches were among the social clubs that glued communities together. They gave people a sense of camaraderie that allowed friendliness with neighbors, regardless of differing viewpoints. Their purpose was togetherness and improving society, not theological indoctrination. They led powerful social movements: Black churches were at the vanguard of Civil Rights. The Episcopal denomination ordained women to the priesthood in the 70’s. Many congregations were first responders to the AIDS crisis and fought for LGBTQ+ equality.
While headlines focus on what seems to be an indivisible bond between Christianity and conservatism, the movement Jesus began is about radical belonging. It is not based in politics, power, or exclusion. At its core, it is about committing to a community, not a “personal relationship with Jesus Christ.”
Having been on both the inside and the outside, I’ve learned that the healthiest religious communities are those where people feel like they matter. That they’re part of something bigger than themselves, with resources available to them to live out their passions. This exponentially increases an individual’s ability to do good in their community; it amplifies their voice and strengthens their advocacy. And, most importantly, it kindles their faith.
In such a time as this, I wonder: would it be best to rediscover the good these institutions can offer the world?