Should I ever have the misfortune
of becoming an atheist (you'll have to indulge me in a quick hypothetical
flight-of-fancy), the first thing I should want to do is reclaim my Sunday
mornings. I would want to sleep as long as possible and perhaps indulge in a
weekly half-dozen donuts or some French Toast. If I decided that it would be a
good day to spend with friends, I would want to wait, at the very least, until
the afternoon. Second, even as an atheist I should want to immediately
acknowledge that the Jews and Christians have gotten at least one thing right,
and that is the beautiful idea of the Sabbath. Just as a stopped clock is right
twice a day, so also the God of Israel, fabricated pseudo-deity that He is, somehow
got one thing right. Why would anyone argue with a religion that is dogmatic
about the fact that its adherents ought to get some rest?
I have been left utterly
dumbfounded, therefore, as I have read (or skimmed) story after story about the
sudden, unexpected rise in "Godless Mega-Churches" across the United
States. At the very least, it is an admirable piece of publicity. Whenever a
number of almost identical “news” stories about anything that is not really
news begin appearing across the journalistic spectrum, one must really assume
that it really has more to do with a sudden influx of capital into a marketing department
than anything truly alarming. Further, I happen to know, from those who have
had the misfortune to attend, that these sorts of congregations have been
around for years, and though they may have grown, they remain just as inexplicably
self-defeating as ever.
It’s not a particularly big deal,
of course. It is not as if Christians ought to feel in any way intimidated by
the fact that the godless have chosen to imitate them. Flattered, maybe, but
confused, certainly. That a person should want to waste a perfectly good Sunday
morning in celebrating something as incorporeal as a lack of belief is almost
impossible for me to believe; as strange as if an historian suddenly began
devoting a day each week to acknowledge that they refuse to believe in the War
of 1812. I suppose it shouldn’t matter much to me that they refuse to believe
in the event, but it is undeniably strange (and a bit sad) that they should
feel like it is worth wasting a perfectly good weekend in celebrating.
But there is precedent for all of
this. There was a strange tendency after the French Revolution, a time in which
secularism seemed to have taken a foothold among the French (though only after
the brutal murder of hundreds of priests and bishops—an achievement which ought
to haunt the skeptic much in the same way the crusades haunt the Christian), to
sell churches at public auction and to turn churches into “halls of reason”.
Suffice it to say the effort was brief and destined for failure, though that
didn’t stop it from being copied, first in Communist Russia and now, of course,
in America.
Yes, these ill-fated “cults of
reason”, after dying quickly in France (after their absurdity was realized),
have been revived in America (and, according to many of the articles, in a
number of other “progressive” nations), where it seems our godless communities
are forever slow to learn the lessons of history.
I see only two possible
explanations for the current influx of anti-god churches (and I suspect that the
truth involves a combination of the two): First, I think that, in part, it is
all intended as a parody, though as parodies are generally supposed to be
funny, one can only assume that this particular parody has been either poorly considered
or poorly executed (or both). As far as I know, having (thankfully) not exposed
myself directly to these cults, there is nothing particularly funny about these
services. Second, and far more important, I would suspect that there is a very
genuine desire, even among the godless, to experience the beautiful things that
have always been found perfectly naturally within Christianity, but which are
only rarely tasted by those on the outside. It is about time, quite frankly,
that the skeptic should come around to
understand this.
Christ told His disciples that
they would be known for their love for one another, and this remains true
today. The love of God, shared between believers, continues to be the defining
feature of true Christianity, and it is often demonstrated in our Sunday
gatherings. Indeed, this love has long been one of the forces most capable of drawing
the wandering masses to the church. It was only a matter of time before someone
outside the church considered that they might be able to fabricate this love by
imitating the communion of the saints, even if it means leaving out both
communion and saintliness.
I can only assume that these
services have perfectly mastered some of the superficialities of the church—they
surely have talented musicians leading the masses in hymns devoted to
nothingness; they likely have inspiring “sermons” by talented motivational
speakers. But I can only imagine that attending these services must be
something like spending an evening at a movie theater, with arms full of candy
and soda, only to find that someone has forgotten the film. I hardly envy
someone being forced to stare at a blank screen.
It really should be the most
obvious statement in the world, but God
is the only thing that makes a church service worthwhile; without Him, there
really can be no church. One may go for community, but it is only a belief in
God that allow for a true community; it is only the example of His love that
allows true love between brothers and sisters. To be perfectly honest, if it
was not for the very presence of God, it would take a team of oxen to drag me
to church. And yet, it is one of God’s great modern miracles that I do not
merely go to church; I go joyfully, because He is there.
To make this phenomenon even
stranger, it has been said that these new congregations have been known to
draw, not just the purely godless, but also those who fall into the
"spiritual but not religious" camp. But this is to be expected, for one
can hardly imagine a sadder or more misguided camp than this, and while the
Christian ought generally desire to see the Christian church filled with all
types of people, these included, I have always found it difficult to understand
or explain those who have lost all sense of truth and fallen into the deep,
dark pit of “spirituality”; those who reject the objective, of whom God said, “because
you are lukewarm, and neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth”.
Now, being aware of all this—that
the Christian church is only worthwhile because of the presence of God, and
that it only stands because it is built upon an objective truth—it is difficult
to feel any fear or intimidation about these congregations. One can hardly
compare a momentary, bitter, flash-in-the-pan imitation movement to the one,
true, consistent Church that has been growing and thriving for 2,000 years,
showing no signs of stopping. No matter how much momentary media attention they
may garner now, the fad of secular churches and godless congregations is
destined to destruction, for one cannot conceivably unite over a belief in
nothing. Just as schoolboys may find momentary pleasure in forming clubs,
uniting over the giddy simplicity of themes such as, "No Girls
Allowed", it is inevitable that they will discover, later, that girls may
not be so bad after all, so also will godless churches inevitably collapse
under the realization that they were founded under a premise that could never
carry any weight.
