It’s April 1944. Dietrich Bonhoeffer had been in the Nazi prison at Tegel for over a year, waiting for word on when, if ever, he might be released and wondering whether a daring plot to kill Adolf Hitler set for July 20th would succeed. The rations from the German Reich government left much to be desired for ordinary Germans, let alone prisoners. The Americans bombed Berlin by day, and British airstrikes during the night made it hard to find more than a few hours of sleep at a stretch, fraying the nerves of even the most stout-hearted. Bonhoeffer chose this moment to write to his friend, Eberhard Bethge, to complain about something one might find your average young American Christian complaining about—religious people.
“I often wonder,” Bonhoeffer writes, “why my ‘Christian instinct’ frequently draws me more toward non-religious people than toward the religious … I’m often reluctant to name the name of God to religious people—because somehow it doesn’t ring true for me there, and I feel a bit dishonest saying it …”
This sounds more like your teenager’s diary than one of the century’s greatest theologians.
Bonhoeffer continues: “It’s especially bad when other people start talking in religious terminology; then I clam up almost completely and feel somehow uncomfortable and in a sweat—yet on some occasions with nonreligious people I can speak God’s name quite calmly.”
Those quotes may come as a shock considering the source, a pastor and seminary director who spilled a lot of ink on the importance of the church. Of course angst-ridden college students and German theologians aren’t the only people who want to claim Jesus as Lord while distancing themselves from “religious people.” Many young men and women will admit that they’re weary of the church’s need to fight a losing battle against the secularization of American culture. Weary of sermons and magazine articles sounding a “clarion call” to faithfulness, or scolding readers about the dangers of various “slippery slopes.”
For many pastors, these conversations are familiar territory. Young people in our communities say this sort of thing all the time. They’re the ones who are in church Sunday after Sunday. The Barna Group’s David Kinnaman reported in UnChristian that “Half of young churchgoers said they perceive Christianity to be judgmental, hypocritical, and too political. One-third said it was old-fashioned and out of touch with reality.”
What’s happening here? Denouncing the immaturity or even disloyalty of young people might be a natural response to such statistics. However, if we return to Bonhoeffer’s letter to his friend Bethge, I believe he has provides us with a partial diagnosis of the problem. “It always seems to me,” he wrote, “that we leave room for God only out of anxiety.”
Only out of anxiety? Is commonplace fear really the main reason we cling to God?
I’d like to think that it’s unduly harsh to apply Bonhoeffer’s accusation to American Christians in today. Many ministers commit their entire lives to the preaching of the gospel, and many lay people love the Lord with all their hearts and will follow him whatever the cost.
If we’re honest with ourselves, most people—perhaps even most pastors—aren’t in church to worship the Lord of all the earth or to commune with his people. We’re there for a spiritual pick-me-up to get us through the work week or because we have to be. We’re there because we fear being without God in a world that’s leaving us behind. We’re there because we fear the economy, the housing bubble, and the stock market. We fear the changing social mores and government intrusions. We fear persecution in a society that has protected freedom of Christian practice throughout history. We fear the weather. We fear being alone. We fear losing the life to which we’ve grown accustomed.
Young people can smell this fear as soon they step into the sanctuary on Sunday morning, especially if it’s coming from the pulpit. They’re disgusted by it and frankly, they should be. They intuitively know that a life lived in fear is far from the abundant, Spirit-led life promised to those who become disciples of Jesus. If we are living in fear, we send a message that we don’t feel secure in the love of the all-powerful God we worship. If congregants panic at the demise of D.O.M.A., is it likely that they could stand faithful in the midst of actual persecution? If pastors are crippled by anxiety when giving declines, how can they expect to respond faithfully if God calls them to voluntary poverty? Young people notice this lack of trust in God. The proof is there for them to see and hear every Sunday morning.
The apostle Peter admonished the church on this very topic, saying, “Do not fear what they fear!” Peter was certain that his readers had good reason not to fear the things those around them feared. Paul went even further: “If God is for us, who can be against us?” It’s fair to say that those who lived and walked with Jesus spoke with one voice: God’s people must not give in to fear.
What’s our alternative? Bonhoeffer’s letter from prison gives us an answer: “I’d like to speak of God not at the boundaries but in the center, not in weakness but in strength, thus not in death and guilt but in human life and human goodness.”
This is what God wants for each of us. In the Apostle John’s words, he wants us to live life “to the full.” He wants a life of thankfulness to, and trust in, God. And, as Dallas Willard taught us, he wants us to leave the outcomes with God. We need to meet the people in our communities in the strength and confidence that are borne of faith while listening attentively to his Spirit, knowing that whatever happens, God is present and God is strong.
Millennials—both in our congregations and in our communities—will sense this quiet strength. When they notice that we aren’t constantly calculating and worrying, they will ask the reason for the hope that’s within us.
How can the church, both globally and locally put this into practice? There’s no formula, but we can start by resisting using fear as a motivator. And we must be aware of not only what we say, but how we say it.
Let’s avoid using a fear of the future, the unknown, or people of different backgrounds or ideologies to scare congregants into obedience or conformity. It’s this sort of pulpit-talk, which has cooled many millennials’ ardor for the church. Making apocalyptic statements from the pulpit about political, social, and economic problems does not point people toward Christ. Preach Christ as God Incarnate and Christ as the Crucified One. Preach about the God who will put an end to the darkness and brokenness of this world. Instead of propagating fear, we should preach the love of Christ, which drives out fear.
What, then, do we do when fear threatens to overwhelm us? With the Psalmist, we say, “When I am afraid, I put my trust in you” (Ps 56:3 NRSV), remembering what God has done in our lives and in the lives of his people past and present. The great stories of God’s faithfulness in the Scriptures, in church history, and in our personal lives should be narrated from our pulpits. These stories will help us remember that God still comes through for his people, and that he always keeps his promises.
In a sermon during the chaotic weeks before Hitler took the reins of government in Germany, Bonhoeffer told the congregation at Trinity Church in Berlin that “The Bible, the gospel, Christ, the church, the faith—all are one great battle cry against fear in the lives of human beings.”
I believe God wants us to hear that battle cry again.
