Christians Who Fear Too Much

Playing on fears of conspiracies and Antichrist lookalikes may sell books, but it subverts the gospel’s confident hope.

Four friends gathered for overpriced milkshakes in a posh Orlando hotel. The annual Christian Booksellers Association convention was nearly over, and it was time to take stock. There had been many solid books from reputable publishers; we chuckled over the march of the “recovery book” clones. Nevertheless, we were each troubled by the same discovery: an increase of fear and scare tactics driving the marketing of many books.

Perhaps most outlandish was a stack of books with the title Satan-Proof Your Home, apparently treating the Devil as if he were radon gas. Most were more tasteful, yet clearly appealing to readers’ self-protective instincts: there were books that played on fear of psychologists, fear of charismatics, fear of 12-step programs, fear of the Antichrist, fear of school-teachers, and fear of New Age influences.

What these publishers’ wares tell us about the Christian public should give us cause for concern. Christian book publishers have become savvy marketers. If they have placed their bets well, it means some of the Christian public is driven by fear, and that’s not a good thing.

Fear was designed by God to give our bodies the sudden bursts of strength and speed we need in emergencies. But when fear becomes a permanent condition, it can paralyze the spirit, keeping us from taking the risks of generosity, love, and vulnerability that characterize citizens of God’s kingdom.

In a famous 1964 essay, Richard Hofstadter identified a “paranoid style” in American politics, which he characterized as “overheated, oversuspicious, overaggressive, grandiose, and apocalyptic in expression” and which assumes a “hostile and conspiratorial world.” What Hofstadter said of a political style applies as well to a style of religion—at least the style of religion expressed at this year’s CBA convention.

The paranoid spokesman, according to Hofstadter, is never at a loss for facts; indeed, he can outdo anyone in the amassing of details, footnotes, and bibliographic references. Christian authors who peddle fear often boast of the number of footnotes in their books. But the arguments are often characterized not only by a massive collection of data, but by a massive leap from the data to the conclusion, which may be more related to the interpretive construct (a conspiracy theory, for example) than to the data.

But, as it is said, just because you’re paranoid does not mean they’re not after you. The real question is whether, in the face of a challenge, the Christian reaction should be fear or something else. As the Bible says, “For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the spirit of sonship” (Rom. 8:15).

That verse occurs in the context of one of the most confidence-building chapters in the Bible. And the confidence it builds is confidence, not in ourselves, but in God. The reasons Paul gives are capsulized in words that outline the nature of our relationship with God. We are “sons”; we are “loved”; we are “led by the Spirit”; we are “predestined”; we are “elect”; we are “called according to his purpose.” And in all this we are “more than conquerors.”

The message of Romans 8 encourages neither “positive thinking” nor flight from reality. It lists graphically the challenges and obstacles we face: tribulation, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, peril, and sword. But it finds confidence in a greater reality, the overwhelming love of God. Unfortunately, this message may not sell as many books.

By David Neff.

Demonizing The Head Doctors

The psychotherapy establishment has hardly been a trustworthy ally of the Christian church. Among the major problems: many mental-health professionals are antagonistic toward religion; each of the major secular psychotherapy approaches makes assumptions that are somewhat at odds with a Christian view of persons; the mental-health field has contributed to the development of a “therapeutic culture” that emphasizes personal growth or happiness over all other ends, including following Christ; some psychotherapists have promoted a “pathologization” of life wherein all unhappiness is seen as “mental illness”; finally, overpromotion of professional services has undermined the confidence of clergy and laypersons in their capacity to minister effectively in the name of Christ.

But does psychology and the mental-health field deserve to be regarded by Christians as the latest version of “the Great Satan”?

Such extreme criticism used to circulate at the periphery of the church, but antipsychology sentiment is now emerging from more visible leaders, most recently from John MacArthur. In Our Sufficiency in Christ (Word), the California pastor and author calls psychology one of “three deadly influences that undermine your spiritual life.”

While the psychotherapy establishment has many flaws, there are important factors that should prevent us from an extreme rejection of psychology.

First, a high view of Scripture does not require that all knowledge must come from the Bible. If we are consumers of any of the advances of science, we acknowledge that things of value can be discerned by sustained human inquiry into the natural order. The apostle Paul goes so far as to say that we can even learn some things about God through the created order (Rom. 1).

Some seem to confuse the legitimate charge that we are to follow God’s counsel and reject Satan’s counsel with the mistaken notion that all assertions of nonbelievers are Satan’s counsel. The truth itself is God’s counsel, wherever we encounter it. The presence of truth mingled with error in the works of nonbelievers should not intimidate us; we find the same mingling in the works of every Christian theologian, pastor, and professor. All of us are fallen. Psychology is an area of valid inquiry where we may learn from the insights and discoveries of nonbelievers.

MacArthur admits that in “rare” cases specialized help from a mental-health professional may be advised, giving such examples as rape, incest, or addiction. He portrays the help obtained in such instances as necessary but “superficial.” This is the beginning of a reasonable position. But we must recognize that such cases are not as rare as one might think. Yet they may seem rare in congregations where psychology is portrayed as the enemy.

Here is a dilemma: pastors must emphasize the sufficiency of Christ, but an emphasis on this doctrine can communicate to parishioners that their faith is deficient if they seek professional help. After all, “seeking help” has been labeled a declaration that they have not found Christ sufficient.

The healing that can come from psychotherapy is not equivalent to salvation. But balm for the wounds that many carry can only be dismissed as “superficial” if medical and relief missions are also judged as superficial. If temporal ministry is superficial, why did Christ care for the physical and emotional suffering of the people of Palestine? We must not treat human pain lightly; that is not the way of Christ.

Salvation and ultimate wholeness are through Christ alone. Yet in this life, not every autistic child is healed, not every learning-disabled child empowered, not every depressed person encouraged, not every panic-stricken person comforted. Psychology can help some of these people and more.

If the errors mentioned earlier are avoided, we have no justification for declaring psychology contrary to the Christian faith.

Guest editorial by Stanton L. Jones, chairman of the psychology department, Wheaton College, and author, with Richard Butman, of Modern Psychotherapies (IVP).

Let My People Stay

In Jerusalem, Bethlehem—indeed, wherever one looks in Israel—the presence of Christians is in danger of becoming a thing of the past. Believers in the West should be concerned about this modern-day exodus.

Modern Palestine, says Jerusalem cleric Naim Ateek, is in danger of becoming a mere museum, rather than host to a “living community in the land where our Lord lived, died, and was resurrected.” Whereas some 30,000 Christians lived in Jerusalem when Israel was founded in 1948, the figure is now estimated to be 9,000. Some put it thousands lower.

The causes for the flight of the region’s faithful are many. The intifada, along with the Israel government’s harsh response, have left many in Israel’s largely middle-class Arab-Christian community weary of the hardship and violence. Nightmarish economic conditions make it impossible for many Palestinians to earn a living. Complicating things further, says Bob O’Donnell, vice-rector of Bethlehem’s Tantur ecumenical institute, Palestinian Christians fear that a longed-for Arab-Palestinian state will be Muslim. They wonder if there will be a place for them in the theocratic state envisioned by more fundamentalist Muslims.

But American Christians also need to face ways that they may contribute to the problem. Many are surprised to discover that most Christians in Israel are Arabs. Unquestioning support for the Israel government—in spite of its antagonism to Arab Palestinians—unwittingly contributes to the exodus.

The departure of Christians from the cradle of their faith dismays us. We cannot forget our brothers and sisters—many of whom are Palestinians—who seem to be finding the land where Jesus walked increasingly inhospitable. Christians here have a responsibility to encourage Israelis and Palestinians to find the resolve to make and keep peace.

Guest editorial by Stanton L. Jones, chairman of the psychology department, Wheaton College, and author, with Richard Butman, of Modern Psychotherapies (IVP).

By Timothy K. Jones.

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