Sometimes I feel like the most dangerous place to live the Christian life is the American suburbs of the dechurched South. Not because there is persecution or external dangers, but because the dangers that do exist are subtle, tractor beams, that grab and lull people into comfort, security, ease, and sleep all wrapped in the fuzzy guise of churchianity.
We have been sold the idea that it is possible to have a wife, 2.5 kids, a house, a nice car, an HD TV, and a little Jesus and life is good. We have been told that a good life is a decent marriage and a good job. We raise our kids to be good and explain to them that they must “rinse and repeat” the cycle for prosperity to continue. We think our job as parents is for them to come out as unscathed as possible from us and world around them. If we stay away from the bad people and hang with the good people we and they will be o.k. We are so convinced of these pursuits that we insulate these dreams with retirement funds, insurance policies, and 401Ks so hopefully the last season of our life can be filled with comfortable do nothingness.
And yet, we long for more because whatever we have is too small, not clear enough, not fast enough, needs fixing, or requires too much time to maintain for the amount of pleasure we get out of it. We wonder why our kids have little time for us as they pursue their elementary-age careers on the internet, soccer field, or classroom. They watch us come home tired and stressed, and we wonder why they feel helpless as they look ahead. And then when the crisis strikes, be they economic, medical, or family, we self medicate with socially acceptable drugs like stuff, food, or entertainment. All the while, wondering why this is happening to us when we have Jesus, and a bunch of other stuff.
We are a mirror of our neighbors the unregenerate Jones except for an occasional engagement at church. We go to church on Sunday with a smile on our faces and our Bibles in our hands. Our prayers revolve around procuring temporary hopefulness for temporary needs while eternal realities are ignored. We know more about A.I. or the GOP while facts about the B.I.B.L.E. are equated at the same level of trivia as everything else in our pop culture world. We affirm our external presuppositions about life and culture as others nod in agreement and while leaving our own hearts unexamined, unrepentant, and unchanged. And all the while thinking that we “get” Christianity and hope those liberals figure it out.
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