Now when Jesus saw a crowd around him, he gave orders to go over to the other side.
And a scribe came up and said to him, “Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go.” And Jesus said to him, “Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”

Matthew 8:18-20 (ESV)

For most of church history, it was easy to draw connections between Scripture and the best learning of the day. But as the scientific revolution picked up steam, it began to generate more and more conflicts with traditional Christian teaching about the world and the way that it works. Some (e.g., deists) were increasingly willing to use worldly knowledge to reinterpret their faith. Others were willing to disengage to one degree or another, focused on the truth of Scripture above all.

As the standard account goes, Schleiermacher began the liberal theological tradition by proposing a synthesis: keep religion as a matter of personal experience, and let human learning advance unhindered. Instead of being religious, you can be spiritual. Instead of insisting the Bible is true, you can say that it’s true for you.

Conservative Christians were able to keep up with science to some degree until evolution forced a decision: will you insist that the accounts of the Bible actually happened? Or will you admit that we now know the truth about human origins and must reinterpret the Bible?

Those who maintained their resistance came to be called fundamentalists.

Those who returned a generation later to insist that the Bible should make an impact on culture were called the new evangelicals. They worked hard to engage with the best learning, to resist the urge to retreat and let the liberals and other non-Christians take control of society. Their students became formidable scholars in fields like philosophy and history. They engaged not just higher learning, but politics, the arts, and business.

I grew up in the age that was reaping the benefit of these efforts. I could buy Christian alternatives to popular music, I could watch Christian leaders fight for biblical values on TV, and when I came to seminary, it had been over a decade since The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind heightened the efforts to arm the minds of believers for action.

But the more I study evangelical history, the more convinced I am that this desire to engage came with strings attached. Engagement is good, depending on how you define it. But neo-evangelical engagement sought respectability. And I believe that has turned out to be too high a price to pay.

Respectability has sent some of our best minds to secular schools. Respectability has sent some of our best schools on secular quests. Respectability necessarily subjugates Christian values to secular values. What is good scholarship? Don’t ask the Christian scholar. Ask the real scholar. What is good art? Don’t ask the Christian musician, ask the real musician. What is a good school? Don’t ask the church. Ask the secular accrediting agency.

How does a good enterprise go off-track? Well, there are many ways. But respectability is a well-worn path: just get the credentials, then they’ll respect you. Just add that degree to your resume, or that scholar to your faculty. Just take seriously the work of non-Christian scholars, then they’ll respect you. What? You haven’t read so-and-so? How am I supposed to take your work seriously? What? You reject his work?! I don’t find your reasons compelling.

We are always on the lookout for a respectable face, a respectable theory, a respectable mission, and in the end it always turns out to be bait in the trap. Just a little more. Just a little more. You’re so close! And then you find yourself among the enlightened few, so glad you’re not like those fundamentalists. You are different. You are respected.

But I don’t mean to speak too broadly. I’m sure there are many faithful Christians who have earned the respect of their secular peers, and for that I am grateful. But I wonder how many of them are capable of telling these peers something they don’t want to hear. I believe they are out there. But if evangelicalism has launched a thousand scholars, I fear only a handful have the ability to take a stand when needed.

It is perhaps easier in the arts, where there is a personal element to the craft. But how many Christian artists, if given the choice between respectability and rejection, choose the former so that they can have a bigger platform and make more of a difference? The problem is, the larger the platform gets, the more you have to lose. There are precious few people, I fear, who are willing to lose it.

Ah, and then there’s politics. We’ve done away with the old kind of respectability, for better or worse, but don’t be fooled: respectability has only moved. It’s the ability to raise money and gather crowds. It’s always been this, of course, but it used to be that the old kind of respectability was necessary to get you those things. (At least for a time. I don’t doubt that the days before television saw a much wilder political spirit.) If you want to make it these days, you have to earn your respectability with the right buzzwords, attacking the right opponents, signaling the right virtues. How much Christianity do you have to give up? Only as much as it takes to win.

I’m speaking in broad terms for the sake of time; each of these points should be a paper with proper evidence and argument. But this is a blog, and I speak as the medium allows.

Whatever you are trying to keep in motion, there will eventually come a day when you fear you will have to close the doors because you are not respectable enough. Maybe it’s a party, a movement, a church, a school, a denomination, or some other organization. You wanted to make a difference for Christ. What do you do now?

“Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head.”

I know you’re willing to work your way to the top with Jesus. But are you willing to be homeless with Him?

Today I’m writing on my smartphone. Normally I only use my phone for notes, and especially voice memos, but I haven’t been posting enough and the phone is always with me, so it’s time to learn something new.

I’m writing on the way to learning to be a better parent. I saw an interview the other day which really got me thinking about how I parent. The video was about agency, not parenting per se, but it helped me to see a missing piece. Still working out what it means, but the new direction has been a breath of fresh air.

I’m writing on the way to theological community. One of the persistent struggles since seminary has been finding a theological place to belong. In seminary, I found people with similar interests, and even though we had diverse backgrounds, we could work together. But since then I have found myself a “free grace” guy in a lordship church, a baptist in a CRC town, a traditionalist in a modern church, and a conservative in progressive times. I have been challenging my assumptions, trying to make sure that our differences are worth preserving. And the process is teaching me much about the role of doctrine and how to deal with objections. Soon I expect to post articles that will draw lines that may eventually put most of my friends on the outside of one or another stance. Without a stable theological community, this is a foreboding thought, but I am ready to accept whatever comes.

I’m writing on the way to music, of all things. I starting to let music back into my life last year when the lockdowns began, and the time away from writing and playing has done me good. I’m fixing songs I used to be stuck on, finishing projects that have been open for many years, and finding inspiration for new work for the first time in a a very long time. Not sure what God is doing here, but the idea of teaching theology through music is not lost on me.

I’m writing on the way to new professional projects. In the past month I went from mostly church projects to a resurgence of university projects. I’m grateful, and they have been good for me, but I do feel the loss of freedom to pursue my own studies.

I recognize this part isn’t very substantive, and that it’s more of a journal entry than anything, but the point was to write anything, so from that standpoint it’s a success.

Still letting the perfect get in the way of the good, I suppose. But I was also reminded yesterday that while I want to share everything I’m learning and make things to help others, simply studying is good on its own. it doesn’t have to be shared to be worth my time. I don’t have to squeeze every ounce of utility out of an act.