Committed Believers are leaving organized religion in astounding numbers. To be clear, they are not leaving the faith; they are leaving the organized church—and they aren’t coming back.

When interviewed about the reason for their departure, these folks say they left because the church and its message are no longer relevant.

But wait. Irrelevant?!

The Gospel message isn’t ever irrelevant. What are these folks really saying?

They’re saying that what the church offers them on Sunday is not something they can do anything with on Monday. It’s not that the exegetical examination of the Gospel of John is wrong, or that the pastor’s series on marriage is ill-conceived, but that what they hear at church doesn’t relate to life.

This isn’t a new problem. The issue began to manifest itself twenty or twenty-five years ago. But while social scientists are telling us the church is in steep decline, I’m still not convinced the church as an organization realizes it might be straightening deck chairs on the Titanic.

As society whirls in a darkening spiral, this should be the church’s finest hour—if only we weren’t so busy shooting ourselves in the foot. The line between government as society’s provider and God as mankind’s provider is more vivid in the Fall of 2022 than at any other time in American history.

Government or God?

Thus, what ails America—and most of the world—is not political in nature. It is spiritual.

The reason Karl Marx advocated for atheism in his advance of Socialistic-Communism is because he understood that people’s allegiance to something/someone greater themselves—to provide security for them—could either be government or God, but not both. Religion was like an opiate, he wrote, deluding people from denouncing God in favor of a Socialistic system that could create Utopia on earth.

Government or God.

As Socialistic-Communism gains popularity in the West, we are not facing a political crisis. We are facing a spiritual crisis.

Meanwhile, the earthly organization charged with advancing the Gospel, shining light into the darkness, and being savor in a tasteless world is in a death spiral that only those on the outside acknowledge. Facing the declining numbers, church leaders address the problem programmatically. Yet, the decline steepens.

Not long ago, I asked Father God what I could contribute to the solution. My last book, Rigorous Grace: Practicing the Life of Jesus is the outcome of our discussions.

The thesis of my book is simple: Because our failure as people of faith is fundamental, our solution must be fundamental as well. And by fundamental, I don’t mean fundamentalist like the media talk about. I mean fundamental in basic principles and practices that are foundational to your life of faith.

It is not possible to make your faith relevant if your faith is not proficient in its fundamental application every day of the week.

Rigorous Grace is a book I hope you will read, certainly. But honestly, this is a book you need to digest—not because I’m advancing some novel notion to sell books, but because Rigorous Grace takes you into the life of your Older Brother, examines how He connected with His Father in Heaven, and then presents the fundamental practices that He utilized so you can emulate them.

This is the reason why I wrote Rigorous Grace.

But why do I write to you on a regular basis in articles like this one?

Why do I reference the social conflict afflicting our society and create tension for you as you read?

My articles that exacerbate or enlighten societal struggles, mental anguish, or emotional angst are seeking one outcome: By creating literary tension, I want to help you make your faith relevant every day of the week.

As I write in Rigorous Grace, the researcher Robin Hogarth identifies two types of environments. The first she calls “kind” and defines as regular, consistent, predictable, logical, transparent, and honest. The second, she calls “wicked” and defines as irregular, inconsistent, unpredictable, irrational, unclear, and duplicitous. Evaluating her research, David Epstein notes that only those people who have learned deeply about life will thrive in a wicked environment.

To state the obvious: We do not live in a kind world. We live in a wicked world.

Most Sunday School classes and church activities are kind. Most days are wicked.

If your faith is not relevant seven days a week, your faith is not deeply learned, to reference Epstein. If your faith does you no good on Monday, you are forced to live the functional life of a deist—meaning, you worship a God who exists but who is distant, leaving you on your own.

I don’t want that for you—and I don’t think you want that for you.

You may wish that I write about your new identity in Christ, or an insight from Ephesians, or examine the nuances of tithing, or reveal the identity of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, but to do this without correlating these matters of the faith to life on Monday would be a disservice to you.

One resource I can provide is to take what you know of life in Christ and demonstrate its relevance to your life on “Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Wednesday, Friday” (to quote from “The Godfather”).

Epstein, whom I mentioned earlier, points out that the majority of us are incapable of generalizing from abstract ideas to practical application. This means that in spiritual matters, it is not good enough for me to tell you to pray, or to read your Bible, or that you must be salt and light in the world. Given Epstein’s research and revelation about learning, it’s unlikely you can take abstractions such as these and make them relevantly practical.

In order to pray, you must be shown prayer. In order to read your Bible and comprehend, you must be shown how to read Scripture for comprehension and application.

In order for your faith to be relevant every day, you need first to identify the setting of your faith. Your faith isn’t pressed for relevance when your pastor talks about loving your neighbor.

The relevance of your faith occurs when you are visiting with your neighbor about her barking dog. The relevance of your faith is tested on Monday as you sort through the humanitarian, legal, political, and human rights crises on America’s Southern border. The relevance of your faith is tested when you risk your child to an educational system adrift, rife with fentanyl, sexual confusion, and delusional history.

If you are a Democrat, your faith must inform how you manage your Party platform about abortion. If you are a Republican, your faith must inform how you think of the poor and the place for government subsidies. As a Believer, your faith must rise above partisanship and relate to reconciliation, respect, and renewal of hope for those around you.

As our country fast-marches toward Socialistic-Communism, your faith must inform how you determine whom you will look to for security: government or God.

If your faith is irrelevant to daily life, you will find yourself placing your hope for the future in the outcomes of the mid-term elections. Sadly, many of our religious leaders are using their religious platforms to endorse political figures. Their implicit message with political endorsements is that the faith they represent is irrelevant when it comes to what concerns America.

A relevant, vibrant, active faith must engage an informed political process while clearly understanding that hope is in Christ, confidence is in Christ, future is in Christ, past is in Christ, and today is in Christ.

If your faith doesn’t do this, or can’t do this, then your faith is laboring to be relevant.

My intent in creating literary tension for you, along with guidance about your faith’s relevance, is to help you gain confidence that what you believe is relevant to all that enters your life. While tension, schism, and unkindness are rampant in our culture, there is no better time than right now to leverage this divisiveness to your benefit and the advance of your faith’s relevance.

This is the reason I write to you, what I write to you sometimes, and why it initially feels onerous. I’m hoping to help you assess your faith and its relevance in the midst of tension.

Now that you know, if what I write isn’t relating to what concerns you, or you are not finding my words relevant, tell me. Offer some thoughts. Communicate. I’m listening—and I very much want to help you hone your faith with a sharp edge.

As always, thanks for reading.

The Reason Why