This is a question that I’ve been wondering around for a long while now, since long before COVID or the current round of protests. (These have offered some interesting opportunities for exploring the question, however.) I grew up in the evangelical church, am ordained in it, and am committed to serving it vocationally. But more and more I find it hard to locate myself within it. I simply cannot understand what we are so afraid of.

Let me be clear that when I say “we” I’m referring to the white evangelical church of America. Over the past couple of decades (the years of my adulthood, when I’ve actually paid some attention to things) I’ve noticed a growing dissonance between the gospel that is affirmed by “us”, and “our” general attitude toward the world around us. While we proclaim a gospel of grace, of joy, and of eternal implication, we engage the world out of fear and fragility. What is going on? Why are “we” so fearful and fragile?

I don’t think there is an easy and simple answer to this question, so I’ll come back to this topic in future posts. This will be the first in a series that seeks to make some sense of our fear and fragility. But for now, let’s try to name the problem well.

One of the fundamental affirmations for evangelicals is that the word of God is true, accessible, and applicable to our lives. Another is the basic Christian affirmation that Jesus Christ is central to the story of the Bible, the doctrines of the church, and the life of the Christian. But if we are really sold out to these two commitments, what is it that we are so afraid of? Is it…

• Having our rights denied or taken away? - Jesus told his followers to deny themselves and take up their cross. There is a cost to following Jesus, and part of that cost is self-denial.

• Economic woes? - Jesus said that the poor are blessed and that it is nearly impossible for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. If this is true, shouldn’t we welcome poverty? Or do we not believe in a life beyond?

• People who aren’t like us? - God established the nation of Israel to be a blessing to all people. That blessing ultimately came through Jesus Christ who commands his followers to love their enemies, pray for those who persecute them, and care for the least of these.

• Lack of political influence? - Jesus aligned himself with none of the political forces of his day. Instead he commands his followers to serve others, rather than be served, and he says that the first will be last, and the last first.

• Death? - The existential fear of death no doubt pervades our human experience. But didn’t Jesus take care of that on the cross? Didn’t God prove his faithfulness and power when he raised Jesus from the dead? Isn’t this the center of our faith? How is it is that we are still so enslaved by the fear of death (see Hebrews 2:15)?

All of these points suggest a cognitive dissonance in our faith, but I suspect that the real sources of our fear and fragility are rooted much deeper in our lived experience than in our understanding and articulation of what we believe. How can we understand this and how can we move away from it? This is the question that haunts me.

Between Kendall and I we have seven kids ranging from 7 to 13 years old. We are trying to raise them in the Christian faith and to prepare them for the road ahead. The problem is that lives of fear and fragility are precisely what I do not want for my children. (Check out The Coddling of the American Mind by Lukianoff & Haidt for more on this.) Those of us who have been part of the church for the last couple decades are like frogs in a pot of boiling water. The changes have been slow and imperceptible and we have adapted to them. But to our kids (and to those outside the church) the dissonance between the teachings of Jesus and the fear and fragility of the evangelical church are painfully clear.

We need to find a better way forward. More next week.