A Fog in the Pews

Photo by Jason Krieger on Unsplash

An old leadership saying still rings true today: “If there is a mist from the pulpit, there will be a fog in the pews.” Today, many pews are filled with a theological fog. Walk into any number of mainline churches and one can only surmise what will be proclaimed and taught. Particularly in our pluralistic culture, there seems to be a lack of robust theological and doctrinal catechetical reflection. But why are people so confused about doctrine, theology, and the basic tenets of the faith? What are the implications of this confusion? And does the average person even care? 

A 2020 Ligonier Ministries “State of Theology” survey reveals significant problems with the theological convictions of many Christians in the United States. According to the survey, 52% of adult respondents held that while Jesus was certainly a great and wise teacher, he was not God. Among evangelicals this number tilts slightly in the other direction: 62% affirm the divinity of Jesus. It is gravely concerning that nearly 4 out of 10 evangelicals and 5 out of 10 adults doubt or reject what the church has historically affirmed and upheld. Jesus is, as we recite in the Nicene Creed, “God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten, not made, consubstantial with the Father.” 

In addition to the decrease in affirmation of creedal Christology, views on the Bible have shifted recently. In 2020, 54% of U.S. adults did not believe in objective truth and, in particular, religious truth. When compared to 2014, this shows a disconcerting trend of religious, doctrinal, and biblical apathy: 60% of adults once believed in religious objective truth as well as affirmed biblical inspiration and trustworthiness of God’s holy word. Even though the U.S. has not reached the same theological apathy as secularized Europe, we shouldn’t ignore these trends. We should feel an urgency, especially among evangelicals, to help reclaim the rich theological traditions within the church. 

So, what exactly is contributing to this spiritual malady? Because the philosophical implications of this matter far exceed the scope of this article, I commend the robust writings of Firebrand contributors David Watson (The Identity Revolution: A Review of Carl Trueman’s The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self) and Dale Coulter (Postmodernism and the Christian Faith). 

Allow me, however, to offer a few pragmatic examples I believe are contributing to the present-day concerns. Shortly after arriving at my current appointment, I led a brief sermon series on the Holy Spirit. Ken Collins reminds us, “The Holy Spirit must play a leading, superintending role in the process of repentance: convicting, illuminating, and teaching—even actively wooing the sinful soul” (Collins, Theology of John Wesley, 123). Granted, not everyone is going to be familiar with the intricacies of Wesley’s theology, but I was sure they knew something about the Holy Spirit. Surprisingly, throughout the series, numerous people approached me with thanks, curiosity, and at times dazed looks. I was met with statements like, “I had no idea the Spirit was so important,” “I can’t remember the last time I heard a sermon on the Holy Spirit,” and “This stuff is weird.” It became increasingly apparent to me that people were living in the fog. As the pastor, I wanted to do everything I could to help them out of it. In the following days, it became clear to me why the New Testament speaks so often about sound teaching and doctrine (Acts 2:42, 13:12; Romans 6:17; 1 Timothy 1:10, 4:16). It is because false doctrine creeps in so easily. 

Perhaps one of the reasons for the theological fog is that we aren’t doing enough to help people understand the gospel and the essentials of the Christian faith. According to Saint Augustine, “It is the duty… of the eloquent churchman, when he is trying to persuade the people about something that has to be done, not only to teach, in order to instruct them; not only to delight, in order to hold them; but also, to sway, in order to conquer and win them” (Augustine, On Christian Doctrine). This should be the job of every pastor and leader who is assigned to be their parish or organization’s theological expert in residence. We have to teach the orthodox faith in compelling ways. 

To this point, David Wells argues that many church leaders have forgotten this theological task and instead are opting for a more therapeutic and accommodating doctrine, which appears helpful but offers little in the way of deep spiritual formation and theological reflection.  Wells appropriately names this therapeutic deism as one of the most prevalent maladies in the present-day church. With the “disappearance of theology” the church is eroding from the inside and offering little in the way of being distinct from the secular doctrines of society (Wells, No Place for Truth, 119). I wonder if the confusion is self-induced because leaders aren’t properly guarding against unhealthy doctrines being shared in their pulpits. Particularly in our churches, one of the mantras getting the most attention is that of inclusion. 

Let me be clear: inclusion, properly understood, helps the church to truly be the church. Jesus ate with sinners, associated with prostitutes, and built a ministry around the lost and least. Jesus loved people (Matthew 9:12-13). But he did have limits. He knew the difference between right and wrong, good and evil (Matthew 12:30-32). 

Particularly in debates about scripture, rarely do I hear any reference to Jesus’s apologia. I hear people say things like Jesus didn’t care about doctrine or Jesus wasn’t concerned about defending scripture, but we read in Matthew 4 that Jesus actually went to war with the devil over the use and merits of scripture. This passage describes three instances in which Jesus corrected wrong teaching as well as the misuse and misinterpretation of scripture. Jesus rebukes the devil with scripture and says forcefully, “Away from me, Satan! For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only’” (Matthew 4:10).

Not long afterward, Jesus preached a message of repentance: “Repent, for the kingdom of God has come near” (Matthew 4:17). The command to repent (metanoia) is another way of telling people to turn away from their lies and falsehoods, unhealthy doctrine, and the idea that you can believe whatever you want. In other words, think differently! 

I wonder if one of the reasons for the fog in the pews is that we have forgotten what it means to follow the lead of Jesus and defend the faith against the attacks of the enemy (1 Peter 3:15). If the church is constantly pushing the limits of doctrinal and theological inclusivity, I fear we will begin to look no different than the world. Furthermore, if we don’t stop inviting every form of doctrine to be entertained in our pulpits, lecterns, and places of worship, we won’t just be inviting chaos, but we might just be entertaining the devil. Again, Wells articulates this sentiment profoundly, “It may be the case that Christian faith, which has made easy alliances with modern culture in the past few decades, is also living a fool’s paradise, comforting itself about all the things that God is doing in society while it is losing its character, if not its soul” (No Place for Truth, 68). 

This doesn’t mean we must throw rocks or become jerks for Jesus (Eugene Cho, Thou Shalt Not Be A Jerk). Goodness knows the world has enough rigidity. Yet if we don’t recover the art of speaking truth with grace, the church will have a difficult time embracing Jesus’s admonition about flavorless salt and a light hidden under a basket (Matthew 5:13-16). Gospel truth should never be hidden from the world. Rather, it should be heralded to and for the world and seen as good and pleasing in the sight of God (1 Timothy 2:3-4). 

The church owes a debt of gratitude to its great thinkers who so brilliantly articulated the Christian faith. People like the early church fathers, Thomas Aquinas, Julian of Norwich, Catherine of Siena, Martin Luther, John Wesley, and beyond have contributed to the legacy and beauty of the church. Their unyielding desire for right theology and doctrine have afforded a gift to the church—the permission to reason, ponder, and ask questions. In other words, we can be both head and heart Christians (Mark 12:30) without compromising core beliefs.  

In our culture, people are deathly afraid of being considered “offensive.” In order to avoid being seen as polarizing, we simply focus on love. To a certain extent, this is appropriate. As a Wesleyan, I agree that the way of the gospel is the way of love. But what is love? This seems to be at the heart of the confusion and the source of the fog that occupies many pulpits. Love isn’t the avoidance of offense. Rather love, in the words of Thomas Aquinas, is “willing the good of the other.” Love seeks to enlighten, enliven, and help others become everything God desires for their lives. It is the desire to see others thrive, while pointing them to the ultimate and highest source of love found in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. We call this holy love. 

Love transforms ashes and gives shape, form, and meaning. On the other hand, love is sometimes like getting open heart surgery—it’s painful and invasive, while also lifesaving and necessary. The gospel may sometimes be unpleasant to hear, but with the right posture it can move us toward wholeness and healing and mended hearts (Ezekiel 36:26). “It is this distinct holiness, informed by love” that God freely offers to the church and world (Collins, Theology of John Wesley, 21).  
When pastors occupy their church pulpits, they need not shy away from the complexity of the faith. As tempting as it is to water down the faith to a few basic commands, it doesn’t do justice to the people sitting in the pews who are asking difficult and challenging questions. When someone is struggling with the death of a child, when someone has experienced a miscarriage, when someone is going through divorce, when someone is confessing shame and guilt, when people are asking tough questions about faith, we owe them more than simplistic and reductionistic answers. Pastors should help people think deeply through such weighty matters and not shy away from right or wrong, righteousness and sin, good and evil. Love is both compassionate and truthful, and we don’t have to choose one at the expense of the other. In the words of Saint Paul, “Instead, speaking the truth in love, we will grow to become in every respect the mature body of him who is the head, that is, Christ” (Galatians 1:15).

Jonathan Brewster is pastor of First UMC Monticello in Monticello, Florida. Jonathan serves as an elder in the Florida conference.