The Quest for Big Religion

The Quest For
“Big Religion”

by Steve Dewhirst

Who could imagine a more difficult work than that of the prophet Hosea? His life and tragic marriage were designed to reflect the heartache of God, Himself, as Israel "played the harlot" with pagan idols. "They sow the wind, and reap the whirlwind" (Hos. 8:7) the prophet warned, but to no avail. God’s denunciation of His people finds its essence in Hosea 8:14: "For Israel has forgotten his Maker, and has built temples..." Two critical elements were factored into God’s condemnation.

First, God’s covenant people had forgotten Him. Some have suggested that the literal meaning is misplaced. Jehovah had been misplaced and forgotten because Israel had grown preoccupied with other concerns. Despite her spiritual decay, Hosea’s 50-year tenure as a prophet was marked by relative prosperity for the Northern Kingdom. As our own generation illustrates, when "the economy is good" people care little for moral or spiritual matters.

And secondly, in the absence of true devotion to Jehovah, Israel had adopted the religious cults of the day. But it wasn’t enough to simply burn sacrifices on crude, roughhewn altars. Instead, Israel built temples to their gods. There is a predictable pattern as men digress from spirituality to carnality. When one’s faith shrinks in fervor, it takes "something big" to sustain and satisfy his natural religious urge. If he can no longer find comfort in God, he will seek comfort in the trappings of religion that appeal to his carnal perspective. He’s no longer motivated by piety, but by pride in his appearance of piety. This type of "big" religion makes it possible for men to feel "spiritual" without the commitment of godliness and morality.

This weak-faithed desire for "bigness" has been evident in every age, from the golden calf at Sinai, to massive cathedrals of Catholicism, to socially-prominent Protestant denominations. Every city in America is graced by huge houses of worship (and even larger recreational facilities) as denominations compete for the appearance of piety. But how pious is the modern world? Southern Baptists argue if wives should be in submission to husbands, Episcopalians ordain homosexuals, Methodists and Charismatics ignore what the Bible says about the role of women in public worship, and on it goes. But in each denomination, there is "comfort" to be found in prominent buildings, social acceptability, and the knowledge that one is part of "something big." The carnal is disguised as the spiritual.

And there is another psychological element involved here, too. The sense of "bigness" or prominence helps one to feel vindicated in his religious practice, even if he has no real understanding of the principles involved. As long as he can point to others who share his beliefs and can cite a heritage of forebears who "have always done things this way," he feels safe and secure. Big religion is a crutch for weakened personal faith. It gives rise to a shift from Christianity to churchianity, which is exactly why we should be alerted to the danger of settling into a non-thinking orthodoxy.

Not too many years ago, true New Testament disciples were often known as "a people of the Book." There is a frightening correlation between the conspicuous absence of that appellation nowadays and our waning discipleship. The same sense of comfortable orthodoxy enjoyed by the denominations has come to characterize many Christians in our generation. Instead of a hunger for the word of God, many Christians seem to want shorter sermons, non-textual Bible study (actually an oxymoron), and little personal commitment. As long as one can establish precedent - demonstrate that things were done or taught a certain way by men in the past - it’s enough to satisfy brethren who lack the appetite for self-examination and the proper establishment of Bible authority. So long as a preacher can trot out a string of "proof texts" - whether taken in context or not - it satisfies men and women who are content to believe what they’ve always believed, even if they’ve never really understood the concept under discussion. Anything deemed new or different is immediately suspect, even if biblically sound, because brethren are too ignorant of the principles to understand the issue. It’s just easier to condemn what we don’t understand out of hand, than to apply ourselves to learning. This isn’t discipleship; it’s the maintenance of a middle-class, respectable sect.

Sadly, as conviction gives way to respectability, many Christians have found comfort in thinking themselves part of the church: not the Lord’s body in its universal, biblical sense and not a local body of Christians, but a nation-wide body of churches known as the churches of Christ. This lamentable error hasn’t occurred intentionally, but has evolved conceptually as many have grown less interested in a thus-saith-the-Lord and have sought security and strength in numbers. this attitude is particularly noticeable among institutional brethren, but it’s noticeable among non-institutional folk as well. And here’s the irony: many who eschew the notion of church-supported human institutions have, themselves, erected one under the banner the churches of Christ! The concept of a body of churches in some sort of confederation is unknown to scripture, and is of human origin. Even if such a body of churches exists only in the minds of men, its effect is the same. The very idea creates a fraudulent security blanket in which weak brethren can wrap themselves for comfort. It used to be taught that anything smaller or larger than a local church was unscriptural. What has happened? Perhaps we need to diligently teach anew the lessons of institutionalism, but with a new twist, reminding brethren that a local church is not part of anything larger than itself.

Israel’s only hope for restoration in Hosea’s day was a return to genuine faith in God, and so it is for us. Not a "faith of our fathers," but a faith of our own based on sound Bible teaching and personal study. Any true disciple of Christ should be satisfied to belong to Him and to a local church family. If we’re longing for something "bigger," it’s not a sign of faith, but weakness.