At such a bleak and critical juncture … it seems it's time to thicken our skins, straighten our backs, bite down on the billet, and position the scalpel. Right?
Years ago, my father scraped his elbow working in the rafters of his garage. Within 48 hours, he was in an ICU with his life in the balance. Infection spread up and down his arm. Passive antibiotic treatments were being efficiently beaten back.
Two select hand/arm surgeons were brought in to battle the condition more actively, more forcefully. Dad was incised from wrist to bicep, along 4-5 different angles. They advanced upon and removed what infection could be found and packed each bone-deep filet with antibiotics as they retreated to the next front.
In the post-op family briefing, the doctors told us flatly—“It does not look good.” He was suffering with necrotizing fasciitis (flesh-eating disease). It was vicious. It was fast. They were thinking the procedure could help apprehend the progress of the condition and possibly make headway in fighting it back along the upper arm.
Their slight hope lacked any real enthusiasm though, when compared to the frightening realism of the entire context. Based on their combined experience, things objectively did not look promising.
Despite working for hours to “clean out” the arm, the surgeons were confident to not to have gotten at all the infected spaces. If their strategy were to be successful, it would have to be repeated, perhaps several times. The greater likelihood was that my father would have to sacrifice the arm in order to intercept any pathway out of the limb.
As horrible as that prospect was, there existed a still more sobering threat. If the infection had already made it into what they describe as the “tissue plane,” it would spread unchecked into the chest, neck, and torso. It would mean his life. They noted the possibility of that having happened already was a distinct one. Only time would tell.
They assured us they would do all they could to save not only life, but limb. Yet, they allowed us to make no mistake that this, and the subsequent procedures, would do immense damage to his arm if they could salvage it.
One surgeon, who did not land as softly upon his points as the other doctors, concluded with a directness that, albeit honest, was especially unsettling. Not because he was insensitive or inappropriate, but rather because he was simply straightforward and not one to sugarcoat. Given the harsh truth of the situation, his words seemed extra sour in that moment:
“We’ll spare no effort to get him well,” he remarked. And with the gravity of brute fact in both his eyes and tone added, “but your father is a very, very sick man.”
THE REACTION
This whole thing rubbed me the wrong way. I stood up and challenged that doctor, pointing out how unhelpful such generalities were. After all, aside from that arm, my father was in good overall health. “I take great exception to you painting with such a broad a brush here. Why aren’t we focusing on how much of the man is not infected?” I asked.
My sweet aunt wondered, “Maybe you shouldn’t use such invasive and physically harsh procedures to cut directly to the infection. Isn’t there an approach that’s more patient, gentle, and kind?”
A constant ally, my sister came along side my concern and demanded to know, “Why are you bashing our father’s health? Why not just blame the arm, since that is the thing that’s sick?” Further punctuating her disgust, she added, “It’s also not appropriate for you to do this in front of all of us. Correcting his infected arm should be done in private. You should only point out and uplift what is still healthy, publicly.”
Her incredulous husband began to walk out, grumbling about "all these woke, progressive doctors, trying to put ‘Pops’ on the slippery slope to accommodating their soft liberal mentality.”
My feisty uncle Chris stormed out with him, griping about how we should not even be talking about it all and that if we just acted like he was healthy, dad would just get better on his own.
My poor mother dropped her face into her hands and mourned, “Why are you doctors attacking my husband? Who are you to judge his general health because of one infected arm? Why such shaming and hate?” Beginning to weep she went on, “None of this is even my experience. The arm with the hand I hold isn’t infected.”
THE ANALOGY
The absurdity of these reactions are likely to make the entire account seem fabricated, but they are the only fictitious element in this article. The point of their addition is to frame, via metaphor, reactions mirroring those from within the American Christian Community, particularly those of the contemporary evangelical church (CEC), in response to voices within appealing the faith community take heed of the dangerous reality confronting it.
Of course, they don't seem nearly as silly, for some reason, when used to resist the concerns and criticisms toward the CEC from within the Church, given the threat is not as imminent. Nor is it perceived to be as dangerous.
Yet, this reality is difficult to miss. The account given of my old man’s very real battle with a lethal strain of infection draws poignant connection to the current condition of the Church. The similarities may prove useful for reflection (and hopefully action) to those who will read onward.
THE CHURCH IS INFECTED
Unlike my father's experience, what is ailing the church is more than a single “bug.” Much has been written by Christian historians, church’s leaders, and culture commentators theorizing about what events led to the infiltration of “bacterial” forces within the Body. For now, however, let us just focus on what we are presently dealing with as the result of them.
Over time, this state of infection raises grave concern for the future wellbeing of the church at large. Allowed to grow unchecked, these “bugs” will usher the CEC to its demise. As their damage paths of the infection are already discernable, so too is the trajectory ahead becoming clearer.
Many leaders, scholars, commentators, and informed observers within the CEC recognize the infectious element as a combination of germs, working together to corrupt the Church.
The more commonly discussed and diagnosed trouble resides in things like our commitment to:
· A politically co-opted theology
· A nationalistic religious identity
· A new generation of unaccountable and highly influential partisan “prophets” and “apostles”
· A long-held fidelity to anti-intellectualism
· A separatist brand of moralism
· The failed adaptations of consumerist strategies for ministry
· The damaging corporatism in leadership outlook
The list likely goes on, but that represents a pretty formidable sampling.
THE PROGNOSIS IS EXTREMELY SERIOUS
The passive antibiotic drips and the application of antibacterial salves are proving ineffective. This is to say the strategies applied over the last few decades have, perhaps, slowed the necrotizing advance, but they are being beaten back.
Research from Barna, Pew, and others make it difficult to misinterpret the downward spiral of the CEC. The decline is well-documented and objectively verifiable.
While the apologists for evangelicalism typically point out how there is actually very little drop in recent years among the percentage of people professing to be "evangelical," data nevertheless reveals those simply identifying as evangelical are increasingly less likely to have their butts in the pew on Sunday mornings. Actual attendees are "dying off"—fleeing from the CEC at a steepening arc. Many are finding their way to liturgical expressions of the Faith. Some are entering more emergent communities. Most are going the way of the "dones," faithful believers who are simply done with the maneuvers of the twenty first century church.
For the CEC, the irresistible force of gravity may prove this nosedive irreversible. Continuing to not openly acknowledge the ground so swiftly approaching only exacerbates the reality facing us. Acting like we are healthy and hoping we get better has not been working. How could we, and why should we, expect it to somehow start working moving forward?
THE REALITY OF THE NEEDED TREATMENT IS OBJECTIVELY GLOOMY
The reality facing us is equitable to the boat my Father was in … if the infection reaches the tissue plane, the Church will lose any hope of intercepting the pathways out of the “arm” in which it is currently contained.
Things just do not look good.
Active and aggressive treatment is required. The Church needs to cut deep into itself in order to hunt out necrotic cells and pack Truer Light into the recesses. If there is any measure of hope to be had in stymieing the spread, confronting this truth is the requisite start. Otherwise, the situation anticipates dire times ahead.
Even with an adoption of such forceful medicine, there is a greater likelihood the treatment will entail some sort of loss. Amputation is a genuine risk. In fact, it may be the greater likelihood at this point.
And while we must do everything remotely possible to save the "limb," we cannot wait on executing the treatment any longer. Although punishing in the moment, there is a life (and thus lives) at stake.
Let’s spare no effort to get the church well, but let’s first accept the brute fact that infection has left it a very, very sick institution. Let's accept that we are facing either reformation or evaporation.
THE BANKRUPT ADOPTION OF CONTEXTUALLY QUESTIONABLE RESPONSES
That increasing numbers within the CEC are voicing their concern and seeking change is, not surprisingly, being met with responses that range from angry rebuke to sad wonder. It is as if the idea of the church being critiqued/criticized, by people within it, is some dreadful offense.
It's as bizarre as if the members of my family actually had taken offense from those surgeons. Of course none of us remotely liked what they were telling us, but that didn't put us on the defensive.
Despite how grave their observations were, it was accepted that, like all of us, these men were on our side - the side that was prepared to do whatever it could for the benefit of my dad.
As much as the best possible future for him was the goal, preserving any future was their preoccupation. Taking umbrage at that would be lunacy. Tough times, it has been said, demand tough talk … and that includes tough truths.
The CEC's present reality demands such honest introspection and directness, no matter if we like what we are being told. Forthrightness with ourselves is not self-loathing. It is not “attacking.” It is not "church shaming/hating."
There is nothing "liberal" about calling sickness “sickness.” There is no bowing for secular accommodation involved in facing hard facts. There’s nothing “woke” about it.
Identifying necrotic tissue among the healthy cells is not generalizing. It’s not painting with a brush too broad.
And arguing that something is invalid because it is not your experience, leaves one prey to their own blindness. This idea that the broader church is fine, because your church is fine, is inherently the same suspect appeal to contextual authority you claim those who critique the church are making.
There is something of a fearful nature, it would appear, in the defensiveness and denial at play here.
And we, the church, need to just be open about that.
STILL, THE HOPE IS REAL
Early on the Sunday morning of his last surgery, we gathered in a private family room, sweating out the minutes as we waited with whatever hope we could muster that this fourth operation would gain, finally, some positive traction. We received comforting word that our church, meeting for services at the time, was joined in prayer with us, for my dad’s well-being.
When the two surgeons came in, at long last, they looked beleaguered. But they looked different. There was something positive coming. You could sense it.
“Well, there’s finally some great news,” one said. “The procedure went well. We went back in and were unable to find any evidence the infection had spread.”
The treatment was indeed forceful. It was unbelievably ravaging. If you could have seen his arm when the bandages came off, you would have joined our family in doubting whether my father would ever be able to use his arm, to any functional extent, again.
Inasmuch as that fear became, at that time, the new concern, the blessing was in a fresh and a far more hopeful reality. He was alive and, in spite of a long road toward recovery ahead, he would ultimately be OK.
He had beaten the infection. He would live. It was incredible news.
As they described it, there was something they both noted as remarkable. The bacteria appeared to be suspended (their words) in some sort of fluid layer covering the tissue plane. (Don’t kill me for mixing up the anatomical terms).
In essence, while the necrotizing disease wreaked havoc on the superficial layers of the arm, it was somehow unable to make it passed this liquid layer, onto the tissue plane, so as to spread onward. Their extreme and invasive work was able to get at what was reachable. They were now confident the infection was blunted. Both of them agreed they had seen nothing like it before.
The surgeon previously noted as the one less adept at softly delivering a point, began to walk out after his partner. And he paused. Turning to us, and with the same flat, direct, and honest tone, stated, “I think we got the miracle we all were hoping for.”
Given the new truth of the situation, those words seemed extra sweet in the moment.
A FINAL NOTE
We, as the church, need to stop being so defensive with things said and/or written about us. Instead, let's try to get at the substance of those critiques/criticisms. They are in many instances legitimate.
We need to look directly at the condition and recognize that there are those among us who are, and have long been, desperately trying to get our attention, so we may understand that something is wrong and join in fixing it.
Why? Because they love the church as dearly as any who claim to.
We need to stop denying palpable danger on the basis of “that is not my experience.” That's head in the sand type of stuff. It is the hothouse of silence in which germs find space to grow and spread.
Let's resist the impulse toward victimhood. Cutting to the chase of this bleak reality is not an insult. It is not “bashing” you. It’s not “bashing” the church ... bashing YOUR church. And if you really think it is … well, maybe at such a critical juncture … the church needs a little “bashing.”
It is time to thicken our skins, straighten our backs, bite down on the billet, and position the scalpel. Because even if the hand you’re holding is not the one attached to the infected arm, the CEC part of the Body is still in jeopardy.
Let’s take the uncomfortable path. Let’s proceed with the radical option. Let’s pray earnestly and believe for the possibility of saving both life and limb, even if it means putting the latter out there for the sake of the former.
Let’s do the right thing, take the right action, and excitedly anticipate that maybe we’ll get a miracle we can all savor in the end.
Remember, the voices that seem so sour now, may end up sounding far sweeter in a different moment.
J.M. Zabick (Th.M. - Rawlings School of Divinity at Liberty University): Founder, contributor, and general editor at FNR. Currently a doctoral student of historical theology/Christian history, he is uniquely interested in the connection between theology and philosophy across the timeline of Western Thought (especially in the Modern to post-Christian era) and in the development of Christian doctrine. He is a constant observer and occasional critic of the American Church, who lives with his unmatchable wife and talented son in the Midwest region.
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