Between the glory of Easter and the glory of Pentecost, I’m speaking about evangelism; a decline in evangelism, actually.  We Presbyterians probably haven’t noticed it, as we haven’t historically invested much time or energy in evangelism: God provides, right?  Acts gives us many examples of evangelism in action, showing us that, even though the followers of Christ encounter much resistance, they also have successes: truly, God provides!  Sometimes, we get so convinced that any efforts on our part would just meet with dismal failure that we don’t even want to contemplate trying.  “God provides” become words of resignation and inaction rather than words of faith and hope.  Let’s read Acts and be encouraged.  Let’s read Acts and remember it’s about the Spirit at work, the same Spirit at work among and within us here this very moment.

Thom Rainer contends that the decline in Christians going and sharing the Good News, inviting people to come and see, is the result of several factors: theological systems that do not encourage evangelism; the reputation some Christians have of being anti-everything.  We fall more in the former category than the latter, though being an orthodox Presbyterian in a heterodox denomination is a difficulty.  Last week, I shared Rainer’s contention, supported by research, that a narrow majority of American Christians no longer believe, or at least aren’t willing to say, that Christ is the only way of salvation.  Rainer’s next factor seems connected to this pluralist shift: church members are in retreat mode as culture becomes more worldly and unbiblical.

Are we in retreat mode?  Have we thrown up our hands, circled our wagons?  In some ways, perhaps.  How about the other side of Rainer’s claim, the cause?  Is culture becoming more worldly, more unbiblical?  Well, culture is very biblical, if by that we mean the sort of cultures described to us in the Bible—self-adoring, violent, greedy, sexually obsessed and sexually debased, God-dishonoring!  Or am I just being a hopeless pessimist, a cynic?

I suppose another way to pose the question is this: is our culture less Christian today than fifty years ago, even thirty?  I think we’ll have to admit that it is, though we may not agree on the degree.  Anymore, we may not even agree on what Christianity means or is really about.  The impulses to stray have always been there.  What has changed, though this also isn’t new, is the increasing approval of what is unbiblical, or at least a disinclination to disapprove: don’t judge!

Much of the trouble stems from our sources of information, the sources upon which we rely to give us an accurate account of what is happening.  When we trust that we are receiving accurate information, this shapes our understanding of reality.  Those who want to shape our understanding of reality understand that.  Those behind the marketing of information and their sponsors depend upon our trust for their purposes.  Yet our primary source of information isn’t the TV, our phones, or the radio.  It’s this book, the Bible.

One of the old, wise sayings of journalism and law is to follow the money.  We know money is the root of all kinds of evil.  We live in a commercial culture and are keenly attuned to news of economic growth and decline.  We notice!  Ours is a particular kind of commercial culture: a postmodern, image culture.  We are surrounded by images aiming at separating our money from our wallet.  But this pervasive culture has been erected atop another, earlier culture: one that tells us about equality, freedom, and the pursuit of happiness.  There’s a clash of worldviews where image meets principle, and this is where, if we’re going to see it at all, we shall see a decline in Christianity and a proportional rise in perspectives that do not rely upon the Bible.  The Bible gives a clear definition of freedom; the Bible provides a rationale for equality; the Bible tells us about our pursuit of happiness—fulfilment—from at least two perspectives: above and below.

Twenty-five years ago, Sheryl Crow sang (don’t worry, I won’t sing it) “if it makes you happy, it can’t be that bad.”  I’ve always heard those lyrics as ironic.  If she were to sing it today, I’m afraid she’d have to change the lyrics—there would be much pressure upon her, threatening pressure, to sing instead, “if it makes you happy, it isn’t bad.”  No matter what any old, moldy book says.

Anger, fear, and pleasure—basic animal feelings, like the minimal set.  Notice the absence of love.  Love, then, must be some combination of anger, fear, and pleasure.  Our commercial society exercises great technical mastery in tapping into these feelings: just watch the commercials on TV, or the prime-time programs; consider the glossy pictures in the magazines, or the music and social media our children and grandchildren consume, voraciously.  Can someone please tell me what Tik Tok is?  Commerce reflects our culture and culture reflects our commerce; thus our entertainment industry—profit-driven—deluges us all with much flesh, much violence, fantasies sponsored to the tune of millions of dollars by one business and another, all clamoring for us to make room in our lives for what they are selling, all persistently insisting we can’t possibly be happy without what they’re selling, insisting that what they’re selling is practically the very foundation of our happiness: the consumption of endless images.  Now, we know what we already knew: that is not all they’re selling.

Yes, I’m exaggerating for the sake of a larger point.  The question is, how much?  The larger point is that, though we are in the world—and we certainly are—we are not to be of the world.  But what does that mean?  The larger point is that we are surrounded by idols, images, and idol-worshippers—very friendly, rather persuasive people, assuring us they have our health and happiness at heart—calling us to put one thing and another nearer our hearts: just give it a try and see.  What’s the harm?  It might even help.  If it makes you happy . . .

This is an old story, beloved.  This book tells us all about it.  This book also gives us the way through, through to the one waiting for us on the other side, the same one who is with us here to guide us to Him.

The early Christians did not live in a Christian society and knew nothing of any concept of Christendom: common, assumed Christian social values, a common, assumed Christian morality.  Those early believers knew Jesus Christ, though, and they wanted to let others know about him.  They remembered very clearly that Jesus had told them to do this very thing.  It was not such an easy thing.  It was risky.  It would mean rejection, ostracism; it could mean loss of income, loss of freedom, even loss of life.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained.  The encouraging news for them, and for us, is that the Holy Spirit does not abandon us, does not leave us, flailing and helpless.

Consider Paul in Athens, a major world city, a cultural and intellectual center—talk about cosmopolitan!  The brightest and best were in Athens.  Not one was Christian.  Not one had a Christian worldview.  And there Paul was, standing there, waiting, walking around, seeing.  “[H]e was greatly distressed to see that the city was full of idols.  So he reasoned in the synagogue with both Jews and God-fearing Greeks, as well as in the marketplace day by day with those who happened to be there” (17:16-17).  He begins with those whom he believes have at least some shared worldview elements: Jews, God-fearing Greeks.  They are somewhat familiar with the Bible.  There are many people in our lives who have some familiarity with the Bible—we wouldn’t be speaking a completely foreign language to them if we had a faith conversation with them.  But how to have such a conversation?  How to get one started?  When to do it?  Beloved, there are whole libraries out there and copious online resources on those very questions.  Check them out, please.  The simple answer to all those questions, though, is that the Spirit will make the way: only, be looking and alert for the way the Spirit is making, and go that way, quickly, faithfully.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained.  Let’s trust that Jesus isn’t lying when he tells us the Spirit will give us the words (Lk 12:11-12).

Paul is even bolder—he’s Paul, after all: he goes outside, out and about, into the marketplaces, where he’s not guaranteed of meeting anyone who has a remotely similar worldview, and he seeks conversations with them, too.  “Oh,” we say, “I could never do that!  Just go start talking with strangers?!”  Yet we do, often.  Have you never struck up a conversation with a stranger, never had what turned out to be a good conversation, even if it was brief?  We can talk with people.  Some will even be willing to keep the talk going.  Some will even be the ones to initiate the conversation.  God provides opportunities.  We don’t save anyone.  Sharing the Word doesn’t even save anyone.  The Spirit saves.  The Spirit saves as the Word is shared, through sharing the Word.  Truly, the news is Good News.  Ah, but this unbiblical culture of ours!  The church and Christians, even the acceptable ones, become scapegoats: “It’s your fault!!  You ruin everything!!”  Hostile.  How did those first believers do it?

Paul takes a big plunge when a group of philosophers “began to debate with him” (17:18).  It may be that most people really haven’t thought through what they believe or why—we’re busy after all, have lives to live!  Some, though, have taken the time and think they have a strong grasp on what they believe and why they believe it, and some of them are eager to tell you all about it, especially if you seem to be trying to get them to consider another worldview.  These sophisticated, cosmopolitan Athenians deign to give Paul a hearing—anything to relieve the boredom!  Luke is also careful to tell us that this is how such people spend their time: consuming new ideas (17:21).  They have a great appetite for ideas, especially anything new, exotic, maybe a little spicy.  They are idea connoisseurs, aficionados.

You don’t have to pray to an idea.  You don’t have to devote any more of your time, energy, or interest to an idea than you want to.  You don’t need to gather in any regular, ongoing way with those who value the same idea.  You don’t have to be concerned about your eternal welfare in relation to an idea.  You can be as faithful or as unfaithful to an idea as you like, whenever you like.  An idea demands nothing of you and has no expectations of you—an idea is the ideal lover!

Paul wasn’t proclaiming an idea, though.  He was proclaiming a person, who loves us and wants a relationship with us—flourishing, life-changing, life-shaping, stable, faithful, committed, and exclusive.  Ah!  There’s that word again, that terrible word.  In a consumer-minded culture and society, exclusive means something that is especially for me, something that takes special notice of my worth and value—select, VIP treatment, treatment that caters to Me.

A Christian grounded in the Bible, taught and fed, guided and guarded by God’s Word, has a very different understanding of exclusive.  For such a Christian, exclusive is God’s claim upon us, the limits within which we have freedom, peace, hope, and life.  To transgress those limits or to act as though they don’t exist or don’t apply to Me is to run afoul of God’s exclusivity.  The Athenians were savvy enough to notice this in what Paul was telling them, and most wanted nothing to do with it.  They had the god they wanted: the god named Me.

Me is a strong god.  Me keeps pushing back, pushing away those who persist, who insist upon bringing and bearing the Word.  Christians can retreat, huddle, hug each other and hide.  Maybe, sometimes, we need to.  We need comfort, assurance; we need to catch our breath, regroup.  We aren’t in charge, anymore!  Beloved, we never were.  If our faith is fast becoming a minority, this is not without God’s arrangement.  If we are feeling more embattled, this is not contrary to God’s plan.

What moved Paul to speak was his feeling of distress: “[H]e was greatly distressed to see that the city was full of idols” (17:16).  Maybe the church needs more of that distress.  Maybe God is arranging it.