by Jon Kuhrt (originally published in 2006 on Fulcrum )
Within the evangelical world in which I grew up and came to faith, sin was a really big deal. Frequently referred to, both in sermons at church and in talks on summer camps, sin was presented as the barrier of human selfishness and pride that was blocking our relationship with God. As evangelical Christians, the subtext ran, we know the full importance of acknowledging and repenting of sin before we can really receive the forgiveness held out to us in Jesus Christ. Sin was the “bad news” that we needed to understand and acknowledge if we were going to be able to really receive “the good news” of its solution through Jesus. It was a part of a package that was both clear and understandable.
However looking back some fifteen years on, I can now see that this understanding of the state of our sinfulness was almost entirely personal and individual. Both sin, and repentance from it, largely concentrated upon the personal pitfalls of drinking, smoking, dishonesty and sex. Sin was never related to wider areas such as the nuclear arms race, poverty, homelessness, apartheid and the destruction of the rain forests. While these latter areas were becoming extremely hot topics in the secular world of the 1980’s, they appeared to count for very little within the evangelical world when it came to acknowledging and repenting of sin. Moving on to study at Hull University in the early 90’s, I found the Christian Union’s take on sin and “the gospel” even more personalised. Studying social work, however, and starting to grapple with the deprivation and poverty affecting Hull’s vast council estates produced an increasingly tension between my experience of these social problems and the highly individualised faith that I was trying to practice.
The turning point came after I graduated and moved back to London. I began working full time in a large hostel for homeless people and also moved onto the notorious Marquess Estate in Islington. For the first time I started to understand something of the nature of structural sin. Although I learnt a lot in the hostel, my steepest learning curve was what I learnt from living on the estate. Many memories stand out from the two and a half years that I spent on the Marquess, particularly of the gang who ‘bossed’ the estate and taunted the Police by brazenly running over their parked patrol cars and the sounds and smells of torched cars exploding in the underground parking. And I will always remember the feelings of hopelessness, fear and deep spiritual poverty that pervaded the entire place. But equally I will never forget the terrible design of the estate that made community impossible and the incompetence and neglect of the ‘powers that be’ to repair and manage the estate or even communicate effectively with those who lived there. The difference between working for disadvantaged people and living among them never came across more strongly than on my first night in my new flat when I attempting to order a pizza only to be told: “Sorry mate, we don’t deliver to your address”. When the estate was just over twenty-five years old (the same age as me at the time) the decision was taken to knock it down and I had to move. The structural problems of the Marquess estate were considered irredeemable.
It was abundantly clear that there was something profoundly sinful about the estate that went far beyond the individual acts of bad behaviour by its particular residents. The situation had come about as an accumulation of design failure and poverty as well as years of neglect, insecurity, violence and fear which meant that sin was well and truly embedded. I realised that the charismatic Christians in my church were right: Satan truly did have a spiritual stronghold. However this stronghold was deeply social, economic and structural. Within this environment, I found the individualistic theology that only recognised sin in terms of personal behaviour to be profoundly inadequate and judgemental: inadequate in its understanding of the forces at work on the estate and inadequate in its ability to respond to them.
And, despite the encouraging increase in evangelical social involvement over recent years, there remains a damaging individualism that refuses to budge within so much evangelical theology and popular faith, a faith that has chosen to focus exclusively on the personal while ignoring the structures that spoil and disfigure God’s world. In his study of Old Testament ethics, Christopher Wright has written of the need for a “reorientation in our habitual pattern of ethical thought” because of our tendency to “begin at the personal level and work outwards” (1). Wright is at pains to stress that the “primary ethical thrust of the Old Testament is necessarily social” and that even the personal ethics within the Bible are “community shaped” (2). In short, we read the Bible completely anachronistically when we read it through the individualistic lenses of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. Individualism, however, is so strong within our culture that like fish that don’t realise they are wet because they know of nothing else, we really struggle to recognise the effect that it has upon our world-view and our faith. It truly is a hermeneutical lens that effectively neutralises the power of Scripture to speak to our social and economic structures, even though the Bible has so much to say on these matters. Individualism emasculates the socio-economic challenge of prophets such as Amos, Micah and Isaiah, it dilutes Jesus’ critique of his contemporary society and ignores the social justice at the heart of the Kingdom of God. It equally distorts the doctrine of St Paul by separating personal faith from social witness and activism and completely de-politicises the powerful critique of economic and military imperialism in the Book of Revelation. In short, the heresy of individualism sucks out of the Bible just about all the resources that it provides for addressing and responding to structural sin. The irony is, of course, that evangelicals claim to be “people of the Bible” who take sin seriously. Effective witness against structural sin, however, is simply impossible when Christianity continues to be seen as something that is essentially private and personal. If we can undergo the “reorientation” that Christopher Wright asks for, then evangelicalism can once again become the progressive movement for justice and righteousness that it was in the nineteenth century.
The fact is that no such thing as non-political theology. All of our thinking and teaching about the nature of God and his call on our lives has an effect on our neighbours. As Kenneth Leech has written: “All Christians are political, whether they recognise it or not, particularly when they do not recognise it” (3). In recent history we have seen the worst cases of “the politics of evangelicalism” in its implicit and explicit political support for institutional racism in the South Africa and the southern states of the USA. It is deeply telling when conservative evangelicals critique Desmond Tutu’s “liberal” Christianity or Martin Luther King’s marital infidelities as a way of avoiding the prophetic witness that they gave against structural oppression. And today we are seeing a highly conservative form of evangelicalism having a powerful influence on the right wing administration of George W. Bush.
But it’s probably more important to look closer to home because so few of the large evangelical churches with their strong traditions of “biblical teaching” have anything to say about issues of corporate responsibility and social justice. This is not through a lack of resources or energy but because of a theological and political viewpoint that fails to recognise structural advantage and corporate greed. It produces a kind of teaching that calls for a response in the hearts of businessmen and women while having hardly anything to say about their decisions in the boardroom, exposing the close alignment conservative theology has with social and political conservatism. One of the most telling illustrations of this imbalance is when evangelical churches and organisations are strongly anti-lottery yet will hardly consider switching their banking investments to a more ethical provider. While the connection between sin and personal gambling is strongly demonstrated, the sin that is inherent in unjust financial systems goes unnoticed and is tacitly supported. This has had the effect of producing an evangelical mainstream which is fundamentally a religion of the suburbs, a faith that makes sense in comfortable surroundings and which does not threaten the core interests of the powerful forces that underpin injustice.
Evangelicals have a lot to offer this country but we have to decide what influence we want to have. Do we really want a Daily Mail theology focusing on personal morality and recycling fear? Do we want a religion that encourage swathes of middle England to sit comfortably knowing they are “saved” without it having one iota of impact on the cars they drive, the clothes they wear, the jobs they do and the politics they advocate? When we consider how wealthy and powerful we are as a nation, surely the prophets such as Amos have far more to say to us? As Tom Wright has said “it is not enough to say one’s prayers in private, maintain high personal morality and then go out and rebuild the tower of Babel” (4).
My social engagement has not led me to become a more “liberal” Christian. I believe in sin, both personal and structural, and my daily experience continues to reinforce that belief. So much of the Christianity of my upbringing was right – we need to be convicted to repent and struggle against the power of sin. But it must be a “holistic” sin that we repent of. Christian social and political action will be anaemic and ineffective without a robust doctrine of sin and repentance provides the impetus that we need to change direction and head God’s way: to change the wrong things we have done and the wrong things we have been quiet about. This is the struggle and walk of faith that really excites me. The kingdom of God that Jesus inaugurated, his life, death and resurrection really does have the power to defeat all the sins of this world. If we truly are “gospel people” then we are called to a radically orthodox Christian faith that takes on “the powers and principalities” and powerfully witnesses to the importance of both personal moral righteousness and social justice.
(1) C.J.H. Wright Living as the People of God IVP (1983) p. 197
(2) Ibid p. 10
(3) Kenneth Leech Through Our Long Exile DLT (2001) p. 214
(4) N.T. Wright The Challenge of Jesus SPCK (2000) p. x
13 thoughts on “What Evangelicals Have Done to Sin”
Just read this, and totally agree. There is a large disconnect between the evangelical world in which I (mostly) feel at home in, and the world outside that is full of crap and greed and structural evil and yet a call to do something about it feels so easily accused of ‘liberalism’ or that oxy-moron, ‘social gospel’, as if there is another type. Thanks, Kevin
thanks Kev – yes its interesting the way the word ‘social gospel’ becomes such a big no-no when all that Jesus and the prophets had to say about social issues. i think the clue is avoiding a reactionary kind of belief where we define ourselves against others – so many liberals define themselves as ‘not evangelical’ and vice versa – we need to avoid the ding-dong – have you see this post – ‘When Two Tribes Go to War’ which is about this? https://jonkuhrt.wordpress.com/2011/06/02/when-two-tribes-go-to-war/
This is a brilliant piece. Absolutely brilliant!!! You give me faith that there are people who are willing to say such things still. I had the privilege for working with and talking to some of the great thinkers: Colin Marchant, Jim Punton, John Vincent, John Oliver, the very wise and brilliant Ken Leech. Such is my political thinking fused with my Liberationist allegiance, I have not seen myself as an Evangelical for years. As a very young Christian I found it difficult to hear preachers etc always talking about a Saviour of the individual and never talking about our response to poverty in our own communities. It became a conflict within and without me. One pastor telling me that I was indeed a sinner for talking about the poverty, neglect and injustice that I saw all around me. Grace, grace and grace of the sit-down-do-nothing variety. My life changed when people began to come to my house and unburdened themselves. They talked and I listened without judgement. They asked me so often how they could do this or that, or be like this or that; they asked me what they should do? The only advice I ever really gave was: “what do you want to do?”
I learned so much from the “Shalom” guys – as I call them – and of course from people like Ken Leech and from reading Gustavo Guiterrez and the Boff brothers. I once had the privilege of talking to Ken Leech on the phone and I told him how much “In the Eye of the Storm” had meant to me. We swapped notes about what I did and what he thought. I told him the most profound and deeply moving thing I read in his book: You have to “walk through people’s hell with them.” I told him that it put what I felt God had asked me to do in a nutshell.
When my husband and I get to do workshop/Seminars around our work, I always mention this bit. Injustice will not be challenged or changed by us all contemplating our navel, unless it is of the deep searching for truth so that we can help others who are in hell.
Two quotes from Gutierrez:
“But the poor person does not exist as an inescapable fact of destiny. His or her existence is not politically neutral, and it is not ethically innocent. The poor are a by-product of the system in which we live and for which we are responsible. They are marginalized by our social and cultural world. They are the oppressed, exploited proletariat, robbed of the fruit of their labor and despoiled of their humanity. Hence the poverty of the poor is not a call to generous relief action, but a demand that we go and build a different social order.”
― Gustavo Gutiérrez
This is how I try to live and express my faith.
“[Neighbor is] not he whom I find in my path, but rather he in whose path I place myself, he whom I approach and actively seek.”
― Gustavo Gutiérrez, A Theology of Liberation: History, Politics and Salvation
thanks Ann for the comments. I too have been encouraged by conversations with Ken Leech, especially when I worked for Centrepoint. I feel that the chasm that opens up between conservative and liberal is damaging to both sides and I feel a truly radical way is in holding these together.
I particuarly like your line ‘Grace, grace and grace of the sit-down-do-nothing variety’ because it captures something that can be right about evangelical doctrine but wrong in how it is applied. God’s grace should be the hallmark of our response – its the best thing that we have to offer people – but this must not be a grace cheapened by individualism or divorced from Jesus’ costly challenge about how we live.
Thanks for your encouragement.
Excellent stuff Jon…we need to free the evangelical church from a domesticated consumerist gospel… I’m still an evangelical … but in the spirit of this link http://blog.sojo.net/2011/09/29/defining-%E2%80%9Cevangelicals%E2%80%9D-in-an-election-year/
And like Annie I owe so much to the generation that preceded us.. need to add Roger Dowley to the list… I think Annie when she was at SU must have been involved in printing his masterpiece Lost Bequest in the 80’s..
Incidentally I hear Ken Leech has been seriously ill.. wonder if any one has more up to datre news on this.
Also interested in your piece on the Marquess estate.. and references to Chris Wright.. When his first book came out Les Crosland who was a housing officer in Islington then Newham produced a piece on powers and principalities.. tower blocks and structural sin.. drawing on Wrights hermeneutics… Think it was a pamphlet from Shaftesbury Project…must still be in my files somewhere..
Sorry I meant to add Roger Dowley to my list. Yes I did meet him a couple of times and we did print the book. I often refer to it. Thanks Greg.
My reason for not referring to myself as an evangelical is because I’d be thought of as the consumerist type and very right wing and obsessed with gays, divorced people etc etc. I am a get down and get dirty with people. I had an open home for over 20 years in London. Saw people in all states of collapse. Spent a couple of hours in the middle of one night trying to talk down a gay person from committing suicide because the Church had been so cruel to him that he felt like rubbish! When you rub shoulders with those who at the bottom of their life you it should make you think it bit more about how you apply you faith and the love of Jesus!
People obsessed with judgement rather than love. Before a person has time to share their innermost the listener already has all the answers. In my experience of walking with lots of people is that it takes time, a lot of time. You cannot get years and years of pain out in an hour chat. People often tell you what they think you want to hear rather than the real horror that has been their life. It takes time, affective listening and a lot of gentleness and affirming love. There was no judgement in my house for folk. People who have lost all sense of themselves need to be able to make their own decisions as it is part of their growing process. People do have the capacity to work it out if given the chance. If many in the Church had their way no one would have a voice.
I spent many, many years working for beloved Michael Eastman at the Evangelical Coalition for Urban Mission and met some amazing people with such wonderful faith that sowed nothing but seeds of love, justice to all they met. If Evangelicalism was like this then we’d all be wise to sign up. Sadly it isn’t. Anyway Evangelical isn’t in the Bible; it’s a man made word.
When the teaching that we’re not under the law began-this is the result. The sad part-the only concept in the Bible that comes with Gods GUARANTEED 5 FOLD BLESSING!