You might be practicing a vacuous faith

I've chronicled my frustrations (just keep scrolling) with organized religion and I've done the same for my need and desire to stay connected to a faith community.

It's a struggle I project in the sense that if I'm feeling it, I've got to believe others are too.  I have on occasion fallen into the trap of describing myself as being spiritual but not religious.  By this I mean that though I believe my faith is strong, at times I tend to abhor religious trappings.  I think others feel the same thing.

But there are dangers to the mindset.  Watered down theology can be the result.

David Mills explains:

A few years ago a much-reported study of college students’ religious practice found that they become more “spiritual” as their observance of their childhood faith declined. The researchers defined “spiritual” as “growth in self-understanding, caring about others, becoming more of a global citizen and accepting others of different faiths.” They simply dressed up their favored attitudes by calling them “spiritual.” That kind of spirituality, detached from anything specifically religious, is just materialism in a tuxedo.

The word “spiritual” has no useful meaning if it does not refer to a relation to a real spirit, something from a world not our own, something supernatural, something that or someone who tells us things we do not know, judges us for our failures, and gives us ideals to strive for and maybe help in reaching them. It’s not a useful word if it means a general inclination or shape of mind or emotional pattern or set of attitudes or collection of values. There is no reason to call any of these spiritual.

Unless, of course, you like that little sense of importance and that comforting sense of social approval that our society still gives to “spiritual things,” though not to religious things. It’s a warm and fuzzy word. It’s a cute cuddly bunny word. It’s not like “religion.” That’s a cold and forbidding word. It’s a screeching preacher with bad breath word.

A better definition is not, however, wanted. The moment you acknowledge a real spirit to whom your spirituality is oriented and by whom it is guided, however distant and unengaged that spirit may be, you have a religion. You are bound by something. You have marching orders. You have to ask what the spirit wants and what he requires and what he says.

As the writer Malcolm Muggeridge, himself a convert from a vaporous kind of religion, put it, we crave “a Christianity without tears; . . . an idyll rather than a drama, with a happy ending instead of that gaunt Cross rising so inexorably into the sky.” The spirit might turn out to be a Puritan. He might say something about taking up a cross. Better to be “spiritual” without the spirit, and hope no one notices.

If being spiritual but not religious leads to the minimization of the salvific work of Jesus Christ, you might be practicing a vacuous faith.

If being spiritual but not religious leads to an open-mindedness that finds moral relativity to be a strength, you might be practicing a vacuous faith.

If being spiritual but not religious leads to this notion that you need not a Savior, you might be practicing a vacuous faith.

If being spiritual but not religious results in concluding that evil is merely a by-product of environment then you might be practicing a vacuous faith.

If being spiritual but not religious leads to the avoidance of conflict at all costs, you might be practicing a vacuous faith.

I pray that my disdain for that within the church which I see to be roadblocks to Christ will not blind me to the understanding that at times being faithful means enduring unpleasantness and worse.

The Anchoress, who brought us the Mills piece, writes something I'll use to close:

It is a challenge to look past our own comfortable and self-righteous sense that God thinks just as we do, and to let the Word dwell within us, shake us, unsettle us until it has reformed us–re-formed–in the image of God; holy as he is holy, perfect as he is perfect.

Dear God, challenge me... and grant me the wisdom to see it as such and to rise to the occasion.

Crossposted at Wizbang.

Comments

[allyHM]

Organized religion is organized of human beings. Human beings are flawed. Therefore, organized religion will be flawed, too. One must accept this fact and learn to live with it. My solution to this conundrum is that I found a church that is liturgical (something I LOVE because it is an orderly service), charismatic (in that we aren't the frozen chosen, we lift our hands in worship if we feel so moved by the spirit but we don't judge or look down on those who don't feel so moved) and grounded in the Word (as in, our rector and associate rector ALWAY preach from the Word with solid, orthodox messages, not political/community/activist mesages). That does not mean that we don't do anything. To the contrary, 10% of everything we take in goes out to thoroughly vetted missions - local, national and global. Our church is HUGELY involved in the community but most wouldn't know it since we do it without the fanfare that many churches do. As Fr. Don (rector) said today: works do not create salvation, but salvation should create works. Are we flawed as a church? Of course we are. We are human, after all. But we are grounded in the Word and carrying out His call to us. That's all I can ask or expect in this life (as opposed to the next one that we will spend with Him).

[Gretchen]

You are having such a beautiful journey. It's intensity inspires me. Thank you for sharing it.

[Tim Chesterton]

I couldn't agree more, Rick. I especially liked this line in the Anchoress' piece: 'It is a challenge to look past our own comfortable and self-righteous sense that God thinks just as we do'. As someone once said, 'If your God seems to agree with all of your opinions, he's probably a figment of your imagination!'

Ouch!

[Nick]

Organized religion is spelled out in great detail by God in the Pentateuch. It might be said that the next 34 books of the OT describe the corruption in principle (not necessarily in ceremony) of that organization.

The gospels describe how Jesus obeyed the law in every detail; He followed the “organized” religion. The next 23 books of the NT give insight into the principle (with some detail) of organized religion.

It is best illustrated (to me) by the tension between Duet 14:22 (and others) regarding the Tithe and Leviticus 19:9-10 regarding not harvesting to the corners of the field as a demonstration of their love and provision of the poor. The difference between the Law and Grace

In so much as “organized religion” was intended to demonstrate for man the nature and character of God, at its best, it is corrupted by our inability to reflect or even comprehend the subject (God).

In summary, organized religion is not the problem, we are. Hebrews 10:25 instructs us that spirituality in isolation from other believers is not only important, it should be encouraging.

[Mommynator]

I have to agree with most of that, and I know what you've been through. My husband and I finally found a church that does most of it well (not perfectly). Worship, doctrine, community, outreach. It's such a relief to have been welcomed with open arms like long lost siblings, and spurred to do stuff from gratitude. I can't even begin to describe the relief and the strength we draw and are able to give back.