Hollow Faith 3 - Therapeutic Theology

In this post, I will make several comments that could be construed as disparaging toward the psychological and psychiatric communities,  and I wish to dispel any such misgivings here in the opening paragraph.  Over the years, I have developed friendships with many people suffering from schizophrenia, Bipolar Disorder, and a number of other psychoses, and I am frequently in awe at what their respective clinicians and doctors are able to achieve in helping them realize their own individual definitions of "normal" lives.  I have a very dear friend who works with autistic clients, and my own sister tutors visually-impaired students.  What I have witnessed through them often falls just short of miraculous.

My umbrage is not taken with these remarkable professionals.  However, since the publication of I'm Ok, You're OK in 1967 (Thomas Anthony Harris, Harper & Row), there has arisen a multi-billion-dollar-a-year industry in books and television programs filled with authors and hosts with little more clinical qualification than myself (which is none), all delivering a message of "read this book, and you'll be happy.  Pay retail, and I will most certainly be happy."  This is the area that gives me pause.  It is also the second concern raised by Ingram in looking at modern Western theology.

Let's look back at 1975.  A young youth pastor in Illinois by the name of Bill Hybels started going out into the streets and asking folks why they didn't come to church.  The answers generally ran along the lines of "church is boring," "they're always asking for money," and "I don't like being preached down to."  Hybels envisioned a new kind of church service.  Gone were the pews, replaced by soft theater seating.  Iconography was supplanted by mammoth video screens flashing clever graphics, catchy titles and easy-to-follow programs.  The organ belching out antiquated hymns gave way to a five-piece band playing simple, poppy modern Christian music worthy of hand-clapping and toe-tapping.  Sermons started ignoring the catechism and instead focused on questions about parenting, friendships and self-fulfillment.  As a result, Hybels congregation, Willow Creek Community Church in Palatine, Illinois, grew exponentially and gave rise to the word "megachurch." 

Hybels' success led many to follow, including Rick Warren, Robert Schuller, Kenneth Copeland, T.D. Jakes, Benny Hinn and Joel Olsteen, to name only a few.   By the 1990s there were thousands of these megachurches all across the country.  As more and more pastors studied books on church growth by these phenomenally successful leaders, they adopted many structures that helped their own local congregations grow, but they also adopted the idea of religion as divine therapy.  The program emphasis shifted to "sermons that help people process through their religious baggage; held classes that helped them do financial planning; and offered support groups to help them raise healthier, happier families."  The age of self-help Christianity had been born.

My Jesus in a Bottle

Everybody loves stories about answered prayer.  I did a short Google search while preparing this thesis and found more of these stories than one can shake a stick at.  A few typical examples were, "I was completely broke and God provided the exact amount to pay my rent;" "God provided a raise/promotion/better job just when I needed it;" "my spouse/child/friend/self was near death and experienced a miraculous healing."  Others were almost silly: "God saved me a front row parking space;" "God led me to a fantastic stylist;" "Jesus helped my team win the title game."

Is this how God works?  Is God like the Genie in Disney's Aladdin such that, when you rub the lamp, Jesus pops out with a catchy tune, a few jokes, and a granted wish?  Or, perhaps it works more like in Peter Pan, where all one needs to fly is some fairy dust and enough faith?  Without using these exact words, many Christians today would say "yes."  After all, it makes sense (in a very Western way).  "God loves us; wants us to be happy; and, in turn, wants us to have what we need.  We see biblical examples of God providing for God's people in times of need.  It doesn't hurt when a charismatic, good-looking guy with millions of followers tells you that it has worked for him and that it can work for you."

While we're thanking God for our front row parking space or getting the electric bill paid, let us look around at the famine and war all around the world, the sex trafficking and school shootings right here in our own country, the drug addiction and divorce happening right on our own streets, and ask again how much attention God pays to our manicures.   If God is just our go-to provider of things we want, favoring the faithful with granted wishes while ignoring the plight of the damned, God becomes something of a nepotistic schmuck and I, for one, don't find that God fit for my worship.

Jesus is not your genie in a bottle. 

The Gospel is Not My Life Coach

God may not be our genie of the lamp, coming to our rescue whenever we get a hang nail, but at least we can be sure that God "helps us reach our full potential.  God helps us feel happy and satisfied with ourselves and aids us in finding personal fulfillment.  God becomes our life coach and the gospel becomes our 12-step manual for health, healing and wholeness."

The next time you're out shopping, stop in a Christian bookstore. Inside you'll find not only shelves after shelves filled with Christ-centered self-help books, but any number of feel-good platitudes and verses stitched, printed, embroidered and embossed onto everything from throw pillows to jewelry to breath mints.  Supply and demand, folks!

As part of the National Study of Youth and Religion (2003), Christian Smith had interviewers track the frequency of the words used  by participants to describe their religious priorities and faith.  Words and phrases such as "personal sin," and "repentance" were mentioned less than 50 times among 3000 participants, and the phrases "kingdom of God," "sabbath," and "Trinity" scored in the single digits.  "Self-discipline," "social justice" and "justification" didn't get a single mention.  On the other hand, "personal feeling," "being," and "getting or being happy" were mentioned at least 112 times each, and the specific phrase "feel happy" was mentioned more than 2000 times.  As a result of this feel-good mindset, "church...can often feel and sound more like a pep rally or a therapy session instead of being a place that practices the reconciliation of not only the self but also the world.  We have become focused on our own success."

Listen, the Messiah who said that anyone wanting to follow him must "deny himself, take up his cross and follow me (Matt. 16:24)," and "none of you can become my disciple if you do not give up all of your possessions (14:33)" is not concerned about your self-esteem, your self-help, your self-gratification or your self-actualization.  The gospel makes it abundantly clear that Jesus does not want us to exist in a state of isolated, insulated euphoria, but wants us participating in a very specific mission from God, a mission that will always be filthy, often uncomfortable, mostly disagreeable, and all too often in complete contrast to our own wishes and desires.

Jesus is not your life coach. 

It's Not a Therapeutic Religion

"In a time and culture that finds itself so consumed with personal self-improvement, it can be easy to forget that we, as people of faith, follow a God who is in the constant process of reconciling all of creation...Scripture attests to only personal reconciliation in its relation to the greater reconciliation of creation." Moses, Jacob, Zacchaeus and Saul were all called, not to personal reconciliation, but to personally involve themselves with God's working for the greater love of all creation.  We are specifically called to suffer in Jesus' name.

"We as modern Americans are generally very uncomfortable around suffering...As a society, we spend billions of dollars to deter the effects of aging, pain and discomfort."  We're no more willing to suffer in our religious beliefs.  We'd much rather have Joel Olsteen telling us how we can live our "Best Lives Now" than have St. Benedict call us to a life of asceticism.  But let us make a few things clear about our Messiah:

"Jesus was not always sitting and smiling, surrounded by children and flowers.  Jesus held lepers.  Jesus comforted prostitutes.  Jesus was beaten.  Jesus died..." in agony.  And he calls his followers to do likewise:  "Carry your cross. Turn the other cheek.  Love your enemy.  Pray for your persecutors.  Blessed are you when others hurt you."

Our God does not shy away from suffering, and its only a very modern Western ideology that thinks so.  Throughout the world and throughout the history of Christendom there have been those who have embraced the suffering of Jesus and themselves and found comfort and inspiration therein.  "There are massive amounts of suffering in our world and in the lives of our [congregants].  To 'claim' the version of the gospel that says Jesus is going to bless us, fix our problems, and get us out of speeding tickets in the midst of all that suffering cheapens the gospel and creates a division between those who suffer and those who do not."  Probably the greatest gift we as a church can give the world is to embrace suffering and those who suffer.  "When we move away from [therapeutic theology and] it's self-absorption and into a self-sacrificing nature, we help heal and give therapy to others and, in turn, mend our own hearts."

Pax