Progress is Not Redemption

Perhaps the greatest Christian fallacy in the modern era is the belief that because the world is getting better in measurable ways it is progressing toward redemption. It is a fallacy incorporated in the United Methodist slogan “Making Disciples of Christ for the Transformation of the World.” 

If we United Methodists had said, “making disciples of Christ who could then make the world a more habitable/decent/prosperous place to live” it wouldn’t have been so dramatic, but it would have been within our grasp. But to transform, to change the basic form of the world is a nonsensical goal. Scripture is clear that this is something that happened in one sense with the death and resurrection and Christ, and in the full sense will happen only when Christ returns. Until the latter happens the only form the human heart, human communities, or indeed the world will manifest is the malformations caused by Sin. 

The calling of the Church is not to transform the world, which would be to redeem it from Sin. The calling of the church is to witness to the redemption of the world by Jesus Christ. 

Our American Christian problem has been that since the days of manifest destiny Christians in the United States thought we saw the world being transformed. We thought we saw the end of history coming, and it was coming on the clouds. Of course that was only in the sense that our cargo planes would bring relief to the suffering, our passenger jets would bring missionary teachers, doctors, and agriculturists, and our war planes would bring swift vengeance on the evil opponents of the new world we were creating. 

We as American Methodists were, I think, particularly besotted with our power to transform the world. Besides our native cultural optimism we had the additional boost of Wesley’s concept of going on to perfection. Our clergy are even required to state that they expect to be made perfect in this life - thus inducting them into the lifelong habit of lying to bishops. 

So empowered by American optimism and a diminished appreciation of the power of sin we used our considerable wealth and social standing to launch vast programs to extend education, healthcare, and human rights globally. Never mind that we (and soon virtually every other American Christian group) were declining in size, power, and influence: we set up a growing set of national and international bureaucracies to manage a now and future ministry of transformation. 

And thus confused progress with redemption. 

Maybe we should have been suspicious of the similarities between the Student Christian Movement of the early 20th century with its “save the world in this generation” and the “best and the brightest” fifty years later chanting, “We can win the war in Vietnam.” 

We know how the latter turned out, but United Methodist were unchastened. We swiveled toward Liberation Theology and signed on to become artisans of a new humanity, as if the Potter capable of such a thing was now incarnate in the newly minted global UMC. 

And this, I think, is why so many of us are crestfallen, anxious, and increasingly angry that for all our progress there has been no redemption. Because for all the "transformation of the world" we have attempted Sin is still manifestly the dominant force in our human societies and our individual lives. And our vast investments and our dedication to being change agents haven’t made a dent in that reality. Indeed, at the moment it all seems to be swinging in the other direction. The evil empires are rising, the borders are being hardened, violence is increasing, corruption mounts, and our fellow Christians flee to the comfort of their premillennialist myths while bending the knee to Caesar.  (These myths are the preferred serotonin re-uptake inhibitor of the middle class) . 

Which evokes a lot of anxiety if you think you are in charge of redemption. Because if you do you’re like one of those poor stewards hauled before the King in Jesus’ parables. It is clear that you have failed to manage the king’s investment in you and your church.

Except actually, you haven’t. We haven’t. Because we aren’t called to transform the world. 

We are called to witness to the redemption given us as a gift in Jesus Christ. As redeemed people we can do some actual good in this world, which inevitably makes it better. And we can invite people to join us as a redeemed people and thus multiply that good. And that will lead to more good and even progress. In fact it already has. And that progress, combined with all the other progressive forces in the world (for who knows how God’s Spirit is at work?) is manifest globally as improvements in lifespan, education, lowered infant mortality rates, fewer wars, greater communication, and many other good things.

And these improvements are the appropriate return on God’s investment in the Church. Its just not redemption. That is God’s work, and work only God can do. 

Do you remember when we had seasons in the church year? When we remembered that human life is cyclic, born sometimes upward and fruitful, yet always to decline, fall, and become fallow. Do we remember when the last was the silent process of preparing for the next? We celebrate this in our local churches (those who remember the church year), which is why they are so much healthier than our UM structures with their ever upward and onward fantasies. 

Every year, late in the fall and after the last freeze at the Hunt household we dig up the remaining plants in our vegetable gardens and throw the detritus with all the other composting vegetation we’ve collected through the year. In bins and barrels the silent work in which we have no role begins. And in the Spring we spread fresh, rich soil across the gardens and plant our first seeds. Year by year the soil is richer, deeper, and more fruitful. 

And we find always a few surprises. Some seeds are tough, and a mere year amid the rotting rubbish cannot keep them from bursting forth when water and warmth surround them. These volunteer plants, so called because we didn’t invite them, will also be the source of pumpkins, or okra, or tomatoes for our table.

All are reminders of the work we didn’t do, the work we cannot do. And they are a comfort, for they put us in our human place, the place where we plant, and water, and wait.