What So Many Christians Get Wrong About Christianity

A hopeful agnostic attempts to rediscover meaning in the teachings of the ancient religion of his people

I might be part of the last generation of Americans who identified nonchalantly as Christians and celebrated our faith traditions without question or thought. We didn’t think too much about it, as it was all taken for granted. Everyone we knew attended church, at least occasionally, for it was part of who we were as a society. Even those who weren’t terribly religious, identified as such. Not believing in God was akin to not believing in gravity. 

Back then, no one would ever think of running for political office that didn’t also profess faith in God.  Everyone claimed to be a believer no matter what they believed. We sang God Bless America, rested on the Sabbath, offered our prayers, and gave thanks. We thought of ourselves as decent people, blessed by God. We observed Christian holy days as a nation and didn’t think twice about it. 

In truth, we felt a little bad for the Jewish kids at Christmas, and we didn’t really know anyone from any other religion. We hadn’t yet heard of Ramadan, Vesak, or Ashvin, but even if you came from another country and culture, we expected you to assimilate and celebrate with us. Come, be a real American. Here is a Christmas tree. There is an Easter basket. Learn the songs. Salute the flag. Decorate your yard. Be one of us. 

Like many people of the 21st century, my relationship with religion is a bit complicated. There are real foundational aspects of American culture that are rooted in Judeo-Christian traditions and ideals that I find comforting. Even if I don’t buy into the mystical nature of religion, it’s hard for me to escape the impact of its culture on my life. 

So much of our art, whether music or literature, is rooted in themes familiar to us, from the poetry and narrative of the Bible, to the hymns and stories of our childhood. It’s a common language of human understanding, particularly regarding morality, regardless of whether or not it’s followed. 

It’s amazing to me how incredibly secular our religious holidays have become in America. If I mention Christmas, you immediately think of Santa and elves, decorated trees, and gifts wrapped in bows. Somewhere underneath it all, if you happen to be a person of faith, you might also remember the story of a young pregnant woman, giving birth in a barn, and stories of shepherds, angels, and wise men. 

Beyond the immaculate conception, and angels singing to some scraggly shepherds, there’s not much magic in the story. No flying reindeer or magic acorns. No circumnavigating the globe in one night to bring toys to children. Just the humble birth of a carpenter’s son. The origin story of a homeless man who would one day be called king, ironically to many.

Easter is even stranger, with its litany of fertility symbols and seasonal objects. Bunnies and eggs, flowers, grass, and chicks. A feast of preserved foods such as cured ham and canned goods, suitable for a celebration after a long winter. Once again, for those of faith, somewhere beneath the chocolate treats and hiding of colored eggs, we remember the brutal execution of the Son of God, and his resurrection from a tomb three days later. 

Our two major religious holidays mark the birth and death of God’s son, but our celebrations seem to be about anything but. The divine birth and supernatural resurrection are the supposed basis for our joy, but are not celebrated as such. 

We gather for a meal and some games, gift each other gifts, and mark the season. We don’t really spend a lot of time thinking about salvation, forgiveness, and redemption. Even if we do, we certainly don’t think about it for anyone but ourselves. 

We have lost the plot line to the significance of giving and receiving gifts in a wave of commercialism, self-indulgence, and greed. We now believe we are deserving of these gifts,  proud of our abundance, believing we are the sole cause. We do not focus on our need for forgiveness or give thanks for our great bounty, nor do we offer it to those who are genuinely in need.

If the story of the Gospel, of the birth and death of a messiah, brought to earth and condemned to die, is not about unconditional love and the forgiveness of sins, then the entire story of Christianity is nothing more than a silly fable of petty grievances and brutal retribution. They call it the Good News. That though all had fallen short of the glory of God, one had come to redeem us, and we were to celebrate this gift by paying it forward. 

Horatio Spafford was a successful lawyer in Chicago during the late 19th century, when a series of disasters brought him to his proverbial knees. First was the death of his son, who was but four years old. Second was the Great Chicago Fire of 1871, which ruined him financially as he was heavily invested in real estate. Finally, in 1873, after another economic downturn delayed a trip to London, he sent his family on ahead of him. The ship sank, and his four daughters drowned. Only his wife survived. She sent a telegram that read, “Saved alone…”

This year just happens to be the 150th anniversary of Spafford’s hymn, penned on the journey to meet his grieving wife. Like Job before him, he found solace and grace in faith when all else was lost. His sense of peace in the midst of tribulations has survived to this day. 

It is well, it is well with my soul. So should it be. 

In the book of Luke (12:48), it says, “To whom much is given, much is required.” This comes up in many parables and stories as we are meant to recognize the enormity of the gift of life and forgiveness accorded us through the death and resurrection of a perfect being, and to conduct ourselves accordingly. 

The story of the Gospel, the Good News as it were, is that we have been given this incredible gift we did not deserve. It was freely given, without caveat or concern, and we are meant to freely receive it with joy and appreciation. Our two great commands are to love God and to love our neighbor as ourselves. Love is the action required. Not sacrifice. Not self-righteousness. Love. A goal of loving as we had been loved. To forgive as we had been forgiven. To accept unconditionally, just as we had been accepted.

But that’s not where the church stands today. The people who claim to follow Christ, no longer seem to accept the message of the gospel and have instead turned away from the prime directive to love. They have turned to fear instead. 

It’s difficult for me to untangle the complexities swirling around the relevance of an ancient religion in today’s modern world, the historical use of religion to control communities, the irrational nature of divine creation, the absurdity of much of the Bible, and the lasting spiritual significance of faith. 

My own personal beliefs notwithstanding, it is the words and actions of those who claim to speak in the name of God, that gives me the most pause. Even if I took the Bible as a collection of metaphorical teaching that was never intended to be taken literally, I could not escape the central lesson of love and forgiveness. 

It is a tale of empathy and compassion in the face of death. Forget the Garden of Eden, the Ark and the Flood, walking on water, or raising people from the dead. What is the meaning of Christmas if not love? What is the meaning of Easter if not forgiveness? Where can there be faith without hope?

At many times throughout history, the Christian church became unmoored from its central thesis and degenerated into a tool of power and oppression. Its followers have been led astray and began to believe in their own glory, forgetting that they had much to be forgiven for, and instead turned to their brothers and sisters to condemn them for their sins. Calling on them to remove the speck in their eye while ignoring the plank in their own. 

Today, we have a right-wing political movement that appears to have co-opted Christianity for its own purposes while subverting its underlying premise so completely as to render it meaningless. They’ve taken the worst parts of a humanistic tradition of legalism and authoritarianism and removed all compassion and forgiveness. Religion as a cudgel and a tool for enforcing a 3rd-century form of ignorant morality. 

What I find most disappointing isn’t just that they’re attempting to reimagine America as a fascist theocracy, but that they’re so completely distorting the message of love and forgiveness central to Christianity. It has the possibility to actually be a beautiful faith tradition, but like all religions, it is dependent on our flawed humanity to flourish. 

Most, if not all, religions have a central focus of love and forgiveness, compassion and tolerance, selflessness, and humility. So why does religion have such a horrible track record of depravity and violence in human history? A religious scholar might say it’s because we are an imperfect people who fail to grasp the simplicity of the message and instead layer on all sorts of accomplishments and good deeds in order to rationalize our worthiness. Or worse, use it as a means to exclude others and raise ourselves up. 

Despite the long history of oppression, bigotry, and violence associated with Christianity, and the many obvious inconsistencies and absurdities within the sacred texts, there remains in my heart a belief that we are good and complete in all our flawed, outrageousness, and that this is by design. That being “saved” isn’t a result of our own righteousness or belief but a reminder to treat the ones around us with extra care, compassion, and grace. It is a reminder to do unto others as we would have God do unto us. 

We have been commanded to care for the poor, sick, and vulnerable. We are reminded that we are unworthy but blessed nevertheless and, therefore, required to treat each other in the same way. Unconditional love that is unearned, but freely provided. 

What we were not told was to judge others, condemn them for transgressions we ourselves share, to hate or fear, and to attempt to gain wealth and power by exploiting our neighbor. That anyone can love those who love them, but loving one’s enemy is the true test of our understanding of grace.

I have little use for the rules and regulations of the modern Christian church, and I condemn their renewed focus on political power. Their naked hypocrisy and self-righteous morality have manifested as fear and hate, becoming a cancer that must either be cut out or die. But maybe, from the ashes, will arise a new faith.

I read a post on Mastodon not long ago that read, “Maybe someday, someone will design a religion around the teachings of Jesus.”

Wouldn’t that be nice? 

Follow David Todd McCarty on Mastodon.

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