Some of you know that I do a little philosophy on the side.

If you find the very idea scary or irritating,

you might want to go ahead and delete this message before reading further.

As I teach the history of philosophy, one of the philosophers we deal with each semester is Friedrich
Nietzsche. Nietzsche is perhaps most famous (or infamous) for his claim that “God is dead.” As Christians
for whom belief in God seems necessary, we’re quick to rise to the defense. We hear, “God is dead,” and
respond, “Nietzsche is dead,” often then thinking to ourselves, “So there!” As a philosopher who is also
thoroughly committed to Jesus I find it more useful to slow down a bit. Instead of responding with a
retort or a defense, I ask, “Which god is dead?” We’ve become so accustomed to the word “god” that
we forget that it is a generic term for a divine or supernatural being.

I’m not a Nietzsche scholar, so I can’t go very far in interpreting what Nietzsche himself meant by this
claim, but I have found a way to read his claim that is productive for Christians – though perhaps a bit
scary.

Emile Durkheim was a bit younger than Nietzsche, but roughly of the same generation. Nietzsche was a
philologist and philosopher, Durkheim a sociologist. In his writings on the sociology of religion, Durkheim
argued that god was a projection of society, an abstract force that reflected the norms, values, and
aspirations of the society. While this god reflected society, the god also served to mold society and
reinforce those norms, values and aspirations. I think there is truth to Durkheim’s theory of this god of
society and that it is precisely this god that Nietzsche says is dead. Considering the elite opinion of his
day (late 19th century) Nietzsche could see that the god of social unity and cohesion had been killed by
the thought leaders of his day (he said, “God is dead and we have killed him”). Though the death of
social cohesion was not evident to all in the late 19th century, perhaps it’s as evident to you now as it is
to me. Our society, like other Western societies, no longer has an overarching sense of purpose, a
shared set of norms, values and aspirations. Not only are we less cohesive, but we even think that social
cohesion is a bad thing. That god is dead.

But that god being dead is a good thing for the church. The dead god is not the real God.

Once upon a time (actually for quite a while) we were able to assume that if you were a member of
society – in our country, an American – you must be a Christian. Society and its institutions spoke of god
and supported faith. We remember a day when there was prayer in schools, and when we could trust
our kids to receive plenty of Christian influence in schools and other public institutions. If we take this
societal cohesion and veneer of religion as an instance of a Durkheimian god, then that god is now dead.
Once we could think “Born in America? Must be a Christian.” Or perhaps, “Born in a church family? Must
be a Christian.” Not so anymore. No longer can we maintain the illusion that we rule the culture.

Some of you might be thinking about now, “All that sounds like bad news!” Here’s why I think it’s good
news. First, now that there is a clearer difference between being a Christian and being an American, it
means our Christianity doesn’t have to compromise for the benefit of social cohesion. We can stop
pretending we have a generic god, a mere “supreme being,” a force of providence and guarantor of the
virtues of morality and get back to teaching about Jesus, the son of God, who came into the world as the
ultimate fulfillment of God’s promises to Abraham and his people Israel. We can be unapologetically
Christian rather than generically and abstractly religious.

Of course there is a problem that comes with this shift. Since we don’t have the broader culture and its
institutions to communicate, support (and enforce) the faith, it means that we will have to do a more
thorough job bringing people to faith and discipling them into that faith. In this age with no god, they –
those outside the church and even our own children – will have innumerable competing options. We
are competing not with other churches, other expressions of the Body of Christ, but with completely
different claims to our allegiance. We can’t expect to win people to Christ and establish them in the faith
with a mere hour or two a week (at most). We’ll have to incline them and train them to take up the
whole discipline of life with Christ. This will cost us, since in the long era of apparent beneficence of our
societal god, we could skip the discipline part of the Christian life and just concentrate on being nice,
moral folks, and hanging around the church when it was convenient, or when we needed a crutch. If we
want to give outsiders and our own younger generation a reason to take up these disciplines – you may
have noted the similarities between the word “discipline” and the word “disciple” – we’ll have to model
them for them. Words without actions won’t amount to much.

This brings to mind the second advantage of the death of the societal, Durkheimian god. Though we long
thought a Christian nation full of Christian institutions and public Christian practices – even if watered
down and domesticated – was a good thing, and a winning combination, it was not. Though we thought
of ourselves as a Christian nation, discipleship to Jesus was never the only game in town, not even the
only game in our churches. We’ve all along had other little gods begging for our attention, fighting for
our allegiance. While some would tell us that we could get along with the real God by honoring Him only
once a week – or on “religious” occasions – and give them, the small gods the bulk of our time, our
resources, our devotion, they were lying. With the death of our societal god, these other small gods are
more clearly seen for what they are.

So what? Is any of this of any practical consequence? Will it make any difference in our church life?
Here’s a step I’m going to take. In the new year, I’ll be preaching a series – or several series – exploring
basic Christian disciplines. I will be challenging adults – those who are hungry for Jesus – to take up
these disciplines. My prayer is that as individuals – and maybe families and small groups in the church –
take up these disciplines, they will bring others along for the ride.

I don’t want to settle for merely preaching or enforcing social conformity, even if that conformity is to
something good. I want to be sold out to Jesus, to be a willing and faithful participant in his ongoing
Kingdom work. And I want to bring others along with me. I’m hungry for Jesus. I’m hungry to see Him
transform lives.

What do you think? What are you hungry for?

By Richard Heyduck, December 2010