Category Archives: Trends in Culture

Toxic Masculinity, Cage-free Eggs, White Guilt, and the Epistle to the Romans

Here’s a counterintuitive suggestion that I want to discuss: When the non-Christian culture makes people feel guilty, the last thing I want to do is to tell them to avoid those feelings. 

Some Highlights 

Let’s start about a year and a half ago when Gillette came out with their viral ad, which challenged notions of what it means for “boys to be boys.” Socio-cultural norms of male aggression and objectification of women were targeted, and for some reason, it left a swath of (particularly conservative) men feeling targeted and guilty for the mere fact of their biological sex. Much of the political right swung back by glorifying the innate wonders of masculinity and forming ad hominem attacks against the producer and the company. I couldn’t help but feeling like both sides were missing each other in a moment that was part of a substantial shift in how our culture is beginning to think about morality.

In some senses, we feel similar pressures in the merchandising and advertising that we see every time we go to a store: guilt-free beauty products, cage-free eggs, conflict-free diamonds, ethical smartphones, humanely sourced foods, and the list goes on indefinitely. To some consumers, certain of these categories represent serious ethical issues; to other consumers, these categories are something of a joke, a humorous attempt at “virtue signaling” by those who can afford to spend more in order to claim a moral high ground, whose apparent altruism is really a self-serving means of making penance.

And then, of course, you have this idea of “white guilt,” where guilt-feelings about centuries of oppression toward ethnic minorities are on the one hand internalized, pushing white people toward certain activist behaviors, sometimes with the result of a “white savior” complex. Or, on the other hand, guilt-feelings are suppressed or minimized, pushing white people toward a place of so-called “white fragility,” leading to a posture where they struggle to talk honestly about issues facing the black community in the US without equivocating, appealing to anecdotal evidence, or lashing out in ad hominem attacks. 

An Observation

Now we could quibble about the finer points of each of these three examples. We could deep-dive on the “worldviews” in back of each (the reality is that a broad range of “worldviews” connect with either side of these divides). We could argue about the way some of these issues have been weaponized by the (political) right or left. We could list example-after-example of how either side is, at points, grossly inconsistent in their value judgments. We could parse definitions or try to label groups as “Marxist” or “Klansmen.” But let’s suspend those arguments for a moment and make a 30,000-foot observation about these three highlights as a microcosm of our cultural moment.

My main observation is simply this: our culture is largely divided on the basis of those who are working to multiply/amplify feelings of guilt and those who are working to negate/silence feelings of guilt. Frequently, those who amplify guilt on one issue are working to silence guilt on another. 

As a Christian, I should have a theological system for understanding guilt and guilt-feelings, as the concept of guilt is an overtly theological matter for the Christian. In order to connect Christian theology to these modern issues of guilt-feelings, I want to first draw out some theological principles from Romans 1–3 and then use the exegetical insights from that passage to help us better understand the issues of our cultural moment. 

Romans 1–3

The arc of Romans 1–3 lays much of the foundational theology for the entire book of Romans. At risk of over-simplifying, it states the problems to which the remainder of the book provides the answers. Let’s look at each of these problems:

Problem #1: The Suppression of God’s External Truth

In the first chapter of Romans (particularly vv. 18–32), Paul explains how the Gentiles who reject the truth of general revelation—that creation itself points to God—go on to reject the Creator in exchange for a lie. That lie about the external world results in God’s giving people over to the lie that they’ve created for themselves. If they worship the material, God gives them over to it. If they worship the sexual, God gives them over to it. Because they’ve tamped-down what is obvious from creation, their inhibitions toward their sinful idols are negated, resulting in lifestyles of license and abandon in particular categories of behavior. 

Problem #2: The Condemnation of God’s Internal Truth

Turning now to Romans 2:1–16, we see the internal conflict of what Schaeffer called “the man without the Bible.” People without even the written Law of God find themselves passing judgment on other people (2:1–3). Although there are aspects where non-Christians suppress truth, this can only happen in a single area for so long. It is, as my friend Dave put it to me the other day, like an inflated ball in a pool. You can press it below the surface for a time, but eventually it will come back to the surface with a vengeance.

This self-condemning law works in such a way that God does not need to point non-Christians to passages of Scripture in order to condemn people. He merely will one day point people to their own pointed fingers and hold them guilty for failing to uphold their own moral standards (2:14–16). Every twinge of guilt, every muted opponent, every hurled insult, every feeling of moral superiority will be replayed for them in the day of judgment.

We, then, see something of the shift from Romans 1 to Romans 2. It’s the shift from what is outside the self (the revelation of God in creation) to what is inside the self (the revelation of God’s moral law on the human heart). It’s the shift from the suppression of truth to the persistence of truth. But in other ways, Romans 1 and 2 form a sort of continuity. People are guilty before God because they’ve suppressed both the truth of creation and because they’ve ignored their own self-condemnation. On both counts, people stand rightly condemned by God.

Problem #3: The Privilege of God’s Written Truth 

Starting in Romans 2:17, Paul turns his attention to the people of Israel, or in the words of Schaeffer, “the man with the Bible.” Any sort of ethnic privilege that the Jewish people had because they possessed the written Law of God (3:1) became a standard of even greater judgment against them (2:17–24). The person with the written Word of God is all the more condemned because he not only sees the witness of creation and feels the witness of his conscience but also reads the witness of the Bible. Thus the Law of God in written form shuts the mouths of those who have it (3:19) with the end result that the moral baseline of all humanity—both those with the Bible and those without it—is unrighteous (3:9–20). Of course this universal human baseline also lays the foundation for a universal solution to that unrighteousness—a righteousness that does not come from the Law but comes from faith (3:21–31).

In summary, Romans 1–3 demonstrates (among other things) that we should expect non-Christians (whether religious or irreligious) to face just condemnation from God because they (a) suppress external truth, (b) express internal truth, and (c) avoid written truth when they encounter it.

Our Cultural Moment and Romans 1–3

So what does this have to do with our present cultural moment? Let’s connect a few dots. First, for the past several decades, we’ve lived in a culture that has, in the main, worked to suppress the truth in unrighteousness. They turned a blind eye to (or, perhaps even expressed approval of) the sexual abuse of power by Bill Clinton. They consumed apparel and food and technology that came on the backs of child labor and the destruction of the environment. They voted for politicians who harmed people of color (e.g., mandatory minimums and the “war on drugs”) or, at minimum, avoided any demonstration of concern for people of color. So, in some sense, as a child born in 1985, most of my growing-up years were Romans 1, Exhibit A.

Growing up in the pervasive climate of secularism, we saw the “Coexist” bumper stickers. We heard the common refrain, “that’s just your truth.” We were called “intolerant” for insisting on objective moral standards—absolute truth. Throughout that era, many evangelicals began to flesh-out a system of apologetics that was geared to address the objections coming from so-called “postmodern” thought. In many ways, Francis Schaeffer planted the first seeds for this new apologetic in his popular trilogy. But while evangelicals were busy challenging postmodernism as a monolithic entity, culture was shifting beneath us and absolutizing in a more systematic way.

The current cultural moment has shifted dramatically from the “postmodern” boogey man that I grew up hearing described in church. The suppression of truth that was attempted on a grand scale has, to a certain extent, reversed course and turned into an enormous explosion of truth and guilt that is too much for anyone to bear, let alone escape unscathed. The secular gods could not become pacified and have become angry. The greater we tried to excuse sin, the greater accusation arose from within. The guilt that ripples out from the “left” in the West is Romans 2, Exhibit A.

But what about Romans 3? Within American culture, we have a well-defined group of cultural Christians, those with a religious background and with claims of a “born again experience.” This group has the Bible. Many have been taught the Bible. But for decades, those within this culture have placed themselves at the helm of a variety of anti-Christian behaviors. Elements of this group championed slavery, defended slavery, lynched black men and women, instituted Jim Crow, defended Jim Crow, and now sit on the sidelines telling people of color to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. And that’s just the start of it.

Rightly the text says, “The name of God is blasphemed among the [Americans] because of you” (Rom. 2:24; Isa. 52:5). The people with the Bible have a privilege, but with great privilege…you know the rest.

Four Clarifications

Before I conclude by making some applications based on this connection between Romans 1–3 and our cultural moment, I need to answer a few “but what abouts” that I’ve encountered from time-to-time.

  1. “Isn’t there a difference between objective moral guilt and guilt-feelings?” Yes. Absolutely. Schaeffer is the one who used this distinction, and I find it quite helpful. Sometimes our guilt-feelings represent our objective moral guilt exactly, other times they may underrepresent that guilt, and at other times they may overrepresent that guilt. The key observation is that guilt-feelings are in some sense tied to the reality of objective moral guilt, reminding us of the God who is there and is not silent.
  2. “How do guilt-feelings relate to shame and the shame-honor culture of the East?” I think there are extensive intersections between the rise of guilt-feelings in the West (with a more psychological edge) and the experience of shame in the East (with a more communal edge). It seems to me unsurprising that muting is the new form of shunning and doxing and canceling is the new form of honor killings. We can learn much about how to respond to the current culture based on the response to the shame-honor culture that we find in the Bible.
  3. “But isn’t it wrong to make people feel guilty for things they didn’t do?” We don’t have time here to extensively answer this question, but I can at least point in a few directions. First, sins of fathers are frequently repeated (albeit in different forms) by their children. This is why the Bible can at times talk about visiting judgment on the third and fourth generation and also talk about how children will not be judged for the sins of their fathers. Second, Romans 5 indicates that objective moral guilt is rightly passed down to us for something we did not directly do. If we reject that notion of imputed guilt, we must also reject the possibility of imputed righteousness. In short, all people are born under some form of objective moral guilt and may rightly or wrongly be led to have guilt-feelings in connection to the guilt of past generations. In either case, guilt-feelings over the sins of past generations only serve as a reminder of the objective moral guilt we all rightly obtain from Adam.
  4. “Aren’t Christians free from any guilt because they are in Christ?” I would make two clarifications here. First, there are many religious people who claim the name of Christ but who do not belong to Christ. They must feel the full weight of the Law and the associated guilt if they are to have any hope of belonging to Christ in truth. Second, those who belong to Christ still feel the sting of the law when they sin (Rom. 7:7–25).  The law of God wages war against the law of sin, resulting in a craving for rescue from this battle (vv. 24–25). So although our objective moral guilt has been erased by Jesus (giving us an alien, objective moral righteousness) and no ultimate condemnation belongs to us (Rom. 8:1), we still experience guilt feelings. The Christian is not called to pretend away the sting of guilt but to walk in the Spirit and allow the Spirit to minister the hope of adoption to their heart (Rom. 8:1–17).

Three Responses

So how should the Christian respond in a culture of guilt? With the previous clarifications in place, I want to offer three categories of response.

First and foremost, the Christian ought to take the posture of a missionary rather than a culture warrior. Our goal is to point men and women to the grace that is offered to us in Jesus Christ and not to simply fight another worldview battle. There are times when worldviews need to be confronted. But there are times when allowing people to carry forward the implications of their own worldviews (i.e., presuppositional apologetics) helps us demonstrate their need of the gospel more clearly. So, instead of trying to tell people that they are not guilty and should feel good about themselves (thereby buying into the postmodern, self-esteem, moralistic therapeutic deism), we should tell people that their guilt is far worse than they envisage. Instead of trying to excuse people from their feelings of guilt, we should continue to expand their guilt through appeals to general and special revelation. Only when sin comes alive through the Law can people “die” and be “raised” with Christ. Resolve to walk with people down the path of shame to the place of honor.

Second, we should anticipate the spasmodic reaction to guilt from cultural Christianity. The evils of cultural Christianity against our black and brown neighbors results in a culture of the blind leading the blind (Rom. 2:19). We should anticipate that those who are Christian in name only will, just as the man without the Bible, attempt to suppress the truth and excuse himself from the feelings of guilt that arise from his unpropitiated objective moral guilt before a holy God. But for those who have the Law and know they have fallen short (Rom. 3:23) there remains an opportunity to experience redemption (v. 24–26). Only by seeing their guilt as truly as those of the pagan irreligious people can religious people truly find hope (vv. 27–31).

Third, those who are truly Christians sometimes rightly feel the sting of guilt and sometimes wrongly feel it too (1 Tim. 4:2). Church history is filled with examples of true believers who magnified their feelings of guilt (e.g., Augustine’s sensitivity on sexual lust) or who suppressed their feelings of guilt (e.g., Christian slave masters in the US). On the one hand, Augustine’s hyper-sensitive conscience had ripple effects for future generations, and on the other hand, so did the under-sensitive consciences of Christian slave masters. We ought always to place our guilt-feelings under the subjection of the Spirit and the Word. But we ought not dismiss these feelings merely because non-Christians experience similar moral motions. In fact, the responses of the pagans to sin, righteousness, and coming judgment ought to cause us to tread cautiously when dismissing feelings of guilt that have arisen in our non-Christian culture (see, for example, Matt. 12:41–42; Luke 10:25–37; 1 Cor. 5:1).

Schaeffer on Evangelical Political Alliances

In Shaeffer’s The Church at the End of the Twentieth Century, he lays out three broken options to the fractured politics of his day. He articulates them as hedonism, the dictatorship of the 51 percent, and establishment elitism/true dictatorship (WFS 4:27–28). Another way of framing these three tensions is that of anarchy, demagoguery, and oligarchy. Shaeffer argues that people are pulled to one of these three extremes as confidence in objective truth erodes in the center (perhaps giving deeper meaning to Robert Kennedy’s use of Yeat’s “the centre cannot hold”).

Shaeffer goes on to explain how groups are pulled into these positions and makes the observation that evangelicals are particularly susceptible toward the third option:

The danger is that the evangelical, being so committed to middle-class norms [affluence and personal peace at any price] and often elevating these norms to an equal place with God’s absolutes, will slide without thought into accepting some form of establishment elite. (WFS 4:29)

In other words, as evangelicals grab for functional idols in wealth and security, they must necessarily let go of the functional authority of Scripture. As this happens, they become far more susceptible to strong and influential personalities who seem to uphold their values (i.e., wealth, security, and a veneer of God-talk).

My personal observation here is that the the past 50 years since Shaeffer wrote these words has borne out this reality all the more. I would suggest that Shaeffer’s three tensions are evident in American culture: radical left and right pulling toward anarchy, the left generally pulling toward the tyranny of the 51%, and the right generally opting for hope in a populist wealthy elite.

Evangelicals, following the course of rightward, middle-class norms, fall into the trap of seeing influential elites as allies in a binary quest for their idolatrous personal absolutes. Here Schaeffer states the tension well:

My observation of many young pastors and others is this: suddenly they are confronted by some two camps and they are told: “Choose, choose, choose.” By God’s grace they must say, “I will not choose between these two. I stand alone with God, the God who has spoken in the Scripture, the God who is the infinite-personal God, and neither of your two sides is standing there. So if I seem to be saying the same thing at some one point, understand that I am a cobelligerent at this particular place, but I am not an ally.”

The danger is that the older evangelical with his middle-class orientation will forget this distinction and become an ally of an establishment elite, and at the same time his son or daughter will forget the distinction and become an ally of some “leftish” elite. We must say what the Bible says when it causes us to seem to be saying what others are saying, such as “Justice!” or “Stop the meaningless bombings!” But what we must never forget that this is only a passing cobelligerency and not an alliance. (WFS 4:31)

And therein lies the evangelical problem. We have formed political alliances on the basis of values formed in the idol workshop of consumerism and materialism. We have forgotten that our allegiance does not lie with our party but with our God.

So what will be the result of the evangelical alliances with the elite who offer preservation of middle-class norms? Shaeffer closes with this observation:

If this revolution comes from either side, our culture will be changed still further. The last remnants of Christian memory in culture will be eliminated, and freedoms gone. If the revolution comes from the establishment, it will be much more gradual, much less painful for the Christian––for a while. But eventually it will be as total. We must not opt for one as against the other just because it seems to give a little peace for a little time. That is an enormous mistake, because both are equally non-Christian and eventually both will be equal in smashing out the freedoms which we have had. (WFS 35)

Perhaps the political alliances of the majority of evangelicals are fostering this sort of gradualism. Although the smashing of freedoms is a concern, for sure, my greater concern is the smashing of true Christianity along the way. If evangelicals sell their souls to the populist elite, what of true Christianity remains? What if the legacy of Christianity at the beginning of the twenty-first century is, as Yeats described it?

The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.

Francis Schaeffer on Christian Social Action

In addressing the problem of evil and the nature of man using the foil of Albert Camus’ The Plague, Francis Schaeffer closes with the following insights:

A Christian can fight what is wrong in the world with compassion and know that as he hates these things, God hates them too. God hates them on the high price of the death of Christ.

But if I live in a world of nonabsolutes and would fight social injustice on the mood of the moment, how can I establish what social justice is? What criterion do I have to distinguish between right and wrong so that I can know what I should be fighting? Is it not possible that I could in fact acquiesce in evil and stamp out good? The word “love” cannot tell me how to discern, for within the humanistic framework love can have no defined meaning. But once I comprehend that the Christ who came to die to end “the plague” both wept and was angry at the plague’s effects, I have a reason for fighting that does not rest merely on my momentary disposition, or the shifting consensus of men. (CWFS, The God Who Is There, 117–18)

Now comes the convicting part, where Schaeffer presses his Christian readers to do more than accept the moral high ground:

But the Christian also needs to be challenged at this point. The fact that he alone has a sufficient standard by which to fight evil does not mean that he will so fight. The Christian is the real radical of our generation, for he stands against the monolithic, modern concept of truth as relative. But too often, instead of being the radical, standing against the shifting sands of relativism, he subsides into merely maintaining the status quo. If it is true that evil is evil, that God hates it to the point of the cross, and that there is a moral law fixed in what God is in Himself, then Christians should be the first into the field against what is wrong––including man’s inhumanity to man. (CWFS, The God Who Is There, 118)

In this way, Schaeffer calls on believers to not just adopt a Christian worldview but to practice the Christian worldview––not just preach a gospel of justification but a gospel of sanctification too. In our day, as many attempt to create a dichotomy between Christianity and social actions and issues, Schaeffer’s call to reject the dichotomy rings true and insightfully prescient.

The Idol of Power

The story of the Exodus of the people of God from Egypt is a big and beautiful story. It is a story of God’s rescue and redemption. It is a story of God’s declaration of superiority over the gods of the land of Egypt. But it is also a deeply personal story. The story involves real people like Moses and his family and Pharaoh. Although I know that there are bigger purposes for this passage, I couldn’t help but notice that in the story of the Exodus, God demolishes one man’s idol of power.

The ruler of Egypt gives us an insightful look into the heart of a man captivated by power and control. In contrast to Moses’ humble awkwardness at the divine call in the desert, Pharaoh is the self-confident guy who has manipulated circumstances in order to come out on top. And God ultimately used this man’s craving and lust for authority to bring redemption to the Israelites. Here are ways to know that you’re similarly obsessed with power just like Pharaoh:

  • You are intimidated by people who aren’t like you (1:9-10) and you compensate by mistreating (1:11-14) or sidelining (1:15-22) them.
  • You punish unwanted expression through brute force and unreasonable expectations (5:10-14)
  • You cannot allow for freedom of expression that you’re not in the middle of or creativity that you didn’t invent yourself (8:25, 28).
  • You are willing to lose everything else except power (10:7).
  • You have an inordinate desire to be the “Big Brother” (10:8).
  • You assume evil intentions on the part of those whose plans differ from yours (10:10).
  • You move to manipulate people using their families (10:11) and possessions (10:24) when they don’t fall in line.
  • You view people only as means to an end and value people only for what they can do for you (14:5).

The hope for freedom from the power-junkie mindset only comes in the Gospel. In the Gospel, Jesus gives up power and does in our place what we could never do ourselves.

  • Jesus loves and wants people who are nothing like him.
  • Jesus’ yoke is light. He enjoys rewarding people with rest.
  • Jesus gives us freedom. He didn’t come to give more Law, but to fulfill it.
  • Jesus wants to give up everything in order to come to us.
  • Jesus died to make us part of his family. He doesn’t pretend to be family just to take advantage of us.
  • Jesus knows the worst about our intentions, but he loves us anyways. He doesn’t hold our past faults in front of us when we come before him.
  • Jesus doesn’t manipulate us into doing what he wants. He patiently guides us like a shepherd.
  • Jesus saw the value of humanity as equivalent to his own life and death. The value of the human soul was worth the incarnation and death of our Savior.