We're all familiar with the basic gospel. It's in that classic Sunday School verse: "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life" (John 3:16). A good and holy God gives himself for a lost and sullied people. The black cloud of death burns up in the piercing light of love. We know this gospel well. But do we know the anti-gospel?
The Anti-Gospel
The anti-gospel is simply the reverse. But it takes a few moments to construct. "For God so loved the world" becomes a void, where no God exists to love the world and those lost in it. "That he gave his only Son" becomes a vapid expression. If there's no God of love, there's no God of giving. And then believing isn't a matter of putting faith in him; it's a matter of trusting ourselves. And whoever trusts most in himself won't get eternal life, since that's a fairytale. Instead, he'll get the best of this life. And then he will perish. We might put the anti-gospel this way:
For man so loves the world, that he takes whatever he can get. And whosoever believes in himself will get what he wants before he perishes.
It sounds wretched, doesn't it? But what if we're guilty of believing it sometimes? What if, without fully knowing it, we take up the anti-gospel? We don't have to proclaim it to believe it; we just have to live as if it were true.
Tacit Belief vs. Explicit Belief
One the surface, the anti-gospel horrifies us. It's superficial, vain, futile, and selfish. It could never be our creed. But people often follow creeds without confessing them. We believe without branding ourselves. We follow footsteps without claiming the path. We might call this tacit belief. Tacit belief is an unexpressed but implied commitment of the heart. In some ways, it's the most potent kind of belief because it relies on functionality rather than direct adherence. In other words, if living in a certain way seems to work for us, if it functions by giving us what we want out of life, then we are tacit believers in it.
Tacit belief is an unexpressed but implied commitment of the heart.
In contrast to tacit belief, explicit belief follows words of profession. It is spoken and pursued in visible ways. People see it in action. We see it in ourselves and others within the walls of the church. Explicit belief aims to be an outer expression of an inner allegiance. And most often, these are the beliefs that we want others to see. We feel proud if these beliefs mark us, setting us apart from the crowd.
But tacit belief is always humming beneath the surface of explicit belief. Tacit belief picks up on the scent of heart-blood. It knows what we really want. It discerns the treasure we chase, the passion we pursue. And one of the most prevalent tacit beliefs in the Western world is what theologians call paganism. What troubles me most is that paganism seems to be little more than a restatement of the anti-gospel.
Paganism and the Anti-Gospel
What is paganism? There's a whole history to that word and its related concepts, but we can at least say that paganism is a worldview that prizes the here-and-now, whatever you can experience, feel, or treasure in the present. Charles Taylor described the pagan spirit by linking it with humanism. Humanism sees the world as human-centered (as compared to pre-Enlightenment God-centered approaches). It emphasizes the value, goodness, and rationality of humans and removes any focus on the divine or supernatural. In A Secular Age, Taylor wrote that the Enlightenment introduced (and subsequent secular generations then fostered) a humanism "accepting no final goals beyond human flourishing, nor any allegiance to anything else beyond this flourishing" (18). Human flourishing in the here-and-now is the end and only goal. Put in more commons terms, paganism means, "Eat, drink, and be merry. For tomorrow we die."
J. Gresham Machen defined paganism in Christianity & Liberalism along similar lines. "Paganism is that view of life which finds the highest goal of human existence in the healthy and harmonious and joyous development of existing human faculties. Very different is the Christian ideal. Paganism is optimistic with regard to unaided human nature, whereas Christianity is the religion of the broken heart" (66).
Pagans will acknowledge a divine being or spiritual force only insofar as it helps them get what they want right now. Paganism is the anthem behind contemporary consumerism. It's the constant taking, the amassing of experiences and sensations and material possessions for this life, with no respect for the next.
Now, look at the sentiments of paganism and the anti-gospel side by side.
- For man so loves the world, that he takes whatever he can get. And whosoever believes in himself will get what he wants before he perishes.
- Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die.
Are they not eerily similar? Both are essentially self-consumed. They treat humans like sponges whose primary goal is soaking up whatever sweetness lies around. Both are entirely this-worldly rather than the mysteriously beautiful other-worldliness of the gospel. Paganism and the anti-gospel focus on the seen rather than the unseen (2 Cor. 4:18).
Paganism is the constant taking, the amassing of experiences and sensations and material possessions for this life, with no respect for the next.
The sad reality is that many Christians live out the anti-gospel everyday. It silently becomes our tacit belief. That means we play with paganism; we fixate on present passions. After all, it's easier to play with the toys right in front of us when eternity seems far off.
And You?
Metamorphosis begin with confession. If we want to throw off the weight of the anti-gospel and stand upright in self-giving grace, we can start by admitting how easily the anti-gospel slips in, how swiftly we turn from asking for daily provisions to kneeling before daily idols. We seem to be masters at ignoring what's eternally important. Confessing that is the first step.
But following confession is the asking. We need help. And we're so prone to keep silent. In Charlie Mackesy's book, The Boy, the Mole, the Fox and the Horse, the boy asks the horse, "What's the bravest thing you've ever said?" The horse replies with simple depth: "Help." Much of the New Testament (as well as the Old) emphasizes our need for constant prayer (1 Thess. 5:17). In one sense, this is a call to ceaselessly ask for help in the Spirit. But our Western world is so deeply laced with humanism and a spirit of self-sufficiency that prayer becomes a last resort rather than an instinctive response to all difficulty (and all joy). We need to ask for help to see the eternal when the temporary blocks our sight, like ivy over an old window.
Lastly, living out the anti-gospel looks a lot like self-giving, mirroring the miraculous prodigality of God. If God so loved the world that he gave, we should so love Christ that we give. This sort of giving has nothing to do with moral compulsion, or giving out of a sense of guilt. Rather, we are so filled with gratitude, joy, and love for God and the gospel that we seek out the smallest of opportunities to mirror that giving and point others to our Heavenly Father (Matt. 5:16). Confess. Ask for help. And then let the Spirit of Christ lead you in giving.
If God so loved the world that he gave, we should so love Christ that we give.
The anti-gospel is the easiest to live out and yet the most destructive to human souls because it ignores the one purpose for which every human was created: to glorify God and enjoy him forever (Westminster Larger Catechism, Question 1). The anti-gospel aims to glorify me and enjoy self for a time. It's bound to end in futility and regret.
But the true gospel of Jesus Christ keeps our eyes fixed on eternity, where we will glorify and enjoy God forever, the one who gave his Son on a cross while the world raged on in anti-gospel paganism.
Reject the anti-gospel. Embrace the brightness of Christ.
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