Hills on which the Church will Die

Choosing hills to die on is no easy thing. Some issues can be mere distractions. Others can be over-inflated. But avoiding key battles will be costly to the Church in the end because, one way or another, cowardice kills.

“Not on that hill!” It’s a phrase you sometimes hear from disgruntled people on the verge of leaving their church. They’re usually frustrated by a particular issue being preached on too often, or a general sense of something having become a little too extreme and out of sync with reality. In the past, such issues might have been things like “the end times”, or “Israel”, or “Communism” (often all three at once!). Today, it’s more likely to be things like homosexuality, gender, or race issues.

Any doctrinal or socio-political issue can be in danger of receiving inappropriate levels of airtime. Such things can creep into sermons and announcements in all sorts of surprising (or, not-so-surprising) ways. When this happens, it sometimes has more to do with the preacher’s own foibles than whatever the Word of God seems to be saying. There is always a temptation to seize upon a variety of particular issues and feel that each time the very fabric of Christianity is at stake. There is, however, another side to this problem…

One of the greatest
ironies facing the
western Church
today is that we’ll
die without even
noticing because
we’re striving to
protect ourselves
from attack.

To Die or Not to Die?

Those claiming to “not die” on X hill are often choosing to die on X hill; just in reverse. They may leave their church because of it, they may dissociate from certain Christians because of it. Indeed, they may even change their view on it, or cease talking publically about it ever again. The real reason people aren’t willing to die on such hills is often hidden. They might even be right about their preacher’s over-emphases. But more often than not they’re just embarrassed by association, or embarrassed by the Word of God itself. (But that usually doesn’t come out until later).

Churches do need to pick their battles, of course. It’s often said that we should not waste our social or political credit on smaller skirmishes that won’t do any good. We should be “saving ourselves” for the big ones, avoiding non-essential controversies, etc. There is much wisdom in such thinking. But when does our selective pickiness get the better of us? When does it become an excuse for cowardice?

We often avoid “dying on hills” for things because we’re trying to be careful about when not to fight. But we rarely think of the need to be careful to ensure that we actually do fight. It always seems to be the other way around today. Battle-avoidant Christianity has become the norm in too many pockets of the West. If churches aren’t careful, they may find that the hills on which they’re unwilling to die today could be the death of them tomorrow. This is because bad things don’t tend to stay put. They tend to spread into other things in ways we don’t always expect.

Death by Compliance

We often avoid
dying on hills
because we’re
trying to be
careful about
when not to fight.
But we rarely
think of the need
to be careful that
we actually do
fight. It always
seems to be the
other way around.

One of the greatest ironies facing the western Church today is that we’ll die without even noticing because we’re striving to protect ourselves from attack. I don’t mean in an ultimate sense, of course. Theologically, the existence of the true Church is in God’s hands. He brought her into being, He redeemed her with his blood, and He’ll see Her through to the end (Eph. 5:25-27). Nonetheless, vast swathes of the visible Church in the West will wane in influence, continuing their decline into oblivion, all whilst patting themselves on the back for being good citizens.

Churches spent a lot of time ensuring their compliance with COVID-19 regulations, for example, including the closure of church buildings, even where said closures meant that said churches could not meet, or sing. (This was more of an issue for some churches than others, remember). At the time, it certainly seemed like wisdom to not make this topic a line in the sand on faithfulness, given all the other socio-political and doctrinal encroachments happening simultaneously, and given the temporary nature of the pandemic. It is not wise to fight the wrong kinds of battles on the wrong kinds of turf. Part of the problem, however is knowing where the boundaries of the turf actually are.

The “Safe” Road under the Hill

Despite the wisdom in choosing not to die on the wrong hills, it shouldn’t go unnoticed just how easy it has been for the Church to do whatever we’re told. Wholesale compliance does things to the very fighting spirit that will be needed when the “big fights” arrive. It can be easy to deceive ourselves that we’re storing up our social or political credit for another day when we’ll apparently be more “ready” to respond in faithfulness.

It’s more often the case that by the time we get to the “big fight” we will no longer recognise our previous intentions. By then, we might have found a convenient excuse to hold it off just one more time. We might even have changed our “strategy”, or shifted our view altogether. Somehow, whatever we do (or don’t do) usually seems to be the convenient option. This is a problem, even it’s not always immediately noticeable.

What Screwtape the demon said about seemingly small, insignificant temptations could equally apply to Church timidity:

the safest road to Hell is the gradual one—the gentle slope, soft underfoot, without sudden turnings, without milestones, without signposts

C. S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters

It would be wrong, of course, to overemphasise “dramatic” moments of faithfulness over long-haul faithfulness and wisdom. But if we continually refuse to stand up and be counted when it counts – whatever the issue happens to be – we risk drifting into a gradual slumber in which we lose our faith for the fight altogether.

If we continually
refuse to stand up
and be counted
when it counts…
we risk drifting into
a gradual slumber
in which we lose
our faith for the
fight altogether.

The Folly of Wolf-Feeding

Let’s take a hot topic like gay conversion therapy, for example, on which I recently hosted a podcast. Hardly a major “primary” issue. Not something you’d imagine the Church particularly “needs” to defend to the death. After all, there are lots of terrible versions of gay conversion therapy that have nothing to do with Christian beliefs.

Indeed, the Church ought to be distancing itself from such things more often than not. Why make a fuss about it, if doing so will only cause more problems? The Church has had issues of homophobia in the past as it is. Is it really worth losing more “credit” in the eyes of the world over such an insignificant side-issue? Wouldn’t that actually harm our ability to preach the Gospel?

Best not to wade in, we think; best keep the wolves happy for now. Maybe then they’ll leave us alone for a while… Who knows, they might even come round to see things from our perspective eventually... It’s sheer folly, of course, but it’s what actually ends up happening a good deal of the time. You cannot do business with wolves. They’ll always come back for more. Perhaps the fact that we killed off all the literal wolves in Britain several centuries ago has dullened our senses to such dangers. But the metaphorical wolves remain, only they’re very, very real.

Ready or Not…

To take the example above, how will churches respond if and when government legislators decide that pastoral care for same-sex attracted Christians is actually an insidious get-out clause for homophobic practice? What if pastors are demonised for preaching sermons on offensive Biblical texts? How will we react when Christians cannot pray for brothers or sisters about same-sex attraction without breaking the law? And what if churches are threatened with losing their charitable status when deemed “uncharitable” in the eyes of LGBT+ lobby groups?

Perhaps we think we’re ready for such challenges. My suspicion is that we’re very much unready. When such challenges do eventually land at the front doors of our churches, we’ll probably be tempted to justify our cowardice by appealing to “nuance”. As we do so, we’ll thank God that we’re not like those polemical “issue-driven” churches who like to die on hills.

Dying on “Gospel-only” Hills?

Churches over the last decade – particularly Evangelical churches – have been characterised by their willingness to only die on “Gospel” hills. That is, to only go to war over major doctrinal issues that substantially impact the understanding or proclamation of the Gospel.

My suspicion is that
when such challenges
do eventually land at
the front doors of our
churches, we’ll thank
God that we’re not like
those “issue-driven”
churches who like
to die on hills.

So, we say, we’ll only die on “Trinitarian” hills, or “Christological” hills, or “Resurrection” hills. i.e. the hills which aren’t really hills at all because, conveniently, the prevailing public pressure affecting the Church neither knows nor cares about them. We keep our armaments ready and waiting for any moment someone says something bad about the Trinity (which they probably won’t) and we decry those Christians who seem to go to war over issues we think are a waste of time (which they probably aren’t).

More often than not, those secondary issues are actually where the real battle is. it’s not only a battle “out there”, it’s a battle within the walls of the Church itself. Homosexuality, for example, is an issue which connects to numerous other issues beyond itself. It directly impinges upon how we think about created nature, holiness, Biblical authority, human freedom, religious freedom, and many other important things. Yet we often stay quiet because, technically, it doesn’t seem to be a “Gospel” hill. There comes a point where you have to ask: just what will it take for the Church to come out and fight?

Dying on the World’s Hills

“But,” you may say, “the Church does fight for many issues!” True, but only when it already has society’s approval to do so. Poverty, asylum-seeking, multiculturalism, systemic racism, misogyny, etc. These are the “Kosher” issues that churches feel comfortable addressing because, magically, they also happen to be the things society is already addressing. How convenient that our “prophetic” discernment so often aligns so perfectly with what’s already happening, and costs us so little to say.

When it came to issues of systemic racism in 2020 and beyond, I was genuinely astounded at the sheer volume of sermons which essentially preached in/from/to the George Floyd situation. What made this so remarkable was not necessarily that such socio-political issues were spoken about per se, but that they were spoken about from pulpits where socio-political issues were usually largely absent. These were “Gospel-only” pulpits, unconcerned with the changing currents of socio-political hot potatoes. Why did so many churches choose to speak up on that “issue” at that time, having taken such care to avoid other “issues” like homosexuality, abortion, or transgender? You can hazard a guess that it had more than a little to do with reputational safeguarding.

Standing (or Lying) on Hills

Our watchfulness over our reputations means we’re often content to lie down before the agendas of the world. We take the posture of an enslaved people, shadow-boxing and posturing with the world in order to avoid the real battles we’re called to fight. A famous quote often attributed to Luther perfectly sums up the point:

If I profess with the loudest voice and clearest exposition every portion of the Word of God except precisely that little point which the world and the devil are at that moment attacking, I am not confessing Christ, however boldly I may be professing Him. Where the battle rages there the loyalty of the soldier is proved; and to be steady on all the battle front besides, is mere flight and disgrace if he flinches at that point.

Martin Luther

Luther knew that “big fights” often come in “little fight” clothing, and the temptation remains huge to tell ourselves we’re being faithful when we’re subtly shirking the fight.

How convenient
that our “prophetic”
discernment so often
aligns so perfectly
with what’s already
happening, and costs
us so little to say.

It’s common nowadays to hear castigations of Luther-types or Luther-moments. In the social media age we’re often confronted with the self-righteous indignation of scores of people apparently willing to die on the strangest hills in the loudest ways. Often, such people may have little justification for their respective “hills”. They may also seem to carry too little character or wisdom to match their zeal. Yet even where our suspicions of such vain pretenders are accurate, we must also remain suspicious of ourselves.

We’ve grown accustomed to dampening the voices of courage in our day. We tend to call for “wisdom” at just the time we ought to be calling for “action”. We separate the two, failing to see that to be wise necessitates action, and to be nuanced necessitates zeal. When it comes to dying on hills, where churches once gloried in Luther’s “Here I stand…” too many have become more comfortable with “Here I lie…”. For they can do no other.