Not too long ago, in a casual conversation with my spouse, I expressed my uncertainty about my Christian identity. His reaction surprised me: “You’re not a Christian! What even makes you think you are? You haven’t practiced in years!”
“Why not?” I retorted.
“You don’t attend church, pray, or participate in any religious activities,” he replied.
That hit hard. “But Christianity is about love and justice!”
“That’s not the core of being Christian!”
If that’s not a wake-up call, I don’t know what is.
I recently joined a discussion on Clubhouse regarding successful churches, and I nearly lost my composure. As each speaker touted metrics like disciple-making, authenticity, and wonder, I felt my frustration boiling over.
I’m exhausted by the superficial definitions of success we hear in Christian circles. I’m particularly disheartened by the health and wealth gospel and the cheap grace that glosses over the need for genuine justice.
I can’t help but feel especially frustrated with white and Asian Christians.
I’m tired of the Christian nationalist rhetoric that promotes the idea of America as God’s chosen nation, rooted in so-called “Christian” principles. History shows us a different narrative, with violence and oppression masquerading as divine destiny. The capitalist exploitation is hailed as good news, while the oppressive forces of law and order are worshipped as virtuous.
But where is Jesus in all of this? What connection does He have with political figures or the pro-life agenda that seems to prioritize potential over the lives of existing individuals? How can we claim the gospel when our churches remain silent in the face of violence against marginalized communities?
This is not just disappointing; it’s blasphemous.
And let’s talk about Asian American churches. As a friend of mine put it, “Many Asian churches exemplify that you don’t need white people to perpetuate white supremacy and harm.”
Despite different languages and cultural elements, the underlying theology often mirrors that of white American churches, with an added emphasis on parental obedience.
Until recently, I had no idea there was such a thing as Asian American theology. At 42, this realization is both enlightening and disheartening.
What does a truly successful church look like?
When Christian nationalism promotes individual relationships with Jesus over communal justice, it allows believers to evade responsibility for upholding systems of oppression.
Instead of measuring success through attendance, offerings, or conversions, churches need to rethink what success means. What if they took a hard look at their practices? What if their beliefs reflected genuine concern for the marginalized, actively working against racism, sexism, and ableism?
How do they treat the most vulnerable among them? Are LGBTQIA+ members welcomed and celebrated? Are secrets and abuse handled with care and integrity, or do they prioritize reputation over the truth?
A truly successful church, especially in America, would confront the roots of white supremacist theology that permeate much of Western religious thought. It would be willing to dismantle and rebuild from the ground up, even if that means divesting from existing power structures and supporting churches led by BIPOC women.
Let’s be honest; this aligns closely with the teachings of Jesus.