I Think Therefore I'm Formed?

Discipleship in an Age of Flawed Anthropology

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We’re continuing our dive into “The Great Omission” (theologian Dallas Willard’s term to describe the condition of modern Christianity).

For many who follow Jesus, The Great Omission (a general lack of intention or focus on forming our character to become more like Him) is not an academic or theoretical discussion. We feel it. We sense it. It’s deeply personal.

In our precious quiet moments, we may wonder why we feel relationally disconnected: from God, others, and ourselves. We read Bible passages about perfect peace, joy amid suffering, vibrant two-way prayer lives, and loving, safe, intimate communities, and wonder if those qualities are only for others.

As we continue to get to know Jesus, we’re amazed because He seems so…free. Free from a performance-based lifestyle, from worrying about people’s opinions. Free from a desperate need to be liked or loved. Free to speak what’s on His heart, free to disagree, free to love, free to walk away. Free from the need for people’s approval. Free from any painful wounds in His past.

Our hearts, however, don’t always experience that sort of freedom. Even if we appear to have it all together on the surface, our inner life may be a tumultuous mix of fighting old demons, anxiety, a desperate race to prove ourselves, and a sense that perhaps God loves us…but we aren’t sure if He likes us.

Not that we always allow these types of lingering tensions to bubble up into our consciences. God knows we enjoy a vast array of distractions to keep us from attuning to our hearts.

Still, this inner angst and confusion finds its way out whether we’re conscious of it, and whether we want it to.

A Rich Young Ruler

I recently had breakfast with a thirty-something, wealthy, type-A business guy. He has a bunch of kids, multiple companies, a few houses, and a vibrant passion for evangelism (at least as he defined it). He’s helped to plant a network of small churches focused on making as many Christians as possible as quickly as possible.

He was very vocal about his ministry efforts and dominated the topics we discussed as well as the conversation.

This is the type of guy who’s invited onto elder boards and non-profit committees and garners respect in the local church. He may be a guest speaker at men’s conferences. His business success, wealth, family, and passion for making converts make it obvious he’s someone to be respected.

Except he’s disillusioned, insecure, and lost. He has a desperate need to be seen a certain way by those around him, is unsure of his identity, and is working himself to death trying to prove to God that he’s worthy of His love.

He just doesn’t know it yet.

He has yet to attune to the bedrock assumptions that are powering and governing his life. And many of those assumptions are actually from the kingdom of darkness, not the kingdom of light.

He knows an enormous amount of information about the Bible and possesses a strong, vibrant belief system. But his own heart remains hidden and cloudy.

A Word about Anthropology

As we touched on before briefly, our current age functions from some flawed and reduced ideas about anthropology (what it means to be human), and the church is no exception.

Much of modern Christianity assumes that the ongoing formation of our hearts is primarily (if not exclusively) accomplished through instruction. “I think, therefore I am.” The secret to the Christian life is to accumulate greater amounts of accurate Biblical information.

We usually don’t sit around and contemplate this assumption - it’s just baked into our reality. It’s the air we breathe.

So, most of the Christian ecosystem is centered around rituals and rhythms designed to educate us on facts and beliefs regarding Christ and the Bible.

The B.I.B.L.E.

Let’s dig into this anthropological assumption a bit more.

For most Protestants, the hallmark of the weekly service is a 30-minute, non-participatory sermon (often the worship songs are selected to reinforce the spoken material). And if the sermon doesn’t feature an application, the pastor hasn’t done his job.

After all, we assume the Bible is an instruction manual. Its primary purpose is to tell us what to do (growing up, I was told BIBLE meant Basic Instructions Before Leaving Earth).

Let’s explore being inducted into a new group.

In many examples of someone being welcomed into a new community, there is a series of ceremonies and experiences involving the body, mind, and spirit designed to holistically incorporate the person into a new reality.

If you pledge a Greek society in college, you experience rush week. If you join the military, you experience boot camp. If you’re recruited onto a professional sports team, you experience spring training or training camp. If you’re a newborn, you experience immediate intimacy, care, family, and an ongoing environment specifically designed for your flourishing.

In most cases, you’re immersed in the new community, celebrated, and quickly invited to “be formed” into the culture and identity of the group.

However, in many Christian institutions, if you decide to follow Jesus and join the body of Christ, you’re given a book and a hug.

In the church we attend, someone who “says yes to Jesus” is offered said book and asked to text their decision to the church’s number so that someone can text them back. How immersive. Perhaps you’re invited to attend (here it comes) an instructional class so that you may be further educated on the beliefs of the church.

Despite the fact someone’s entrance into the body of Christ is the most radical, transformative, life-altering transition possible (becoming a new person with a new identity while being ushered into a new kingdom for eternity), that entrance is heavily if not solely acknowledged by intellectually informing the mind.

Is that bad? Of course not. It’s just dangerously incomplete, in that it doesn’t acknowledge or consider the depth, complexity, wonder, and design of the human person. And it reinforces a flawed assumption - that our Christian growth is largely an intellectual exercise.

Isn’t It Ironic? Don’t You Think?

There’s an irony here, in that we have little expectation that instruction alone will form human beings in most other circumstances.

We don’t expect a civilian to become a soldier by just sitting in a classroom. We expect them to be incorporated into their unit and build extraordinary trust and reliance on one another through shared relationships and experiences. They spend substantial time with their new community, absorb new habits, and are slowly formed into a soldier through an intentional program designed to change them holistically.

We wouldn’t expect a newborn to become a healthy adult by simply telling them what to do. Any child psychologist will note that the child requires an immersive, safe, specifically designed environment that includes substantial time with caregivers, affection, and deep, secure relational attachment.

So What?

Does it matter? If modern Christianity tends to prioritize the transaction of “being saved” over the ongoing discipleship journey of character formation, and if it assumes we grow primarily through instruction, so what?

The risk is that we become malformed, that our hearts remain confused and disoriented, and that we miss the healing, wholeness, and flourishing Christ intends for us. And that’s harmful to us and those around us.

If our discipleship journey is marked by missing key elements that are common to most any other formative experience (namely time, habit, community, and intimacy), our spiritual formation may become stunted, obscure, and confused.

We may know a lot of doctrine, but we may not be in tune with our hearts or the hearts of those in our circles. We may memorize copious amounts of Scripture, but live a hidden life of anger, anxiety, and insecurity. We may preach, teach, or write articles on Substack about God, but be no more loving than we were ten years ago.

Right here in Texas, we’ve seen the fall of three celebrity megachurch pastors in the last six weeks. These are men who have taught the Bible for decades and built extraordinary institutions and platforms based on their preaching and extensive biblical knowledge.

A few years ago, it came to light that, after the death of one of the foremost Christian apologists of our era, he was living a secret life in direct contrast to the truths he espoused.

On the surface, we might conclude that the money, power, fame, and success went to these leaders’ heads and that they fell into temptation. I suspect any of us would be tempted in the same way.

But wait a second - doesn’t more biblical knowledge imply better character? So wouldn’t we expect leaders with extensive training, education, and years of biblical study to be the most gentle, kind, compassionate, honest, self-controlled, patient, and loving?

It appears at least one or two of these fallen leaders could be classified as clinical narcissists (unable to experience genuine empathy). How does someone incapable of remorse become a leader in a religion centered around repentance?

Let’s bring this closer to home. It’s the woman who loves her weekly Bible study yet wrestles with an eating disorder. She loves Jesus but struggles to avoid hating herself. Her belief system claims she is highly valued, though her heart just can’t accept that belief.

It’s the man who gives generously to charity while spending himself into debt to assuage his rage. He is profoundly angry, but his wounded heart isn’t ready to turn the anger into grief. Weekly sermons haven’t helped.

It’s me. A person who has been in church his entire life and yet still struggles to accept the fact that God does, indeed, like me. That He enjoys being with me and keeping me company.

We note that the distance between the head and the heart is about 18 inches. It’s often more like 18 miles.

The Joy of Being Formed

We’re going to explore the human heart in the coming weeks. But let’s wrap up by noting that if genuine discipleship is primarily about character formation (also known as heart formation or spiritual formation), it is far more than an intellectual exercise.

It means we intentionally explore our own hearts. It means we allow God to form us, not only through instruction but through experience, through people, through vulnerability, through habits, and even through hardship.

Like any other formative experience, we must intend to be formed. Just like soldiers, college students, or athletes, we place ourselves in communities, relationships, and experiences designed to help us become more like Jesus.

And though spiritual formation is hard, messy, often introspective, and seems to take forever, it is also an extraordinary, joyful adventure. And as our discipleship deepens, we discover and develop not only a greater love for God but for others and even ourselves.

Duc in Altum -

Brian

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This Week on the Podcast

Kyle, Doc, and I sit down to unpack my recent conversation with Dr. Jim Reiter regarding The Critical Journey, one way of describing our spiritual adventure.

It’s a passionate and animated dialogue, and it covers three main questions:

1. If modern church institutions help us prepare and walk through the first three stages of our discipleship but don’t help or guide us into the last three, what is the impact of that void on individuals, church, and culture? How does it impact The Great Omission?

2. There have been several recent high-profile celebrity pastor scandals in the U.S. as noted above. These men preached the Gospel and claimed biblical accuracy for decades. What does that say about “being right” compared to “being formed?”

3. Jim brought up the spiritual discipline of "cinema divina" (and Kyle happily jumped out of his seat). What does it mean to look for Jesus’ speaking to the world through means many consider "secular” or “bad?”

Lots of good material to discuss, debate, and argue about with your friends!

Listen on Spotify here.

Or watch below.