Christianity in the West is facing major challenges. Cultural pathologies and surging pressure from secular humanists have led many to now view Christianity not as simply false and irrational, but as evil, oppressive, and subversive. For many Christians in the West, this cultural moment is unsettling.
Yet, as Carl R. Trueman points out, this cultural moment has a precedent—one that should encourage us. In his book The Rise and Fall of the Modern Self, Trueman explains that the church of the second century faced similar challenges:
“In the second century, the church was a marginal sect within a dominant, pluralist society. She was under suspicion not because her central dogmas were supernatural but rather because she appeared subversive in claiming Jesus as King and was viewed as immoral in her talk of eating and drinking human flesh and blood and expressing incestuous-sounding love between brothers and sisters. This is where we are today.… The second-century world is, in a sense, our world, where Christianity is a choice—and a choice likely at some point to run afoul of the authorities.”[1]
While this may seem bleak, there is yet hope; for what followed the second century were centuries of incredible gospel growth.
Trueman notes, “It was that second-century world, of course, that laid down the foundations for the later successes of the third and fourth centuries. And [the church] did it by what means? By existing as a close-knit, doctrinally bounded community that required her members to act consistently with their faith and to be good citizens of the earthly city as far as good citizenship was compatible with faithfulness to Christ.”[2]
How is it that the church of the second century not only survived its difficult context but went on to flourish? According to Trueman, it did so by living as visible counter-communities that faithfully lived according to their biblical convictions and loved and served those around them. In other words, they didn’t acquiesce to cultural pressure; they leaned into their distinctive identity as God’s kingdom people. Christians (1) lived in community, (2) remained true to their beliefs, and (3) were active as local citizens. Each of these emphases played into the flourishing of Christianity in an environment of hostility toward the church.
Trueman’s answer here is helpful and encouraging yet does not tell the whole story of how the gospel spread prolifically over the first few centuries.
The primary reason the church grew and flourished in the early centuries is that disciples of Jesus made other disciples of Jesus. We see this precedent throughout the book of Acts. The work of disciple-making was a response to Jesus’ Great Commission (Matt 28:18–20) and an indispensable part of the establishment of the church.
It’s important to recognize this point, because concerned Christians in the West today can be tempted to focus on “cultural engagement” through political advocacy as a primary means of buoying the church against the cultural tides that rise against it. To be sure, Christians in every age should be engaged in politics and, for love of neighbor, seek to steer governments and their leaders toward good and virtuous policies and legislation.
At the same time, though, we cannot legislate our way to Christian flourishing. Such flourishing requires more than political engagement and active citizenry; it requires intentional disciple-making—the work of sharing the gospel with lost people, leading them to faith, and teaching them to observe all that Jesus commanded (Matt 28:20).
Considering that the second century Greco-Roman world has, in many ways, become our world today, we would do well to follow not only Trueman’s encouragement but also this important precedent of the early church: intentional disciple-making. The flourishing of the church in the face of contemporary challenges depends on it.
[1] Carl R. Trueman, The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self: Cultural Amnesia, Expressive Individualism, and the Road to Sexual Revolution (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2020), 406–7.
[2] Trueman, Rise and Triumph, 407.
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