The fellowship of the body of Christ—what the New Testament calls koinonia—is a precious gift of the Holy Spirit. We experience true koinonia when we practice a oneness in Christ, even despite known differences among us. The unity of Christ’s Body, the Church, is sacred. This does not mean institutional unity—as if the worldwide church could even function as a single organization—but spiritual unity, which means that Christians across denominational lines rightly acknowledge that others are indeed part of God’s people and equally share in his promises. Yet as dear as the koinonia is, there have always been people who would use that fellowship to further ends other than the great ends of the Church. To do so is always heresy.

The Church must never allow its fellowship to be co-opted by any popular cultural cause or social trend. The Church stands above politics and above the many and various enthusiasms that arise from decade to decade.

The Barmen Declaration—which is the confession that speaks directly to this reality—reminds us that the gospel is not for hire to political, national, or popular causes. It stands above all by a towering margin. Citing Acts 5:29 (“We must obey God not humankind”) as one of the timeless principles of faithfulness, the Barmen Declaration proclaims the premier place of the gospel agenda above and beyond all merely human schemes of peace, justice, virtue, etc. Such schemes may have enormous popular momentum, but none is to lead the Church. The Church must never sell out its fellowship to popular causes.

As such, we are not adherents of social action but of Christian or Christlike action, nor is the agenda of the Church reducible to political terms, though there may be common elements visible. It is also worth taking pains to distinguish the agenda of the gospel up and against every popular cause generated by our host culture, again noting that there may be common elements to both. So the Church does not give itself to social justice, but rather remains committed to social righteousness, which is one of the great ends of the Church. We do not allow popular culture to define our terms.

Readers may note that the biblical words for justice and righteousness—in both Greek and Hebrew—are interchangeable, and therefore wonder whether it makes any difference if we call our work social justice or social righteousness? But there is a difference and it matters completely. In our host culture, the term social justice has a great deal of cultural momentum—both socially and politically—and social righteousness has none. The popular social justice movement has spawned the zealotry of SJWs (“social justice warriors”) and imbued the word justice with enormous political overtones.What is more, our Book of Order repeatedly articulates that the commitment of the fellowship is explicitly to social righteousness. There may be many points in common with the popular social justice movements, but the Church must not lend its credence to any populism, no matter how attractive is the idea of latching onto that momentum to grow the church. Whenever the church serves a popular cause—any cause other than the gospel proclamation—it flirts with idolatry. That is also the central thrust of the Barmen Declaration. 

The advantages of keeping our terms clearly distinct are several. First of all, by denying the popular labels of culture, we remain self-defining. The Church does not need cultural approval to add to its value. By standing apart and remaining self-defining, we are more likely to serve scripture alone to God’s glory alone. It means we seek to remain self-motivated, rather than pushed or pulled by society. We listen to the Holy Spirit for our direction, not popular momentum. Secondly, by refusing to pander to popular passions, the Church avoids dividing the fellowship where there are differing opinions. People can differ in good conscience, so we are to practice mutual forbearance and strive to maintain all unity of the Spirit.

The attraction of zeal and the lure of its potential momentum are seductive powers. We want people to experience faith with real conviction, so while  it’s good to see people believing in things passionately, that passion is no virtue in and of itself. Intensity is no guarantee of truthfulness.  Courting momentum seems to promise congregations new growth and vitality, and though it has the surface appearance of a great vision, there may be no real substance other than momentum per se. Momentum may be American christianity’s most prominent golden calf, its greatest temptation to idolatry and unfaithfulness. 

Church leaders are momentum’s  bedfellows. They are ravenous for its source and seek it out wherever it is to be found. They measure their own health by its standards. They take pride in its presence.  Its lips drip honey, and its speech is smoother than oil. We must remember that Jesus alone is head of the Church. Jesus puts the fish into the net. Jesus calls the sheep who know his name. For all the pressure leaders feel to fill the pews, there can be no compromises. Our calling is to be faithful, which is not the same thing as being successful in the business sense.

Like me, you may think, “But look at those other churches—they’re growing like crazy giving the people what they want!”  The sane response to this is to remember that growing a congregation’s size and depth are two distinct endeavors. They may even be at times mutually exclusive.

When we worry about church growth—when we see the Presbyterians in decline and megachurches on the move—we would do well to remember the moral of Aesop’s Tortoise and the Hare fable: slow but steady wins the race. Let us remain firmly convicted in the pursuit of faithfulness above all, aiming to Grow in Christ and Make Him Known to whatever depth and breadth the Holy Spirit will lead us.