The Sign of Spiritual Energy
Institutional drift is historical reality. It’s actually a hot topic of debate among social scientists. The question is: How does an institution, often within a generation, deviate so far from its fundamental moorings that it actually can promote things it once stood against?
The leading theory is that the deviation starts extremely small, as a tiny crack, so to say, that then compounds over time.
One example in recent memory is the 1986 NASA disaster of the Challenger spacecraft. Some of us may not remember this — (there’s a new documentary out about it) — but the spacecraft exploded within a minute of launching, killing seven crew members. It was a horrible moment in American history.
Apparently numerous studies have identified a leading factor to the fiasco goes back to the subtle tolerance of NASA engineers for “greater levels of risk.” Long before the tragedy, the engineers had lightened up on safety standards, but it was nothing to turn heads. A little crack, that’s all. Within number of years, though, they experienced the “normalization of ever-greater deviations from routine practices.” The explosion was the outcome, which certainly was a shock. But in retrospect, it was entirely avoidable if the original practices had not changed. There was a drift.
The same thing happens in theological institutions. (Think Christian schools and churches.) None of them ever started by denying Christian orthodoxy, but the “drift list” of these institutions abound. It’s sobering. One might conclude that the only way to stand against this drift is to adopt a defensive posture at all times. Be suspicious of everything. Refuse to ever change anything, even in the slightest way.
But no, that misses the mark too. That kind of suspicion leads to a certain culture all its own — a different kind of drift, but a drift nonetheless.
Trevin Wax captures the way forward in his new book, The Thrill of Orthodoxy: Rediscovering the Adventure of the Christian Faith. He writes,
The best way to counter the drift toward heresy is with the thrill of orthodoxy. We need a better excitement, a more lasting passion. The best way to avoid new errors is to love old truths, to hear the story fresh again and again, and to be “caught up in the process of being slain and made alive by the gospel.” The good news is that the response in these cases isn’t just to “be on guard” against drifting, as if no movement is required, just a passive acceptance of the truth.
The adventure of orthodoxy requires the exertion of energy. A dead thing can float downstream. We push against the current. Striving against the waters, swimming upstream, holding our place as the waves crash against us — that’s the sign of spiritual energy. (32, italics mine)
Do you get it?
We don’t merely “hold the line.” Instead we’re advancing. This is further up and further in. It means increased knowledge of God, and increased faith in God — as he has revealed himself to us in old, glorious truths.
This has been at the heart of our Leviticus series. We want more of God, more of his word. Closer to Eden, closer to him. We’re not talking about ideas here, but a person. We’re not learning information, we’re growing in our relationship with the God who created us and keeps us. What could be more thrilling? Is there a more enduring sign of the Holy Spirit’s work?
