Christian Sensationalism
Imagine the following: You walk into a large building that pleases the eyes with its modern design, and you are immediately welcomed by an aroma of brewing coffee, and excited chatter of many fashionably dressed people, and dim lighting that makes you feel comfortable and somewhat anonymous. A subconscious tingle enters your sensations. You then find your way to the theatre-styled chairs and ease yourself into one’s soft embrace. The other people mimic you. Then the stage flares up, revealing a band of talented musicians who dress like celebrities, and parade their tattoos as do rock stars, and twist their faces as if there exists a passion and enthusiasm within them that is almost too painful to bear. Your sensations simmer, and you join the musicians and congregation in songs that are rich in tone but shallow in theology, so shallow they can be sung by Christian and atheist alike.
After their emotionally-drenched performance, the musicians retreat the music to a soft background melody, and a woman – who appears to be a model at a fashion event – trots on to the stage, holding a microphone, and offers a spirited message about how God wants to, and will, bless all of you this year, and how God will make you prosper, and how God is, in return, merely asking for around ten percent of your income – gross, not net, of course. You swallow the charismatic woman’s message because you have not yet been taught that, according to Scripture, God willed the suffering of Joseph and Jonah and Job and Jesus, and your sensations find the woman’s message to be sweet honey. So, you cough up your money as an investment that might lead to greater blessings.
Next, the senior pastor conquers the stage, wearing sneakers and a wristwatch that together cost more than your car. He then preaches – or speaks? – about how God demands you to have a passion for His house, and not just any “house”, but this house, the church you’re sitting in currently. You ought to grow where you are planted, and serve where you are planted, and donate where you are planted, if you expect to be blessed where you are planted. Of course, the pastor briefly mentions only two Bible passages, both of which he takes out of context; but this troubles you not, because the way he screams at times, and whispers at times, and shows moving audio-visual media clips at times, all suggest to you that he is speaking the truth, that he is God’s messenger.
Finally, you return home, having learnt nothing about God and His Word, yet feeling that you have learnt much about God and His Word.
Welcome to the sensationalistic Christian movement.
This movement is popular in charismatic protestant churches, but it’s older than you might imagine. Indeed, in 1887, John Charles Ryle published his third edition of Holiness to counter the sensationalist movement that was infecting Christianity at the time, a movement that elevates the stirring of emotions through exciting preaching, loud music, comfortable environments, and entertainment. Ryle’s concern is that, although the sensational movement is interesting and might seem to be good, it fails to do what it ought to do: help Christians become more holy. In the preface to Holiness, Ryle (1887:vi–vii) asks,
Do those who attend these meetings become more holy, meek, unselfish, kind, good-tempered, self-denying and Christ-like at home? Do they become more content with their position in life, and more free from restless craving after something different from that which God has given them? Do fathers, mothers, husbands and other relatives and friends find them more pleasant and easy to live with? Can they enjoy a quiet Sunday and quiet means of grace without noise, heat and excitement? Above all, do they grow in charity, and especially in charity towards those who do not agree with them in every jot and tittle of their religion?
The answer to these is in the negative, says Ryle (1887:vii), because there is no evidence that sensationalism tends to “promote private home religion, private Bible reading, private prayer, private usefulness and private walking with God”. I agree; and experience has made it clear to me that sensationalism is unnecessary for one’s holiness, and might even hinder one’s spiritual growth. Let us look at just two of several concerns with modern sensationalism in the church.
First, those on the sensationalistic stage tend to dress like celebrities – in clothing that is expensive, highly fashionable, non-traditional, and sometimes most peculiar. You can see this for yourself: visit a few charismatic or mega churches and observe how the musicians and pastors and others on stage dress. You will most likely find them, not in either traditional church attire (e.g., suits or simple dresses) or modest and inconspicuous attire (e.g., simple clothing that refuses to draw attention to its wearer), but in clothing that reveals much skin, and much ink, and much status.
But there are at least three concerns with this:
- The poor or unfashionable might (and, I suspect, mostly do) feel unwelcome or uncomfortable or out-of-place in these churches. What a shame, what a tragedy! Churches that target only certain demographics, such as the rich or fashionable or young, do not deserve the title “church”, for church is for rich and poor, fashionable and unfashionable, young and old.
- The poor or unfashionable or uncharismatic might be too ashamed to, or subtly prohibited from, serving on the sensationalistic stage, because they lack the desired appearances or charisma.
- The sensationalistic dress code draws too much attention to the individual, whereas the Christian world-view implies that Christians – especially church leaders – ought to exhibit humility, draw as little attention to themselves as possible, and direct attention to God.
Therefore, it would be good, and healthy, and desirable, to replace sensationalistic culture with a culture that values one’s inner heart more than one’s external appearances, and that encourages less dramatic, less flashy, less revealing apparel.
Second, sensationalistic churches tend to produce theologically shallow sermons and teachings and content. Again, you can see this for yourself: compare the teachings of modern charismatic preachers to, say, a sermon by Charles Spurgeon, or a letter by Brother Lawrence, or a discussion by John Calvin, or a chapter by Thomas à Kempis (to name but a few). You will most likely find that, in comparison, sensationalistic teachings are candy while Spurgeon and Lawrence and Calvin and Kempis are solid, home-cooked meals: the former delight the sensations, are easy to chew, and lack nutrition; the latter delight heaven, are difficult to chew, and burst with nutrition. Of course, there is nothing wrong with the occasional candy; but there is something terribly wrong with living off of candy. Thus the author of Hebrews says, “for everyone who lives on milk is unskilled in the word of righteousness, since he is a child. But solid food is for the mature” (5:13–14 ESV).
Therefore, it would be good, healthy, desirable, to replace sensationalistic teachings with teachings that are deep, Bible-saturated, and “sharper than any two-edged sword” (Heb. 4:12).
We have not addressed the other concerns with Christian sensationalism, such as the emotionally stimulating environments and décor, the theological shallowness of the music lyrics, and the prosperity gospel. Nevertheless, our discussion above will, I hope, prompt you to be aware of, and perhaps even question, Christian sensationalism.