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Education
October 23, 2024
In an age where modern Christianity has mastered the art of appeasement, the faith has devolved into little more than a vanity project—a cocktail of spectacle, politeness, and public relations. Contemporary believers, terrified of upsetting the cultural apple cart, have chosen to worship at the altar of likability. "Be ye cordial at all costs" is their golden rule. Conflict is avoided, not because it is unnecessary, but because it might tarnish their image and, heaven forbid, damage their social currency.
Modern Christianity tends to worry more about appearing virtuous than actually being virtuous. Image-conscious to the point of paralysis, the faithful avoid anything that might be mistaken for controversy. No bruised egos, no ruffled feathers—just the pristine shell of respectability, polished for the approval of a wicked audience that delights in the docility of the devout.
Consider the Ivy Leagues, those historical titans of Western education, once anchored in Christian foundations and draped in centuries of tradition. These institutions have produced intellectual giants, from theologians to statesmen, and yet, like many grand monuments, they have become little more than hollow façades. While they maintain the polished veneer of prestige and respectability, the rot is unmistakable—secularism has devoured their core. They excel at keeping up appearances, but as for the moral spine that once held them aloft, it has long since crumbled, vanishing like a morning mist over their hallowed halls. Their capacity to influence the building of civilization diminished along with their compromise.
This brings us to a crucial question: What is the value of a good name in a world that hates goodness?
In today’s godless world, if you’re not at risk of being canceled, you might want to check which side of the line you’re standing on.
Does a “good name” now require one to lay down arms and join the ranks of the tepid, the malleable, and the unthreatening? Is goodness about ticking off the boxes of cultural approval and ensuring your name is celebrated by those who detest the truth? Far from it. Being thought well of should not mean currying favor with a world that despises virtue; it must instead mean holding fast to character in the face of hostility.
To be truly good today is to invite disdain, ridicule, and the sort of "cancellation" that the faint-hearted tremble to imagine. Pageantry and appearances, delightful as they are, quickly become the ivory tower where cowards bunker down, believing charm alone will fend off the devil himself. But make no mistake, devils, with their flair for irony, delight in those who believe a smile and a handshake will win the war.
If we are to stand against the tide of a decaying culture, we cannot rely on woolly diplomats. We need men and women who, to put it bluntly, couldn’t care less about their “good name” if it means surrendering an inch of the battlefield. Lions, not lambs, must roar, and be prepared to shed blood—figuratively, of course—at the altar of truth. And let’s be clear, it’s not merely about enduring the scorn of atheists and secular progressives. The most harrowing critics are often found in the pews, draped in respectable clothing, who have mastered the art of appearing brave while dodging every cultural fight.
David, of biblical fame, wasn’t exactly on a branding campaign when he cut off Goliath’s head. His righteousness came from action, not from maintaining a neat reputation. Modern Christianity, by contrast, might think that David was unwise and unhinged and should have been more measured, more media-savvy, and perhaps shouldn’t ruffle quite so many feathers.
Christian institutions, too, must resist the temptation to bow to spectacle for spectacle's sake. When did we decide that aesthetic appeal could substitute for conviction? Institutions are meant to be bastions of truth, not theme parks of sophistication. If persecution, closure, or financial ruin await, then let them come. The mission must stand, and sometimes it demands that we relinquish the polished façade of respectability.
We are placed in this time and moment by the wisdom and providence of God, and our job is not to keep quiet but to stir the stagnant waters of cultural cowardice.
In today’s godless world, if you’re not at risk of being canceled, you might want to check which side of the line you’re standing on. Forget the curated brand of Christianity that’s inoffensive enough for the New York Times to give it a nod of approval. That brand is precisely what makes devils laugh. The mission is not to be likable; it is to glorify God. And sometimes, the price of doing so is the loss of a good name.
The Protestant Reformers and the Puritans didn’t win their battles with charm. They won them with truth and an unfashionable, terrifying courage. They were willing to endure slander, excommunication, and worse, for their cause. They confronted the evils of their time with a boldness that looked, to their contemporaries, like utter madness. They could not care less about appearing respectable—they were willing to lose everything for Christ’s kingdom.
With this in mind, there are questions to be asked and thought through regarding motives for pursuing classical Christian education. Have families chosen it because it makes their children more respectable? Because it’s a good way to ensure they can speak well at dinner parties and poetry recitals? If we’re honest, perhaps too many parents prefer the superficial fruits of classical training—polished rhetoric and poise—while neglecting its intent: a deep, dangerous, and virtuous pursuit of truth for the demolition of idols and building of Christian culture. When public idols mock their faith, will a shiny exterior trouble God’s enemies? Hardly.
We are placed in this time and moment by the wisdom and providence of God, and our job is not to keep quiet but to stir the stagnant waters of cultural cowardice. Cause righteous trouble. Refuse to toe the line with the fearful and corrupt. Be unapologetically bold, unflinchingly courageous. Don’t concern yourself with being “well thought of” by a world that hates the God you serve.
Take, for example, New Saint Andrews College. It hasn’t built its success by appeasing the world. It hasn’t realized its influence by watering down its mission to fit the mold of modern respectability. No, it has done so against the grain, thriving precisely because it’s willing to lose the approval of the respectable crowd. And in doing so, it has earned the kind of good name that actually matters.
