All Things Light & Practical
Why is it that bestselling Christian books are generally light and fluffy self-help manuals, and rarely thoughtful presentations of theology or apologetics?
In the opening pages of The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis describes the near conversion of a solid atheist. As the man was meditating on the ideas of a particular book, a train of thought was, according to the elder demon, “beginning to go the wrong way.” Screwtape could have suggested counter-arguments to his patient, but the trouble with that approach, he says, “is that it moves the whole struggle onto the Enemy’s own ground.” Instead, he uses what he calls “practical propaganda.” This involves withdrawing his patient’s attention away from “attending to universal issues” and helping him to focus on “the stream of immediate sense experience.” So following this strategy, Screwtape implanted the idea that it was time for lunch. “Once he was in the street,” the demon boasts, “the battle was won.”1
So how exactly did “the street” end up being a powerful argument for atheism? Screwtape explains that “whatever odd ideas might come into a man’s head when he [is] shut up alone with his books, a healthy dose of ‘real life’” is powerful enough to convince him that “this sort of thing just couldn’t be true.”2 Lewis’ point is clear enough. Too often human beings arrive at conclusions, not as the result of clear thinking, but often by being distracted from it.
In the opening of his book Metaphysics, Aristotle argues that at its root, “wisdom is knowledge about certain principles and causes.” An application of this idea, he says is the fact that “master workers in each craft are...wiser than the manual workers,” since the former do not merely have particular habits of action, but are also aware of the theory and causes of a thing. This is why he ends up concluding that theoretical knowledge is wiser than the branches of knowledge that focus on utility and necessity.3
According to Alexis de Tocqueville, Americans have seen things a little differently. In 1840 he sought to answer the question as to why it is that “Americans are more concerned with the applications than with the theory of science.”4 He’s thinking of course here of fields of knowledge in general, rather than with the natural sciences in particular, and the answer that he gives to this question has to do with the structure of our democratic society. “Equality,” he writes, “stimulates each man to want to judge everything for himself and gives him...a contempt for tradition and formalities.” This distaste for tradition in turn encourages people of a democratic spirit to mistrust systems (in general), as well as the word of the master (in particular). The result of this is that “traditions have little hold over them, and they never spend much time studying the subtleties of any school and will not accept big words as sterling coin.”5 This is why Tocqueville concludes that though “the purely practical side of science is cultivated admirably...hardly anyone in the United States devotes himself to the essentially theoretical and abstract side of human knowledge.”6
Of course, this wasn’t always bad. Americans became known throughout the world as pioneers of invention and applied science, especially throughout the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. But this obsession with the practical, as Tocqueville describes in 1840, would just a few decades later be developed into an entirely new philosophical outlook by men such as William James, Charles Peirce, and John Dewey. In other words, by the mid to late nineteenth century, this practical outlook became formalized into an entirely new school of philosophy that we know today as “pragmatism.”
Aristotle’s estimation of the importance of theoretical knowledge over and above that of practical knowledge is perhaps a good indicator that he would not have thought highly of pragmatism, but we don’t have to guess in Tocqueville’s case, since he offers his readers the following caution:
Confining ourselves to practice, we may lose sight of basic principles, and when these have been entirely forgotten, we may apply the methods derived from them badly; we might be left without the capacity to invent new methods, and only able to make a clumsy and an unintelligent use of wise procedures no longer understood.7
Think of the relevance of this observation for contemporary Christianity. For example, it seems clear to me that when Christians began to confine themselves almost exclusively to practical life lessons, they began to lose sight of the basic theological principles (which is why so many Christians I’ve polled over the decades are all over the map about crucial doctrines like justification). According to J. Gresham Machen, this is the result of considering “solely applications of Christianity without studying the Christianity that is to be applied.”8
The long and the short of it is that there are numerous real-world consequences of this general tendency to focus on the practical and to steer away from the theoretical. But as significant as these consequences are, especially as we encounter them in the life and ministry of today’s churches, confessional, Evangelical, or otherwise, there may be something else going on that is perhaps even more worthy of our attention.
Tocqueville, observes in this same chapter that the higher branches of knowledge, “require meditation above everything else.” Unfortunately, he argues, the very structure of our way of life is against us at this point, for “nothing is less conducive to mediation than the setup of democratic society.” He unpacks this idea by arguing that in democratic societies, “in contrast to aristocratic societies, one finds no numerous class that remains at leisure because all is well with it...”9 In other words, more than anything, deep sustained attention is required for the higher sciences, such as philosophy or theology. But who among us has the time in today’s world for this kind of rigorous thinking? The very idea of meditating upon some abstract and invisible idea, without regard for its practical use or function, requires a kind of stillness and rest that is rarely found outside of the aristocratic leisure class. In democratic societies, however:
Everyone is on the move, some in quest of power, others of gain. In the midst of this universal tumult, this incessant conflict of jarring interests, this endless chase for wealth, where is one to find the calm for the profound researches of the intellect? How can the mind dwell on any single subject when all around is on the move and when on is himself swept and buffeted along by the whirling current which carries all before it?10
At first, this may seem like an overly simple solution to a complex problem. But just think for a moment about the kinds of things people say when you recommend they read an important theology or apologetics book. Often the response I get is, “Where do you find the time?” Of course, all of us make time for the things that are important to us, but it does happen to be true in today’s world that most of us are incredibly busy with life, work, kids, errands, chores, etc.
T. David Gordon addresses this in his helpful book, Why Johnny Can’t Preach, saying that all of our daily routines have the net effect of making us “more like cogs in a machine and less like humans. Life becomes a series of tasks, with few uninterrupted moments to pause, to reflect, to appreciate.”11 In other words, the very pace of our modern democratic society, even before we address issues relating to media and technology, the very fabric of life in today’s world, with all of its busywork, has ended making restlessness, one of the dominant features of reality. This is why many of us crave action-packed dramas at the end of our work day, and why we feel like we might crawl out of our skin when nothing is happening. This is why we always have the radio or television on, and why we take the internet with us wherever we go, so we can always be listening, watching, surfing, scanning.
This restless desire continually pushes us toward a multiplicity of activities. Again and again, we’re led to focus on action rather than thoughtfulness and quiet reflection. We value that which is practical and useful, rather than that which is true. We think always of this world and its needs, rather than the next. This is the reason that “having our best life now” rings true to Americans. Tocqueville himself observed that “preachers in America are continually coming down to earth. Indeed they find it difficult to take their eyes off it.” These preachers, he says, “are forever pointing out how religious beliefs favor freedom and public order, and it is often difficult to be sure when listening to them whether the main object of religion is to procure eternal felicity in the next world or prosperity in this.”12
Of course, this isn’t to say that we should never be concerned with the cares of this world, or that democracy itself is an evil that we should always fight against. Rather, one simply needs to be aware of the direction toward which we are being pulled. The problem is that we are constantly encouraged to focus on things earthly, to the exclusion of things heavenly, and as proud Americans, we’re raised to think about the virtues of democracy, but rarely its vices.
But these vices are real. Again from Tocqueville, “In democratic centuries when almost everyone is engaged in active life, the darting speed of a quick, superficial mind is at a premium, while slow, deep thought is excessively undervalued.”13 What’s amazing to me is that these words were written well over a century before the internet. In 2008, Nicolas Carr famously asked in the pages of The Atlantic, “Is Google Making us Stupid?”14, which some years later he expanded into a full-length book.15 But what Tocqueville appears to be suggesting is that our attraction to superficiality, and our built-in resistance to contemplation and reflection is ultimately rooted in our deeply cherished democratic spirit. Technology has merely amplified the problem.
What Should We Do?
The first thing we need to do is to recognize that the problem is real. Not only are we constantly being shoved into the shallow waters, but we like it there. So we need to identify this as a particular form of worldliness that should be battled against. At the end of the day, the preference for “all things light and practical” is a recipe for spiritual malnutrition. So if the word of Christ is to dwell in us richly (Col 3:16), then we need to do what it takes to cultivate an appreciation for the deep things of God (1 Cor 2:10).
If you are interested in the quest for truth in all its varied forms then you’ll need to carve out both space and time for serious reading and reflection. For some, this is at the end of the day when all work is done, and the kids are in bed. But this can also be a time when exhaustion sets in. In this case, a better approach might be to set aside time once or twice a week for an in-depth study at a time when you won’t be disturbed. Commit yourself to it, just as you would devote yourself to learning a foreign language—with all its difficulties—yet hopeful of the reward to come. And like learning a new language, this can be done either in a group setting, via self-study, or even both at the same time.
Deep diving in a sea of unfamiliar words and concepts is quite a lot like learning a foreign language when you think about it. The first thing you need to master is the new vocabulary, but then you need to begin to see the significance of the particular way those words are being used. Christians, in particular, have a compelling reason to be proficient readers and interpreters of words and ideas, since God gave us a fairly thick book with vast oceans to be explored. The Bible itself admits that some of its words are “hard to understand” (2Pt 3:16). But the fact that something is hard to grasp doesn’t mean that it isn’t worth our time. That’s just one of those worldly assumptions that keep us in shallow waters.
So whether you end up attending an in-depth Bible study, or have taken it upon yourself to work through a thick but important classic book such as Alexis de Tocqueville’s Democracy in America, the most important thing to do is to work at it a little at a time, always remembering to keep your mind engaged. Mortimer Adler is especially helpful here. In his book How to Speak, How to Listen, he argues that listening to a lecture or reading a book “is primarily an activity of the mind, not of the ear or the eye. When the mind is not actively involved in the process, it should be called hearing, not listening; seeing, not reading.” He then adds, “The most prevalent mistake that people make about both listening and reading is to regard them as passively receiving rather than as actively participating. They do not make this mistake about writing and speaking.”16 Adler’s point is that everyone knows how much work goes into preparing a speech or writing an essay, yet it is just as important to direct that sort of mental energy to the task of interpreting the things we hear and read. Just as writing and speaking are skills that can be acquired and improved over time, the same can be said of good listening and reading skills.
The key idea is to be a demanding reader or listener, which involves asking questions of the writer or speaker you’re engaging with.17 Maggie Jackson points out that “The Oxford English Dictionary defines “attention” as ‘the act, fact or state of attending or giving heed; earnest direction of the mind.’” She also says the Latin roots of the word are “ad and tendere, meaning to ‘stretch toward,’ implying effort and intention.”18 How many of us put this kind of effort into listening to a sermon or Bible Study? How often do we just sit there without putting any work into following along? Perhaps this is why our minds sometimes wander off to more practical matters and concerns.
How about our children? How many of us teach them to listen carefully to the words of the minister, to stay focused on his message, and to think about its meaning? How often do we discuss the sermon and its implications with our children later that day? The good news is that the harder we work at attending to the words of others, the easier it gets over time. And the more we instill these kinds of habits in the lives of our children, the easier it will be for them to profit from what they read and hear.
Conclusion
There’s more to life than the hustle and bustle of the street or the growing list of activities that we have yet to check off our to-do list. Though these things are important and demand our attention, we need to remember to take time out to stop and reflect upon even more important matters. As T. David Gordon writes, “few of the more significant aspects of life involve much motion: love, humility, faith, repentance, prayer, friendship, worship, affection, fear, hope, self-control.” All of these things, he argues, are essentially “non-kinetic” and take place “between the ears, as we make sense of life [and] our place in it...”19
Whether liberal or conservative, the churches in my hometown (and likely yours too), are trying to make Christianity relevant to people who are making their way through life with its countless distractions. In this context, “relevance” is generally defined as making things practical, being “down to earth,” and meeting people where they’re at. But what if we began to see this exclusive focus on earthly matters as demonic, this never-ending talk of the “here and now” that distracts us from the actual “there and then” of redemptive history, or from questions of eternal, rather than temporal significance? This isn’t a question that Screwtape and his companions would encourage you to spend time thinking about. In fact, you’re probably getting hungry right about now—perhaps you should take a break and get something to eat.
If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth (Col 3:1-2).
Shane Rosenthal is the founder and host of The Humble Skeptic podcast and the author of Is Faith Blind? (due in 2024). Shane was one of the creators of the White Horse Inn radio broadcast which he also hosted from 2019-2021, and has written numerous articles for various sites and publications, including TableTalk, Logia, Core Christianity, and others. An earlier edition of this article was published in the May/June 2013 edition of Modern Reformation magazine.
C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters (New York: Harper Collins, 2001), 2-3.
Ibid., 3.
The Works of Aristotle, Vol. 1, (Chicago: Encyclopedia Britannica, Inc, 1952), 499-500.
Tocqueville, Alexis, Democracy in America (New York: Harper & Row, 1966; Perennial Library edition, 1988) 459.
Ibid.
Ibid., 460.
Ibid., 464.
J. Gresham Machen, What is Faith? (Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, 1925) , 23.
Tocqueville, 460.
Ibid.
T. David Gordon, Why Johnny Can’t Preach (Phillipsburg, N.J.: P&R Publishing, 2009), 52.
Tocqueville, 530.
Ibid., 461.
The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains, 2011. For another similar book, see also Maggie Jackon’s Distracted: The Erosion of Attention & The Coming Dark Age. I invited her to discuss that book on White Horse Inn episode #1115.
Mortimer Adler, How to Speak, How to Listen (New York: Touchstone, 1983), 85-86.
Ibid., 95.
Maggie Jackson, Distracted (Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books, 2008), 24.
Gordon, 53
" In other words, more than anything, deep sustained attention is required for the higher sciences, such as philosophy or theology. But who among us has the time in today’s world for this kind of rigorous thinking? The very idea of meditating upon some abstract and invisible idea, without regard for its practical use or function, requires a kind of stillness and rest that is rarely found outside of the aristocratic leisure class. In democratic societies..."
There's an interesting counter to this -- it also counters the notion that accepts (due in large part to the above quote's implications) that the elite will get "eliter" in their wisdom, while the working man will be too busy to contemplate the deeper things.
William James (whom you mentioned) coined the term "Effortless Custody of Automatism" which, simplified, posited that the body industriously engaged in repetitive manual labor actually becomes (ironically) freer to contemplate deeper things. It's sort of the converse (if you will) to "The idle brain is the Devil's playground". It in part explains why you just might be engaging in a philosophical debate with a farmer at your own peril. Time in the field is time to think. And, on the other hand, it's painfully easy to note the academic decline in the Ivy League among the "time-to-think" crowd.
I like to say I made millions as a potter, hundreds as a guitarist, and though I only made hundreds as a writer, nevertheless I made thousands because I wrote. And I was (and perhaps still am since, though I had to give up my life as a potter, I nevertheless still write WHILE I am working) the living example of that "effortless custody of automatism". While my hands were engaged in the repetitive work at the wheel, my mind was freed to think and to write. Of course at some point I had wipe the clay off my hands and walk over to the keypad, but that's not where I did my writing.
I guess I didn't bloviate all the above to rebut your central point -- modern Christianity is perhaps overly concerned with utility and wouldn't be if it took the words of the New Testament seriously.
Still, I might push back a little. Not to defend where we've gotten to, but maybe so as to not pendulum swing in an opposite direction:
The Christian life isn't a choice between theology and the practical as if (as I often hear it argued) the Bible is either Law or the Gospel. The Bible is also Wisdom literature -- not law, but you ignore it at your peril. And not the Gospel, but a gift for hope of surviving as well as we can in a fallen world. There's no guarantee of a "best life now" in the wisdom literature. The wisdom isn't a guarantee of a good outcome in a fallen world. But it was a grace that it was included to help us.
"Strive to live quietly, to attend to your own affairs, and to work with your hands"