“Everywhere there is apathy. Nobody cares whether that which is preached is true or false. A sermon is a sermon whatever the subject; only, the shorter it is the better.”—Charles Haddon Spurgeon^[1]Charles H. Spurgeon, “Preface,” The Sword and the Trowel, (1888 complete volume), iii.

Those words from Spurgeon were written well over a hundred years ago, but they might have been describing the state of evangelicalism at the beginning of the twenty-first century.

Thirty years ago I stood by his tomb in London—a heavy stone vault, blended into the cemetery between a road and a large building. If I hadn’t had someone to lead me there, I would not have found it. Spurgeon’s and his wife’s names are engraved in stone, but there is no information on the tomb itself about who he was. The average sightseer might miss the stone vault (there are larger, more impressive ones all around), or on seeing it, not realize it is the burial place of a man who in his time was perhaps more well-known and more influential than England’s Prime Minister.

As I stood by Spurgeon’s grave, I couldn’t help thinking how much the church needs men like him—and thirty years later, that need has only increased. Spurgeon was not afraid to stand boldly for the truth, even when it meant he stood alone. Preaching the Word of God was his sole passion. He believed the church’s tolerance of preaching was beginning to decline, while some ministers were experimenting with alternative approaches and abbreviated messages. He saw in that a great danger, and his concern thrust him into a battle that ultimately led to his death. He had been placed in that grave exactly a hundred years before my visit.

Contrast Spurgeon’s attitude toward preaching with the prevailing opinion of our day. In fact, Spurgeon’s lament is diametrically opposite the perspective expressed in a column that appeared some years ago in a popular Christian magazine. A well-known preacher was venting his loathing for long sermons. January 1 was coming, so he resolved to do better in the coming year. “That means wasting less time listening to long sermons and spending much more time preparing short ones,” he wrote. “People, I’ve discovered, will forgive even poor theology as long as they get out before noon.”^[2]Jamie Buckingham,“Wasted Time,” Charisma, (December 1988), 98.

Unfortunately, that perfectly sums up the predominant attitude behind much of modern ministry. Bad doctrine is tolerable; a long sermon most certainly is not. The timing of the benediction is of far more concern to the average churchgoer than the content of the sermon. Sunday dinner and the feeding of our mouths takes precedence over Sunday school and the nourishment of our souls. Long-windedness has become a greater sin than heresy.

The church has imbibed the worldly philosophy of pragmatism, and we are now tasting the bitter results.

What is Pragmatism?

Pragmatism is the notion that meaning or worth is determined by practical consequences. It is closely akin to utilitarianism, the belief that usefulness is the standard of what is good. To a pragmatist/utilitarian, if a technique or course of action has the desired effect, it is good. If it doesn’t seem to work, it must be wrong.

Pragmatism as a philosophy was developed and popularized at the end of the nineteenth century by philosopher William James, along with such other noted intellectuals as John Dewey and George Santayana. It was James who gave the new philosophy its name and shape. In 1907, he published a collection of lectures entitled Pragmatism: A New Name for Some Old Ways of Thinking, and thus defined a whole new approach to truth and life.

With roots in Darwinism and secular humanism, this philosophy is inherently relativistic, rejecting the notion of absolute right and wrong, good and evil, truth and error. It ultimately defines truth as that which is useful, meaningful, and helpful. Ideas that don’t seem workable or relevant are rejected as false.

So what’s wrong with pragmatism? After all, common sense involves a measure of legitimate pragmatism, doesn’t it? If a dripping faucet works fine after you replace the washers, for example, it is reasonable to assume that bad washers were the problem. If the medicine your doctor prescribes produces harmful side effects or has no effect at all, you need to ask if there’s a remedy that works. Such simple pragmatic realities are generally self-evident.

But when pragmatism is used to make judgments about right and wrong, or when it becomes a guiding philosophy of life, theology, and ministry, inevitably it clashes with Scripture. Spiritual truth is not determined by testing what “works” and what doesn’t. We know from Scripture, for example, that the gospel often does not produce a positive response (1 Corinthians 1:22–23; 2:14). On the other hand, satanic lies and deception can be quite effective (Matthew 24:23–24; 2 Corinthians 4:3–4). Majority reaction is no test of validity (cf. Matthew 7:13–14), and prosperity is no measure of truthfulness (cf. Job 12:6). Pragmatism as a guiding philosophy of ministry is inherently flawed. Pragmatism as a test of truth is nothing short of satanic.

Nevertheless, an overpowering surge of ardent pragmatism has swept through evangelicalism. Traditional methodology—most notably preaching—continues to be discarded or downplayed in favor of newer means, such as drama, dance, comedy, variety, side-show histrionics, pop-psychology, and other entertainment forms. The new methods supposedly are more “effective”—that is, they draw a bigger crowd. And since for many the chief criterion for gauging the success of a church has become attendance figures, whatever pulls in the most people is accepted without critical analysis as good. That is pragmatism.

Perhaps the most visible signs of pragmatism are seen in the convulsive changes that have revolutionized the church worship service in the last thirty years. It is now commonplace for evangelicalism’s largest and most influential churches to boast Sunday services that are designed purposely to be more rollicking than reverent.

Even worse, theology has taken a back seat to methodology. One author has written, “Formerly, a doctrinal statement represented the reason for a denomination’s existence. Today, methodology is the glue that holds churches together. A statement of ministry defines them and their denominational existence.”^[3]Elmer L. Towns, An Inside Look at 10 of Today’s Most Innovative Churches, (Ventura, CA.: Regal, 1990), 249. Incredibly, many believe this is a positive trend, a major advance for the contemporary church.

Some church leaders evidently think the four priorities of the early church—the apostles’ teaching, fellowship, the breaking of bread, and prayer (Acts 2:42)—make a lame agenda for the church in this day and age. Churches are allowing drama, music, ballet, recreation, entertainment, self-help programs, and similar enterprises to eclipse traditional Sunday worship and fellowship. In fact, everything seems to be in fashion in the church today except biblical preaching.

The new pragmatism sees preaching—particularly expository preaching—as passé. Plainly declaring the truth of God’s Word is regarded as unsophisticated, offensive, and utterly ineffective. We’re now told we can get better results by first amusing people or giving them success tips and pop psychology, thus wooing them into the fold. Once they feel comfortable, they’ll be ready to receive biblical truth in small, diluted doses.

Pastors everywhere rely on marketing methods to help churches grow. Many seminaries have shifted their pastoral training emphasis from Bible curriculum and theology to counseling technique and church-growth theory. All these trends reflect the church’s growing commitment to pragmatism.

As Martyn Lloyd-Jones pointed out,

These proposals that we should preach less, and do various other things more, are of course not new at all. People seem to think that all this is quite new, and that it is the hallmark of modernity to decry or to depreciate preaching, and to put your emphasis on these other things. The simple answer to that is that there is nothing new about it. The actual form may be new, but the principle is certainly not a new one at all; indeed it has been the particular emphasis of this present century.^[4]Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Preaching and Preachers, (Grand Rapids, MI.: Zondervan, 1971), 33.

Whether it’s shortening the sermon, reducing its biblical content, or replacing it with something else—from group discussions to wild entertainment—these changes reveal the same issue: Preaching does not give the church the results they want, and so, like true pragmatists, they seek to implement whatever works in its place. The Lord’s will has been replaced by man’s ambition.

How much of a threat to the church has this kind of pragmatism proved to be? In the coming days we will consider how the church has traded its God-given mandate for user-friendly, entertainment-driven methods. In trying to win the world, it has become just like the world, and is now in desperate need to return again to the old paths of faithfulness—obedience to Christ’s agenda for His people.

(Adapted from Ashamed of the Gospel.)