It is 2025—an auspicious year. We are a quarter way into the 21st century. The Lutheran Reformation is just beginning to essay its second half millennium, and just as the printing press projected the ideas of a firebrand priest named Luther across the continent before a decadent hierarchy could crush him as they did Jan Hus a century before, so now the internet can empower the Church to reform and retool for the changing challenges of ministry.
I know, I know; from shadow-banning, to AI, to the identity crisis in young people, to the manipulation of the masses through algorithmic engineering, the internet actually seems to be the source of most of our ministry challenges. Fair enough. I do not mean to downplay any of the challenges theological or pastoral that this new and increasingly ubiquitous reality presents to the proclamation of the gospel, the cultivation of genuine Christian discipleship, and ultimately, the salvation of persons. The kinetic component of the spiritual warfare that has always been the province of the Church now seems to be moving at a speed that is dizzying and whose geographic boundaries are less clear; the narratives the Church would historically recognize as spiritual propaganda used to largely be “over there,” as the world was divided into Christendom and the mission field. Now we carry these narratives around in our pocket via the raucous voices of not just traditional pundits, but social influencers and YouTube “experts” whose probity and veracity are vouched for primarily by the number of subscribers they can capture and retain.
Complicating the picture further is the fact that this technology was born in the bosom of Western culture precisely at the moment that Nietzsche’s “death of God” made all things possible and French post-structuralism was teaching anyone college-educated that right and wrong were merely social constructs meant to obscure what was in fact the raw exercise of power, and that this logic informs the programming of not only the Artificial Intelligence about which we are all concerned, but the search engines we use to learn about them. Social observer Ted Gioia estimates that we have at most twelve more months within which the average, well-educated person will be able to tell what is real from what is computer-generated in their news feed, and historian/social philosopher Mary Harrington has noted that functional literacy—the ability to focus on, digest, and synthesize information gained through long-form reading—is already plunging so precipitously that it will soon be at medieval levels, despite the ubiquity of text in our lives. Clergy may shortly become “clerics” once again, an elite defined by their competency with written language.
“Where is the good news in this?” we may well ask. It is that the Church has some unique opportunities before Her at this time. This past weekend, like an incarnation of Robert Jenson’s prediction in his October 1993 First Things article How the World Lost Its Story, a couple from a Pentecostal background visited my church for the first time precisely because they discovered on our worship stream solid Biblical preaching married to the singing of the Kyrie and Gloria. The husband had been discovering through YouTube videos what he may never have discovered even 20 years ago, when the only spiritual voice was that of his pastor; he was learning that the mode of worship he had grown up with was novel, not apostolic, and he was seeking a firmer foundation for himself and his family. For my part, I am excited at the prospect that the fervent piety that characterized their upbringing might leaven the at-times stolid, business-as-usual daily demeanor of central Pennsylvania Lutheranism. I am hopeful that it can do this without fueling Lutheranism’s historic pendulum swing from Pietism to Neo-Orthodoxy since they come seeking, not escaping from, the liturgical, Sacramental life of the historic Church.
Can you imagine what the fervency of such piety married to orthodox Biblical faith grounded in profound liturgical formation might look like? I can. Think Polycarp, Maximos the Confessor, Francis of Assisi, Martin Luther… There is much more to say in future articles about the opportunities that this historical moment affords the Church, but one at least is the healing of some of our historic divisions through wider mutual knowledge and appreciation. John Paul II prayed that the 3rd millennium of Christianity would be the millennium of healing our divisions. Wouldn’t it be just like God to use what is seemingly a great weapon in the hands of our ancient Enemy to accomplish that seemingly impossible task?
