The cotton candy approach to Christianity poses a big danger to churches today. I recall going to carnivals as a kid and gorging on that bright pink, fluffy, extremely sweet substance. A huge blob dissolved almost instantly in my mouth and often I would beg for more — although the result was a stomachache.
Cotton candy Christianity is easy to spot. The sermons are nice and gentle, and they leave you feeling all puffed up and happy. Rarely is there a mention of sin, and you can go for months — even years — without hearing the preacher talking about the existence of hell.
In this sugary version of Christ’s teachings, doubt often is cast upon the reality of the devil. Often such topics are approached with a smug smile and a comment like, “We know so much more today about psychology and the unconscious than Jesus’ disciples did. And Christ’s warnings about sin can be explained away by personality disorders.”
And so the preacher dispenses with examples of Jesus casting out demons, and the times he talks about the fiery pit called Gehenna, and the sheep being separated from the goats at the Last Judgment. After all, these topics could cause folks discomfort.
Suffering is another topic that is avoided. Although the cross is at the heart of Christianity, preaching about dying and disease can be seen as depressing. And as Southern writer Flannery O’Connor eloquently put it, “What people don’t realize is how much religion costs. They think faith is a big electric blanket, when of course it is the cross.”
Telling it like it is can be dangerous. Some pastors get ousted because they dare to challenge parishioners. They may actually explore the ways Christ’s teachings clash with our current “anything goes” secular culture.
They may point out that sexting and pornography are dark sins. They may emphasize that couples who live together without being married are doing something wrong.
The truth isn’t always pretty, and disgruntled folks could complain bitterly to the bishop or this committee or that one — and soon there’s a new person standing at the podium.
O’Connor warned back in 1959 that “If the church isn’t a divine institution, it will turn into an Elks Club.” At the Elks Club, there are fundraisers and social get-togethers of every stripe. But no one has to agree on any religious doctrines to belong.
This isn’t a criticism of the Elks Club. After all, its members do many good deeds for society — but not because they’re motivated by their relationship with Jesus Christ. That was O’Connor’s point.
A congregation may be morphing into a social club if people show up on Sunday because they walk away feeling better. Or they make an appearance just to see their friends.
If a church doesn’t explore the devil’s temptations and the reality of sin, something is very wrong. Because the thing about cotton candy is it goes down real easy, but a steady diet will eventually make you ill.
About the Author
