Another Gospel?: A Lifelong Christian Seeks Truth in Response to Progressive Christianity

by Alisa Childers

I would later learn that this dismantling of doctrinal tenets—where all the beliefs someone was raised with and had never questioned are systematically pulled apart—is something progressive Christians call deconstruction.

Progressive Christians tend to avoid absolutes and are typically not united around creeds or belief statements.

progressive Christians view the Bible as primarily a human book and emphasize personal conscience and practices rather than certainty and beliefs. They are also very open to redefining, reinterpreting, or even rejecting essential doctrines of the faith like the Virgin Birth, the deity of Jesus, and his bodily resurrection.

When I have doubts about my faith, or deep nagging questions that keep me up at night, I don’t have the luxury of finding “my truth” because I am committed to the truth. I want to know what is real. I want my worldview (the lens through which I see the world) to line up with reality. God either exists, or he doesn’t. The Bible is his Word, or it’s not. Jesus was raised from the dead, or he wasn’t. Christianity is true, or it isn’t. There is no “my truth” when it comes to God.

We can’t allow truth to be sacrificed on the altar of our feelings. We can’t allow our fear of offending others to prevent us from warning them that they’re about to step in front of a bus. Truth matters for bacon eaters, and truth matters for Christians.

The people who saw Jesus walk this earth, heard him speak, and followed him on those dusty Roman roads in Israel also thought it was essential to confess that Jesus was God.

In fact, Kruger and Köstenberger demonstrate that the core canon was established as Scripture among Christians by the end of the first century.[12] This is such a powerful point because these supposed “other” Gospels weren’t written until the second and third centuries.[13] How could the later books compete with the four Gospels if those other books didn’t even exist yet?

I think it’s time for another reformation. Not a reformation that progresses beyond historic Christianity. Not one that looks down on these early believers as less enlightened and more primitive in their understanding of God, but one that rediscovers the very definition of Christianity.

Unbelief is a decision of the will, but doubt tends to bubble up within the context of faith.

Unbelief is a conscious choice to live as if God does not exist—and it’s born out of sinful desires.

I would later learn that biblical faith is trust—and that trust is based on good evidence.

In progressive Christianity, doubt has become a badge of honor to bask in, rather than an obstacle to face and overcome.

But when someone accepts the ideas of critical theory, it can begin to erode their Christian worldview by taking their eyes off the fundamental truths of who God is and how he works in the world. It excuses a person from upholding biblical morality and even considers the historic Christian sexual ethic to be oppressive. It can lead someone into progressive Christianity, which already devalues the historic Christian answers to these “worldview questions” and focuses on actions over belief. That becomes just another works-based gospel that ebbs and flows with cultural norms.

I try to give as much grace as possible to Christians who disagree with me on issues that don’t directly affect salvation. Perhaps growing up in environments where such grace was missing can cause confusion over what is essential versus nonessential.

When I looked at him, I felt a level of darkness I’d never felt before. It was as if all hope, light, love, joy, and goodness had been sucked out of the universe, and there was nothing but a doom-filled void. I didn’t feel God’s presence. I didn’t feel his peace. But I had walked in the excruciating darkness of doubt before, and I had learned to cry out to Jesus. I had learned to not walk by what I feel but by what I know. “Jesus, please! Jesus, please! Jesus, please!” I shouted into that void over and over again. Slowly over the next few hours, little bits of light began to crack through that darkness to reveal—dare I say—the beauty of the wisdom of God. I don’t understand this. I would do things differently. But I don’t have all the information. My sovereign God does, and he knows the end from the beginning. He is trustworthy.

In that hospital room, “my truth” was darkness. But “the truth” was true whether I felt it or not. God was there. God is sovereign. He is good and trustworthy. I’ve tasted and seen. My heart is resolute, echoing the sentiments of Peter, who answered Jesus after many had walked away from him, “To whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life” (John 6:68).

When we are faced with immeasurable and unspeakable pain, we have a choice. We can open our hands to the Father and fall at his feet, or we can shake our fist at him and walk away. We can throw the raw magnitude of our doubts, questions, and piercing grief into his capable lap, or we can gather it all up into clenched hands and declare him incompetent . . . or nonexistent. We each have that choice.

I cannot imagine walking through this ordeal without Jesus and the firm foundation of God’s Word. I cannot imagine having any hope outside of the true gospel.

I was astonished to discover that what Irenaeus wrote in AD 180 could easily apply to the doctrinal and faith challenges we are facing in our current culture. The heretics in his day were not vitriol-spewing atheists bent on destroying the Christian faith from the outside. These were self-professed Christians who were determined to change it from within. They twisted the Scriptures and misrepresented tradition.

the easiest way to spot heresy is to remember this: Jesus + anything = a false gospel.

In this case, the heresy is Jesus minus something. The progressive gospel is Jesus minus judgment.

Jesus didn’t see Scripture as simply a human cultural product—he saw it as the inspired and authoritative Word of God.

So here we have Jesus—all-inclusive, tolerant, and never-judgy Jesus—shutting the door to his Kingdom. After this, he tells another parable in which he once again describes separating true followers from false ones—the false ones being cast into outer darkness.

hell is not some kind of divine torture chamber in which God sadistically enjoys the torment of those who reject him. It’s God giving them their way. Hell is a place for those who reject God. And God will not force anyone into his Kingdom who doesn’t want to be under his rule. And he can’t let sin and corruption in the door, even for those who want the benefits of heaven but don’t want to turn from their sin to follow him.

God is not unjust or simplistic in his judgments. He is perfectly holy and will deal with sin appropriately.

In the end, I’ve come to see that hell is not only necessary, it is ultimately loving and just. If someone desires sin and corruption now, what would make me think he would desire to be separated from sin and corruption for eternity? If someone continually chooses to hate God and reject his gift of reconciliation in this life, what would make me think she will desire to be in his Kingdom forever in the next? And here’s something to ponder: If someone wants to bring their self-serving sin into heaven, what would it say about God if he allowed it in?

if we believe the Bible is true—if we follow our Lord Jesus—we must affirm this alongside him: Heaven is real. Hell is real. And one day, the door will close.

The wrath of God is not a divine temper tantrum triggered by erratic feelings of offense and hatred. The wrath of God is not petty or spiteful. It is the controlled and righteous judgment of anything that opposes the Lord’s perfect nature and love. We should be very thankful for the wrath of God.

God isn’t wrathful in spite of being love. God is wrathful because God is love.

without the wrath of God toward sin, heaven would be full of hell.

Jesus is God. He is the one we have sinned against. And he willingly came to lay down his life for us. In John’s Gospel he said, “No one takes [my life] from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This charge I have received from my Father” (John 10:18). Jesus is not God’s whipping boy. Jesus is God in human flesh, and he loved the world so much that he voluntarily came to take the punishment for our sins upon himself.

Faith is trust in a person—Jesus. That trust is based on truth and evidence. You have to know some things about him in order to follow him and trust him.

The strength of evidence for the Christian worldview is so strong that one would have to willfully shut their eyes to it. But discovering that information takes time and effort and determination. Learning logic and philosophy is not easy. Examining the evidence and digging for truth takes mental energy. Studying the Bible can be daunting and confusing. But isn’t every treasure worth the hunt?