When the Adjective Becomes the Confession
When the Word Before "Church" Becomes More Important Than the Word After It
TL;DR: When words like progressive, inclusive, conservative, or traditional become more important than Christian, we've lost something essential. The church's first identity should be its submission to Christ, the gospel, and the guidance of the Holy Spirit—not the adjective placed before its name.
Are Progressive, Inclusive Churches More Interested in Being “Progressive” and “Inclusive” Than They Are in Being Christian?
Now, while I do spend plenty of time on here critiquing progressive Christianity, I think many conservative churches have exactly the same problem.
I was recently listening to my good friend and colleague Dennis Sanders interview Jason Swan Clark on the Church and Main podcast. While I haven’t yet read the Substack essay that prompted their conversation, one observation Clark made during the podcast interview has been rattling around in my head.
Borrowing from Stanley Hauerwas, Clark suggested that whenever we put a word in front of church—whether inclusive, progressive, conservative, or traditional—that word can eventually “completely dominate what the church is supposed to be.”
I couldn’t stop thinking about that.
The word in front of church begins to eclipse the word that follows it.
That observation immediately reminded me of an interview I once had with a “progressive, inclusive” congregation.
When the Word Comes First
Interestingly, I wasn’t asked much about traditional Christian doctrines or even my understanding of the gospel. Instead, much of the conversation centered on my willingness to be affirming of LGBT Christians.
To be clear, I understand why.
Pastors have significant influence, especially through the pulpit each Sunday. Even conservative churches have been damaged by poor pastoral leaders. It’s entirely reasonable for a congregation to want confidence that a prospective pastor will care well for everyone in the pews.1
But looking back, I realized something felt off.
It wasn’t that the church cared about inclusion.
It was, like Clark suggests, that inclusion seemed to function as the primary confession of the church.
Listening to Clark helped me understand why that interview has stayed with me all these years. It felt as though the first question wasn’t, “Are you committed to Jesus Christ and the gospel?” but rather, “Will you affirm this particular ethical position?”
Clark put it this way:
“What happens when those ethical positions become the entry point—the confession that’s required to belong to Christ?”
That question struck me because I don’t think it’s limited to progressive churches.
It’s Not Just Progressive Churches
The more I sat with Clark’s observation, though, the more I realized this isn’t really a progressive church problem.
It’s an American Christian problem.
Conservative churches often do exactly the same thing. The word in front of church simply changes.
The point isn’t whether those words describe something true or valuable.
The point is what happens when they become the thing that most defines the community.
That’s what intrigued me most about Clark’s argument. The issue isn’t ultimately which adjective we choose. It’s whether that adjective begins to function as a confession that stands alongside—or even ahead of—the gospel itself.
And that got me thinking about Peter in the book of Acts. Acts 10 describes a deeply convinced Peter that certain foods were unclean. “By no means, Lord,” he said.
Peter’s practices weren’t arbitrary; they were rooted in Scripture and centuries of Jewish faithfulness.
Yet when the Holy Spirit confronted him, Peter changed.
Not because culture persuaded him.
Not because public opinion shifted.
But because he became convinced that God was doing something new.
To me, that’s one of the defining characteristics of Christian discipleship.
It isn't that every commitment is perpetually up for revision. It's that every commitment ultimately remains submitted to the gospel and open to the guidance of the Holy Spirit.
This also helps explain something I’ve found surprising over the years.
I’ve occasionally met LGBT Christians who choose to worship in churches that are not explicitly affirming. At first glance, that seems almost incomprehensible to many progressive Christians.
But I wonder if what’s draws some of them isn’t agreement on every ethical question.2 Rather, it’s the conviction that this is a community genuinely seeking to submit itself to Christ and to the leading of the Holy Spirit—even if that process hasn’t led everyone to the same conclusions.
To be clear, I’m not suggesting LGBT Christians should attend churches where they experience hostility or abuse. Nor am I suggesting questions of human sexuality don’t matter. They do.
My point is simply that, for some Christians, a community’s posture toward Christ and the Holy Spirit matters even more than complete agreement on every point of interpretation.
That strikes me as a deeply Christian instinct.
An Old Idea for a New Moment
As I thought about all of this, I found myself reflecting on the tradition in which I am ordained—the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ).
From its beginning, the Restoration Movement3 (out of which the DOC was born) wrestled with a remarkably similar question.4
How do we keep being Christian from being eclipsed by everything else?
Early leaders like Barton Stone and Alexander Campbell certainly didn’t believe doctrine was unimportant. Nor did they imagine Christians would all agree on every point of interpretation.
Rather, they were deeply suspicious of anything that functioned as a dividing line beyond the centrality of Christ. That’s why they were so insistent on open communion. They didn’t want creeds or theological systems to become ends in themselves rather than witnesses to the gospel.
Their founding vision was simple, if difficult:
Christians first.
Not because they thought differences didn’t matter.
But because they believed every Christian—and every church—should remain continually submitted to Christ, Scripture, and the work of the Holy Spirit.
The Restoration Movement certainly DID NOT solve this problem. It eventually developed its own divisions, labels, and identities.5
But its founding vision still remains remarkably relevant.
I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again—I’ve convinced that we can discern the future of Christianity by looking to its past.
I wonder if this is one of those moments.
Christianity Before the Adjective
As someone who can’t help but think about the future of Christianity in North America, I find myself wondering if we’ll increasingly see churches and Christians who refuse to let an adjective become their primary identity.
Perhaps that’s too optimistic.
But I also wonder if it’s already happening.
I’ve been with Christians who disagree about abortion, sexuality, and/or political policy, yet who share something deeper. They genuinely want to follow Jesus. They genuinely believe the Holy Spirit still has something to teach them. And they genuinely recognize that they themselves might still have something to learn.
That’s a very different posture than beginning with absolute certainty that our group/tradition already has all the right answers.6
And, this is where I think my own tradition has so much to contribute here:
Neither the Restoration Movement nor the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ) has lived up perfectly to its founding vision. No tradition has.
But that vision—that Christians should be known first and foremost as Christians, continually submitting themselves to Christ, Scripture, and the work of the Holy Spirit—feels remarkably relevant in a moment when so many of our ecclesial identities are shaped by adjectives.
This isn't about abandoning creeds or doctrine (even if the Movement became famous for saying, "No creed but Christ"). It's about recognizing that every creed, doctrine, and ethical commitment remains accountable to Christ, the gospel, and the ongoing guidance of the Holy Spirit.7
Back to the Future?
The American church has much to learn from the early Restoration Movement—and frankly so does my current branch of that movement—the Disciples of Christ.8
I’ve argued before that one way we discern the future of the church is by looking to its past.
Perhaps this is one of those moments.
Perhaps the future of American Christianity isn’t a more progressive Christianity.
Or a more conservative Christianity.
Perhaps it’s simply a more Christian Christianity.
One where the word Christian once again carries more weight than the word placed in front of it.
P.S. If you're interested in the future of Christianity in North America, I'd love to invite you to check out my forthcoming book, The Church as Community Hub (releasing September 8). While this essay reflects on the church's identity, the book asks what that identity looks like when embodied in neighborhoods, shared spaces, and everyday community life. I hope you'll take a look.
As the reader will soon see, I think any pastor truly committed to the gospel and the guidance of the Spirit will be able to care well for anyone in the pews.
I’m not sure “ethical” is the right word to use here, but I think it aligns with the wording Clark used, so I’ll stick with that.
The Restoration Movement eventually developed into three primary streams: the Christian Church (Disciples of Christ), the Independent Christian Churches/Churches of Christ, and the Churches of Christ.
Shout out to my cousins? siblings? in the Churches of Christ and Independent Christian movements.
I think there’s a difference between certainty and confidence. I’m confident in my faith—but not certain.
I fear too much of the Restoration Movement has lost sight of the idea of creeds not being tests of fellowship, with some strands essentially disbanding with doctrine all-together, and other strands elevating doctrine above all else (I’ll let the reader guess which one).
I sometimes wonder if what it means to be a “Disciple” today is more about polity or practice rather than theological commitments.
Thanks for this Loren. The adjectives also reflect an overly politicized culture as well as one that is driven by marketing.
Richard Baxter, my hero in moderate non-conformity, wrote in 1680:
“I am a CHRISTIAN, a MEER CHRISTIAN, of no other Religion; and the Church that I am of is the Christian Church, and hath been visible where ever the Christian Religion and Church hath been visible: But must you know what Sect or Party I am of? I am against all Sects and dividing Parties: But if any will call Meer Christians by the name of a Party, because they take up with Meer Christanity, Creed, and Scripture, and will not be of any dividing or contentious Sect, I am of that Party which is so against Parties..."
That's right, C.S. Lewis did not originate "Mere Christianity," and one of the few things you can safely say about both Jack and Alexander Campbell is that they both honored Richard Baxter, who was also the source of "in essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity" (except that Baxter got it from Rupertus Meldinus in Latin, but never mind).
Campbell had a number of Baxter's works in his hexagonal study; I've never been able to prove Thomas had read Baxter before "Declaration and Address" but it sure sounds like it. The dilemma for Baxter, especially in his turbulent old age, was that the Crown & Mitre demanded preachers to take a side, or else, and Baxter would not take an episcopal throne (history indicates he was offered Hereford's bishopric) nor would he affirm an absolute break in the Savoy Conferences, an example that another subsequent reader of Baxter would follow, as John Wesley died a priest of the Church of England, never truly leaving it.
But Thomas said in 1809: "Nothing ought to be received into the faith or worship of the Church, or be made a term of communion amongst Christians, that is not as old as the New Testament. Nor ought any thing to be admitted as of Divine obligation, in the Church constitution and management, but what is expressly enjoined by the authority of our Lord Jesus Christ and his Apostles upon the New Testament Church, either in express terms or by approved precedent."
I think what Father Thomas is trying to do here is go back before all the splits & schisms, and seek a return to Eden, a renaissance of Christian unity as it was in post-Pentecost Jerusalem, and say "do what you will, but do not bar from communion or require for worship anything not in Acts or thereabouts." Of course, he immediately qualifies himself back from a primitivist precipice by saying unless a thing is "enjoined... either in express terms or by approved precedent." The problem there is that the Pope and magisterium in Rome, or the soon to arise Joseph Smith, Jr., would all say they are operating their version of Christian belief & practice within approved precedent.
The devil is the detail of approval. Who approves? An individual alone? A congregation in isolation? A Presbyterian synod covened? A Baptist association in assembly? Or does it require the affirmation of an angelic approval, such presence witnessed by at least two other elders in good standing?
Today, there's the question of who constitutes approved precedent. Is "published by Chalice Press" adequate to call something Disciples orthodoxy? And does a resolution out of General Assembly constitute a precedent of any sort, or just an advisory opinion? The most consequential actions recognized within our communion, the withdrawal of standing or removal of a listing from the Yearbook (peace be upon it), are still either congregational (a congregation can submit basic paperwork with legal validation to become withdrawn) or regional (ordination and ministerial standing are almost entirely regional, and variable across the thirty middle judicatories of our tradition, while GA action has given regions specifically the ability to remove congregations, still not a GMP authority). An appeal to precedent made in a congregational meeting might have some weight as a decision to disfellowship; I'm not so sure at a regional council or assembly.
So the authority to interpret what is mere in our Christianity as practiced by Disciples is still almost entirely congregational as to covenant relationships (to enter or to break them), and regional as to enforcement (to grant or to withdraw a status). We have a history of not liking the term "autonomous" when talking about our corporate life, but congregational autonomy is the key reality people face when learning "our ways" as ministers new to the Disciples of Christ. That autonomy should, in the light of our history and tradition, always be tightly bound by at the very least, Biblical precedent (if not covenantal obligation as is regularly asked of us by our leaders), but my experience is that Disciples' congregational autonomy is understood in an American cultural context far more than in a New Testament framework, let alone a Restorationist model.