The next contrast between the soils of spiritual formation concerns ascetical and penitential practices versus therapeutic and affirmational spirituality.
Historically, many of the practices Protestants are attempting to recover emerged within traditions that embraced asceticism and penance. Fasting, confession, self-denial, and seasons like Lent assume that the Christian life involves mortification. To be clear, the point isn’t self-hatred or self-punishment. Rather, these traditions assume that the ego must be disciplined in putting our sinful habits to death. These practices make sense within a spirituality that expects repentance, renunciation, and self-denial. As Paul says in 1 Corinthians 9:24–27:
Do you not know that in a race the runners all compete, but only one receives the prize? Run in such a way that you may win it. Athletes exercise self-control in all things; they do it to receive a perishable wreath, but we an imperishable one. So I do not run aimlessly, nor do I box as though beating the air, but I punish my body and enslave it, so that after proclaiming to others I myself should not be disqualified.
Sit with that: “I punish my body and enslave it.”
In contrast to this ascetical mortification, low-church Protestantism, given its emphasis upon justification and gospel assurance, has tended to preach messages that lean toward the therapeutic and affirmational. The dominant pastoral concern is helping people trust that they are forgiven, accepted, and loved by God.
All that is to the good, but as Christian Smith’s research has famously described, such preaching tends toward “moralistic therapeutic deism.” That is to say, the gospel in low-church Protestantism—and this is especially true with the prosperity gospel—comes to function as a source of personal happiness, emotional well-being, and therapeutic support. The Christian life becomes less about repentance and mortification than about personal happiness and wellness.
So you can see the transplant shock brewing here. Practices that grew within ascetical soil can struggle when transported into a therapeutic context.
Think about fasting. Historically, fasting is an act of mortification. We willingly embrace discomfort. Hunger itself, its pain, is an integral part of the practice. But within a therapeutic culture, voluntarily embracing pain demands an explanation. Why deny yourself? Why choose this hardship? Why cultivate practices that frustrate your desires? Truly, I’ve struggled to explain the purpose of fasting in low-church Protestant spaces because these contexts simply do not understand self-mortification as a spiritual practice. Once again: transplant shock.
Another example is how low-church Protestants attempt to celebrate Lent.
Historically, Lent is a penitential season. Lent prepares us for Easter through fasting, confession, repentance, and self-denial. But Protestantism doesn’t have a theology of penance. Consequently, Lent morphs. Rather than being a season of repentance and mortification, Lent becomes a season to “be more intentional,” to establish healthier habits, deepen one’s devotional life, or pursue personal spiritual growth. And to be clear, all that is good stuff. But notice the change. Lent becomes a season of spiritual self-actualization rather than a season of penance. The practice has been retained, but its underlying logic has shifted. Here we are again: transplant shock.
One more example.
Many progressive and liberal Christians have embraced contemplative spirituality. But you often encounter subtle modifications to these practices that reveal another kind of transplant shock. For example, consider the Jesus Prayer: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”
Whenever I talk about this prayer, or hear it recited, in progressive and liberal spaces I get pushback about the final bit of the prayer, with people leaving off “a sinner.”
Why does “a sinner” disappear?
Well, the anthropology of the monastic tradition where the Jesus Prayer originated sits uneasily within the more optimistic, humanistic assumptions of progressive Christianity. The monastic tradition assumed that spiritual transformation begins with repentance. By contrast, contemporary progressive spirituality assumes that spiritual transformation begins with self-acceptance. Those are very different starting points! As you likely know, the language of sin in liberal and progressive spaces strikes many as morbid and psychologically unhealthy, even when the recognition of sin sits at the heart of the spiritual practice itself. So they modify the practice to suit the therapeutic and affirmational soil.
Again, it’s an example of transplant shock. Practices are being detached from the theological and anthropological worlds that produced them. And when those assumptions are no longer shared, the practices begin to change. Sometimes dramatically, making the practice almost unrecognizable.
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