It’s not enough to know what is good and what is true; we must come to love what is good and love what is true. We are now in the realm of the affections, and suddenly the parenting terrain is vast and the task before us utterly daunting. For now we will no longer be satisfied with filling our children’s heads with the information they’ll need to be able to succeed, but we will be aiming at something more profound and therefore more difficult: cultivating knowledge and virtue, right thinking and right feeling, understanding and desires.

My friend said something to me over breakfast that has been rattling around my old cerebrum ever since. We were talking about how different generations have approached raising Christian children and he said this about the approach of our parents: “It feels like they wanted to teach us only enough theology to sustain a personal spiritual life, and no more.”
We might call this the theologically minimalist approach.
There were plenty of exceptions, but in the broadly evangelical world, I think it was the norm rather than the exception. The important thing was to accept Christ as your personal Lord and Saviour. After that, we had some notions of personal piety like daily quiet time, but not much energy was spent setting a theological foundation or developing a compelling vision of Christian maturity.
I discern something similar in the way evangelical Christians often think and talk about parenting in our own day.
Parenting Minimalism
There seems to be an assumption that, beyond teaching the Bible and the gospel to our kids and praying that they come to saving faith, there isn’t much that would differentiate Christian parenting from non-Christian parenting. The content and pedagogy of their education can be pretty well the same; the books they read and shows they watch and music they listen to can be pretty well the same. In short, their actual cultural formation can be pretty well the same. This is a kind of parenting minimalism that actually makes some sense in a context where the broader culture still has strong vestiges of Christian influence, as was arguably the case until not that long ago. It might not have been ideal, but it seemed like it could work out decently well.
But, to be blunt, those days are well behind us. Even as my own generation, the millennials, was being formed and coming of age in the 1990s and 2000s, it became clear that not all was well. The shaping influence of the broader culture was already militating against the spiritual priorities of our parents. We heard the gospel at church (and perhaps at home), but were being shaped more fundamentally by the priorities of our peer groups, the media we took in, and the education we received.
The result? Millennials left the church at a higher rate than any previous generation.
Christian Paideia
As I started having my own children, I began thinking again about education. But education is not really the word I’m looking for. We have this entrenched modern notion that education is what happens during the school day and it relates to what fills the student’s head. It concerns that secular middle space where mathematics, literacy, and (maybe) history are necessary preconditions for gainful employment. That’s how most people think of education today—that thing you need to get a good job. And many Christians, not knowing any better, adopt this view.
We need a better word than education until it can be rehabilitated. One option is formation, which I’ve already used once or twice in this piece, but the problem with that word is how broadly it can be used for unrelated topics, such as industrial processes. Education is too narrow, formation a bit too broad, so let’s just reach over into another bucket—the Greek bucket—and use paideia. This is the word Paul uses in Ephesians when he speaks of raising children in the “nurture [paideia] and admonition of the Lord” (Ephesians 6:4).
The idea here is of a whole-person approach to shaping the next generation. As Joe Rigney puts it, “Paideia is the all-encompassing enculturation and formation of a child into a citizen. Christian paideia, then, is all-encompassing Christian discipleship.” We find this idea clearly described in Deuteronomy 6, where God commands the Israelites to embrace a deeply thorough approach—when you get up, when you sit down, when you walk—to teaching their children.
We tend to think of education as relegated to intellectual knowledge, but paideia includes character formation and virtue as well.
It’s not enough to know what is good and what is true; we must come to love what is good and love what is true.
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As the process of re-enchantment continues, I believe we will see more and more people dissatisfied with the hollow cave of materialistic atheism and seeking experiences of the transcendent. Will the church be ready to offer compelling answers to their questions? And will the worship and fellowship of the church be so imbued with the presence and power of God that visitors stop and say “God is really among you” (1 Cor. 14:25)? May God move in mighty ways to not only draw the lost to Himself but to revive our churches to be vibrant outposts of Kingdom life.

Living in Montreal, I am used to encountering deeply secular people. No heaven above, no hell below, no God at all. Can you even show me one solid piece of evidence for your God? Why would you believe in old debunked myths? These are the kinds of questions they ask. How does one share the hope of the gospel with such people?
Depending on the particular stripe of unbelief, it may be to poke holes in the materialist fortress, to point out self-evident echoes of eternity in their own beliefs, to show the moral implications of atheism, or any number of similar approaches. All of these are types of pre-evangelism: tilling up the hard ground of unbelief so that the seeds of faith in Jesus might have a chance to grow.
Over the last few years, however, I’ve been bumping into another kind of person who is asking very different kinds of questions: Are the spiritual beings around us benevolent or malevolent? How can we more deeply connect to the spiritual realm? Or, like one young man asked me: Can I ever be free from the spiritual forces I opened myself up to by engaging in occult practices?
In another case, a new convert at my church shared with me how, soon before coming to Christ, she had travelled to Brazil to experience a shaman-guided experience with the psychedelic Ayahuasca. Thankfully the ceremony was cancelled at the last minute. These are people with a very different set of beliefs than the typical secular young person, and they lead to very different conversations.
What is going on here? It seemed to me that I was encountering a new wave of the New Age.
Growing up, the people I knew of who were into New Age beliefs and practices were generally middle-aged women. In high school, the mother of one of my friends had a room in their house where she “spoke to angels.” For a few bucks, she could even tell you what they had to say. I avoided that room – there were lots of strange things hanging from the ceiling.
Then there was Oprah, who symbolized the smiling non-threatening face of New Age spirituality. All of this seemed to me far more like wishful thinking, scams, and mushy sentimentality than anything engaged with serious spiritual forces.
So my assumption was that the appeal of the New Age was mostly for that demographic. The young people I encountered were either deeply secular or, if their families had not had a decisive break from organized religion, mildly theistic.
The Rise of Long-Form Podcasting and Joe Rogan
While New Age beliefs never went away, they certainly fell off my radar for a few years. Around the time of Jordan Peterson’s rise to fame, I became aware, like many others, of an online world where serious conversations were taking place in long-form podcasts and YouTube interviews. The format seemed to foster nuanced, open, and surprisingly deep conversations at a time when the content of primetime news shows was devolving into 90-second shouting matches between talking heads.
One strange little corner of that online world was Joe Rogan’s podcast. With marathon 3-hour episodes of – shall we say – wildly varying quality, no one (least of all Joe) expected it to become so popular. Rogan is vulgar and blunt, but he has a winsome personality, a good dollop of common sense, and perhaps his most dynamic qualities: an insatiable curiosity and a capacity for wonder. Listen to him and his guests talk about grizzly bears or ancient Egypt and you’ll quickly find your own curiosity and wonder awakened.
Recent controversies have continued to polarize opinion about him and, ironically, broaden his reach. To some he is a dangerous purveyor of misinformation who platforms discredited and dangerous fringe thinkers (and to be fair, he certainly talks to some strange folks); to others he is a voice of sanity and one of the few remaining spaces where free speech is defended. But one thing is for sure: his audience is massive, easily eclipsing other podcasts and cable news shows. And the lion’s share of that audience seems to be young men – millions of them.
These are the men facing the meaning crisis – the existential inheritance of postmodernism. Or, more simply, the meaning crisis is what happens to a soul when you teach it that everything is a cosmic accident and therefore nothing has any real or ultimate meaning. They have no interest in organized religion, but they love the masculine competence and self-respect that the podcast exudes.
To these young people, Rogan offers not only entertainment through interesting interviews but also a taste of re-enchantment through his curiosity and wonder, the promises of technology, and his experiences and endorsements of psychedelic substances as gateways to wisdom and knowledge. This is where I see a connection between Joe Rogan’s massive popularity and influence and the unexpected reappearance of New Age spirituality in young people.
In this article, I want to focus on aspects of Rogan’s project that I think the church should take note of because they are illustrative of much broader societal trends which present Christians with both challenges and opportunities. But first, let’s see how this fits within the broader cultural narrative.
Streams of Re-enchantment
In his book ‘Return of the Strong Gods,’ R.R. Reno, editor of First Things magazine, shows how the disenchantment – a kind of spiritual malaise – that has spread across the West is not simply a byproduct of secularization but the result of a specific strategy adopted in the aftermath of the two World Wars.
Traumatized by the horrors of Auschwitz, Western intellectuals embraced what Reno calls ‘the post-war consensus,’ the idea that strong beliefs, convictions, and claims to truth are what give rise to the passions that caused such atrocities. In order to ensure that such things never happen again, these ‘strong gods’ were cast out and replaced with weak ones: pillars of objective truth gave way to plastic values, solid moral virtues dissolved into liquid cultural preferences.
If this is the case – and I found the argument of Reno’s book to be, on the whole, persuasive – then the intentional suppression of the human hunger for transcendence in the West since the end of the second World War dovetailed with the natural effects of secularization to create a situation where souls have been starved for a taste of eternity as never before.
This dual process of secularization and suppression brought low the ceiling of the world and drained the vibrant colors of life to a paltry grey, leaving young people with a gnawing hunger to come into contact with something beyond what they can see and touch, to be swept up into something bigger than themselves.
Like a mighty river held back by a hastily-built dam, this God-given hunger was artificially restrained. But now it seems to be breaking forth as that dam comes apart in pieces. The wave of re-enchantment washing across the West manifests itself in various ways. In what follows, I select just three streams that have struck me as particularly relevant to Christians, the third of which will bring us back to Joe Rogan.
First, the spiritual shape of political ideologies.
Many seek and find an echo of transcendence in the crusader-like pursuit of political and cultural goals.[1] Invariably these beliefs take the shape of grand narratives that mimic the Biblical story, including some pristine Edenic state, a fall into sin, a path of righteousness, and an eschatological hope. Radical environmentalism, the LGBTQ activist movement, and the progressive Left all fit this pattern and hold increasing cultural and institutional influence in our day.
Some movements on the far-Right such as white nationalism take the same general shape and likewise require a whole-life commitment.
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