The best way to define what I mean by “Christianity passivity” is through an illustration. Imagine you are in a setting in which other Christians are present, and a secular person enters and begins to strenuously denounce Christianity. Suppose that, rather than attempting to make any defense of your faith, you allow the person to proceed unopposed, perhaps thinking that simply being polite is the ideal Christian response. If so, you can be sure that the other Christians present will probably think nothing of this reticence.

As an anti-Christian teenager, I enjoyed challenging Christians about their faith. The arguments I made against Christianity were not original or very well-researched: I cannot have read more than three books on the subject during my whole adolescence. Yet the dynamic of each conversation seemed to prove that I was winning.
In the world of Christian apologetics, it is not uncommon to encounter atheists who are both well-read and charitable. My own hostility to Christianity was more typical of the vast majority of anti-Christians: my arguments were unoriginal because I was not all that interested in developing them. Like most secular Westerners, this did not stop me from having a strong opinion, nor from believing that I had discovered that opinion myself.
What really fueled my confidence was not that Christians were intellectually unprepared—although it helped that they were. Instead, my hostility was excited because I perceived Christians as showing weakness. I don’t mean that the Christians I confronted explicitly conceded defeat. I mean that the believers I challenged seemed to approach almost any clash of ideas with an attitude of passivity. They avoided staking out bold positions, took great care not to say anything that might be offensive, and generally went beyond mere civility and into passivity.
During one such conversation, I recall thinking that I’d made a discovery: that Christians secretly knew that I was right and that their faith was a lie. Far from being winsome, which is probably what these Christians had intended, the impression that Christians were doormats encouraged me to be even more aggressive in my opposition. The compliant agreeableness of Christians did not soften my hostility. Instead, it put blood in the water.
I also remember the very moment when I first began to consider Christianity in a new and different light. A man had handed me a paper tract earlier in the day and, propelled by some unusual circumstances, I found myself looking through it. The content of the tract—although not quite fire-and-brimstone—was clearly intended to be provocative. As I looked at the tract, it suddenly struck me that Christianity might not be, as I’d thought, something that a person trying to rationalize cowardice would invent. This experience didn’t convince me that Christianity was true—that didn’t happen until much later—but I did catch myself viewing Christianity with a new kind of respect.
I agree with authors like Brett and Kate McKay about the problem that has been called “the feminization of Christianity.” Yet I also think the church faces a distinct but related problem: Christian passivity. In this column, I’ll review the nature of the problem and what might be done to counteract it.
The best way to define what I mean by “Christianity passivity” is through an illustration. Imagine you are in a setting in which other Christians are present, and a secular person enters and begins to strenuously denounce Christianity. Suppose that, rather than attempting to make any defense of your faith, you allow the person to proceed unopposed, perhaps thinking that simply being polite is the ideal Christian response. If so, you can be sure that the other Christians present will probably think nothing of this reticence. Your fellow believers will almost certainly not regard you as having done anything suspect or un-Christlike.
But now imagine that, rather than remaining passive, you rise to the occasion and firmly engage with the critic’s arguments, even going on the offensive against his own views. In this case, it goes without saying that your behavior is likely to be frowned on by some of the other Christians present, who might conflate any energy in your argument with unkindness. And if you do genuinely cross the line into rudeness, this offense is going to be judged far more severely than had you said nothing at all, and utterly surrendered the floor to the atheist.
First Peter 3:15 famously commands Christians to always be “prepared to make a defense to anyone who asks you for a reason for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and respect.” The word “defense” (apologia) connotes an accused person’s defense of himself in court, as in the Apologia of Socrates. Yet, in the popular interpretation of this verse, the subordinate clause of the sentence has somehow chewed up and eaten the main clause. It is almost a cliché that, when apologists remind Christians that they are commanded to be “prepared to make an apologia,” someone will chime in to quote the subordinate clause of the sentence as if it cancels out the main clause, or as if to suggest that “gentleness” itself is the “defense.” This is not unlike the way that people are fond of quoting the words “render unto Caesar” while omitting the part of the sentence containing Jesus’ main point: “and unto God the things that are God’s.”
To take a larger illustration, consider Chick-fil-A’s 2019 decision not to renew funding for The Salvation Army and the Fellowship of Christian Athletes, and to instead give to certain secular charities.
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Some schools, though, are already promoting sexual or gender issues—issues that are controversial based on parental and religious beliefs. Likewise, many race-oriented issues are especially controversial. Those influenced by Critical Race Theory focus heavily on Black and White populations even though the United States may be the most racially diverse of all nations.

Around the country, parents are vocally challenging curricula related to race issues in the K-12 schools of their children and on their school boards. Not a few of these curricula contain elements taken from Critical Race Theory, which separates at least two races into two categories: “oppressed” and “oppressors.”
My local newspaper, the St. Louis Post-Dispatch, ran an op-ed article, “Why St. Louis-area classrooms need more open discussions about race.” The authors are two St. Louis-based women: Sienna Ruiz, a research coordinator at the Washington University School of Medicine, and Akilah Collins-Anderson, working on her doctoral degree in public health sciences at Washington University. The article ended with this sentence: “Schools should provide critical thinking tools about race because it shapes everyone’s lives, whether parents accept it or not”—an exceptionally bold statement. The obvious question it raises is, “Are the ‘critical thinking tools’ that parents must accept unbiased and fair?”
First, it needs to be firmly stated that the public schools’ main purpose is to teach basic subjects as thoroughly as possible to prepare students for their futures. Traditionally, this has meant giving them the knowledge and skills to serve them well for either a vocation or higher education’s demands as well as to enhance citizenship.
This type of education takes time and demands sufficient priority. Students should graduate with basic English and math skills, and knowledge of science and both national and world histories. No one should need remedial reading classes in college if K-12 schools accomplish their purpose. Adding issue-centered courses should not diminish time spent on core subjects.
Some schools, though, are already promoting sexual or gender issues—issues that are controversial based on parental and religious beliefs. Likewise, many race-oriented issues are especially controversial. Those influenced by Critical Race Theory focus heavily on Black and White populations even though the United States may be the most racially diverse of all nations.
This exaggerated focus dismisses the fact that students are multi-racial, not simply Black or White. It’s like forcing one to watch black and white movies when technicolor is not only available, but it also represents the most enjoyable of movies. It’s passé and terribly narrow-minded to remain stuck on one binary issue of race when we are so beyond that issue. It’s unfair to students who are Asian, Hispanic, African, Middle Eastern, or Native American—and all the many subsets of those broad classifications.
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Until or unless God makes people able to live for him by causing them to be born again by the Spirit, faithful leaders work in vain to modify external behavior to mimic it. Yet Nehemiah does not teach us that all leadership is pointless; instead, Nehemiah helps us to set our sights more on faithfulness to God than on control over what happens with those whom we are tasked to lead.

Thus I cleansed them from everything foreign, and I established the duties of the priests and Levites, each in his work; and I provided for the wood offering at appointed times, and for the firstfruits. Remember me, O my God, for good. – Nehemiah 13:30–31 (ESV)
The Book of Nehemiah is set in the time of the return of Judah from exile in Babylon. It recounts the trials, travails, and triumphs of Nehemiah, the Persian king’s cupbearer-turned-governor of Judah who does his best to put things in order in Jerusalem. The special emphasis is on the repair and rebuilding of the wall of Jerusalem.
The Big Idea of Nehemiah
The Big Idea of Nehemiah can be expressed this way: God is faithful even when his people are not (cf. 2 Tim. 2:13). Over and over again in Nehemiah, the people’s faithfulness wanes and corruption and/or complacency takes root. Nehemiah’s faithfulness is a clear demonstration of God’s preservation of his people, not only in returning them to the land from their exile but also in providing Moses-like leadership to establish them in it.
An Outline of Nehemiah
1-6: Restoration of the Wall
The Book of Nehemiah begins in Persia. It is a story told in the first person, making it one of the very few autobiographical books of the Bible. It begins with bad news. Nehemiah learns that the wall of Jerusalem is broken down and its gates are destroyed. In response, Nehemiah weeps, mourns, and confesses sins to God in prayer.
We learn that Nehemiah was a cupbearer to the king of Persia. Seeing his downcast countenance, the king asks Nehemiah what the matter is. Nehemiah tells him, and in response, the king grants all of Nehemiah’s requests and more.
So far, so good. But very quickly we meet Sanballat and Tobiah, two men highly opposed to the Jews’ welfare and well-positioned to hinder progress.
After inspecting the wall by night, Nehemiah rallies the people to rebuild the wall. Chapter three describes the work. In chapter four Sanballat and Tobiah do what they can to discourage the work. When words fail, they plan an attack. But the people arm themselves and make good progress.
In chapter five, Nehemiah becomes aware of complaints from some Jews that they are being forced into servitude for debts to their fellow Jews. Nehemiah becomes angry and formally rebukes the nobles and officials for charging interest and taking the people’s inheritance from them, which is prohibited by the Law of Moses (Ex. 22:25; Lev. 25:36-37; Deut. 23:19-20).
We learn that Nehemiah serves as governor during this time. During a twelve-year span, Nehemiah claims that he leads with integrity and fairness. More than that, he relinquishes some of his claims on the people to lighten their burden. Nehemiah concludes this note, and chapter five with it, with a plea to God to remember the good that he has done for the people.
In chapter six, Tobiah and Sanballat make another concerted effort to stop the rebuilding project. They gradually escalate their misinformation campaign from lures to open threats and lies. Nehemiah does not give in, but even his own countrymen seek to lead him astray with false prophecies. Nehemiah is beset by enemies from without and within who want to discredit him and make him afraid. Nevertheless, Nehemiah perseveres and the wall is finished. As a result, it is the enemies who fear. Yet still, all the time Tobiah continues to send letters and send his cronies to wheedle at Nehemiah and cajole him into approving of Tobiah. This is in many ways a study in how a godly person may engage in the political process and what he or she might expect in it.
7-13: Restoration of Worship
In chapter seven, Nehemiah transfers the power of governorship to other men and records a genealogy at God’s prompting. Following this, in chapter eight Ezra the scribe reads and teaches the Law to all the people. The people recognize their disobedience and are grieved. Many leaders come on the second day for Ezra to teach them more from the Law.
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