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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Instead of the family of God requiring “an agreed-upon fiction to sustain itself,” it will act out an agreed-upon principle which is heaven given.  Reconciliation may be the most redemptive act we are at liberty to perform.  God has not been created for our needs, but Christians have been recreated for His pleasure.  Reconciliation pleases God.

A reviewer of a French movie wrote, “The family, like any other institution, requires agreed-upon fictions to sustain itself.”  I was struck by the fact that there might be more truth than fiction to that statement vis-à-vis the family of God.  We might wish that the world could view Christians as one big happy, loving family.  But if we are honest, we must recognize and acknowledge that we hardly imitate our heavenly father or His Son, Jesus Christ, in the area of reconciliation.
It is sad, but true, there are believers who won’t speak to other believers and are unwilling to resolve the problems between them in either a biblical or healthy manner.  Such cases exist in the same church or fellowship as well as in the same Christian circles.  Lest anyone not get the point, this is, unfortunately, true of evangelical Christians and organizations, including some who exercise spiritual leadership.  Besides appearing hypocritical to the world, such situations most certainly bring tears to our redeemer’s eyes and anger to our heavenly Father who has forgiven many more grievous sins and offenses than we could imagine possible.  As to reconciliation, Matthew, the Evangelist, aims his words well and hits the mark squarely.  He writes: “Therefore, if you are offering your gift at the altar and then remember that your brother has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar.  First go and be reconciled to your brother, then come and offer your gift.”  (Matthew 5:24) Reconciliation is a prerequisite for worship.  A few verses earlier, Matthew warns: “But I tell you that anyone who is angry with his brother will be subject to judgment.”  (Matthew 5: 22) What greater proof of anger can there be than a total shut down of communication?  It is obvious that Matthew is speaking of believers because he calls them “brothers” rather than neighbors.
Jerry Alpert of the Central Christian Counseling Center contributed an article to the April Centralian entitled: “Verbal Terminosis.”  In it he succinctly defines what can be termed the extreme opposite of reconciliation.  He defines “Verbal Terminosis” as “Termination of open and honest communication between spouses, parents and children, and friends.”  He also notes that “it is highly contagious and should be treated at first sign of infection.”  Perhaps the definition can be expanded to include Christians of any degree of affinity.
Some consider forgiveness to mean, “I won’t hold it against you or bring it up again, but I don’t want to see you again, or I won’t talk with you anymore.”  This is neither forgiveness nor reconciliation.  Forgiveness includes restoration of fellowship as existed previous to the breakdown in communication.  Isn’t that true of God’s forgiveness toward us?  Can it be any different in our relationships with one another?
When Matthew carefully chose the word “reconciled,” he picked a word that means “to renew friendship with one” in the original language.  When Christians obey God’s Word and become reconciled with one another, they prove to the world, as well as to one another, the power of the Gospel in their lives and model transparently God’s love to an incredulous, mocking world.  Reconciliation is what redemption is all about, and our willingness to be reconciled with others may well be one of the most trustworthy indicators of our own redemption in Jesus Christ and reconciliation with God the Father.
Let’s be careful not to grieve God’s Son or to anger our heavenly Father, inviting judgment on us by our unwillingness to be reconciled with one another.  May the world scratch its head as it ponders the power of the gospel lived out through believers and notes, “See how they love one another.”
Instead of the family of God requiring “an agreed-upon fiction to sustain itself,” it will act out an agreed-upon principle which is heaven given.  Reconciliation may be the most redemptive act we are at liberty to perform.  God has not been created for our needs, but Christians have been recreated for His pleasure.  Reconciliation pleases God. 
Helen Louise Herndon is a member of Central Presbyterian Church (EPC) in St. Louis, Missouri. She is freelance writer and served as a missionary to the Arab/Muslim world in France and North Africa.

In contemplating the anger of God, we are drawn into a more profound and reverent worship of Him. It is a solemn reminder of our sinfulness, the holiness of God, and the incredible gift of salvation through Jesus Christ.

When attempting to know God, believers are sometimes confronted with attributes and aspects of His character that challenge our finite minds. If it were up to us, we would get to know God by the traits and qualities we enjoy most, such as His grace, mercy, and love. But what about when we are confronted with other attributes wholly central to understanding who He is that chafe a bit more against the soul? What are we to think then? Today, I would like to discuss an aspect of God’s character that many, including weak-kneed preachers, totally avoid. That is His perfect, all-consuming, and righteous fury.
The Nature of God’s Anger
God’s divine wrath, as the psalmist declares, is neither capricious nor born of the frailties that often mar human emotions. He is a righteous judge (Psalm 7:11) whose holiness is demonstrated in all He does (Isaiah 5:16). As Habakkuk so aptly testifies, God’s anger emanates from the pure and undefiled nature. His eyes are too pure to approve of evil or to look favorably upon the wicked (Habakkuk 1:13). When His anger does break out, it is not quick-tempered or wreckless (Nahum 1:3). It emanates, instead, from a long-suffering, compassionate, and gracious countenance that demonstrates His lovingkindness to thousands but who will by no means leave the guilty unscathed (Exodus 34:6-7).
In His sovereign and holy displeasure, God responds with terrifying fury upon the ones who provoke Him with their sin and idolatry (Deuteronomy 9:7-8). Indeed, God is endlessly enraged over all ungodliness (Romans 1:18-23), covenant disloyalty (Joshua 7:1), religious hypocrisy (Matthew 23:27-28), and social injustices (Zechariah 7:9-12). Yet, as fearsome as His anger is, it perfectly accomplishes the will of God (Jeremiah 23:20) and is ever in harmony with His unfathomable holiness and love (Psalm 85:10). The Scriptures, particularly in Romans 2:4, reveal the redemptive purpose behind God’s wrath, which is not solely punitive, but also restorative, leading the sinner to repentance. For those who harden their hearts against Him, His vehement opposition towards them will consume them for His own glory (Deuteronomy 32:16-17). For those who repent and turn back to the Lord, His anger is only for a night, with new joys and mercies coming in the morning (Psalm 30:5).
In the Scriptures, the redemptive arc of God’s anger spans from the very first moments of history (in the fall of man) to the eschatological future when everything that provokes the anger of God will either fall into destruction or find perfect healing in the eternal state. His wrath encompasses the coming judgments upon all nations who oppose His reign, as Jeremiah 4:7 and Psalm 2 reveal, and also extends to the cosmic consequences of sin leveled onto the wicked individual, as Colossians 3:6 so solemnly warns. Yet, in this wrath, there lies a protective purpose for His chosen people (Exodus 32:10), an impartiality that transcends human notions of fairness (Romans 2:11), and an inevitability that marks the certainty of His justice (Nahum 1:2-3), which ought to lead us to repentance. God’s wrath stored up for believers is not a trumpet call for God to blisteringly wage war against them (as He does against the wicked) but a clarion call for our repentance, an invitation to return to the paths of righteousness, as echoed in Revelation 3:19.
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