I've been reading The Connecting Church by Randy Frazee for one of my classes. It talks about the epidemic of loneliness in the United States, the impact individualism has had on the American psyche, and how strong, cohesive groups, from the Crips to the Amish, the military to the Benedictines, create a sense of true connection and belonging. He says there are three common denominators strongly connected groups have: a common purpose, a common place, and common possessions.

But here's what got me. According to the social scientists quoted in the book, historically, the most effective way to turn a collection of individuals into a cohesive community is to identify a common enemy.

Think of England during WWII, or the Singing Revolution in Estonia, or even the US in the days just following 9/11.

“Us vs. them” presupposes an “us.” And oh, what a glorious feeling it is to be part of an “us,” like stepping out of clammy, air-conditioned darkness into the perfect summer day. It's euphoric.

And suddenly, so much about American Christendom–Americans in general, actually–snapped into place.

Is it possible that we jump onto bandwagons not because we're so simplistic we can't see the other side, not because we're angry, hateful people, but because we're so intensely lonely? Because our craving for connection, affirmation, and a commonality is so strong that we're willing to throw people who are different than us under the bus so we can identify with some common cause, feel like part of the crowd?

I mean, does anyone really care that much about Duck Dynasty? Or are all these endless controversies really just rallying points to feed our gaping need for connection and identification?

We need to find a better way to live out our need for common purpose. A positive way. A way that demonstrates what we are for, instead of what we are against.

But here's the thing, especially for Christians. Demonstrating what we are for is not easy. The demands of truly following Christ are high. God doesn't just want our confession of faith; he wants our entire lives. Our time. Our money. Our relationships. Our hearts and habits and hurts and hang-ups. Our very bodies.

Christians were never called to lukewarm nominalism. Jesus was a radical, and his disciples should be as well. (And yes, I will happily concede that quiet faithfulness is pretty radical in our society.)

God also wants to supersede all our allegiances, all those things aside from him we find our identity in. Our jobs. Our family. Our political affiliation. Our country. That doesn't necessarily mean that he will ask us to lay them down, but would you, if he asked? Would you offer up your allegiances like Isaac on the altar? Or clutch them to your heart, refusing to let go?

These are hard, hard demands. But I fear that the reason so many of us lack a sense of connection and community is because we are not committed to anything but ourselves, or our immediate families. Community requires commitment.

We need to think through these things. But in the meantime, let's stop creating common enemies to act as scapegoats for our loneliness.

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