Asbury is Not the Blueprint

Don’t forget the holiness of ‘normal’ worship.

A couple of weeks ago, I closed out a column with the phrase “we are the revival,” referring to the ability of ordinary people to reject Christian nationalism. What I didn’t realize was that a bunch of students at Asbury University in Kentucky were about to take it literally. Under some standards, I’m a prophet now: expect a bestselling book and private jet soon. But real talk, this Asbury thing is weird.

On the morning of February 8th, at the close of the 10 AM college worship service, the Asbury students in attendance did something strange. They wouldn’t leave. 5 days later, Hughes Auditorium was still full of worshippers, still praising God in a way that observes described as “unusual and unscripted.” It’s a bizarre tale, and one that hearkens back to the days of America’s past, when more Americans were in touch with the supernatural power of what’s been called “revival” and great awakenings were the name of the game.

I’ll be honest—I have no idea what’s happening here. My Presbyterian background can probably clue you in as to my generally skeptical approach, but even that sentence is fraught with issues. It’s telling that, when an alleged work of God happen, we can guess who’s going to believe and who’s going to be skeptical based on denominational background. What we should do is look at the facts and get the lessons we can get. This is an opportunity to evaluate our Christian perspective on the supernatural.

Revivals aren’t unprecedented at Asbury—the college has been the site of revival-like events for more than a hundred years, including as recently as 2006. If eyewitnesses are to be believed, however, it seems difficult to spin this as a complete fraud on the part of participants. Part of the problem: it wouldn’t be a culturally effective fraud. Almost half of American adults never attend church services. This is one of the most profoundly irreligious eras in American history, and such spiritual deadness begs the question: why is it that profound experiences like this can still happen?

For the shrinking portion of Americans who still attend church, their Christianity is permeated by a heavy degree of skepticism, and I’m the last person to discourage principled skepticism. Corrupt shepherds, naive sheep, and snake oil salesmen are all constant problems for American Christianity, and it’s very easy for believers, especially young ones, to be so preoccupied with being “harmless as doves” that we forget the “wise as serpents” part. Yet, we have to remember the other part of this equation: there’s a world of difference between the frauds and the easily misled/emotionally driven.

For American Christians who believe in the regular manifestation of supernatural revival, this is the contrast against the perceived drabness and boringness of “Christianity as normal.” It’s something tangible, something different, something interesting that “proves” the energy and power of God when engaging in true worship. Yet… what actually is true worship?

What’s happening in Asbury has been described as “a movement that only God could orchestrate and keep going.” And maybe that’s true, the jury’s still out on that one. But the point is this: God is the source and maintainer of all true worship, no matter how boring or drab or old-fashioned it seems. Real revivals are well and good, but don’t let them distract you from the fact that the ordinary belief of committed Christians and the week-in, week-out of dedicated pastors is no less holy than the most supernatural turning of hearts.

When J.S. Bach was asked why he wrote music, he responded that “the aim and final end of all music should be none other than the glory of God and the betterment of the soul.” Such is true of worship too, whether it be a packed-out college revival or a seemingly-forgotten church with 30 members meeting on a Sunday. To forget the beauty and holiness of the ordinary is to neglect one of God’s means of grace: the faithful, consistent preaching of God’s word and serving His people in a spirit of love and duty. No revival, no matter how extraordinary, can replace that. And we shouldn’t expect it to.