Why is Atheism increasingly popular and what can we do about it?

By Holly Ordway

At the heart of atheism is an appealing premise: “My will be done, not Yours.” If atheism is true, and there is no God, then everything really is all about me, and what I want, and what I can get.

No wonder it strikes such a chord in our self-obsessed culture.

Put your finger on the pulse of modern culture: it throbs with “me, me, me.” Advertisements tell me: “Indulge yourself! You deserve it!” I can buy my lunch and my coffee made “my way.” I flip open a magazine, or browse the best-sellers, to find ten easy tips on how I can have what I want, right here, right now.

Put one way, this is selfishness. But the spin on it in our post-Christian culture is that it’s empowerment, self-actualization. We are told to follow our hearts, seek our deepest desires, do what feels good. Indeed, if atheism is true, there is no ultimate purpose to life, so we might as well go for self-indulgence, whether through hedonism or through constructing one’s own “meaning” in life.

In contrast, if the Triune God is real, then such a focus on the self is ultimately destructive. Christians believe that we are alienated from God by the Fall, and damaged by our own sins; if we are left to our own devices, we will go wrong. To follow our own whims is to wander without guidance farther away from the path that leads to true self-knowledge in relationship with God who knows us completely.

If God is who Christians say He is, then our bodies are temples of the Holy Spirit, not toys for abuse or pleasure. If God is who He has revealed Himself to be in Christ Jesus, then the path to true selfhood is the narrow way, the way of the Cross, the way of denial of self and love of God.

In other words, the God who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit is a significant obstacle to self-indulgence.

No wonder atheism is so popular.

Yet atheism is a curious hybrid. On the one hand, it provides for a rejection of civilization entirely. If there is no God, then there is no ultimate source of objective values, and we can make or break rules as we please; good and evil are reduced to preferences. I like chocolate ice cream and laws against murder. You like vanilla and enjoy killing small children. Sure, why not?

On the other hand, atheists don’t generally advocate anarchism and a return of barbarism. (Who would run the publishing houses to print their books?) In fact, atheists show a remarkable streak of optimism about human nature. The atheist feels, almost as an article of faith, that the human race is perfectible. Despite all the colossal failures of utopianism, especially the ones of the 20th century that ended in mass slaughter, there remains the idea that this time, we can get it right all by ourselves. We can perfect ourselves through legislation; through restructuring society; through genetic manipulation; through drugs. We can make ourselves be happy – or so we think; it never works, but the atheist can only try again.

Atheism claims that we are in control of our selves, and thus our own destiny; it is the perfect faith for a culture that is obsessed with both perfection and self-will.

If we allow our Christian faith to be described in terms of personal gratification, we are buying what the world is selling, just under a different brand name. Christ did not die for us so that we would be comfortable and happy today. He died for us so that we would be saved.

To die to self, to die to sin, is not a comfortable experience. Confronting one’s own sin and repenting of it yields sorrow, not happiness. Hope and peace lie on the other side of that repentance, but we must go through pain to get there – not around it.

If we allow Christianity to be all about fulfilling my needs, getting my prayers answered, feeling good about myself and my family, and improving my relationships, then we are making the same pitch as the atheists: it’s all about me.

And trust me, atheism is a lot less demanding than Christian faith. I’ve been there; I know.

But in our frantic consumer culture, as we become less real and less present to each other, and even to ourselves, as we desperately project ourselves outward into the media to remind ourselves that we exist -- we may slowly realize that atheism may promise easy self-fulfillment, but it delivers nothing but despair.

Christian faith is harder. It costs more; in fact, it costs everything. It also happens to be true. Jesus told his disciples to count the cost. Why are we afraid to recognize that there is a cost?

In the face of atheism, let us not be afraid to speak the truth: the Christian life is the way of the Cross. Let us reject the idolatry of personal fulfillment. Let us remember that Christ calls us to come and die.

Then those who have sought to find themselves, searching high and low, grasping after all the good things of the world only to find them slipping from between their fingers, may be ready to listen when they hear something new: the hard, true words of our Lord: “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” (Matthew 16:24-25)