Why I Don't Believe in a Straight Line View of History

The world is neither marching toward progress nor slouching toward Gomorrah.

Photo by Volodymyr Hryshchenko on Unsplash

In my conversations with people, I find that there are often two views of the world. One is that society (and by this, I mean largely Western civilization in general and the United States in particular) is either marching upward toward progress or slouching toward Gomorrah. Often these map onto a left/right axis with progressives believing in this ever-ascending triumph of human reason and progress and conservatives believing in the culture rapidly deteriorating. The former has its roots in what philosophers call “Hegel’s philosophy of history.” The latter I think has its roots somewhat in both a Genesis 3 understanding of the human condition, by increasing awareness of bad things due to increased media exposure and a failure to sometimes appreciate genuine progress.

In one sense, both instincts are right. More people today live at a level of comfort than at any time in human history. Consider life expectancy in the United States. In 1900, it was 47 years old. In 1950 it was 68. In 2019, it was 79. It has dipped, post-pandemic, to 77. Still, people live nearly double the number of years today than they did a hundred years ago. Or consider the quality of information and education at our fingertips. Most of us have access to either a personal library or free libraries that would make the richest kings in antiquity jealous. We have conveniences like air-conditioning, reliable transportation, and cheap food shipped from around the world. What’s more, if you live in the U.S. and in many Western countries, you live under an umbrella of personal and religious freedom virtually unseen through most of human history. So you cannot deny life, for many, is not better than it was in previous times.

And yet the folks who believe in a narrative of decline have a point as well. Yes, we have more conveniences, but we also are more lonely. The devices we have been given for ease of communication also steal away valuable face time. The Internet which was thought to be able to bring us together is ripping us apart and radicalizing many. Our democracies are fraying, even in the United States, where political division often renders us paralyzed to confront big problems. Mass shootings bring terror and death to places once considered safe havens. Spasms of political violence like the riots after the murder of George Floyd or the storming of the capital on January 6th have caused a lot of people to muse aloud if we are headed toward civil war.

This view of history can also be contextualized for Christians. Church scandals seem epidemic these days, with leader after leader dominating headlines for abuse, toxic cultures, or financial mismanagement. The sexual revolution seems to march on, demanding more allegiance and intent on indoctrinating kids at younger and younger ages. And Christian unity seems impossible, with leaders often tasked with holding together fraying coalitions of believers.

And yet there is a view of the church that sees crowds filling churches post-pandemic, sees the Asbury revival and other such spontaneous works of the Spirit energizing Generation Z, that sees perhaps the richest time in human history for theological education and previously unseen access to seemingly unlimited theological works.

So which is it? Is history running headlong toward utopian progress or is it devolving into chaos and catastrophe? Well, I don’t think either view is true. Instead, I believe human nature and culture are cyclical. There are no new sins under the sun. And there is always the possibility for renewal.

Let’s take an example from recent history. The 1960s and 1970s were a time of great social upheaval. I wasn’t alive then, but in talking to my parents and their generation, in reading biographies and histories of this moment, you get the sense that the world seemed like it was on fire, at least in the United States. It was the dawn of the sexual revolution. America was mired down in the quagmire of the Vietnam War. The government was crippled by the Watergate scandal that forced a President to resign and many of his associates to go to jail. There were three political assassinations. There were riots. There were violent reactions to the Civil Rights movement. We had economic distress, including an energy crisis, a Cuban missile crisis, and the Iran hostage crisis. And I’ve probably forgotten several other elements of dramatic social upheaval.

And yet, in the midst of the turmoil, here comes . . . The Jesus Movement. Seemingly out of nowhere, young people unable to find fulfillment in every other pursuit: drugs, sex, and political ideologies were finding peace in a relationship with God through Christ. The Spirit of God was moving.

This is only one example of renewal in the midst of seeming chaos. Here’s another we might see in our day: a growing number of voices, not necessarily evangelical Christians, are starting to question the sexual revolution. Christine Emba has been writing for The Washington Post, asking important questions about a society that cheapens sexuality and reduces it to an ethic of consent. She wrote an entire book on this that provoked quite a few questions. Louis Perry, a secular feminist, has followed this with a provocative book, The End of the Sexual Revolution, which makes the case that “our contemporary hypersexualized culture represents more loss than gain.” In an essay for First Things, she pointed positively to Christianity as the origin of notions of human dignity.

This also comes at a time when many are recognizing the value of the nuclear family. Brad Wilcox and others have produced vast amounts of social science data that shows society to be vastly better off when families are made up of faithful mothers and fathers. The Atlantic even published an essay from an economist at the University of Maryland that pointed to marriage as an underrated factor in reducing economic inequality. This thesis, published in a new book, provoked conversation in places like The Washington Post, New York Times, and other outlets. In other words, history is not moving in a straight line to hell here. People are starting to question the false ideologies of the age. There is hope for renewal.

I could point to more, such as the death of New Atheism, as chronicled in a new book by British apologist Justin Brierly. Justin says many who saw Christianity as dangerous now see it as necessary.

I’m not saying there are not cultural and social things to be deeply worried about as a faithful Christian. This is not a call to mute our voices and withdraw our influence. But we should neither subscribe to a pollyannish view of progress nor a cynical view of decline. Yes, empires do fall. Yes, institutions do crumble. Yes, countries don’t last forever. But they are not all destined to. We are neither in the best of times nor the worst of times. We are in the times in which God has called us, times that are a mix of evil and goodness, hope and despair, truth and error.

We might adopt the perspective of The Apostle Paul who told the church at Corinth, “There is an open door and yet many adversaries (1 Corinthians 16:9).” We do ultimately believe, as Christians, that Christ is gathering history to himself. Until he returns, we should live in reality, with a world a mix of both opportunity and danger, causes for alarm, and signs of renewal. The futurists want to sell you on an ever-climbing trajectory of human progress and the alarmists want to sell you on a steady march toward doom. But human life is more complicated than that. So we resist evil, we counteract false ideas with both truth and hope (1 Peter 3:15), and we look up and see where, in this age, God is at work.

For more on resisting naivete and cynicism, you might check out my new book, Agents of Grace, available now from Zondervan.