I've written in several posts about my faith heritage in the Restoration (or Stone-Campbell) Movement churches. Some people, when as adults they choose a new religious heritage or identity, one different from that in which they were raised, tend to first relate to their heritage faith antagonistically, emphasizing the failures and blindspots, and how their new found heritage or identity so much better addresses the various realities with which they are confronted. A converted atheist of all people is the most certain of the claim that religion is nothing more than infantile superstition having nothing to do with reason.
In my case, however, I cannot consciously recall ever having any reaction of that sort. I certainly have spoken of what I take to be the failures and weaknesses of my heritage faith, but the fact of the matter is, I know my heritage churches to have many strengths, and have never really considered myself alien to those churches, even in pursuing membership in the Episcopal churches and (now) in the Orthodox Church. If I were ever very critical of my heritage faith, it was while still a student at one of the Restoration Movement Bible colleges--which is what one normally expects of ministry students. From my Restoration heritage I learned to love Jesus, his Church and his written Word. I learned the importance of growing in my understanding and living of that written Word, and of loving my brother or sister in Christ. Equally as important, I learned the importance of speaking the Gospel of my Lord to those with whom I came in contact.
These disclaimers being stated, however, I do want to speak about one glaring weakness of my heritage churches: the failure to develop an asketic of growth in faith and holiness, and concomitantly, the distortion of the biblical asketic.
Askesis is originally a Greek term that is literally equivalent to the English noun “athletics.” An asketic is either an athlete or an athletic regimen. The early Christian martyrs, for example, were often called “athletes of God” for their struggle against the enemies of God, a struggle even to death. And the term “askesis” became a metaphor for the whole of our spiritual struggle in Christ as we grow and mature in our faith. This askesis is a holistic struggle involving the intellect, as we strive to believe the right things about the faith; the body, as we strive to conquer the passions which tempt us to sin and self-indulgence; the emotions, as we strive to be angry and sin not; the will, as we strive each day to take up our cross and follow our Lord; and, encompassing all, the heart as we attempt to keep pure the throne of the Holy Trinity.
My heritage churches did, indeed, attempt to emphasize this sort of holistic sanctification. We were exhorted to complete moral and doctrinal purity, co-striving with God's Spirit in us as Philippians 2:12-13 tells us: “Therefore, my beloved, even as ye always obeyed, not as in my presence only, but now much rather in mine absence, be working out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for God is the One Who energizeth in you both to will and to energize for the sake of His good pleasure” (The Orthodox New Testament*). Unfortunately, though given the “what,” we were not given the “how.” Or, rather, the “how” we were given was itself a very narrow and limited part of our human living.
The sort of transformative askesis we were given focused almost exclusively on the intellect. We were to focus on the study of God's written Word. What we learned there, of course, we were to put into practice. But first came the renewing of the mind. Indeed, for the Restoration churches, faith was primarily a rational, intellectual thing. Thus it is inevitable that the primary way one progresses in Christian maturity, according to Restor