I have always found the Australian preacher David Cook’s three-tiered system for applying the Bible to be illuminating. Cook suggests Bible teachers find a necessary application (what the passage must always mean); an impossible application (what the passage cannot mean); and a possible application (what the passage may mean for some). When a possible application is made a necessary application, Kevin DeYoung’s ‘impossible Christianity’ is born. Calls to love many neighbours all across the globe; expectation of hours spent in morning prayer that no one with a job can fulfil; a low-level guilt wealthy Christians can feel, are some of the symptoms.
The scope is broader though than just the legalistic move of possible application made necessary. In Impossible Christianity, DeYoung returns to the Bible’s teaching as he looks at our attitudes towards assurance of salvation, quiet times, evangelism, wealth, corporate guilt, and the possibility of pleasing God. He puts it this way in his introduction:
following Jesus does not mean signing up for the Impossible Missions Force. Humility does not mean we should feel miserable all the time; meekness is not the same as spiritual failurism. The Spirit works within us. The word moves among us. The love of Christ compels us. ‘Who is it that overcomes the world except the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God?’ (1 Jn 5:5). As Christians, we have a race to be run, and it can be run. (9)
As he begins, DeYoung frames the book with some vital guardrails—seven things he is not saying (16–21). They are worth restating in full:
- We can be good enough to get into heaven
- Christians can be perfect
- Sin is not a big deal
- Being a Christian is trouble-free
- We should stop being so hard on ourselves (this is helpful advice for some but the gospel calls for repentance, not going easy)
- There is no cost to following Jesus
- God will never call you to make any risks
Possible to Please
The possibility of pleasing God is a normal expectation in the Scriptures. DeYoung writes:
Too many Christians make the mistake of thinking that if they are to be seriously godly, they must utterly denigrate everything they do as Christians … “We must distinguish … between truly good and perfectly good”. (37)
Impossible Christianity
Kevin DeYoung
The apostle Paul described the Christian life as a race, but to many believers it feels more like a punishing obstacle course. Scripture offers good news: even in ordinary life, Christians can be faithful, fruitful and pleasing to God. By reflecting on what Jesus actually taught about Christian discipleship, readers will be newly encouraged to pursue single-minded devotion to God and find lasting joy in a life of sincere and simple obedience.
If by pleasing God we mean we will no longer sin, then we render the task impossible—our good works will always be lacking to some degree. But as children that is not what our heavenly Father requires: when we truly seek to honour him, God is pleased with us (cf. 2 Heb 13:16; 1 Jn 3:22; Ps 51:16–17, 149:4). As DeYoung points out, ‘our relationship with God does not just exist in a courtroom; it exists in a family room’ (104). We’re not only acquitted sinners in our justification, but we’re also the beloved children of God in our adoption. That’s an underplayed hand in evangelicalism, and it brings relief to those doing well. Moreover, DeYoung points out that overemphasis on failure and ignoring the Spirit’s fruit could actually be dishonouring to God: “If we think God is impossible to please, we must think he is incapable of doing anything praiseworthy with and through his children” (105). What a tragedy more believers don’t know more about this positive biblical expectation. The Bible expects our lives will be changed and that we really can please God.
As children that is not what our heavenly Father requires: when we truly seek to honour him, God is pleased with us
There is much to commend in Impossible Christianity. It’s full of close biblical work. For example, DeYoung digs into Luke–Acts to highlight a category often overlooked: “the righteous rich”. He also shows a Christian affirmation of corporate guilt with important limits (e.g. those in Jerusalem were accused of crucifying Jesus in Acts 2, but those in other regions were not). For me, the book was deceptively packed full of nuance and would repay another reading. Those who skew negative when thinking about the Christian life would do well to internalise its thesis.
Politer Than Jesus?
I once preached on Jesus calling us to “hate” our families and our lives (Lk 14:26). By too quickly explaining that Jesus didn’t really mean the word “hate”, I later realised I emptied the text of some of its meaning and intended shock value.
Not in every chapter, but several times I wondered if the emphasis DeYoung offered could inadvertently domesticate some of the Bible’s harder teachings. Or more simply: does his approach feel politer than Jesus? After all, some of Jesus’ words are truly shocking and discomfort is partly the point.
DeYoung acknowledges this potential problem when discussing daily quiet times and how they are not biblically mandated. But I also felt the same issue arise on the chapter with money. Acknowledging “the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil” (1 Tim 6:10), DeYoung concludes that “by God’s grace rich Christians—good, faithful Christians—are not as rare as fairies” (72). His argument is sound, but I also want readers to first sit with the Bible’s confronting words.
DeYoung’s correction is helpful for the person with a sensitive conscience, or for the earnest believer who feels down about their faith. Of course that is not everyone. Some are presumptuous; drifters. Whichever tendency any of us have will probably determine whether this book is directly aimed at us. Some of us might need Impossible Christianity. Others might benefit from something like John Piper’s Don’t Waste Your Life or Augustine’s Confessions.
DeYoung’s correction is helpful for the person with a sensitive conscience, or for the earnest believer who feels down about their faith.
DeYoung doesn’t intend for his book to stand in isolation: it is time and place bound. I don’t know if it will make sense in 50 years in his hometown of North Carolina, or whether it would work in Asian or African villages today. But that’s the point. It’s a book responding to issues Christians face today in many parts of the Global North. Readers should consider how DeYoung’s evangelical subculture might differ from the nuances of their own. For instance in my context—Sydney evangelicalism—I wondered if Christians feel the same pressure towards long early morning quiet times as DeYoung’s congregation. Without the same piety tradition as in the US, the Sydney version may look more like a busy activism than a Puritan spirituality.
Ultimately, Impossible Christianity corrects a view of Jesus as impossible to please. DeYoung reminds us that the New Testament believers were not guilt-ridden, second-guessing, self-flagellating people. They were righteous sinners, being transformed by the Spirit.
Perhaps we evangelicals have developed a piety language of spiritual self-loathing that, while well-intentioned, is not from God’s word. DeYoung should be commended for both identifying this heavy burden, and risking being misunderstood to lift it off our necks.
