Our betters at the New York Times opined this week on the downfall of Judeo-Christian faith and the rise of a Woke religion that teaches us to love ourselves, worship the planet, and confess our privilege.

Buckle up, ladies and gentlemen, for a crash course in the growth of Wokism:

The writer, Leigh Stein, takes a deep dive into the religious norms changing the face of America today. She points out that 22% of millennials are religiously unaffiliated, but asks: "Are we truly nonreligious?"

The answer, Stein says, is no. Far from being hardline secularists, Stein says that these religious "nones" are actually extremely religious:

"Many millennials who have turned their backs on religious tradition because it isn't diverse, or inclusive enough, have found alternative scripture online," she writes. "Our new belief system is a blend of left-wing political orthodoxy, intersectional feminism, self-optimization, therapy, wellness, astrology and Dolly Parton. And we've found a different kind of clergy: personal growth influencers."

Whoo boy. I'll withhold comments for the moment as we continue through this thing.

Stein gives the example of an Instagram influencer she follows called Glennon Doyle, who wrote a self-help book that has been a best-seller for the past year straight:

"Fans of Ms. Doyle's gospel, an accessible combination of self-care, activism and tongue-in-cheek Christianity ('Jesus loves me, this I know, for he gave me Lexapro'), can worship at any time of day or night at the electric church of her Instagram feed. By replacing the rigid dogma of religion with the confessional lingua franca of social media, Ms. Doyle has become a charismatic preacher for women — like me — who aren't even religious."

My goodness. Again, I'll withhold comment. Let's continue, shall we?

Here's an example of the type of content Stein is referencing. I'd imagine it looks pretty familiar to all of us (link in case embed doesn't work):

The article continues by saying these social media personalities are the new "televangelists" – a new class of priests that will lift our spirits through the gospels of self-care and political correctness.

"Ms. Doyle and other quasi-spiritual influencers are the latest iteration of an American institution that has been around since the second half of the 20th century: the televangelist," Stein says. "These women are Instavangelists. Our screens may have shrunk, but we're still drawn to spiritual counsel, especially when it doubles as entertainment."

Stein says such Instavangelists have helped her through the pandemic. After being a political activist for years, they helped her find her spiritual center. Still, she notices how shallow they are.

"Instead of helping us to engage with our most important questions, our screens might be distracting us from them. Maybe we actually need to go to something like church?" she admits. "Contrary to what you might have seen on Instagram, our purpose is not to optimize our one wild and precious life. It's time to search for meaning beyond the electric church that keeps us addicted to our phones and alienated from our closest kin."

How utterly sad, my friends.

Now for some comments.

I won't mock Ms. Stein. The longing and the questioning in her words are real.

I will roundhouse kick the American Church though for becoming so ineffectual, so filled with prosperity nonsense, and so focused on celebrity and tOleRaNcE that it has utterly failed to impart the hope of the Gospel across this nation.

Perhaps the silent and empty churches around our country – the milquetoast, neutered congregations that haven't uttered a single squeak over abortion, government abuse, Woke indoctrination, or cancel culture – should stay closed. They have nothing to offer anyway.

Even churches that stay true to the Gospel message are weak-kneed and obsessed with popularity. They have fancy coffee, skinny jeans, Hillsong choruses up the wazoo. They have a slick pastor with a slick tongue and comfy seats for people to imbibe a little taste of Jesus for the week.

Many tell people to be like Jesus without any exposition of Scripture, understanding of systematic theology, or knowledge of Church history. Many of the churches that say "just follow Jesus" divorce him from the Old Testament and the letters of Paul and the Apostles. In doing so, they rip Christ from the Bible and set him up as a false god. To them I say: "Christ came to fulfill every single letter of the law, you fools, and there are consequences for those who remove even a single word."

Perhaps worshiping at the altar of New Age Priestesses would be better.

Where are the churches saying "Here we stand, we can do no other?"

There are a few, but most are fancy buildings with no spiritual substance: destined to crumble into rubble like the white-washed tombs they are.

Let me ask you: despite Stein separating her Instavangelists from traditional churches, how different are some of the churches you know?

• Left-wing political orthodoxy? Check. I'm willing to bet you all know at least one church leader, ministry, or church reading "White Fragility" or teaching any number of Marxist screeds from the BLM playbook.
• Intersectional feminism? Check. The churches that actually teach God's design for the genders, sexuality, and marriages – and do so boldly – are few and far in-between. They don't want to offend, you see.
• Self-optimization? Check. It's all about your best life now these days.
• Self-care? Sermons seem to be more and more about your emotions and wellbeing these days instead of the truth that we are condemned under the righteous wrath of God without the amazing grace found in the death and resurrection of Christ.
• Tongue-and-cheek Christianity? Check. "Jesus take the wheel," amiright?

And so, our American cHriStiAniTy doesn't look that different from the Gospel of Wokism after all. And that, my dear friends, is the point.

It's time for the Church to awaken and stand – not with the politically correct gospel of intersectionality and wealth – but on that blood-soaked cross that alone brings the hope of redemption and resurrection for a suffering world.

It is the hope that those 22% of American millennials – and all of us – need.