Our warnings have fallen on deaf ears. There will be no more second chances. The Young, Restless, and Reformed must die.
You know them. They’re the church hipsters with their skinny jeans, their well-maintained beards, their parted hair, their v-neck shirts, and their thick-rimmed glasses. You’ve seen them taking notes from the preacher in their moleskine notebooks. It’s disgusting. But this isn’t about style.
For years, we’ve been trying to get through to them. “Grow up!” we shouted. “Settle down!” we demanded. “Keep Reforming!”… but did they listen? No.
Jesus didn’t die so you could enjoy freedom.
OK, these degenerates have joined confessional churches and embraced historically reformed doctrine, but they still drink those trendy cappuccinos. Yes, they are leading their families in the home and catechizing their children, but they still talk about video games and some of them even play them. Sure, they are passionate about accountability and encouraging the body to good works, but they still fetishize their micro-brewed beer. I don’t even know what a microbrew is!
Here’s a hint to you overgrown children: Jesus didn’t die so you could enjoy freedom.
These Calvinist-babies never girded up their loins and concerned themselves with holiness, because holiness isn’t cool. Maybe if godliness was the name of a new beard balm they’d care about it. Perhaps if sanctification was the new album by Arcade Fire they’d stop to consider it’s importance. But as it is, holiness is just a doctrine to them. A doctrine they study but never even try to carry out. When was the last time you heard a YRR talk about sin or repentance? I wouldn’t know because I don’t have the password to get into their swanky speakeasy bars. You think they’re talking about holiness in there? They can’t even spell holiness. They don’t learn that until first grade.
The Good Ol’ Days
Am I losing my mind y’all? Remember when Christianity was about the simple things in life? Sipping lemonade on a porch swing while singing Amazing Grace, or going out on the boat with your pastor to catch some fish, or discussing the latest sermon with the town sheriff and deputy Fife. Those were the days.
All these man-boys want to talk about are modern “relevant” things. It’s like they live in a totally different culture than me. They think that understanding trends and not falling into cultural obscurity would help them in their careers and to engage the world outside of full-time ministry. How does interacting with the world we live in glorify God? And worse yet, they think Jesus’ name should be dragged into this common life they’re living.
Guess what kiddos, Jesus is holy and wants nothing to do with your regular life. He’s the Lord, not your homeboy… how dare you!
It’s just a brat pack full of theology-obsessed, Bible-reading, church-going, faith-defending, sin-killing, humility-seeking, Spirit-dependant, Christ-exhaulting Calvinists with a Peter Pan complex. They’re not even Reformed. I bet they have Archie comics hidden inside those thick historic volumes they pretend to read. And they trade doctrines like they’re Pokemon cards.
They don’t know the sacrifices of Saints past, who suffered and died to preserve this faith. Or maybe they learned it while they were drunk and forgot it. Oh sure, they can define “supralapsarianism”, but ask them to tell you about John Huss’ martyrdom. What’s wrong, they didn’t teach you that on Sesame Street?
The Death Sentence
So… since they won’t grow up and change into a comfortable pair of Levi’s; since they won’t settle down and stop tweeting pictures of their Bible studies; since “keep reforming” to them only means to make their faith and practice more Biblical, but they don’t seem interested in doing it just like me… there is only one option left. Tell your mommies to start planning the funerals, you delinquents!
John Calvin would do it himself if he saw how much they pay for a cup of coffee. This hipster generation doesn’t deserve such a beautiful and rich theology.
I say we collect a bunch of hair care products, leather messenger bags, and vintage video game t-shirts and make a trail of them to the edge of a cliff. Those pathetic infants will follow it like lemmings where they’ll all fall into a pit of small-batch craft bourbon. They can drown in their “liberty”. I bet those ignorant little boys will still be posting selfies on Instagram until their last trendy breath.
But this isn’t about style.