A Christian Defense of Tradition

Getting further up and further in.

Midday Prayer During the Harvest by Theodor Schütz, 1861

Dear friend,

By the time you’re receiving this letter, it is well into the season of Lent. March is nearly over, April and Easter are coming soon. The flowers are pushing up through the dirt, yawning and stretching to greet the lengthening dawn. Yet curiously, while the earth is waking up in response to the call of Spring, the church is journeying through a time of fasting, repentance, and humble preparation. It may seem like Christians are practicing death, paradoxically, in response to the life all around us. And yes, we are. We practice death to self in order that we may be more filled with Christ. The penitence of Lent prepares our hearts for the glorious joy of Easter morn.

But you may be wondering, why does all this matter? Jesus already died and rose again. Why do some Christians engage in these pointless traditions? Seems like legalism to me.

Those are valid questions. In the last post, I attempted to define “tradition” and explain why it is a universal part of human nature. We cannot escape tradition or get rid of it. If we try, we will find ourselves unmoored, left with a cultural vacuum that must be filled somehow. Tradition stabilizes you, instills a sense of rootedness and connection with the world around you, with others, and with God. It is a tool to live out what Paul Kingsnorth refers to as “people, place, and prayer,” which he claims are the three ideal main cores of a society. Today, I’ll delve specifically into why tradition matters for Christians - all Christians.

Fair warning: this is a long one.

Hundreds of definitions exist for the concept “tradition,” but, drawing on the previous post, I’ll use Jaroslav Pelikan’s phrase: “the living faith of the dead” as opposed to “the dead faith of the living.” This distinction is important, as it will help us address some of the distinctions that may arise. And yes, if you haven’t already gathered, I’ll primarily discuss religious tradition. Yet, the principles apply to other theaters of tradition such as cultural, social, etc.

I can hear the questions already, so let’s get this straight: Not all traditions are good. See the above definition. Plenty of traditions exist that do not give life, that directly oppose fundamental Christian doctrine, or that actively lead to death. Nor should something be preserved just because it’s “traditional” to a culture. Child sacrifice was central to the Aztec religious tradition. Chattel slavery was longstanding in the Old American South. All human traditions must be tested against the principles found in Scripture, and if they contradict God’s Word, they must be condemned and abandoned.

In his book Practical Religion, nineteenth-century Anglican bishop J.C. Ryle describes the dangers of rote religion that some Christians practice, echoing Pelikan’s “dead faith of the living.” “Forms and Ordinances,” while a means to an end, are not the end itself.

“Yet all this time there is no heart in their religion. Anyone who knows them intimately can see with half an eye that their affections are set on things below, and not on things above: and that they are trying to make up for the want of inward Christianity by an excessive quantity of outward form…And this formal religion does them no real good. They are not satisfied. Beginning at the wrong end, by making the outward things first, they know nothing of inward joy and peace, and as their lives in constant struggle, secretly conscious that there is something wrong, and yet not knowing why” (Ryle, Practical Religion, p. 7).

In another quote on the same page, Ryle continues,

“Means of grace and forms of religion are useful in their way, and God seldom does anything for his church without them. But let us beware of making shipwreck on the very lighthouse which helps to show the channel into the harbor” (Ryle, Practical Religion, p. 7).

Religious traditions and rituals are the lighthouse, a useful and important guide towards the harbor. If we aim for the lighthouse, we will make it an idol and crash on the rocks. Rather, we should follow these traditions to their source, purpose and inspiration: the safe harbor of Christ. Without submission to the Lord and His Word, tradition for its own sake becomes an idol or a tool of legalism. Tradition is not God. It should lead people to Christ, help conform us to the image of His Son, and guide us in right worship. Examine every tradition instead of blindly accepting it,

That said…we must not be so quick to discard a tradition either simply because it is old, “outdated” for our “modern times”, or because we don’t immediately understand its value. Tradition has gotten a bad rep among certain circles of Christians. I will even be so bold as to say that many Christians are allergic to tradition. A pastor at a non-denominational church I visited once (wonderful, theologically sound church by the way) put it this way: “Protestants tend to be tradition-phobic.”

We are right to be cautious. If we obsess over tradition, it can get in the way of the Word of God. We must be careful of vain, rote repetition. The pastor provided a helpful measuring tool: Is a given tradition congruent with Scripture? Does it enhance and deepen our worship of God? If the answer isn’t yes, discard.

I would argue that, most of the time, the answer is yes.

It is good to evaluate every tradition. At one level, the caution is understandable. But at another level, we must not throw the baby out with the bathwater. In our anxiety to avoid restrictive legalism, the pendulum may swing too far to the other extreme. That’s how you get ugly warehouse churches and vapid, insubstantial, “Jesus is my boyfriend” songs. Bold claims, I know. More on that in future posts. In an admirable effort to eschew legalism, modern Protestants seem to have fallen into the trap of “tradition bad.” But of course, the matter is not that simple. I’m a staunch Protestant, by the way.

Cries abound of “that’s legalism” and “Christianity isn’t a religion, it’s a relationship” as reason why Christians should be skeptical of tradition. To the first I say, “it depends.” To the second, “utterly untrue.”

The religion-relationship dichotomy is false. It’s both-and, not either-or. To fully unpack this false dichotomy is greater than the scope of this post. But suffice it to say, Christianity requires a living, born-again, loving relationship with Christ. It is also true that God is a God of order, and to live as a Christian requires submission to His order, retraining, re-orienting, and re-calibrating out entire being towards Him. Because we are fallen, sinful beings, we need help with this. It’s not enough to just pray sometimes, go to church occasionally, read our Bible every once in a while, and maintain a vague, feel-good sense of “Jesus loves me.” While that statement is true, to live in this way is actually a rejection of God’s love. His love is all-consuming, transformative. He is not content to remain an afterthought or option, to influence some parts of our lives but not others. He wants all of us. To love God is to obey Him in everything, to submit to a complete and utter transformation of your entire life and being: body, soul, mind, and heart. It’s dying to yourself and living for Christ. Every Christian should be able to say confidently, “All of Christ for all of life,” and believe it.

Thus, the way you live, the way you worship, matters. We can’t just do whatever we want. We need guides. Holy Scripture is the first, most authoritative, and ultimate guide. Tradition, informed by, rooted in, and congruent with Scripture, is another. Tradition helps Christians live a fuller, more embodied life of worship that is deeper, richer and broader than just singing a few songs and listening to a sermon once a week (although those acts of worship are good and necessary, make no mistake). There is more. Rightly employed, tradition can help us get, as C.S. Lewis writes in The Last Battle, “further up and further in” to the life of Christ.

Let me give an example. As an (ACNA) Anglican, our liturgy is filled with various components of worship (see Anglican Compass, Liturgy of the Ordinary or To Be a Christian for more thorough explanations of why liturgy matters). To the unfamiliar observer, liturgical tradition may all seem rote and pointless. But everything is intentional, designed to rehearse the gospel story and remind us of our place in the great Epic that God is writing, from the processional of the cross to the passing of the peace to the kneeling for prayer. I want to focus on this last component for today.

One of the reasons I love Anglican worship is its physicality. That was one of the unique liturgical aspects that drew me to this church. The congregation doesn’t just stand to sing a few hymns and then sit passively listening to the sermon. Rather, we stand, sit, and kneel several times throughout the service. We walk down to the rail and kneel to receive Communion. We squeeze across the aisle to greet a friend during the peace. And we kneel during prayer, especially confession. It’s messy, sometimes chaotic, and uncomfortable. It’s glorious.

Not only does the physical act of kneeling (or standing) engage our bodied and keep us awake…it forces us to fully participate in the service. Worship is no longer a merely cerebral, spiritual endeavor (to see it as such is to veer dangerously close to gnostic heresy). No, our whole bodies are engaged in worship. We posture our legs, arms and heads in humility as we surrender our hearts to God. We literally bow before our God in repentance and petition. When I kneel, I position my body in a shape foreign to my usual attitudes. My knees press against the kneeler, my thighs ache, and adjusting my elbows on the hard wooden pew to support my upper body is always a task. My head bows, my neck strains just a tad. It’s uncomfortable, unusual, and certainly anachronistic to modern sensibilities.

Kneeling for prayer reminds me that it’s not about me, my comfort or my preferences. It is about submitting myself to Christ in worship. My whole self.

We answer the psalmist’s invitation: “O come, let us worship and fall down, and kneel before the Lord, our Maker” (Ps. 95).

In fact, something about the physical act of kneeling helps bring my inner and outer self into alignment. Our minds and bodies are intimately and inseparably connected. We are not mere animals or brains-on-a-stick, contrary to what the modernist lie tries to tell us. (Unfortunately, some churches seem to have unconsciously bought that second lie.) God made us purposefully, intentionally, with bodies. He calls us to honor Him with them (1 Corinthians 6:20). While that passage specifically addresses sexual immorality, the principle applies to everything we do with our bodies. They matter.

What our body does affects our mind, and vice versa. Plenty of studies have proven this relationship. We are not dualistic beings where one part is better than the other, but an integrated whole. So, when I kneel in physical humility, that act of the body mysteriously brings my heart into a like posture of reverence. I find myself more contrite, more focused and attuned to God. Thus, I’ve begun to kneel during my personal devotional prayers at home - the same effect happens. Rather than comfortably sitting on my bed (a self-focused position), I surrender my comfort and convenience in favor of devotion to my Savior. The relationship between body and soul is deep and powerful. The Christian church understood this truth and took it seriously, up until a couple hundred years ago, if not less.

Anyway, that was a long example. I hope I haven’t lost you, friend! Do you see the point? Kneeling for prayer in worship is a liturgical tradition. An “outsider” could glance at it, dismiss it as outdated, legalistic or unnecessary, and move on. But upon further reflection, I hope you understand why kneeling is not only deeply purposeful, but powerful. Try it next time you pray. See what happens.

Such is the case for many ancient traditions that modern Christians dismiss or deride. Again, tradition for tradition’s sake is unhelpful. Always test it against the truth of God’s Word. Martin Luther was right to call out the dead traditions of the Roman Catholic church that did not align with Scripture. However, something can be congruent with Scripture, based on Biblical principles, even if not explicitly stated, and still be an appropriate Christian practice.

Traditions have no salvific power. Only faith in Jesus Christ as your Savior, who died for your sins and rose again that you might have eternal life, can do that. But salvation, albeit the heart of the matter, is only the beginning. We are called to live out our faith, to be sanctified by the Spirit and conformed to the image of the Son, not the world. Rightly purposed tradition can do that. It can be a tool for us to practically live for Christ in all areas of our lives.

Even from a sociological perspective, traditions benefit humanity. I touched on this a bit in my previous post, but humans are creatures of habit and pattern recognition. We create traditions for ourselves to inform our identities, strengthen our communal bonds, and give our ordinary lives stability, joy and satisfaction. Better authors than I have written books on this. But you don’t need to be an “expert” to understand both the value of tradition and the impact of its decline on society. Modern “great” thinkers, in the name of “progress,” from Rousseau to Kant to Sartre, to current progressives, wanted to do away with ancient traditions and dismissed anything to do with the past. Modernity is haunted by the Enlightenment and its consequences. Anything that got in the way of progress and man’s self-actualization was an evil to be discarded, to give way to the free, enlightened, self-ruled man of the future. This was (and still is) seen as necessary and inevitable. Tradition, along with religion and morality, was an anchor weighing humanity down.

But here’s the thing: a ship needs its anchor. Without it, the vessel will drift, tossed by the waves and wind, never stopping until it crashes on a shoal. The ship is freed from its chain, for what? For destruction.

The lie that tradition and ancient ways of doing things are inherently bad, or at least backward, is a poison that even many Christians have swallowed. Remember C.S. Lewis and “chronological snobbery.” Yet, there is an antidote. We can choose to resist. To re-examine our ideas of what tradition is, what worship is, and what it’s all for.

After all, look around you. Look at the state of society, the church, families, culture. We live in a postmodern world broke free from tradition, and look where we’ve ended up. Are we better off?

Tradition grounds you, orients your sense of meaning to an external framework instead of subjective, self-focused desires. It reinforces your sense of identity, whether in a family, faith, or culture. Through shared rituals, practices and values, passed down between generations, you come to understand your place in the world. You gain a sense of belonging. Tradition anchors you.

Just look at today’s youth (my generation). Gen Z is hungry for tradition. Growing up in this modern world that promises infinite satisfaction through the ability to be and choose whatever you want, we feel hollow. Lied to. We long for something real, lasting, and meaningful instead of cheap counterfeits. So, a symptom of modern sickness and a sign of the times, young people are turning towards traditional religion and values. True that some people have found the wrong traditions in wrong places, or others have abused the movement by turning it into another trend. But the heart remains. People are beginning to wake up from the spell modernity has cast on us. Humans were designed to live a certain way, and when that design is thwarted, things go wrong. We get sick.

If you’ve long instinctively viewed tradition as inherently negative, I challenge you to re-examine your notions. To open your mind to an alternative way of doing, living, and being that may actually benefit your faith. Tradition is not a bad word. In fact, it is an integral part of Christianity, woven into our human nature. Rightly used and based on Scriptural principles, tradition may help us rediscover the meaning and purpose we have been longing for. The path to life is revival of true faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. Tradition can guide us on the way.

One of my favorite singer-songwriters, Andrew Peterson, wrote a song for his sons called “You’ll Find Your Way.” It’s a benediction over a beloved son and a call for the lost boy who feels hopeless and perplexed. You can listen to the song here. (Coincidentally, Andrew recently launched his own Substack and I couldn’t be more excited.) But some of my favorite lyrics are below. I think they offer a powerful testimony to the beauty and importance of the ancient ways to root us deep in the epic Story God is telling. I suggest listening to the lyrics while reading them:

“Go back, go back to the ancient paths

Lash your heart to the ancient mast

And hold on, boy, whatever you do

To the hope that’s taken ahold of you

And you’ll find your way…

Back home.”

Below are some of my personal favorite traditions, religious and otherwise. Some are specific to my own family. (Note that nearly all of them incorporate people, place or prayer)

• Singing old hymns

• Local parades

• Reciting the ancient creeds of the faith

• Holiday meals

• Living liturgically

• Ancestral recipes

• Advent calendars

• Seasonal foods

• Looking at light displays on Christmas Eve

• Family worship

• Board game nights

• Floral crosses at Easter

• Local or regional festivals

• St. Nicholas and the Easter Bunny

• Following the church calendar

• Yearly Christmas ornament gifts

• Decorating for less-known holidays

• Brunch clubs

• A New Year’s Eve countdown (with cider and hot chocolate)

• Road/camping trips

• And much more…

“But seek first the Kingdom of God and His righteousness, and all these things will be added to you as well.” -Matthew 6:33

-Laura