Why Man Makes Faith So Hard, Rescuing the Great Commandment
Why Man Makes Faith So Hard: Rescuing the Great Commandment
The history of Christianity is often told through the lens of institutional schisms and doctrinal debates. But the most dangerous breakdown of faith doesn’t happen in cathedrals or synods (church business meetings); it happens in the quiet, psychological shift of the individual heart. We have moved from a faith that demands our everything to a faith that serves our “self,” diluted by a sea of options that have made the simple impossible to find.
The Foundation
Matthew 22:37–40 (NIV):
“‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”
It seems simple and straightforward. Who could have a problem with this? And yet, we have spent centuries burying these words under layers of complexity.
The Paradox of Plenty: How Multiplicity Thins the Message
Today, there are tens of thousands of denominations, each claiming a unique corner of the truth. While this is often framed as “religious freedom,” it has contributed to a profound “thinning” of the Great Commandment. When a single message—Love God, Love People—is refracted through ten thousand different lenses, the light loses its heat.
We have forgotten the ancient resonance of the Shema: “Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one.” In the original context of the Great Commandment, there was an understanding that because there is only one God, there is only one ultimate direction for our affection. There are no “other” gods, no “other” versions of truth, and no “other” ways to be human than through love.
By creating endless “other” versions of Christianity, we have made faith a consumer product. We shop for the denomination that fits our politics, our music taste, or our social comfort. In doing so, we don’t find God; we find a mirror. The thinning occurs because we are no longer being formed by a singular, demanding truth; we are being catered to by a fragmented religious marketplace.
The Sovereign Self: God as an Accessory
This structural thinning mirrors a psychological one. We have placed the “Self” at the center and invited God to orbit our needs.
The Vending Machine Theology: We treat faith as a transaction. We tithe and attend services as spiritual currency, expecting a return. When the “return”—an answered prayer or a comfortable life—doesn’t manifest, we “penalize” God by turning away.
The Scriptural Mirror: We search the Bible not to be transformed, but to be validated. We search for a scriptural basis for our existing desires, using the Word of God as an accessory to justify our own anger or lifestyle choices.
Rescuing the Commandment: The Great Simplification
To rescue the Great Commandment, we must engage in a radical “Deconstruction” of the Ego. This is not just about peeling back church tradition; it is about peeling back the layers of our own selfishness. It is about returning to the reality that because there is only one God, there is only one priority.
The command to love your neighbor as yourself was never meant to be filtered through a denominational lens. It was meant to be an outward-facing explosion of compassion. When we ask, “Does my church allow me to love this person?” we have already lost the thread.
Conclusion: Faith Wasn’t Meant to Be This Hard
We have spent two thousand years building walls, writing manuals, and splintering into factions. We have created a “machinery” of religion so heavy and complex that it exhausts the very people it was meant to give rest. We carry the burden of “in-groups,” the weight of performance, and the anxiety of choosing the “right” brand of faith among thousands.
But the Great Commandment remains, standing outside of our denominations and our ego-driven demands. It is a recognition that we are fallen, self-centered creatures who desperately need divine grace to see past our own reflection.
The “rescue” begins when we stop using God to build our own kingdoms and start losing ourselves in His. When we strip away the thousands of “others” we have created and return to the One, we find a beautiful, radical simplicity. We find that we can stop striving, stop performing, and simply love.
The Bottom Line
If this life were only about knowing God, it would be a life well lived. We’ve spent 2,000 years making religion a heavy, exhausting burden of rules and divisions. The beauty of the Great Commandment is its accessibility; it strips away the need for advanced degrees or institutional hierarchy to understand the core of the faith.
It suggests that while the world is complex and religious history is fractured, the path forward is singular and clear. Faith wasn’t meant to be as hard as we have made it; it was meant to be as deep as we are willing to love.