“The underbelly of revival?” We must not think in deterministic categories, but reflect on the biblical narratives of times of great blessing, even though great evils attend them, and learn, too, from the history of the church. On each of the topics on which I have briefly reflected, there is a sort of “yes, but” element in the argument: yes, let us beware of the elixir of celebrity status, but let us thank God for gifted leaders; yes, let us not become snookered by ratings and digital reach, but let us use all lawful means to spread the gospel; and so forth.

Not long ago, a friend wrote me asking questions about what he called “the underbelly of revival.” Here in the US, and to some extent elsewhere, we have witnessed a significant movement of (mostly young) Christians who have sometimes been tagged “the young, restless, and Reformed.” In part, this movement is embodied in such organizations as Together for the Gospel, Desiring God, The Gospel Coalition, 9Marks, and Acts29; in part, it surfaces in many local churches in many countries. My friend, however, drew attention to the sad litany of the last few years: squabbles, accusations of inappropriate behavior, adultery, burnout, and more. We need not attach names and events to these things; most of us know about them, and all of us can imagine them or have seen them elsewhere. So my friend posed the questions,

But it makes us wonder . . . whether the thrill and euphoria of being part of something that feels like revival may serve to dull the senses in some. Has the “success” of this movement some call “Young, restless, Reformed” blinded many of us to ministry’s true nature? Has the perceived fruitfulness clouded the vision of some (many?) to some of the things that matter most? Have some of us grown lax and flabby? Are we making silly presumptions based on perceived “success” in ministry in recent years?

Two prefatory things must be said. First, the word “revival” embedded in these questions is used a bit loosely. Mercifully, it is not used in the sense common in some Southern states where it often serves as the near equivalent of “evangelistic meetings” (as in “Last month we held a revival”). It is closer to the more historic sense of a special movement of God’s Spirit that brings with it deep conviction of sin, fresh contrition and fresh holiness, and concomitant zeal for God’s Word and God’s glory—a special movement that may be as short as a few hours or as long as many years, and may result in thousands being renewed, and more thousands being converted. Some of the characteristics of revivals have not been particularly strong in this “young, restless, and Reformed” movement.

Second, it must be said that some observers would be very happy to see the movement sputter out, especially if it could die in shame. There is no glee quite so mean as that which harbors an “I told you so” delight at the failures of a movement that God has blessed. But my interlocutor does not belong to these critics; he is not among the heirs of the critics of the New England awakening that took place at the time of Jonathan Edwards, critics who could find only things to criticize but who could not see the glory. Rather, he belongs to the movement itself and wants to learn the hard lessons as well as the happy ones.

In what follows, I offer five brief reflections called forth by my correspondent’s questions.

(1) The failures that have taken place during the past few years were not the sorts of things that could happen only when a movement is flourishing. Flawed leadership, immorality, bullying, and dissensions are frequently found in churches and organizations with no history of remarkable growth, with no sign of extraordinary blessing from God. Long before the young, restless and Reformed movement started, I witnessed churches that had to dismiss their senior minister because he had committed adultery. I saw a dear friend abandon his wife of twenty-nine years and his highly influential expository ministry because he chose to “come out” and declare himself a homosexual. Certainly I observed some remarkably sad and barren church splits.

During the lean years in Québec before 1972, before the Lord began to pour out remarkable blessings on the church, it would not have been true to say that although the churches were small and struggling they were all mature, sanctified, and passionate about the gospel. We did not have to wait until the period of growth and vitality (growing from about thirty-five churches to just under five hundred in eight years) before we witnessed moral failures.

In at least some cases, it may be that the growth in numbers of serious Christians brings with it a corresponding growth in the number of moral failures, without the proportion of failures being any higher. We do well not to talk ourselves into an assumption that revival must have an ugly underbelly that would not exist if the revival were not there.

(2) The scope and intensity of the blessings of a fruitful movement nevertheless do frequently have a bearing on this ugly underbelly, whether in perception or in reality, and this in at least four ways:

First, when many good things are happening, a calamitous failure stands out and draws attention to itself. In a time of spiritual declension and no growth, should a minister embezzle funds or sleep with someone other than his spouse, he will draw local attention to his failure, but the failure will not attract national comment. But if the minister is publicly identified with an expanding and vital ministry, not only will his failure draw much more widespread attention, but inevitably some pundits will start speculating (or pontificating!) on the intrinsic weaknesses of the movement.

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