The latter half of Hebrews 10 reveals a major problem facing the letter’s intended audience, a problem that should resonate strongly with modern American Christians: complacency. As verse 32-35 put it,

Remember those earlier days after you had received the light, when you endured in a great conflict full of suffering. Sometimes you were publicly exposed to insult and persecution; at other times you stood side by side with those who were so treated. You suffered along with those in prison and joyfully accepted the confiscation of your property, because you knew that you yourselves had better and lasting possessions. So do not throw away your confidence; it will be richly rewarded.

Loss of property, imprisonment, social shunning— Hebrews sure offers a different take on the “good old days,” huh? At the time of the letter’s writing, the church had moved past these persecutions, gaining a certain measure of acceptance and growing complacent as a result. As it turns out, persecution is a powerful motivator. Early Christians found common ground in their shared mistreatment, and the author of Hebrews celebrates their unity and devotion in that era. Of course, the author isn’t hoping for more persecution, only for Christians reading this letter to renew their commitments to lives of faith.

While it may generate unity, there are two major problems with using shared persecution as a motivator (you know, besides the “being persecuted” part).

(1) It works best in the short term.
The fires of resistance are difficult to maintain over long periods of time, and many in the early church assumed Jesus would come back and overthrow the empire within their lifetimes. Most (if not all) hadn’t bargained for centuries of devotion as they awaited Jesus’s return. This is one of the main reasons the gospels weren’t written until decades after Jesus’s death and resurrection; it took most of the first generation of Christians dying off for the early Church to realize they might need to write some of this stuff down. So many of the later letters and gospels carry this subtext: Keep up your zeal. We know this is taking longer than expected. We know you’re tired, but stay passionate. Continue the fight.

In our modern context, the Church has been around for 2000 years, and many of its members have been Christians since the cradle. It’s easy to be excited for something new and novel, but staying fully invested in a faith you’ve known your whole life presents a challenge. Hebrews calls us to stay vigilant.

(2) What if the persecution stops?
The persecution was subsiding for the first readers of Hebrews, and without such a strong uniting factor, internal discord and complacency arose. Theorizing that even the memory of their persecution might renew the people’s devotion to God and one another, the author calls on the church to remember their difficult early days together. This strategy begs the question: what about churches who have never experienced mass persecution? Could simply feeling persecuted make a passable substitute?

Please allow me a brief, coffee-fueled soapbox:
I grew up during the fictitious “Culture Wars,” a period in the 80s, 90s, and on into the 2000s where Evangelical leadership convinced multitudes of American Christians we were under attack by an increasingly left-leaning media and government. Of course, in reality, media companies have no interest in fighting with Christians; after all, why turn away a potential audience? And, in reality, the government has no desire to alienate Christians; after all, why tick off the largest and most influential voting bloc? It is astonishing just how much American culture caters to Christians, but we stopped noticing our special treatment. And, as the saying goes, when you’ve grown accustomed to privilege, extending the same rights to others feels like oppression.

“HELP! A CASHIER SAID ‘HAPPY HOLIDAYS!’ I’M BEING PERSECUTED!”
Give me a break.

Disagreement —even staunch disagreement— is not the same as persecution. Persecution involves real physical danger and economic consequences, and in our current culture, being at least nominally Christian still works to people’s advantage in almost every setting. Christians in America need to acknowledge a difficult truth: we’re not persecuted for our faiths. If anything, we are the persecutors, and the popular culture has finally started calling us out on it. Today’s American churches don’t look much like ancient Israel; we have a lot more in common with Egypt, Babylon, and Rome. The only ones we’re fooling with all this persecution nonsense are ourselves, so it’s time to let go of it and turn our focus where it should have been all along: living out the love of Christ to our neighbors.
Rant over.

Even without the added glamour of persecution, God calls us to follow. We can’t just delude ourselves into the fervor of a persecution complex. Rather, we must look mediocrity in the face and say, “No.” And that’s hard. It was hard for the church receiving the book of Hebrews, and it’s hard for us today, but it’s what we must do. We cannot grow complacent, but we also cannot invent persecutions to whip ourselves into a frenzy. There is only one option which stays faithful to our call:

Even on the days when it feels monotonous or unpleasant,
we must continue to lift one another up
and rely on the power of the Holy Spirit
as we move forward together deeper into God’s love.