I don’t know the last time I finished a book in a single week. Between Ivan and Alyosha consuming what felt like the entirety of my intellectual bandwidth for all of Lent (and into the first few weeks of Eastertide) and keeping Lochie alive required whatever ten brain cells I had left. Lately, I haven’t read nearly as much as I usually do. I’ve gone from finishing one or two books a week to struggling through one or two books a month. It seems Dostoevsky and parenthood have formed an unholy alliance against my Goodreads goal and I am very much not on track to hit my numbers.
“The Desecration of Man” felt urgent. It demanded immediate attention. It needed to be read in as few sittings as possible. Not because the material is enjoyable, in fact it was grotesque and made me want to turn away many times. But because the issues it addresses are so pressing.
In the way we’ve come to expect from Trueman, he identifies cultural realities many of us can sense but struggle to put into words. Then he names them with remarkable clarity and tackles them head on. He never minces words when confronting massive cultural problems. And he speaks with academic clarity and pastoral care.
Before going any further, two acknowledgements are necessary. First, shoutout to the Colson Center for giving away free copies of this book. Without that, this book probably would have sat on my reading list for a few more months.
Second, shoutout to Spotify for carrying the audiobook, narrated by Trueman himself. Parenting Lochie has forced me into far more audiobook supplementation than I would normally admit. But this message felt pressing enough for me to set aside my literary snobbery for a moment. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Trueman’s central argument is simple. Our society has desecrated what it means to be human. Many of the circles I inhabit diagnose our cultural moment with words like “disillusionment”, “disembodiment”, and “disenfranchisement”. Those words describe something real. People feel detached from institutions, communities, and even their own bodies in our postmodern, postliberal world. I mean my own philosophy of ministry document says that “I aim to reenchant the faith for a disillusioned people.” But Trueman argues those words don’t go far enough! So he offers a better one “desecration.”
Modern society hasn’t merely drifted into disenchantment. It has actively desecrated the Image of God. We no longer treat humanity as sacred, given, and dignified by divine design. Instead, we treat the self as endlessly malleable raw material that we can reconstruct according to personal desire. Trueman argues that we have turned the self into a commodity to be bought, sold, and traded.
And so Truman sets society against two men. One is Jesus Christ and the other is Nietzsche's Mad Man. And this is where Trueman shines. He shows that our debates over sexuality, abortion, pornography, gender ideology, and transhumanist dreams do not exist in isolation. They all flow downstream from a deeper question. What is a human being? Is it the image bearer of the a loving divine, or is it a commodity to be traded on the market?
And if humanity amounts to nothing more than biological matter animated by preference and protected by consensus, then of course we turn our bodies into tools. Of course we self author our identities. Of course we treat limits as things to be beat into submission. And of course we treat inconveniences as death itself.
A world that no longer sees people as sacred eventually starts treating people as disposable. That thought should chill us! We learn the world is fallen two pages into the Bible. And anyone who has ever turned on the news for 5 seconds instinctively knows this. When my dad died, someone had to identify his body. Someone had to look at his dead corpse and say this is the man who was in life known as Enzo McEwen. And too often we think of the problems of the secular world as something that is far off. My Christian community doesn’t struggle with this, how can it affect me? But Trueman makes us look at the corpse. He forces us to look at a problem we have refused to acknowledge for far too long. This is a dead society which in life was hurting but at least governed by basic ideals of Christendom.
What I appreciated most about this book, however, is that Trueman refuses to end in cultural despair. He doesn’t sit in nostalgia for a world that never existed, like so many conservative commentators are tempted to do. And he doesn’t call Christians to become angry culture warriors yelling into the internet void, which is refreshing because the internet already has plenty of those and none of them seem particularly happy. Instead, he calls the church to consecration.
The answer to a desecrated world is a church that takes worship seriously. A church that forms people through liturgy, sacrament, doctrine, discipline, and ordinary embodied faithfulness. Christians won’t defeat modern fragmentation by posting better takes online. We resist by becoming people shaped by Word, sacrament, prayer, and community. By becoming holy.
That may disappoint people searching for a grand political strategy. But Scripture has always favored ordinary means. Bread, wine, water, preaching, and prayer. God seems remarkably unbothered by our desire for flashier solutions.
And if I’m honest, I see the need for that reminder everywhere around me. I see young men drifting between nihilism and outrage, discipled more by podcasts than pastors. I see marriages buckling under the weight of expressive individualism. I see parents terrified that faithfulness alone won’t be enough to prepare their children for the world they’re inheriting. I see churches tempted to mirror the culture’s panic rather than offer a distinctly Christian peace.
And if I’m really honest, I can see traces of the same impulses in my own heart. The temptation to confuse cynicism with discernment. The temptation to believe one more article, one more podcast episode, or one more perfectly crafted argument will somehow steady a world that feels unstable. It won’t. Christ will.
Christ still builds His church. Christ still saves sinners. Christ still sanctifies ordinary saints through ordinary means. And Christ still reigns over a world that often looks like it has forgotten Him. The world may mock, distort, and desecrate the image of God in man, but it cannot erase it. And the same Christ who restores all things is still restoring people.
And as we wait for the King to make all things new, may we remember that our bootstraps cannot save us. Our political strategies can not save our fallen world. A million hours of Johnathan Haidt’s content cannot lift us out of despair. Only our sovereign God can. Come quickly, Lord Jesus. Amen.