Time magazine famously announced that “God is Dead” on April 8, 1966. While their cover story captured the zeitgeist percolating through university classrooms and philosophical debates, Time failed to anticipate how grassroots the religious impulse remains. Mainline denominations caught in the theological currents of the sixties (Presbyterians, Methodists, Episcopalians), did experience significant decline. But the evangelicals who stuck to their core convictions during a time of great upheaval saw profound growth over the following forty years. God joined Mark Twain in suggesting that “The tales of my death are greatly exaggerated.”

Now, during another Holy Week and Passover observation, a national newsweekly has announced “The Decline and Fall of Christian America.” Jon Meacham’s argument in Newsweek doesn’t put God or Christianity on trial. He wrote an additional piece to clarify his intentions (beyond a brilliantly timed strategy to drive sales and light up the blogosphere during Holy Week). Instead, Meacham points to the rising tide of individuals claiming no religious affiliation in the 2009 American Religious Identification Survey. Those who consider themselves outside of faith have doubled since the 1990 survey, from roughly 8% to 15% (with another 5% refusing to even answer the question). Dispute that rising tide, America remains comprised of a remarkable number of Christians. But those Christians must figure out how to navigate a world in which their morality may no longer be a majority.

This will not come as news to many Americans. Barry Taylor and I anticipated a post-Christian America in our 2003 book, A Matrix of Meanings. We acknowledged that Christianity is booming in parts of Africa, Asia, and Latin America. But in the western world, we have entered a ‘post-Christendom’ era. We cannot assume that our values, beliefs, and tenets are shared. And we cannot impose them without a serious and ugly fight. Meacham’s article in Newsweek acknowledges both the power attained by the Christian right and their commensurate failure to win hearts and minds (along with elections).

We’ve been living with the realities of a post-Christian America for some time. We see it in the various manifestations of the culture war. It seeps out in our talk shows, our water cooler conversations, at our dinner tables. Meacham’s article suggests that Christians abandon their failed ‘war’ and prepare to live with the new pluralistic reality where spiritualities reign rather than religions. My Purple State project is rooted in the tension between sacred and secular, believers and skeptics. So allow me to make three modest observations about how to respond to “The End of Christian America.”

1. No need to panic. “The Death of God” announced in the sixties has long been a reality in corridors of power. Our professors and classrooms have assumed that we’re living in a post-Christian America. The arguments proffered as facts largely swept all faiths from the table. So those running the government, the media, and the academy were equally surprised by the rise of the religious right and the growth of radical Islam. They didn’t know how to report on religion because they didn’t know anything about it. When I arrived at USC film school in the early nineties, most of my colleagues had never met an evangelical Christian. They were born and bred outside of religious institutions, assuming that faith was a quaint vestige of the past. Their only point of reference came from televangelists. And it was not a pretty picture.

Yet, many Christians have gotten quite serious about scholarship, about politics, and about the arts. They’ve gotten training at Ivy League schools and interned at the most powerful companies in the world. Sociologist Michael Lindsay traces the rise of evangelical Faith in the Halls of Power. He finds many people of faith navigating culture-making industries with great facility and aplomb. Their struggle is to differentiate their gracious and creative Christianity from the virulent and angry expressions often held up as normative. Many younger Christians are poised to lead a nimble and embodied twenty first century faith. But they are still struggling to wrestle the microphone from those who are clinging to Christendom. It is easy to understand why those who built large campuses and massive mailing lists would long to hold onto them. Unfortunately, they are struggling to hold onto a shrinking piece of twentieth century pie.

2. Time to reflect. We have only just begun to recognize the damage we’ve done to the faith. We must start by acknowledging how unloving we’ve been to those we’ve disagreed with. The perceptions compiled by David Kinnaman in the best-selling book unChristian are withering. We are seen as judgmental, anti-intellectual, anti-homosexual and too political. It is tough to sustain a faith based upon what or whom we’re against. When we attempt to discredit the new atheists, we often fail to realize that we are wrestling with the fruits of our labor. We have provided ample fuel for their objections to the faith.

My challenge in the Purple State of Mind project was to tangle with someone who knows our tricks. John Marks came to faith via Young Life. He taught small group bible studies for InterVarsity. He knows how Christians think. But do we understand why some might abandon their faith? Do we grasp that valid reasons for skepticism are often sparked by our hypocrisy? Logical or biblical refutations of our own shortcomings won’t hold much water. We must live out our convictions in such tangible ways that no argument is necessary. The song remains the same: they will know we are Christians by our love.

3. Learn to co-exist. As we struggle to accept those without a specific faith, we are also challenged by our proximity to other faiths. Religious traditions that once seemed exotic or far away are increasingly coming to American shores. From Hollywood’s fascination with Buddhism to the growing presence of local mosques, faiths that fall outside our biblical tradition are gaining a significant foothold. Some may be tempted to renew a holy war. But we have seen how the warfare generated by crusades can undercut noble intentions. “Co-exist” is becoming more than a bumpersticker or a bandana to wrap around Bono’s head. It is a fundamental necessity in Post-Christian America.

On the Purple State tour, I was surprised by the solidarity expressed by a Muslim med student in Texas. Since 9/11, he has struggled to carry his once esteemed name, Muhammad, with pride. He shared the discomfort I expressed in Purple State of Mind with those who (mis)represent my faith in the public square. I have also been humbled by the strength and solidarity I’ve witnessed inside a Sunni mosque. So many men, standing side by side, praying together in unity on a daily basis! It causes me to question my own commitments, to redouble my own spiritual rigor. When I interviewed a young Muslim about his faith, he called Islam, “the solution.” When I see others living out their faith with compelling convictions, I am forced to reconsider the depth of my commitment. Dedicated Hindus, Jews, and Buddhists put me to the test. They cause me to reflect, to listen carefully, and pray more.

Co-exist doesn’t mean setting aside our beliefs, but finding enough common ground to allow us all to worship in peace. On this Good Friday, we must recognize that Jesus was killed by religious violence. He threatened the established political and religious order. His radical life and teaching caused those in power to panic, to practice injustice to preserve their position. Following the way of the cross involves laying down our arms.

4. Embrace the opportunity for renewal. We must also recognize that the post-postmodern world will create massive tensions within each religion. The violence that still arises from Sunnis versus Shiites rivals any Catholic and Protestant conflicts. Yet all four expressions of faith will face new ethical conundrums thanks to advances in science and technology. Their sacred texts and traditions will have to be reinterpreted by dedicated contemporary scholars.

For example, how will Islam deal with the rise of educated or even liberated Muslim women? With they be satisfied being excluded from prayer service? Imagine what an affront Jesus’ care for the woman at the well might have brought in his time. Jesus’ inclusive preaching and practices continue to challenge social conventions. Yet, Jesus’ comparative silence (and Paul’s three references to homosexuality) has left Christians in an awkward and ugly firestorm. We will see frissons and fractures in far more than the Anglican Church. But as Becky Garrison suggested in Religious Dispatches, it is far too early to determine the outcome. However the established Christian denominations split, will we still learn to co-exist? Surely, homosexuals within the Islamic community have some bloody struggles ahead. What will happen when religious laws bump up against civil rights?

The battle lines in the culture wars will continue to shift. Can a post-Christian America take a lead in how to balance religious freedoms with human rights? We may need to learn from the fragile social contracts between the Abrahamic faiths that have been written in ancient cities like Cordoba, Spain.   The city bears evidence of great struggles of Roman temples converted to Christian churches and Jewish synagogues that were turned into Muslim mosques. Plenty of blood was spilled in the names of God. Yet, one thousand years ago, Cordoba experienced an era of profound cooperation and prosperity. Advances in medicine, astronomy and farming followed.

As we struggle to recover our economic footing, perhaps a new found embrace of the other, a renewal of the American Dream amongst enterprising immigrants (who may or may not share our religious practices) may lift our collective well-being. President Obama seems prepared to renew our national bonds. He told an audience in Turkey, “We do not consider ourselves a Christian nation or a Jewish nation or a Muslim nation. We consider ourselves a nation of citizens who are bound by ideals and a set of values.”

I am continually humbled by the faith and resolve I’ve witnessed amongst African, Asian, and Latin American Christians. They’ve called me to prayer, taught me new songs, and invited me into corners of my own community I never knew. They’ve restored and renewed my faith in both the American experiment and the colorful kingdom of God. They allow me to surrender my claims to Christendom, to move forward without fear, to remember that the death of the Christian America we’ve known allows for a surprising resurrection.