American culture is built on individualism. We celebrate self-made success, personal freedom, and independence. "Pull yourself up by your bootstraps." "You can be anything you want to be." "Don't depend on anyone else." These cultural mantras shape how we think about nearly everything, including Christianity.
But biblical Christianity presents a radically different vision: the Body of Christ, where individual members are fundamentally interdependent, where the strong support the weak, where "if one member suffers, all suffer together" (1 Corinthians 12:26). American individualism and Christian community aren't easily reconciled.
This tension affects how we practice faith. American Christianity often emphasizes personal relationship with Jesus, individual Bible reading, and private spiritual experiences. Corporate worship becomes a gathering of individuals rather than a unified body. Church shopping treats congregations as service providers competing for religious consumers. We critique denominations for having "hierarchy" and celebrate non-denominational independence.
All of this reflects American values more than biblical ones. Scripture presents the Church as a body where members can't function alone, where authority structures exist (elders, deacons), where believers submit to one another, and where individual autonomy is subordinated to community good.
Paul's metaphor of the body is particularly pointed: "The eye cannot say to the hand, 'I have no need of you,' nor again the head to the feet, 'I have no need of you'" (1 Corinthians 12:21). But American individualism essentially says, "I don't need you—I can make it on my own." We're suspicious of dependence, seeing it as weakness rather than design.
This cultural individualism particularly affects autistic Christians. Autism often means we struggle with social connection, finding community exhausting or overwhelming. American individualism gives us permission to withdraw, to isolate, to focus on our personal relationship with God without the messy complications of other people.
But Scripture doesn't allow this escape. We're created for community even when community is hard. The Body needs every member, including those who find belonging difficult. My autistic struggles with social connection don't exempt me from the call to community; they make my participation in community more costly—and perhaps more significant.
The tension goes beyond church life into political and economic realms. American conservatism emphasizes personal responsibility and limited government. American progressivism emphasizes individual rights and personal autonomy. Both are deeply individualistic, just in different ways. Neither naturally aligns with biblical themes of communal responsibility, corporate identity, and mutual submission.
Consider healthcare. American debate frames it in individualistic terms: Do you have a right to healthcare? Should you be forced to buy insurance? But biblical Christianity would ask different questions: Are we our brother's keeper? What does loving your neighbor mean for community health? How should the strong bear the burdens of the weak?
Or consider economics. American capitalism emphasizes individual entrepreneurship and personal property rights. Biblical teaching emphasizes stewardship, care for the poor, and warnings about wealth. The early church practiced radical sharing: "they had everything in common" (Acts 2:44). That's not American individualism; that's something far more communal.
I'm not arguing for socialism or against capitalism. I'm pointing out that American economic debates often miss biblical categories entirely because they're framed in individualistic terms that Scripture doesn't use. The Bible doesn't ask, "What are my individual rights?" It asks, "How should we, as a community, steward resources to serve God's purposes and care for all members?"
The individualism problem also affects how we read Scripture. We personalize verses meant for corporate audiences. When Paul writes "you," he usually means "you all" (plural), addressing a community. But we read it as "you" (singular), applying it individualistically. We miss that many biblical commands and promises are given to the church corporately, not to isolated individuals.
This has practical consequences. If Christianity is primarily about my personal relationship with Jesus, then church becomes optional—nice, but not necessary. If discipleship is individual Bible study and prayer, then I don't need other believers. If salvation is purely personal, then the church's health doesn't matter as long as I'm okay.
But Scripture presents a different picture. Salvation, while personal, is also corporate—we're saved into a people, not just into individual relationships with God. Sanctification happens through community, not just private discipline. The church isn't optional; it's the primary context where God works to conform us to Christ's image.
For autistic Christians, this is challenging. Community costs us more than it costs neurotypical people. Social interactions that energize others drain us. Group settings that facilitate connection for neurotypical people create sensory overload for us. American individualism offers an attractive escape: focus on your personal faith and skip the costly community stuff.
But I've come to believe this is a temptation to resist, not a liberty to embrace. Yes, I need to honor my autistic needs—I can't participate in community the same way neurotypical people do. But I also can't use autism as an excuse for complete isolation. The Body needs me, and I need the Body, even when mutual belonging is costly and uncomfortable.
This might mean finding smaller, lower-stimulation community contexts rather than large gatherings. It might mean contributing through writing or one-on-one conversations rather than group discussions. It might mean explicit communication of needs rather than expecting others to intuitively understand. But it still means community, interdependence, and mutual submission—not atomized individualism.
American culture won't naturally lead us toward biblical community. It will lead us toward self-sufficiency, independence, and personal autonomy—values that are good in some contexts but insufficient for Christian life. We need to consciously resist cultural individualism and embrace the costly, uncomfortable, deeply counter-cultural practice of being one body with many members.
This doesn't mean losing our individuality. The Body metaphor celebrates diversity—eyes, hands, feet, each unique. But it's diversity within unity, individuality within community, personal gifts deployed for corporate good. That's a very different thing from American individualism, which celebrates autonomy apart from obligation to others.
The call to Christian community isn't nullified by cultural individualism or by autistic challenges with social connection. It's a call that challenges both, insisting that we're made for each other, that we need each other, and that Christ's body functions properly only when every member participates—however difficult participation might be.