This schlock consuming Evangelicalism and the Reformed church today reminds me of a New Yorker cartoon decades ago picturing a middle-aged pudgy bald man sitting at the bar with a drink, saying to the bartender patiently listening:

I had a happy childhood. My teenage years were happy. I have a happy marriage, happy children, and a happy job. I’m having a happy middle age and my old age will be happy, too. Then I’ll have a happy death and I’ll go to happy heaven.

It’s funny to the pagans subscribing to the New Yorker, but to the Christian it’s terribly tragic—especially the Christian shepherd of God’s sheep.