Are Evangelicals Killing Christianity?

It’s admittedly a dangerous title, but I chose it, not for shock value or to gain attention (although I hope it does gain attention).

I hope to open productive conversation, not start a fight. In a fight there is a winner and a loser. Any time I do a conflict resolution consultation, whether between troubled marital partners, a parent/child conflict, or in an organizational setting, I always begin by asking, “Do you truly want to resolve the issues between you, or do you just want to win the fight?”

Nobody wins a fight. The only thing a fight accomplishes is the establishment of one’s power over another--and resentment on the part of the loser. Relationships—indeed, civilizations—cannot thrive indefinitely in a power relationship.

Thus, I attempt here to open a conversation. Agreement is neither necessary nor truthfully expected. Mutual understanding, I think, is a reasonable expectation. Respectful conversation teamed with earnest seeking might lead to some common ground upon which to build “a more excellent” way than the way that has produced four generations of decline in the Body of Christ.

These thoughts were stimulated by a paragraph from evangelical author, Philip Yancey. In Vanishing Grace. He writes:

“I decided to write this book after I saw the results of surveys by the George Barna group. A few telling statistics jumped off the page. In 1996, 85 percent of Americans who had no religious commitment still viewed Christianity favorably. Thirteen years later, in 2009, only 16 percent of young “outsiders” had a favorable impression of Christianity, and just 3 percent had a good impression of evangelicals. I wanted to explore what caused that dramatic plunge in such a relatively short time. Why do Christians stir up hostile feelings—and what, if anything, should we do about it?”[1]

I haven’t read beyond those words. My mind was stimulated to distraction, and I was compelled to put my thoughts on paper. I look forward to finishing Yancy’s book.

One of my greatest frustrations in ministry is what Thomas Bandy Calls the largest and fastest growing spiritual population in North America, viz. “the spiritually yearning, institutionally alienated public;[2] a population that calls itself, “spiritual but not religious.” Yancey notes in his book the phenomenon of the “nones:” those who, when polled about religious preference, respond by checking “none.” They now constitute one-third of all Americans under the age of thirty.

My frustration is that virtually two generations have abandoned, not just that part of “religion” (specifically Christianity) that offends them but essentially all organized religion, and in the process have thrown out the proverbial baby with the bath water!

My read is (and has been for a couple of decades), that they really don’t disagree with the theological content or the essential purpose and ministry of the denomination in which I serve. My impression (again, biased and unsupported by data) is that they experienced, either personally or vicariously, something in a relatively narrow religious context that offended or hurt them and have generalized from that isolated experience to justify their judgment about all religion.

The truth is that I agree with the two most frequently identified offenders: hypocrisy and judgmentalism. And while no discipline or community has a lock on hypocrisy, it would be difficult to deny a distinct aura of judgment as a definitive characteristic of evangelicalism.

As a recovering evangelical, here is what I remember: the first premise is the basic Calvinist dogma of the total depravity of man. Already, we’ve lost the “nones,” but hang with me; I think I can get us out of this mess. I learned the “Roman Road to Salvation” as the basic “plan of salvation,” and it begins with Romans 3:23, “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” The basic approach in this doctrine of salvation is to assume that that all are lost and bound for hell.

The trouble is, some people—probably a large majority of people—don’t “feel” lost. I’ve heard in more than one discussion group or conversation, “But, I’m not a sinner.” People generally associate “sin” with gross crimes and harmful behavior (especially sexual in nature), and most people don’t fall into either category; therefore, we have to create that sense of being lost for them. It is manipulative and dehumanizing and the origin of a lot of the impression of judgmentalism.

Here's the thing: one thing I’ve always loved and admired about evangelicals is that they’re sincere in their concern for the salvation of all humans. Who can fault that? But the Kennedy approach: “If you were to die today, where would your soul be tomorrow?” and the basic assumption that everyone is lost and bound for hell—right or wrong—is dehumanizing, and has become increasingly ineffective; indeed, it has become increasingly counterproductive since the middle of the last century! The results are available on basically any related survey or poll.

WHAT IF…

Instead of the Pauline “Roman Road” (which has been proof-texted and tailored to fit the Calvinist doctrine of the depravity of all humans), WHAT IF we began with Jesus? Most who identify as “spiritual but not religious,” and even many who are classified as “none” affirm an admiration and/or devotion to Jesus. But, like Gandhi, “I love your Jesus; but your Christians are so unlike him.”

Still, why not begin on common ground? Jesus said, “If I am lifted up…” WHAT IF we simply lift up Jesus, rather than create a need? WHAT IF we quit preaching hell and “lift up Jesus?” Does one absolutely need to recite the “good confession” or pray the “sinner’s prayer” to enter an eternal relationship with God through Jesus Christ? Is it the recitation of the words, or would the act of following Jesus by following his example accomplish that same relationship? Would not the action indicate the acceptance of Jesus as Lord?

Yes, I memorized this, too: “Everyone therefore who acknowledges me before others, I also will acknowledge before my Father in heaven; but whoever denies me before others, I also will deny before my Father in heaven” (Matthew 10:32-33 NRSV). Is the good confession and/or the sinner’s prayer the only way to acknowledge Jesus before others? Or do actions truly speak louder than words, especially when a “spiritual but not religious” public points vociferously at religious hypocrisy? Would not actions that are consistent with our words remove any impression (or reality) of hypocrisy?

The truth is, while the overall trend of American church is downward, there are those entrepreneurial churches that attract large flocks. And—right or wrong—those growing churches put out a message that is clear of judgment or condemnation, offering instead a prosperity gospel or the Prayer of Jabez. No, Jesus is not the core of that message. BUT NEITHER IS HELL OR CONDEMNATION! Misguided or not, the offering is hope!

WHAT IF there is yet another approach: an approach that lifts up Jesus only? Could that be a valid starting place—common ground upon which to begin?

Stay tuned. I’ll continue this conversation with some specific applications.

That’s the way it looks through the Flawed Glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

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[1] Phllip Yancy, Vanishing Grace, Page 15, as quoted in Artman, David. Grace Saves All: The Necessity of Christian Universalism (p. 103). Wipf and Stock, an Imprint of Wipf and Stock Publishers. Kindle Edition.

[2] Tom Bandy, Talisman: Global Positioning for the Soul (p. 6) Wipf and Stock, an Imprint of Wipf and Stock Publishers. Kindle Edition. [Bandy identifies this population in several other books, including Christian Chaos, Kicking Habits: Welcome Relief for Addicted Churches, et.al.]

 

Unresolved Concerns

Rules and laws are inversely proportional to trust: more rules indicate less trust, while a greater level of trust is indicated by a relative absence of rules.

Rules and laws usually come about in reaction to a hurtful interaction within a group, or to prevent its happening (again). Our United States Constitution was intended to prevent replication of the monarchial tyranny the Colonists fled and against which they rebelled. The Constitution essentially limits government by establishing boundaries beyond which it may not go; but within which it is free to act.

Two ideologies clashed at the Constitution Convention. Situational revisions aside, those two groups continue today. They were born in animosity and that animosity has increased. It’s amazing that the Constitution got finished![1]

One group bore an unqualified distrust of government, but trusted individuals to be responsible and ethical in their dealings. They stumped for minimal central government, preferring to give more power to state and local governing bodies. That perspective is extended into today’s conservative political system.

The other group distrusted the integrity of individuals, especially in regard to unregulated commerce and banking. They advocated a stronger central governmental regulation against the threat of economic oligarchy . Today’s liberal principles emerged from that foundation.

Both ideologies remain virtually absolute, with neither crediting anything good to the other. Few, if any, voices call for acknowledging any good in both, and there is an ominous absence of any effort to find common ground on which to build consensus on anything. No political balance or trust is to be found.

Rules and laws are meant to restrict the influence of whatever entity is mistrusted. The power pendulum swings from left to right, and back. Endless partisan adjustments to and rescinding of laws, and the institution of more laws are meant to shackle the mistrusted “other party.” The result today is a convoluted system of laws, many of them self-contradictory, which transcends most human comprehension.

But, lack of comprehension does not discourage the hostile debates that indicate a gross decrease in trust and a consequent need for power and control.

In a pioneering study in group dynamics, Jack Gibb and others named four primary concerns for evaluating the level of trust within a group’s culture. The concerns determine the level of trust formation,[2] regardless of the group’s size. The following graph offers a visual guide to understanding the aforementioned concerns:

Primary Concern	Derivative Concern	Symptoms of Unresolved Concern	Symptoms of Resolved Concern
Acceptance	Membership	Fear/Distrust/exclusion	Acceptance/Trust
Information Flow	Decision-making	Politeness/caution/ Strategy (often secretive or behind-the-back)	Spontaneity/feedback
Goal Formation	Productivity	Apathy/Competition (silencing innovation)	Enthusiasm/Creative work
Control	Organization	Dependency vs. a Counter-dependency that challenges for leadership	Interdependence/role distribution

In my opinion the dynamics in the column labeled “Symptoms of Unresolved Concern” is a portentous description of our beloved United States of America.

So, what is the source of the mistrust, and how do we overcome it? When in any kind of conflict resolution setting, the first question I always ask is, “Do you truly want to resolve the issue between you, or do you just want to win the fight?” I find little evidence on social media that anybody really wants to resolve anything.

I suggest the mistrust is a product of hurtful experiences in our past. As a child I was pulled off my bicycle and chewed on by a big dog and, to this day I grow anxious when a big dog approaches me. I’ve learned compensatory behaviors to defuse any threat; but the mistrust is still present—until a relationship is built.

If building a relationship is key to overcoming mistrust, some concerns must be considered. Trust, by definition involves risk. So does love, which I believe should be the ultimate goal and intention of all human interaction.

Trust and love require—indeed, they are defined by—vulnerability. There is risk of betrayal and rejection. The alternative is to insulate oneself from betrayal and grief, but the payoff is fear and distrust. So I repeat: trust and love require—indeed, they are defined by—vulnerability.

A second concern in building trust is re-learning the lost art of listening. I’m not sure I could be a good listener had I not had extensive training in counseling and in conflict resolution. Even with the training and years of experience, it doesn’t always come naturally. Often, I have to be intentional about flipping on the “LISTEN” switch.

Nevertheless, listening is a key requirement for building trust. Evidence is extensive on social media that people don’t really listen—not even when the message is written in clear script. Instead of listening, they are preparing their rebuttal (even though they may not—probably don’t—really know what’s been said). How many times, while reading a Facebook conversation, have you discovered, within relatively few exchanges, the focus has been diverted totally from the original topic?

Someone posts about compassion for the poor, and within two or three responses the conversation is diverted to how liberals are shoving a welfare state down our throats. The diversion kills a conversation that may have led to a charitable proposal acceptable to all concerned. And mistrust, if anything, has increased, along with animosity.

Or a Facebook conversation about compassion for immigrants is diverted to a condemnation vs. defense of President Trump’s wall. The conversation might—might—have been more productive if the responders had listened and stayed on the subject, which probably was a concern for national security and public safety. If the responders wanted to pontificate against the wall, they would be better advised to start their own conversation. But, then, in all likelihood that conversation would be diverted, too.

How on earth can we build trusting relationships if I don’t really know what you’re saying, and you don’t know what I’m saying? Without that knowledge, we’re left to assumption and opinion, neither of which is trustworthy. A portion of those on social media see something I’ve written and blow it off with, “Oh, he’s liberal; so, I already know what he’s saying.” And another opportunity for productive dialogue is missed. While I work hard to read and “hear” what is being said by most people on social media, I’m sure I slip into my “lazy” mode sometimes and make similar assumptions about my conservative friends.

At the infamous bottom line, while there is risk in trusting, there also is risk in listening. If I really hear you, I risk learning something new; indeed, I may hear something that requires me to reconsider previous convictions.

But, then, that would mean I’d have to admit I am, at least partially, wrong—that my opinions are not absolute. And that may be the greatest risk of all.

That’s the way I see it through the Flawed Glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

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[1] In many ways, it’s not finished, even yet. As a living document it is adjusted according to ongoing needs.

[2] Leland P. Bradford, Jack R. Gibb, and Kenneth D. Benne, editors, T-Group Theory and Laboratory Method (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1964)  

A Dirty Word?

Compromise. It’s a dirty word to many of those whose belief systems place them toward the polar ends of the ideological spectrum, whether the ideology is religious, political or philosophical. And, generally speaking, the closer one’s position is to either extreme of the spectrum, the stronger is one’s aversion to compromise.

One characteristic of extremism is the belief than one’s own convictions are absolute, and there are no other valid perspectives; therefore, the disdain for compromise is justified. To compromise is to dilute truth. I have long maintained that the only absolute quality of such a position is the absolute arrogance required to maintain it.

In his 2002 Nobel speech in Oslo, Jimmy Carter said, “The present era is a challenging and disturbing time for those whose lives are shaped by religious faith based on kindness toward each other.” In an interview with Christianity Today, he explained:

“There is a remarkable trend toward fundamentalism in all religions—including the different denominations of Christianity as well as Hinduism, Judaism, and Islam. Increasingly, true believers are inclined to begin a process of deciding: ‘Since I am aligned with God, I am superior, and my beliefs should prevail, and anyone who disagrees with me is inherently wrong,’ and the next step is ‘inherently inferior.’ The ultimate step is ‘subhuman,’ and then their lives are not significant.”[1]

Carter points out the disturbing trend toward linking religious fundamentalism and political ideologies. The result is an uncompromising rigidity and a refusal to negotiate.

Limited as we are by the clay of which we are made, we humans are incapable of comprehending truth absolutely (even though I believe there is absolute truth, and that it is most nearly manifested in the life of Jesus of Nazareth.) This is old hat to those who know me. It’s a central theme of my own identity and ideology. St. Paul wrote, “Now we see as if through a flawed pane of glass” (I Corinthians 13:12 ~ my paraphrase). I have not yet attained the certitude necessary to contradict St. Paul.

In his Nobel Prize offering, Profiles in Courage, John F. Kennedy wrote, 

“It is compromise that prevents each set of reformers—the wets and the drys, the one-worlders and the isolationists, the vivisectionists and the anti-vivisecionists—from crushing the group on the extreme opposite end of the political spectrum. The fanatics and extremists, and even those conscientiously devoted to hard and fast principles are always disappointed at the failure of their governments to rush to implement all of their principles and to denounce those of their opponents. But the legislator has some responsibility to conciliate those opposing forces within his state and party and to represent them in the larger clash of interests on the national level; and he alone knows that there are few if any issues where all the truth and all the right and all the angels are on one side.”[2]

The reality of serving the public is that the public will present contradicting, even conflicting demands. For example, Kennedy recalls consecutive constituent conferences, the first of which was with some businessmen who were asking him to affect the removal of a federal agency that was competing with their businesses, and the second of which was with employees of that federal agency, who were seeking his influence to protect their jobs. Kennedy used this example to illustrate his case for the necessity of compromise.

Given my background in evangelical Christianity, I, too, tend to steer away from compromise whenever possible; however, such is not a rigid principle or rule for me. As in the issue of spanking children, it’s not so much that I oppose it (although I do, for the reason immediately following), as that I find much more effective ways of disciplining children. Likewise, in many cases, perhaps in most cases of conflict, I think there is a better solution than compromise. In compromise, one side, or all sides, give up something in order to obtain something of higher value. Quid pro quo.

But what if both sides could meet their needs without giving up anything? As a consultant in conflict resolution, I frequently have seen that happen.

I don’t believe in unsolvable problems. In most conflicts that appear unsolvable, the problem usually is that the problem is being defined in terms of solutions. A more effective approach is to define the problem in terms of needs. 

In the example from Kennedy’s book, the local merchants defined the problem as a need to remove competition, while the employees of the federal agency saw the problem as one of job security. The merchants put forth a proposed solution (get rid of the competing agency), while the employees defined their need.

In a hypothetical extension of the conversation, the merchants might have been more persuasive had they identified their need for a sustainable profit margin. Eliminating the competition is one reasonable solution; however, to attain that solution is to take away the source of income from those who are employed by the competition.

As a consultant, I would have both side generate possible solutions to the need for a sustainable profit margin. Some examples might include investing in a more effective marketing system, engaging more visibly in the life of the community, partnering with the competition, etc. 

[Yes, I said “Partnering with the competition.” There’s an old story (unconfirmed) about the Wright brothers approaching the railroad industry with a proposal for partnering. The railroad companies laughed, saying, “We’re not in the airplane business; we’re in the railroad business!”

Within a couple of generations, the railroads were in trouble, losing much of their business to the faster competition. The story’s point is that the railroad industry wrongly defined its purpose as “railroad business,” instead of “transportation business.” 

A part of the recovery of the railroad industry included partnering with the trucking industry to “piggy-back” loads across the country.]

Sometimes compromise is necessary. Sometimes principles need to concede to human need. But, I am convinced that in many cases, concessions are not necessary if the problem or conflict is redefined and raised to a new level.

I have seen it work time after time: in marital relationships, in parent-child relationships, in city government, and in the corporate world. One of my funniest conflict resolution consultations was between a local PTA (I think it’s usually called something else these days) and the teachers of an elementary school. That’s a story for another time.

That’s the way it looks through the flawed glass that is my world view.

Together in the Walk,

Jim

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[1] Jimmy Carter, Our Endangered Values: America’s Moral Crisis (New York: Simon & Schuster, 2005), page 30-31.

[2] John F. Kennedy, Profiles in Courage (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1956), page 5.