Future Questions

I am sliding into this conversation from one of the “frames” that John Hawthorne uses to define the modern evangelicalism—the world of Christian higher education, represented largely by the institutions in the Council for Christian Colleges and Universities.  Having served now at four of these institutions, I have often found myself in the midst of earnest discussions about the current state of evangelicalism, whether as a panelist or simply an eavesdropper.  To my ear at least, efforts to define evangelicalism seem far more vital to institutional leaders and veteran faculty than they do for younger faculty and students, who often seem eager, as Sarah Ruden cogently observes, to be part of a movement that “doesn’t need to explain itself” but rather “just needs to be itself.”   

Admittedly, attempts to define—or even simply to preserve—the term evangelical lead us to embrace certain paradoxes.  On the one hand, despite the continual bad press in major media, I have always felt that the term “evangelical” meant something quite vibrant and life-giving for many Christian educators in the late twentieth-century.  For several of us, it was the term that signaled release from the fundamentalist and denominational rigidities that defined many Christian churches and schools during our own youth; it invoked the desire to blend inquiry with piety and service and to unify some of the splintered movements of American Protestantism.   It had the capacity to set a few principles at the center—the divinity of Christ, the authority of Scripture, the importance of personal confession and repentance, the value of witness and compassion—and push to the edges some previously fierce disputes over ecclesiology, eschatology, and inerrancy, etc.

At the same time, being evangelical was one way of escaping being Evangelical.  Whenever the Evangelical movement of the late twentieth century began to be too politicized, too overlaid with the language of the culture wars or commercialism, one could always invoke a richer heritage of evangelicalism, such as the populist reformers of the nineteenth century, the revivalist spirit of various Awakenings, or even the euphoric joy of first-century converts. In other words, evangelicalism did have sufficient history to renew itself whenever the latest Evangelical movement became too myopic.

But, as healthy as the discussion over what evangelicalism is and has been, I do sense that this discussion has become increasingly distant from the horizons of youth.  No doubt, there is great value in helping a liberally educated student understand the recent and broader evangelical tradition.  Students are quite interested in hearing professors’ stories about their spiritual journeys—and how they arrived at a place where they align themselves with the evangelical community and heritage.  Those stories do provide inspiration and guidance for students trying to find their own identity and place as Christians, though student seem far less likely to use the term evangelical to forecast the future trajectory of their faith walk.

In one respect, I am not deeply concerned about a diminishing use of the term evangelical by youth.  As long as young Christians love the Lord with heart, soul and mind we shouldn’t worry too much about whether they self-identify as evangelicals.  And I would assume that the term evangelical has sufficient resonance in the history of the Church that it will always be invoked to describe aspects of the Christian community and perspectives, even if the term is applied in more elastic ways in the future.  But what I am concerned about is that the term could fall into decline because too many college-age and young adult Christians do not see the Evangelical movement as a robust resource for addressing twenty-first century questions. 

In a short space, I can mention only a few places where we might strengthen our efforts to address those questions.  First, I would say that many young adults are looking for guidance on how to reconcile their “digital selves” and their “monastic selves.”  They want a religious community and experience that is at ease with technological advances.  Evangelicals, one could argue, have long been early adopters of populist technologies, whether it was radio broadcasts, filmstrips or guitars in church a couple generations ago or Facebook communities and theology on Twitter now.  It is easy to suggest that the churches that will thrive in the next decades are the ones most adept with social media.  But I am also sensing that young and middle-aged persons are feeling increasingly overwhelmed and even disoriented by their digitized existence, and for many there is a tendency to idealize the historic traditions of silence, iconography, and liturgy, even if they pursue those disciplines in only small doses.  They are not ready to be St. Francis or Henry David Thoreau, but they want some spiritual awakening apart from the mediated experience.  The question of balance needs to be on the theological table.   

Second, I know that students are quite eager for guidance on how to be persons of theological conviction and how to function respectfully and generously in a pluralistic and interfaith world.  Evangelicals have long emphasized the importance of propositional truths.  Rich, vigorous and respectful debate about these propositions can be a beautiful thing, but more often than not the defense of propositions within Evangelical subculture has led to the eviscerating of rivals.  In recent Barna survey, middle-aged and older Evangelicals were four times more likely to have seen Dinesh D’Souza’s anti-Obama film than Spielberg’s “Lincoln.”  My impression is that students are tired of jeremiads and are eager to know how to hold firmly to convictions and still participate in interfaith and pluralistic conversations that require prudent compromise, and civil discourse to promote justice and reduce violence—in short, the kind of leader and citizen that Spielberg tried to represent in the sixteenth president.  There is a hearty discussion of civic responsibility in certain corners of the Evangelical movement, but churches and colleges need to do more to bring this discourse into the life of their communities. 

We also need a more visible and irenic discourse about theology and science.  The debate over “origins” has so dominated Evangelicals’ discussions of science that it has left some of the most significant ethical and scientific questions on the shelf.  Those questions are compounding rapidly.  Some of these questions about the possibilities and responsibilities of science are enormously complex: how do we encourage genetic experimentation and brain research and yet draw boundaries about human dignity?  How do we promote scientific initiative and yet insure that proprietary science does not draw resources away from the disadvantaged and the poor?  How do we promote economic growth that will raise standards of living worldwide without countenancing the most ecologically destructive practices of urban and economic expansion?  Sometimes we are so accustomed to theological teaching and preaching as authoritative that conscientious teachers and preachers humbly avoid venturing onto questions like these that are highly political or outside their expertise.  But students do feel the silence.  Can we more compellingly demonstrate how scriptural teaching and theological ideas help address these questions without imposing a singular conclusion or hermeutic on them?