The USA at a turning point: The future of American Evangelicalism

My wife and I recently watched the futuristic film Elysium. As science fiction enthusiasts, we thoroughly enjoyed the writer’s predictions of our nation and world in the year 2159. As much as any actors, plot, or action, we relished every prospective social, political, and cultural detail purported by the film as it served to give us perspective about our current climate.  This is the power of contemplating the future through art. It makes us stop to consider what is possible, both negatively and positively. 

What is the future role of American Evangelicalism? There really are two paths which this movement can take in the future. One path is that of increasing cultural irrelevance. The church is currently well positioned to accept this path and passively allow for its own death. The Europeans have provided a model for this trend that the United States appears to be comfortable following. On the contrary, American Evangelicalism can see a future of increased influence on the culture, psyche, and morality of the American people. The church can embrace a future in which it recaptures the hearts of the people by bringing to life the person of Christ for new generations.

In his 1963 Letter from a Birmingham Jail, Dr. Martin Luther King said about the early Christians that “The church was not merely a thermometer that recorded the ideas and principles of popular opinion; it was a thermostat that transformed the mores of society.” Dr. King understood the tremendous weight of responsibility carried by Christians in every nation and generation. Furthermore, he recognized that without a commitment to prophetic independence, their impact on the greater society would be limited.  As purveyors of light in a world suffering from the consequences of sin, the church’s public function is crucial. As a result, it must strive to constantly align itself with the right principles, rather than the right people. In this way civic engagement is important, but must be tempered by a spirit of independence that places ultimate allegiance to Christ over political or economic interest groups. 

The American church faces an important question. Will it own this important transformative role for future generations or allow itself to be relegated through partisanship, division, and hypocrisy to irrelevance for a large swath of the population? There is no more significant matter. Practically, for the evangelical community to retain and increase its influence for future generations, it should embrace a focus that is two-fold. 

The primary focus must be on the power of individual witness. In his book The Way of the Modern World, author Craig Gay states that “practical atheism has become so disarmingly attractive in the contemporary situation that we have actually embraced it within our churches.” For Christians to bolster the role of faith in the greater society, we must begin with the individual. Faithfulness, love, righteousness, service, humility, community engagement, and a peaceful, articulate, and impassioned intellectual defense of the gospel are as crucial now as they have ever been. Christians whose lives display a counter-cultural commitment to discipleship have the ability to be the greatest agents of change in local communities. Above all else, Evangelicals must retain their devotion to the pure gospel. A watered-down Christian witness, diluted for the sake of comfort, tolerance and social acceptance, does the world little good. In fact, it promotes a further lack of respect from our critics as Christianity has historically experienced its greatest periods of growth when clearly distinct from and persecuted by the mainstream. As the apostle Paul reminded us, “when I am weak, then I am strong.” Our individual examples, even when rejected by the majority, are powerful.

Secondly, the church should collectively resist the temptation to retreat from the public square. There exist a number of areas in which the church is uniquely positioned to provide life changing service and solutions to the world’s most pressing conundrums. They include the AIDS crisis, immigration reform, ethical compromise in governmental leadership, racism and ethnic strife, uplifting communities trapped in poverty, transforming a culture of violence into a culture of peace, and shining the light of Christ through embracing adoption and models of healthy family. These are all glaring crises for which most secular institutions have both limited impact and potential solutions. A thoughtful, compassionate, and holistic approach to these dilemmas will solidify the church’s influence for years. Whether it recognizes it or not, the world is searching for the love and hope only Christ’s church can provide. 

The beauty of this battle lies in the Jesus’ scriptural promises. In Luke 21:33 Jesus says “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will never pass away.” Whether the church’s future influence rivals American’s Puritan forefathers or Christians become an increasingly persecuted American minority group, His influence will last. We will win.  Consequently, as we continue our battle for the heart of American culture, we simultaneously recognize that our greatest hope lies in the one who overcame death. His hope is eternal. In this way, regardless of cultural outcomes, the future of American Evangelicalism remains bright.  

Ideology Ends Where Reconciliation Begins: An Evangelical Wish-list

Like others in this conversation, I am reluctant to predict the future of evangelical Christianity. I am no “futurist.” Rather, I will offer some suggestions as to what I would like to see as future developments in evangelical Christianity, some potential directions and dispositions that would indicate a hopeful future for this messy conglomeration we call evangelicalism. Think of it as a wish-list.

I’m a cradle evangelical. My theological training took place in evangelical institutions. Now I teach in a historically pietistic and evangelical seminary. After all these years of being involved in evangelical life, while I still feel warmly about these institutions and mostly feel at home in them (if at times uneasily so), I am increasingly less attached to the evangelical moniker. I am more concerned with fidelity to the gospel than with the future of evangelicalism and its institutions. I am more taken with “Christ the Center” than with the evangelical moniker and much of what it currently represents.

In my initial post in this series, I suggested that “evangelical” ought to be considered an adjective rather than a noun—secondary to Christian, or Christ-follower. There are many types and traditions of Christians. Evangelical describes some common heritages and lineages, as well as some overlapping values, theological visions, and impulses. On this account, evangelical describes a particular kind of Christian, or church, or institution. To be an evangelical Christian means that one self-identifies with one of the many varieties, values, organizing principles, and shared practices that are also known by that adjective.

Those core commitments have been well rehearsed throughout this dialogue—no need to repeat them here. I cannot state strongly enough that to be an evangelical Christian ought to signify, above anything else a, commitment to the gospel. But this raises the debated question as to what exactly the gospel is. The future of evangelical Christianity—its health, vibrancy, and relevance for the world—depends on the articulation of the full-bodied, holistic gospel of Jesus Christ. That gospel is the unparalleled story of God’s project of reconciliation. It is the Good News of God entering the world in Jesus and the Spirit and bringing creation from brokenness toward its ultimate healing, wholeness and purpose. This reconciliation is of people with God, but also of people with each other, people with themselves (the healing toward wholeness and holiness of fractured, broken people), and people with God’s creation. This gospel of reconciliation does not depend on the power and strength of institutional Christianity and speaks a prophetic word against the conflation of political power and the Christian religion (what Kierkegaard, among others, called Christendom).

The Gospel is really the whole story of God’s gracious action in and for the world, most centrally, of course in the person of Jesus, the Messiah.  The vocation of evangelical Christians, then, is to proclaim by word, deed, and life the story of reconciliation and to witness to that story of redemption. On the corporate, communal level, reconciliation with God becomes, by natural extension, reconciliation with others.  “There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Gal 3:28).

When evangelical Christians embrace the gospel of reconciliation, they understand that God’s mission of reconciliation both transcends and determines their identity and vocation. Evangelical becomes no longer a noun, a static definition delineating the in-group from the out-group, but an adjective: A descriptor of vocation, values, and direction, all centered on the work of God in Christ and the Spirit and directed outward to the world.

So what is the future of evangelical Christianity? God only knows, but what if it looked like this?

An evangelical Christianity that embraces the reconciliation message of the Gospel and is self-critical and epistemologically humble, resisting the temptation toward ideology. Walter Bruegemann describes ideology as the “self-deceiving practice of taking a part for the whole, of taking ‘my truth’ for the truth, of running truth through a prism of the particular and palming off the particular as a universal.”[1]

An evangelical Christianity that acknowledges they are not the only type of Christ-followers, nor are they the only reconcilers God is using in the world. Nonetheless, they commit to organizing their lives and their institutions around the core value of God’s reconciliation with the world.

An evangelical Christianity that is not satisfied with being evangelicals and with possessing the Gospel, but which strives to become attuned to God’s mission in and for the world and seek to align their lives, their minds, and their hearts with that mission.

An evangelical Christianity that views their churches and their institutions, not as ends in themselves, but as means toward a greater end—an end which only God can and will bring about.

An evangelical Christianity that trusts in the Spirit’s agency and divine wisdom, rather than primarily in their own interpretations of Scripture, of reality, and of God’s work in the world.

An evangelical Christianity that is open to new movements of God, and yet able to discern truth from error, and justice from injustice.

An evangelical Christianity that embraces both the vertical dimension of salvation  (justification and reconciliation with God) and the horizontal dimension of salvation (healing, relational wholeness and peace, liberation from oppression).

An evangelical Christianity that seeks and embrace truth, even when it runs counter to received and cherished interpretations of Scripture and reality.

An evangelical Christianity that reads the gospels as the message of the Gospel; that finds as much significance in Jesus’ life as in his death and resurrection.

An evangelical Christianity that defined itself in relation to its movement toward center in God, Christ, and the Spirit, rather than by the static edges or periphery of cultural and ideological distinctions (the insider-outsider mentality). 

An evangelical Christianity that rejects ethnocentricity and racism (even the implicit kind) and embraces otherness and diversity, even when it threatens the security and power of consolidated homogeneity. 

An evangelical Christianity that, when necessary, accepts the demise of “evangelical” power and prominence in order to usher in the greater glory of God. Like John the Baptist, a Christianity willing to decrease, so that God might increase and so that God’s reconciliation project might move forward.

I don’t know if all this describes the future of American Evangelicalism, but it would be grand it if did. 


[1] Brueggemann, Book that Breathes, 30.

Through a Glass, Darkly

 

I’ve spent a lot of time in the last few weeks mulling over our conversation, in many different settings. On a Sunday afternoon a little over a week ago, for instance, I was at “Convenient Care,” lying on my back while a friendly and blessedly competent nurse inserted a catheter. I needed to think about SOMETHING other than what was immediately happening. It was a perfect opportunity to consider yet again this strange dialogue, in which—with all the good will in the world—we rarely seem to be talking about the same reality.

I HAVEN’T spent a lot of time thinking about the future of evangelicalism, because I don’t think we are likely to be any more far-sighted than our counterparts were at the end of 1913. Not that opinions are in short supply (they never are). In The Age of Evangelicalism: America’s Born-Again Years, a book coming from Oxford University Press next May, Steven Miller exaggerates the impact of evangelical Christianity in the United States from the 1970s onward, only to conclude that “[b]y 2012, the Age of Evangelicalism was winding down.” The most recent issue of The American Scholar (Winter 2014) features an article by Jim Hinch.  The cover-copy isn’t subtle: “The Empty Cathedral” (in giant letters, imposed on a photo to match), and this below: “Why Evangelical Christianity is going the way of the drive-in movie theater.” Who knows? Maybe Hinch is right. Then again, an argument that rests on the fate of Orange County’s Crystal Cathedral as diagnostic for the larger story of “evangelicalism” (whatever exactly that means) will strike some readers as underwhelming. (And it will make some readers think wistfully of the years when Joseph Epstein presided over The American Scholar, which the current version of the magazine resembles in name only).

My wife, Wendy, and I joined Faith Evangelical Covenant Church in Wheaton when we moved out here in 1994, transferring our membership from the Covenant church in Pasadena where we’d been members for 16 years. Neither the alleged ascendancy of evangelicalism nor its prophesied decline have been evident in the life of our congregation. Very few of the people we worship with would describe themselves as “evangelicals,” though that label wouldn’t be inaccurate if someone wanted to apply it. We believe the outrageous things that Christians have believed since the first century and continue to believe today around the world. There are all sorts of wrinkles, of course, points of contention of the kind that have divided Christians from the outset and continue to do so today, sometimes with sickening arrogance and ferocity, other times kept in perspective by the great truths that unite us, the hope that we share, whatever stream of the faith we find ourselves in.

The story of Christmas? Yes, beneath all the crap, the kitsch, the hideous muzak, we think it’s real. Preposterous, of course—but what if it’s true? How wonderful that would be.

 

Openness to the Other: A Challenging Necessity for the Future for American Evangelicalism

Let me lay out two preliminary points. First, this is a blog post, not a treatise. I am expressing my opinions, formed over roughly twenty years, on a matter that has occupied my thoughts.

Second, I realize full well the perils of speaking of “Evangelicalism” (even when modified as American) as anything other than a fairly diverse movement, especially in recent decades. I restrict my thoughts below to what I see as institutional, or systemic, issues. I realize, quite happily, in fact, that scores of individuals exist on the Evangelical spectrum who would do not reflect the “system.”

That being said, I see “openness to the other” as a pressing challenge and a pressing need for the future of Evangelicalism.

The challenge is that the kind of openness I am calling for would likely threaten Evangelicalism’s raison-d’etre, i.e., a largely defensive posture assumed for the purpose of protecting and defending what is seen as the most biblical iteration of the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

The need is that without some adaptation or transformation, Evangelicalism will shrivel and die the death of a thousand qualifications and slink off into irrelevancy.

And to be clear, by “openness” I do not mean open to superficial exchanges that leave things as they are. I mean true openness, where change is a two-way street, where the possibility of change is focused inward rather than simply outward.

So where would the Evangelical system need to be open to the other in ways it traditionally has not? For better or worse, as an academic, I live in the world of ideas, so I want to restrict my thoughts here to that familiar world and mention just four interrelated areas. I am not suggesting that all the pressing challenges reside in my universe of discourse, and I am counting on others to add their own voice from their own experience.

1. Openness to true developments in the intellectual drama of the human species. Other posts in this series have addressed this issue, which often falls under the umbrella of genuine significant advances in various scientific fields that tell us of the past.

We simply know more than past centuries of Christians, even more than the early decades of the Evangelical movement, about evolving humanity, our ancient planet, and the inconceivably large and complex universe around us. 

I am not suggesting—I hope this doesn’t to be said—that science “dictates” faith, the truth of the Gospel, or whether God exists. These sorts of accusations are often first lines of defense in maintaining the system; they are obscurantist and ultimately destructive of true faith in God. 

I am saying, however, that genuine, widely agreed upon, scientific developments need to be accepted for what they are—and not at a distance, but brought into theological and hermeneutical discussions of our faith. To do otherwise is to concede that God himself is outmoded.

2. Openness to different ecclesiastical traditions. A common characteristic of Evangelical ecclesiology is the view, either explicit or implicit, that Evangelicalism is in some meaningful sense the clearest and most faithful expression of the Christian faith—which implies it is the version God most approves of. Other traditions are often looked down upon as either compromising “the clear teaching of Scripture” or lacking in some other crucial way.

The challenge to maintain some sort of Evangelical identity amid ecumenical discussions is a real one, but not necessarily impossible to pull off. How that might work itself out is not for me to say, but, in our ever-shrinking world, Evangelicalism cannot afford to be seen as anything other than in serious dialogue with other Christians communions. The global Christian faith must work toward a deep unity in basics amid diversity of various local and ecclesiastical traditions.

3. Openness to different expressions of the spiritual journey. Most global citizens claim to adhere to some sort of religious/spiritual practice and faith, and most of them are not American Evangelicals. Evangelicalism must be willing to listen as much as speak, and be willing to have its own traditions examined, and even to learn from those of other faiths and to take their expression of faith seriously.

Rather than seeing such openness as a denial of the Gospel, it is actually an expression of deep faith in God to acknowledge that our own very local view of ultimate reality is deeply conditioned by the American drama—often far more so than by the biblical story. Few things are as unsettling to Evangelicalism system than to consider that Israel’s God, in Christ, and in Spirit—who, like the wind, goes where and how he pleases—may be on the move across the world in ways the Evangelical system cannot understand or control.

4. Openness to holding to Scripture in a different way. The core intellectual foundation of Evangelicalism is biblical inerrancy, however defined (whether literalistically or its more recent progressive iterations). Inerrancy is rooted in a priori commitments to the nature of God and how that God would necessarily communicate in a written document—namely, in a manner that is essentially historically accurate and internally consistent (without contradictions of true theological diversity).

The modern study of Scripture and the events behind it study has yielded numerous insights that are in irreconcilable tension with inerrancy but are also widely accepted among scholars, and in some cases are pillars of the academic field (such as the long compositional history of the Bible and the presence of myth and political ideology in the Bible).

Though these insights form the content of most any high-level academic program in the study of the Bible and the biblical world, they have rested uncomfortably with the Evangelical commitment to inerrancy. As I see it, the recurring tensions over inerrancy within Evangelicalism are fueled by the distance between a priori theological expectations about God and how his book should behave, and the non-cooperative details of biblical interpretation.

The nature of Scripture is not a closed question, and within Evangelicalism, an invitation to open and safe discussions is sorely needed.

No tradition is perfect, and I am not saying Evangelicalism alone has problems. I am only saying that, in my opinion, the future of American Evangelicalism requires that Evangelicalism be prepared to rethink some things, even reinvent itself, by proactively, seriously, and openly addressing issues such as these—not to participate in trends and fads to keep current, but simply to remain active and contributing players in the human drama, which will not sit still waiting for the next clever defense of the Evangelical status quo.

Is “American Evangelicalism” still Christian?

Some in this conversation have challenged the propriety of a phrase like “American Evangelicalism.” Sarah Ruden, for example, rightly laments that the “American” part of this phrase is quite worrisome. I want to pick up on this discussion a bit.

For most of my adult life I would have construed “evangelicalism” to be fundamentally a religious term, a label for a particular group of Christians, like Catholics or Quakers. My spiritual formation as a Christian took place in a Canadian evangelical setting, with strong fundamentalist influences. I believe “evangelical” in that setting was an authentically Christian label that located my church in a certain theological place. There were, to be sure, cultural and political glosses but, at its heart, it was an expression of Christianity.

A few decades have now passed. During those decades “American Evangelicalism” evolved dramatically into an entirely new species. What was once a gloss has become the heart and the heart is now the gloss.  I now think of “American Evangelicalism” as a political and cultural movement—like environmentalists, the GLBT, or vegetarians—with a gloss of Christian rhetoric.

The new post-Christian species of “American Evangelicalism” is doing very well financially. Having abandoned any serious concern about the love of money, it is wealthier than ever. Its leaders enjoy lavish “lifestyles of the rich and famous” free of any criticism. Its constituents have embraced self-serving political positions like “cutting food stamps helps the poor.”  Or “unemployed people are just lazy.” Or “climate change is a hoax.” Or “raising the minimum wage hurts the poor.” Or, my favorite, “lowering taxes on the rich makes us all better off.”  A consistent theme runs through all these positions, namely that American Evangelicals want to get richer, love being led by the fabulously wealthy, and that poverty should be ignored.

The interests of American Evangelicals are now being advanced by some of the world’s wealthiest people: the Koch brothers, without whose wealth the Tea Party and its menagerie of curious candidates would be long gone; or Sheldon Adelson, who single-handedly funded Newt Gingrich in the race for the GOP presidential nomination.  The GOP platform is now the creed of American Evangelicals; Fox News is its voice; fighting Big Government is its cause.  And Jesus, who Fox News assures us was “white,” was a first century capitalist who is often misunderstood as a champion of the poor.

This over-simplified picture of American Evangelicalism is certainly not what any authentic evangelical wants for their tradition. So how did we get here?  We got here the same way that the gridlock got into our political system:  by gradually oversimplifying the world into “us” and “them.”  Our discourse is now such that we cannot distinguish between a criticism of “us” and an affirmation of “them.” Witness the hostility that Chris Christie received when he embraced Obama in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy. Christie being “nice” to Obama was somehow the same as being “not-nice” to the GOP.

Two dangerous things happen when things get this polarized: First, people are often forced to make choices that should have been unnecessary; and sometimes they decide with their feet, as I did when I said “enough” and joined an Episcopal church. Evangelicalism, not surprisingly, is experiencing a steady and intellectually corrosive “brain drain” now by forcing its educated leaders to pick sides—which often means they take their voices elsewhere. The second and more damaging thing that happens is the silencing of reforming, even prophetic, voices with the evangelical community.  We hear calls to embrace those in our community, set aside our differences, and reserve criticism for those outside our community.  So what happens when those within our community need to be criticized by their extended family? How does that work?  The sad reality is that it does not work and the result is the “American Evangelical Jesus” has become almost invisible.

I am skeptical that “American Evangelicalism” can recover its lost soul. There is just too much money at stake.  If it were to happen, it would require decoupling its religious commitments from its politics and the many interests that are exploiting it. Let me suggest the following as examples of what needs to start happening on a large scale:

1)    Evangelicals need to adopt a much more critical stance toward those with great wealth.  If Mitt Romney or John McCain asks evangelicals for their votes, we should ask them why they have not disbursed their vast fortunes to the poor as Jesus commanded the rich young presidential hopeful in his day. We should demand that televangelists like Benny Hinn and Creflo Dollar return their vast wealth to the poor from whom they extorted it. We should ask every politician seeking our vote how they plan to deal with America’s growing wealth disparity.

2)    We need to reject political hate speech, even when it comes from people on “our side.” Three of the nation’s leading purveyors of hate speech—Ann Coulter, Sean Hannity, and Michelle Malkin—present themselves as loyal Christians speaking up for Christian values. This is unacceptable. As an experiment I have raised this concern with many of my evangelical facebook friends. With no exceptions, the response has been that “hate speech from right wing pundits is OK because there is also hate speech from left wing pundits—like Ed Shultz and Martin Bashir.” That evangelicals think like this shows how thoroughly they have been politicized, and how insignificant Jesus has become.

3)    We need to embrace diversity and even controversy; we need to value critical voices from within, recognizing that internal criticism makes you stronger and larger but external criticism only makes you defensive and smaller.  When our colleges run off professors for being too “liberal” on this or that issue, or our churches run off our young people frustrated by their community’s lack of interest  in social justice, we are all weaker. Indulging our obsession with uniformity and tradition exacts a large toll on our communities.

There are, of course, millions of authentic Christian voices in American Evangelicalism, genuine followers of Jesus.  Many of them are my friends and my family. But their communities need better leaders, not opportunists driven by agendas that have nothing in common with the teachings of Jesus. Until American Evangelicalism rejects the growing cancer of its own politicization, no progress on any meaningful religious front is possible.

 

Listening to Fresh Voices

My first thought upon being asked to respond to the question of the future of American evangelicalism was to wonder about the size of that question. How am I competent to answer such a large question, since I am a New Testament scholar and not a sociologist? Yet I have considered these questions about the identity and direction of evangelicalism for much of my life, having grown up in this movement and having pursued my vocation within its borders. My involvement in this blog conversation for the last half a year has also contributed to my understanding of evangelicalism; my colleagues have offered me a greater sense of the richness and expansiveness of the evangelical movement, and I am grateful to them for investing their wisdom and perspectives into this conversation.

I’d suggest, however, that none of these qualifications provide me with a window into the future of American evangelicalism. I am neither a prophet nor the daughter of a prophet… So, although I will share my vision for the future of American Evangelicalism, it is not an attempt to prognosticate. Rather, I share here my wish, my hope, my prayer for this movement that has been a theological home for me for a long time.

First, I’d like to think that evangelicalism will reckon with its located-ness as a particular movement within the church’s historical trajectory rather then the one, true expression of God’s work in this world (see May discussion on this blog). The pluralistic context in which we live is a resource for doing this kind of redefinition and exploration of identity. Rather than feeling threatened by such pluralism, even within the realm of Christendom, we could allow it to teach us that ours in not the only legitimate voice in the church. This kind of self-reflection, as a movement, could help us identify our strengths and weaknesses in ways that provide avenues for both self-correction and for preservation of what is central. Because if we have to say that everything is a strength (a corollary to ‘we’ve got everything right’), we’ll never be able to discern what strengths evangelicalism does offer to other Christian traditions.

A recent Bethel graduate and now pastor, Adam Rao, made the following observation to me in a recent conversation that highlights one such strength. “I think that the strength evangelicalism brings is the recognition that our Christian beliefs matter because they locate us in something that is not entirely incomprehensible, but took/takes place in human history. If the resurrection never occurred, then let’s pack it up and do some good instead of wasting our time with all this church stuff. If Jesus didn’t really exist or was nothing more than a 1st century prophet, then I’m pretty sure I can stay home on Sunday mornings and pursue my own spirituality without needing a church at all.”

Second, as part of this self-reflection, I would hope we might come to terms with and even celebrate the breadth and diversity that is American evangelicalism. Amos Yong helpfully expresses this diversity in his post in this current conversation. Given the penchant of evangelicals to define “we” rather narrowly, we have quite a way to go in this endeavor. Yong has suggested, for example, that we intentionally include non-white populations in our conceptions of evangelicalism. How will we do justice to the presence of immigrant movements within American evangelicalism? How will we pay attention to and learn from global evangelical expressions?

If these are some promising directions for American evangelicalism, I also have had a keen sense that, in spite of what my generation of 50-somethings (plus) will or will not do, there are new generations that will take the lead—in truth they already are. If nothing is certain but death and taxes, then evangelicalism will change and morph because, to borrow from Anne Lamott, in 100 years, all new people. In light of this generational movement, I am encouraged by the current generation of students that come to Bethel Seminary for training who are committed both to the future of evangelical churches and to new ways of engaging mission, theology, and faith. They are activists who care about human suffering and who desire deeply to live out the gospel—the story of Jesus—in their particular communities, empowered by the Spirit, for God’s honor and for the world’s restoration.

Some voices leading this new generation of evangelicalism have been a part of this blog (Kyle Roberts, Soong-Chan Rah); others that intrigue me include thinkers like Christena Cleveland and Rachel Held Evans, who we might locate within the evangelical tradition (based on the publishers of their books and themes they engage). What particularly excites me about the work of this next generation is their willingness to collaborate and to be in conversation with those not just like them, theologically or socially. There is a sense of the importance of relationality in their work and presence that I find exceedingly hopeful. Capable hands, it seems to me, for a passing of the torch, even and especially if this next generation doesn’t do evangelicalism precisely like each past generation has envisioned it.

To invoke Dylan:

Come mothers and fathers

Throughout the land

Don’t criticize

What you can’t understand

Your sons and your daughters

Are beyond your command

Your old road is

Rapidly agin’

Please get out of the new one

If you can’t lend a hand

For your times they are a-changin.’

(from The Times They Are a-Changin’)

My hope is that the evangelicalism of my generation will age gracefully (while continuing to make important contributions) and then empower and step out of the way for a new generation that places Jesus the Messiah at the center, understands the Bible as revelation from God, and commits to living out justice, mercy, and faithfulness in mission from the triune God (Matt 23:23).

The Renewal of Evangelicalism: Future Challenges and Opportunities

What is on the horizon for American evangelicalism? If the European West is wrestling with postmodernism and its aftermaths and the global South is grappling with postcolonialism and its socioeconomic convulsions, American evangelicals will continue to struggle with post-denominationalism in coming to grips with a postsecular and yet post-Christendom world. On the one hand, post-denominational trends might be understood as signaling the ongoing unfolding of the full promise of the Protestant Reformation and the early modern Enlightenment. Freedom of conscience, un-coerced religion, and democratic liberty initially displaced religious hegemony with confessionally organized ecclesial options. But in the present time, such Protestant confessionalism is also showing itself less flexible in mobilizing people. On the other hand, then, creeds are being replaced by relationships, and people are saying that even denominations are too cumbersome, unable to adapt quickly enough in order to meet the needs of those having to navigate the vibrant twenty-first century context. At least the pietist stream – or river – within the American evangelical landscape has always been suspicious of institutionalized orthodoxies, and hence their concerns for a more Christ-centered orthopraxy and Spirit-filled orthopathy leave them more inclined to follow out the post-denominational currents of the present time.

Such post-denominational developments are also being fed by globalization. Migration is transforming the demography of North American life and this will be progressively felt in evangelical churches. The very important issues of black-and-white that ought not to be forgotten are being gradually complicated by red, brown, and yellow, etc., presences. Denominational loyalties are hence being superseded by missional charismatic leadership, engaging worship styles, and racially, ethnically, or culturally significant ecclesial forms. Along the latter trajectories, there are emerging also multiracial, multiethnic, and multicultural mega- and other types of churches, among other experimental forms prompted by the needs of migrant communities and their descendants. But this means there are generational, stylistic, theological, and other factors related to these endeavors that will need to be adjudicated long into the future. To the degree that denominations are ineffective in adjusting to these migration, globalization, and related factors, to that same degree they will be irrelevant in the future.

In the global context, of course, there are an additional set of dialogical challenges. On the one side, one would think that the currently shrinking global village along with our ever-expanding information society would urge American evangelicals to seriously consider other cultural traditions and ways of life. In so far as the evangelical center of gravity is also slowly shifting from the American West to the global South, one might expect that American evangelical perspectives are being enriched, reshaped, and challenged, by majority world voices, beliefs, and practices. And to some degree, that is happening. On the other side, the post-denominational tendencies presently at work illuminate how modernity’s individualistic axiology is playing itself out, and this is occurring not only in the North American context but also around the world. This is the consequence not only of Western influence but also of how the forces of globalization flow in both directions: from the rest to the West and vice-versa. In that case, is it just as likely that non-Western communitarian ideals will influence Western and American evangelicals as it is likely that modern American individualism will gain further foothold elsewhere. To parse the question this way, of course, is rather reductionistic, as if communitarianism and individualism could be demarcated thusly. However, even a more nuanced discussion will still need to confront the questions related to globalization dynamics: how the West interacts with, imposes itself upon (whether intentionally or not), as well as gains from, the rest.

The future of American evangelicalism in a post-denominational world will hence be increasingly fragmented, multi-colored, and constituted by global dynamics. If confessional orthodoxy on its own is no longer persuasive, can the center hold? This is of course the ancient question regarding the one and the many. Of course, orthopathic sensibilities, while essential, are also unable to stand solely. “Do you love Jesus?” opens up the conversation, but then the question that follows sooner or later on its heels is, “toward what end?” The latter suggests that orthopraxic actions and behaviors – related to the mission of the church – also play an indispensable role. Yet having just framed it this way indicates that an ongoing triangulation of orthodoxy, orthopathy, and orthopraxy is unavoidable. Some might think such a multi-foundational set of interconnections is debilitating in terms of providing not one (i.e., confessional) but a potentially and perennially shifting number of fundamental commitments. I would urge instead that we consider such a triadic structure as offering a wider range of resources for rethinking and reconsidering not just American but global evangelicalism in our time.

As a pentecostal theologian, I default to an incarnational and pentecostal – and hence arguably more robustly trinitarian – understanding of how this orthodoxic-orthopathic-orthopraxic nexus empowers Christian, and evangelical, identity in an uncertain world. Christ’s incarnation register’s divine commitments to redeeming human embodiment, temporality, culture, and particularity, and the Spirit’s outpouring on all flesh (Acts 2:17) reflects divine modalities of renewing human language, ethnicity, and culture. “Jesus is Lord!” captures the thrust of the Spirit’s ongoing work, although Jesus’ lordship is realized through the Spirit’s gifting differentially the many members of Christ’s body (1 Cor. 12), which includes, albeit does not reduce to the registers of race, ethnicity, culture, and socioeconomic class. In our post-denominational times, how adept will we be in engaging with these “others” for evangelical faith? This is a rhetorical question, surely, as it is not as if we have a choice if we are committed to the values of the coming reign of God constituted by what the Apocalypse describes in terms of many peoples, tribes, nations, and languages (Rev. 7:9).

Needless to say, evangelical theologians are and can be exemplary in taking up the dialogue with theologians of race, theologians of culture, and theologians of globalization on the one hand and with Asian, African, and Latin American evangelical and other theologians on the other hand. In a fluid global context, denominational confessions will continue to give way to theological hybridity – evangelical self-understandings that, for instance, link orthodoxy to orthopathy and orthopraxy. This triadically framed node of identifiers will involve racial, ethnic, and cultural qualifiers in some cases and social, political, and economic ones in others, sometimes conflating in multiple directions. For instance, mine is a “pentecostal-East-Asia-by-way-of-Malaysia-to-America-1.5-generation-immigrant-concerned-both-with-ethnic/Chinese-enclaves-and-with-second-and-later-generation-assimilationist-trends-married-to-a-5th-generation-Mexican-American-pentecostal-woman-who-grew-up-on-the-migrant-trail-and-still-remains-the-only-college-graduate-in-her-family” set of perspectives.

America was formed from out of the experience of migration. Evangelical health in the twenty-first century will depend on renewing, and being renewed by, such a diasporic and hybridic identity, one capable of connecting the historic old to the globalizing new. Our post-denominational climate allows for new confessions to emerge that capture and inspire human hearts, hopes, and aspirations (the orthopathic dimension) while engaging with and empowering effective ecclesial mission, evangelism, and social witness (the orthopraxis domain) in a complex and ever-shifting world. Anything less may result in the passing of evangelicalism en route to a new form of ecclesia as the people of God.

At the Risk of You All Coming to My House and Smacking Me

My answers to this month’s questions are going to sound quite sharp. I don’t think American Evangelicalism has any meaningful future if it keeps classing itself as “American,” a sort of separate national religion. As a distinct movement and culture in the United States, it can only lampoon its own professed theology and wall itself off from the aspirations, sufferings, and perils of Christianity worldwide.

 

The differences in the American Christian experience—not only in Evangelicalism, but pretty much across the board—make it hard for believers to understand how far we are from the early church that was born along with basic Christian ideas, whereas many Latin American, African, and Asian congregations do have that closer view. Unless we can imagine a future along with them, we might as well chuck it in, in my opinion.

 

When I was living in Cape Town, my maid Lucy, who commuted into the white suburbs from a distant “black township,” belonged to a shack church there. At one point, I taught her a method of jewelry-making from recyclables. She was delighted with the necklaces she completed and planned to show them off at her church the next Sunday. I urged her to sell them, starting a small craft business, but I had a hunch that she wouldn’t, and in fact she didn’t: she gave them all away without hesitation. She couldn’t have imagined making a profit from her fellow parishioners, most of whom were poorer than she was.

 

Later, her extended family treated her atrociously, using a minor quarrel as an excuse for throwing her out of the house she had purchased for them all, as the sole breadwinner for a long period. I spoke to her hotly over my shoulder about the violation of her rights, while I searched online for a legal aid resource and exhorted her to defend her place in the home for which she had worked so hard, or at least to recover the money she had put into it. She opted for an arduous search for a decent, affordable place to live on her own, and for the surrender, during middle age, of her single investment, as she couldn’t conceive of going to court merely to further her own welfare.

 

When I meditated on these two episodes, it was galling for me to have to admit that I idolized two American values secondary to Christianity at best: entrepreneurial capitalism, and legalism. Lucy, in contrast, took the New Testament at its word: property must serve the community, especially the poor. How could that not be, she may have reckoned, when you have to look all the time at the extra deprivation that comes from keeping anything extra to yourself—when, for example, you own several colorful necklaces that are fun to wear and nice conversation pieces, helping remind you that there can be something to life besides hardship and fear, and your friends don’t have a single ornament or any means to get one?

 

And if no one else’s fate is at risk (as it would be, say, in the case of a criminal at large) and there is no chance for Gospel Order (Lucy’s family were not Christians), a believer might have to swallow great wrongs in order to avoid hateful contention and set the example of peace. On the other hand, Lucy had a strict Romans 13 view of her legal obligations—though she lived in a country where the rule of law was in notably bad repute and even self-righteous foreigners like myself cut corners, with a “Why bother?” attitude. She always went tediously through the official channels. She showed respect for authority. She never contributed to breakdown and chaos.

 

I like to call myself a Christian, but because American is a stronger part of my identity, I have bought my faith very cheaply—if in my circumstances it can be called faith at all. Alas, in recent years, with more Americans losing their homes, going hungry, and dying from lack of the medical care than even a comfortable fellow citizen can ignore, I’m being forced into a greater sense of Christian realities even here; but that means having to rethink my deepest Americanness, the belief that my country must be a special, protected, privileged part of God’s plan. That would, hem, be the same God who sent His Son to die on the cross for the salvation of all humankind. The pairing of these two ideas is twaddle.

 

“American” evangelicalism can hardly be in touch, either, with another commonality between Christianity in the developing world today and the Christianity of the first through the third centuries A.D.: both are prone to persecution in many places. I have been mourning the recent death from cancer of my friend Jack Cullinan, a devout Catholic journalist and expert on the treatment of Christians worldwide. Certain laws and customs, mob violence, and the overall steady loss of tolerance are  horrifying—when we pay attention, which we usually don’t: it’s all just a little surreal background to the big news from Africa, the Middle East, and East Asia. American Christians, except for a few missionaries, do not themselves expect ever to answer the ultimate question about the value of their faith: “Would you continue to profess it if you were going to be killed for that?”

 

And such are the geopolitical realities connected to American power that, for us, the question is an almost purely theoretical one. US foreign policy considerations help keep active, open Christianity out of those countries where it is least known and so, by Christian definitions, most needed. A determined American evangelist might enter Saudi Arabia on false pretenses and set to work, but he would probably be stopped right away, with the cooperation of the US embassy, then merely deported home and banned from returning. (It’s a very different story for evangelists from developing countries.)

 

For anyone who listened to him, however, the costs could be much greater, so he might be sacrificing potential converts while risking little himself. It’s not a popular path to take, to say the least. The clergy of even some ancient Christian churches (tenuously) surviving in the Middle East feel they have to turn away inquirers rather then imperil them and their families and the church itself, along with Muslims who have simply offered goodwill and protection in accordance with their own scriptural decrees. In one respect, the Roman Empire’s persecution of Christians set out clear-cut moral choices that encouraged wholehearted, unambiguous self-sacrifice: as a rule, anyone who wasn’t a committed Christian could escape punishment of any kind by renouncing Christ and worshipping the emperor’s image. As things are now, a witness with extensive collateral damage built into it hardly looks like a religious witness. It could look like a brutal and meddling intervention by the West.

American culture and American power, in short, pretty systematically exclude us from the kind of solidary with Christians and potential Christians worldwide that would give our faith a truly solidified and revitalized future. If we are to have this, our allegiances need a serious revamp.

 

Worthy Challenges, Exciting Opportunities

As the wide range of discussions in this conversation have shown, American evangelicalism is complicated, contested, and multifaceted. We have often failed to reach agreement on how to define many aspects of evangelicalism even within the confines of this forum.

As a social scientist, I spend much time seeking the best ways to define and measure aspects of religious beliefs, behavior, and belonging. Such work helps us better understand the relationship between religion and politics. But when I reflect on the future of American evangelicalism as a movement, I am less concerned about precise scholarly definitions than I am about the popular usage of the term.

Outsiders are unlikely to make much distinction between those who identify themselves with evangelicalism and those who are labeled as such (even if they eschew the label). From their perspective, our internal divisions may look like needless hair-splitting or meaningless squabbles. What they know is what they see from afar. My hope is that American evangelicals can unite in ways that allow us to become a force for positive change; my hope is that outsiders will yearn to know more about God because of what they see evangelicals doing and proclaiming in Christ’s name.

My vision for the future of American evangelicalism is a positive one, although I do have a few concerns. As many of the contributors to this ongoing conversation have noted, evangelicalism has a long, robust, and meandering history. Like all movements, evangelicalism is undergoing change and will continue to transform as society and culture create new obstacles and opportunities. But the underlying principles and beliefs that unite American evangelicals are strong enough to ensure that they will continue to provide salt and light for decades to come.

So what are some of the major challenges and opportunities facing American evangelicalism? As we look to the future, evangelicals should pay particular attention to demographic trends that are changing the American landscape even as we focus more attention on teaching the faith.

Demographic changes are creating both challenges and opportunities for American evangelicalism. Consider several trends.

First, the composition of American churches is changing. Mainline Protestantism is on the decline; church membership numbers have been dropping for decades, and many churches are closing their doors. At the same time, evangelical denominations are more likely to be maintaining their numbers or experiencing growth. Pentecostalism in particular is growing rapidly.

On the other hand, survey data suggest that evangelical numbers may begin to decline as the population ages. When compared with older generations, young adults are less likely to identify as evangelical and more likely to claim no religion at all. Secularism is on the rise, especially among younger Americans. In Pew Center surveys from 2012, for example, 32 percent of 18-29 year olds claimed no religious affiliation compared with only 9 percent of those 65 and older. It has been a common experience for younger adults to stray away from attending church but begin to return as they settle down and have children. But as marriage rates decline and other cultural shifts remake the landscape of American family life, it is less clear that this pattern of returning to church will continue.

Another trend suggests both challenges and opportunities. The nation is growing in racial, ethnic, and religious diversity. According to Census Bureau projections, the size of the non-Hispanic white population will peak in about a decade and then decline. Hispanic and Asian populations are expected to double in size by 2060; the African American population is estimated to increase by 50% in the same time frame. Within thirty years, the United States will be a majority-minority nation. The future of evangelicalism in part depends on how evangelicals respond to these dramatic shifts.

Although Rev. Martin Luther King Jr.’s observation that” the most segregated hour of Christian America is eleven o’clock on Sunday morning” is still an apt descriptor, American churches are growing in racial and ethnic diversity. According to the 2010 Faith Communities Today study conducted by researchers at the Hartford Institute for Religious Research, 14.4 percent of Evangelical congregations are multiracial, double the percentage of Mainline Protestant churches, but significantly less than Catholic and Orthodox churches.

So, what steps might American evangelical Christians take to respond to these trends?

Opportunities for multiethnic and multiracial collaborations abound. Evangelical leaders are beginning to address their lack of diversity, working intentionally to broaden their multiethnic reach and appeal. Many churches also house other congregations that host services in native languages of immigrants and refugees. Such efforts need to increase as the church seeks to meet the needs of a changing population and more accurately reflect the diversity of the church universal.

White evangelicals also need to seek opportunities for greater partnership with their African-American brothers and sisters. Although black and white Protestants often worship in different churches (a legacy of racism and exclusion that forced African Americans to create their own, parallel institutions), they share many foundational beliefs. White congregations need to reach out, repent of their past sins against African-Americans, and seek restoration and reconciliation.

Evangelicals also need to teach the faith so that worshippers know what they believe and why. We need to train our own children and church members so that they have a robust, deep, and personal knowledge of the faith. Such education should begin in our own homes and in children’s programming in churches. Our faith communities should seek to build the strong and lasting multigenerational friendships that are so essential for helping young people learn the faith and continue to follow Christ into adulthood.

Evangelical colleges and universities also play an important role in forming future generations, and we should support their efforts. One important way to help is encouraging our children to attend CCCU schools. Of course, Christian colleges are not “one size fits all,” and many evangelical students will find a place on secular campuses. But CCCU schools are an excellent place to train future generations, teach the faith, and prepare students to serve God and His kingdom in a wide range of academic disciplines. We should also uphold Christian colleges and their unique mission with our prayers and financial support.

If we continue to strengthen our churches, bridging past racial and ethnic divides and teaching our young people the faith, American evangelicalism will thrive in the coming decades. Together we can come alongside those in need, be positive agents of change, and share the love of Christ with a broken and hurting world.

The Story of Power and the Power of Story

Being part of this Respectful Conversation over the past seven months has been invigorating. It’s required me to look for themes in the writings of my collaborators and commenters, to uncover where the defining questions lie, and to apply my sociological imagination toward making sense of contemporary American Evangelicalism. The process has required me to reflect on my own argument as I imagined others reading it and to be far more attentive to major shifts in contemporary religious discourse. Knowing that I had to stake my personal claim in December hopefully sharpened my thinking.

1. What is your vision for the future of American Evangelicalism?

My June post made reference to James Davison Hunter’s To Change the World, in which he contrasts differing views of connections between evangelicals and the broader society. After reviewing “Purity From”, “Relevant To”, and “Defensive Against” (which was my reference), he ends by calling for “Faithful Presence”. This simple notion is profound in its implications. He says that Faithful Presence “is an expression of a desire to honor the creator of all goodness, beauty, and truth, a manifestation of our loving obedience to God, and a fulfillment of God’s command to love our neighbor.”

While there are a variety of voices competing for dominance in American Evangelicalism (and religion more broadly), I believe that the next decade will see an outbreak of Faithful Presence over more combative views of faith and culture. Some of this stems from changes we’re seeing in the faith of millennials. Even those who haven’t left the church are seeing the faith-culture relationship in very different ways than their parents and grandparents. They are far more aware of their identity as strangers in a foreign land who are trying to live as citizens of the Kingdom of God.

It’s entirely possible that the short term will see more combative language from many quarters. To quote former Vice President Cheney (though he was overly optimistic), “we’re seeing the last throes of the insurgency”. If the past four decades of American Evangelicalism has been defined by the power dynamics of culture wars, it’s going to be hard for major players (and their intellectual heirs) to simply give up the fight.

Over the long run, however, the posturing and argumentation of the former style will prove no match for the honesty and humility of Faithful Presence. This is because the Defensive Against posture must rely on overstatement, generalization, and politicization while Faithful Presence depends on old-fashioned testimony. To tell one’s story of faith in the midst of complexity yields an authenticity that is beyond reproach. In an age suspicious of posturing and hungry for relationship, one’s story has a power very different from the kind we’ve been chasing in the past. 

2. What do you see as the major challenges and opportunities we face?

There are two major challenges to my vision of an evangelical future: one external and one internal. The external challenge is the legacy of Christendom. We’ve created a perception of Christianity as pursuing a religiously oriented vision of a moral society gained through the influence of political power. The attempts to control outcomes become trigger events for pushback from secular audiences. These issues become part of the larger drama of charges and countercharges between evangelical public figures on the one hand and neo-atheists on the other.

This is buttressed by a more internal challenge: the cognitive frameworks defined by the idea of Worldview. Fifteen years ago, Christian Smith argued in American Evangelicalism: Embattled and Thriving (1998) that evangelicalism developed a subcultural identity based on being under assault from secularism and liberal Protestantism. I’d suggest that this attempt to remain separate relies on specific forms of scriptural argument and educational philosophy. However, it is a tenuous position. As Hunter observed in his book on Evangelicals sixteen years earlier, the realities of the modern world and the desire for acceptance or influence make separatism harder to maintain.

These two conditions are especially threatened by the dynamics of social change. The political vision is expressed in concerns over loss of control (even if control had never really been in reach). The worldview vision sees every shift in attitude or new interpretation as the beginning of the slippery slope toward worldliness.

But much has changed in the last two decades. The younger generation seems more willing to maintain diverse views due to their connection to social media. Some expressions of postmodernism allow a focus on dialogue arising from one’s clear values. Increased concern for those who are powerless (the poor, the trafficked, the innocent) prioritizes compassion over being right and separate. Heightened levels of education within evangelicalism have allowed a more complex view of engagement with those outside the subculture.

All of these shifts present an opportunity to rethink cultural engagement that allows faithful Christian testimony while avoiding the political name-calling of the Christendom argument or the isolation of the worldview argument. Rather than adopting the incorrect assumptions of secularization, it actually creates a tremendous opening for Faithful Presence.

3. What steps should American evangelical Christians take to respond to these challenges and opportunities?

One key changes necessary is to learn to be honest about our real situation. In recent months, Missio Alliance has posted a series of blogs about “The Scandal of Evangelical Memory”. These point out the ways in which we’ve told ourselves a history that isn’t complete. Two related points of argument come from careful histories, which separate our imaginings from what really happened. Edward Larsen’s Summer for the Gods (1997) documents how the Scopes trial unfolded in ways very different from how we’ve told the story (the town’s reply to an ACLU ad was one of the biggest surprises for me). An even timelier example is found in Robert McKenzie’s excellent new book about The First Thanksgiving (2013), which documents both the real history of the Pilgrim settlers and the ways the fictional communal dinner was used to support later American values.

A second key is found in changing the way we use scripture as a point of argument. Ken Schenck argues that there is great value in focusing on the broad common themes of the scriptural story rather than on the verses that divide. He correctly argues that we pick contentious verses as argument-enders instead of advancing the full Gospel story.

Finally, and most importantly, we need to find our way to trust the Holy Spirit to lead. This is part of the public’s interest in the recent actions and statements of Pope Francis. This morning, Father James Martin was on NPR talking about the pope. Scott Simon asked if the College of Cardinals were expecting these changes from Francis. Father Martin responded, “it shows you once again the power of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit does what the Holy Spirit wants to do.”

There is no better hope for the future of evangelicalism than that.