The Fall of the Evangelical Nation

Once again, I want to momentarily step away from the frivolity of my seminary years and fast-forward a bit. During the 8 years that I served as a pastor in Marin and Sonoma counties, I worked alongside a total of 7 other church staff members. Of the 8 of us, only 1 is still working for a church, and at least 4 of the 8 are not even attending an evangelical congregation.

At times, I have wondered if my choices and those of my colleagues represent an aberration (this is California, after all). But after reading The Fall of the Evangelical Nation by Christine Wicker, I know better. This book is thick with statistics and sociological analysis, yet I found it to be an absolute page-turner—perhaps because the hard numbers are interspersed with compelling stories of individuals who are rethinking their faith in ways that sound awfully familiar.

In a nutshell, Wicker lays out a well-researched tale of “halves.” She notes that fully 80% of Americans identify themselves as Christians, but only half (40%) say they went to church in the last week, and only half of those (20%) were actually there. Moreover, less than half of the true church attenders (7%) hew closely to traditional evangelical beliefs like viewing Jesus as the only way to heaven and accepting the Bible as the inerrant word of God. On top of all that, approximately 1,000 evangelicals leave established churches each day, and many of them are deeply committed believers who have become disillusioned with the state of conservative Christianity. Some seek out new forms of faith like the “emerging church;” others don’t bother.

As I read this book and the personal narratives it relates, my mind flashed back to a summer mission trip I took in college. Students from various Campus Crusade for Christ ministries across the nation spent the summer sharing our faith at a beach town on the east coast, and one night we received a sober warning from one of the CCC staff members. He told us that, if past patterns held, 75% of us would not be “walking with the Lord” in 10 years time. This was a shocking number, and I got the message loud and clear: if we “fell away,” it would be because we neglected our faith—not because something was wrong with the beliefs we all held.

Wicker’s book provides ample statistics to back up the attrition rate I was quoted, but it does something more. It explains that many people do not leave evangelicalism because of moral failings or a lack of commitment, but because they have grown weary of believing that their particular version of Christianity has cornered the market on truth, and that its corresponding right-wing politics has cornered the market on values.

Perhaps my old Campus Crusade leaders would number me among the dreaded 75%, but The Fall of the Evangelical Nation tells me I’m in good company. For that and other reasons, I recommend it highly.

10 Things Your Pastor Wants to Tell You

Well, friends, we made it through my first year of seminary. There’s plenty more fun ahead, but I want to pause for a moment and mention a book I just finished. Apparently, I’m not the only heretic Baptist around, because Baptist minister Oliver “Buzz” Thomas has written 10 Things Your Minister Wants to Tell You (But Can’t Because He Needs the Job). This book raises some of the same issues I’ve explored on this blog, so I found myself nodding in agreement a lot. Still, I do wonder about the title. If you’re an evangelical, does your minister really want to join Buzz in affirming that the Bible is fallible, or that many Christians have missed the boat on women's issues and homosexuality? Probably not. So, based on my clergy years, I made my own list of things your pastor wants to say. Here’s the top 10:

1. My goal in life is to figure out which one of you keeps writing anonymous sermon critiques on the Welcome Cards.


2. That’s real interesting about your “gifting.” But I still need someone to help in the dang nursery.


3. No, frankly, I don’t have time to hear your groundbreaking theory on the Pauline authorship of Hebrews.


4. I tell you what, let’s put your salary on a budget sheet, pass it around, and discuss it down to the nickel for two hours.


5. You can give me all 29 Tim LaHaye books, but I’m still not doing a series on “The End Times.”


6. Listen, I had 3 units of pastoral counseling in seminary, most of which I slept through. So let’s not count on saving your 4th marriage here.


7. Yes, I’m aware that my predecessor had “a real pastor’s heart,” but that in no way obligates me to visit your ornery Uncle Dwight in the rest home.


8. I understand that changing the order of the worship service for the first time since 1952 was upsetting to you, but Jesus doesn’t care.


9. Why can’t somebody else “ask the Lord’s blessing” on a church function once in a while? It’s not that hard, folks.


10. You don’t have to apologize for cursing around me; sometimes “sorry sack of #$%&” is the only way to say it.

Any pastors (or former pastors) out there are free to offer your own suggestions!

Rating the Straw Men

So I just finished The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins. (Disclaimer: I am not promoting this particular book, though I do promote reading books with a perspective that differs from your own.) At one point, Dawkins lays out a 7-point belief scale, with #1 representing strong theism (100% certainty that God exists) and #7 representing strong atheism (100% certainty that God does not exist). Dawkins' own "rating" is between 6 and 7, and his stated goal for this book is to move people toward that end of the spectrum.

This was frighteningly reminiscent of The Engel Scale I learned about in seminary, which rates an individual’s Christian faith (or lack thereof) on a scale from -12 to +4. The -12 value represented a posture toward God like that of Linda Blair in The Exorcist, while the highest rating was basically reserved for missionaries in Kazakhstan. The idea, I guess, was that even nudging someone to a -5 (Experience of Christian love) signified progress. Then Billy Graham or somebody else who knew what they were doing could take them the rest of the way.

But here's my problem with both of these scales. Once you set out to move people toward some predetermined position, the temptation becomes overpowering to present only the evidence that supports said position, while dismissing conflicting evidence (or creating "straw man" versions of that evidence). I'm sure Dawkins would say that he is honestly weighing all available evidence, and maybe he is—but some of the pictures he paints of religious belief have the whiff of straw about them.

Of course, Christians do the same thing. To cite a trivial example, I just heard a radio show presenting "scientific" evidence for a 6,000 year-old earth by discrediting radio-isotope dating. Talk about a straw man—this argument should audition for the Wizard of Oz. In the first place, scientists are well aware of the applicability and limitations of various forms of radio-isotope dating and would never use this technique in the way it was being presented. Secondly, I know of no scientists who are claiming that radio-isotope dating is the only (or the most compelling) evidence of the earth's ancient age.

Wait, did I just yank this poor schmoe’s comments out of context and erect a straw man of my own? Maybe so. But as far as I’m concerned, he’s welcome to remain at whatever Dawkins/Engel rating he currently inhabits. Just keep an open mind about it, is all I’m saying.