Evangelicalism

Evangelist Billy Graham preaches in Trafalgar Square, London, April 12, 1954. (Photo: AP)

I still identify myself as an “evangelical,” though that identity has become so compromised and vacuous that the term itself is not as precise and meaningful as it once was. If anything, it has become a liability and an embarrassment.

I am also a historian, so I value the past. The past of evangelicalism appears to hold more promise to us than the present, largely because its current connotation has turned in a decidedly—and deadly—political direction.

The evangelical movement was birthed in the 18th century under the leadership of evangelists like George Whitefield, pastors and theologians like Jonathan Edwards, and visionaries like John and Charles Wesley.

Evangelicalism was originally built upon four sturdy pillars. One was the need for a personal conversion; being born and baptized into the Christian faith was not enough. A second was a focus on the cross as the crux of the redemptive work of Christ. A third was the authority of the Bible and its usefulness in everyday life; hence the importance of preaching and daily Bible reading. A fourth was its activism; early evangelicals identified needs and launched “voluntary societies” (we call them “non-profits” or “parachurch organizations” today) to meet those needs. I would add one more to the list: no matter how large, the church must become small, too. Hence the necessity of small groups.

In my mind those were the features of essential evangelicalism.

Which leads us to the major weakness in this robust movement. It tends to have a shallow root system. It functions at its best as a modifier, not as a noun—evangelical Anglican or evangelical Presbyterian or evangelical Catholic. Over the centuries evangelicalism has turned moribund religion—the dry bones of mere church affiliation or doctrinal belief—into vital faith, inspiring people to own the faith for themselves and then act upon it. It adds flesh and blood, tendons and muscle, to those dry bones. It calls forth life.

But it does this best as a renewal movement that does not stand alone.

Take John and Charles Wesley. They were born, baptized, and raised as Anglicans. They grew up using the Book of Common Prayer. They attended Oxford, learning theology, history, literature, and other academic disciplines. They were ordained as Anglican clergy.

And then they experienced a personal conversion, just three days apart.

The “methodist movement” they founded was rooted in a “method” of renewal: evangelism, open-air preaching, hymn singing, small group discipleship, leadership development. Both men died as Anglicans. The movement split from English Anglicanism after they died. The Methodists were impatient and aggressive; the Anglicans threatened and inflexible. Both lost something in the split.

Evangelicalism functioned as an adjective, not a noun. It modified and enriched the tradition to which John and Charles Wesley remained loyal to the end.

I call Evangelicalism a “thin” tradition. What it does, it does well. But it tends to run shallow. Evangelicals have not developed the beautiful and biblical liturgy that Anglicanism has. It has not produced the art and architecture that Eastern Orthodoxy has. It has not produced the literary achievement that Roman Catholicism has. It has not produced the theology that the Reformed and Lutheran traditions have.

It popularizes, which tends to make it vulnerable to the whims and wishes of pop culture.

For example, it is vulnerable to the dominance of charismatic leaders. ALL traditions face this problem to some degree, but Evangelicalism to a greater degree. Evangelicalism has always had one or more “big personalities” function as names at the top of the movement’s masthead. The magnetic preacher George Whitefield is said to have spoken to 90% of colonial America during his career of evangelistic preaching in 18th-century colonial America. Charles Finney became a sensation during the first half of the 19th century, Dwight L. Moody the second half. Billy Sunday, a professional baseball player, dazzled audiences across America in the early 20th century. And Billy Graham surpassed them all in influence. Known as America’s pastor, he presided over the neo-evangelical movement for 70 years.

Big personalities create a celebrity culture. People attach themselves to the personality of the preacher as much as to the gospel they proclaim. Brand dominates; success assures; ego rules. It makes for a fragile faith.

Evangelicalism is also vulnerable to emotivism. If one feels close to God, then one is close to God. If one feels sorry for sin, then one is sorry for sin. If one feels love toward neighbor, then one is loving toward neighbor. But we know that feelings are not so reliable. They are real, to be sure; but they don’t define reality. God defines reality, not the subjective self.

Finally, Evangelicalism is vulnerable to political demagoguery, a clear departure from its historic mission. For two centuries evangelicalism excelled in building what sociologists call "mediating institutions,” like churches and non-profits, to advance the work of the kingdom. For the most part it was suspicious of government and served the common good on its own terms.

But not anymore, or at least not to the same degree. Now many evangelicals (the majority of which no longer regularly attend a local church) have turned to the government and the courts to coerce the nation into behavior more resonant with evangelical convictions. What therefore used to be a matter of persuasion has turned into a strategy of coercion. Evangelicalism once emphasized choice. Not so much any more.

The solution? A deeper root system. More next time . . .