Am I an Evangelical?

The labels we use should bring us peace and clarity, not frustration and confusion.

I was having lunch with a group of broad, non-denominational, Evangelical pastors. As the confessional Presbyterian at the table, I was an odd duck. While the conversation carried on, I detected a level of paranoia and skepticism directed my way. It soon became clear that these pastors – from different churches – assumed that I was theologically progressive simply by nature of being a Presbyterian. When I assured them that I ascribed to the beliefs of historic, global Christianity, the conversation immediately pivoted.

We were soon discussing hot-topic cultural issues. Now that I had put their fears to rest, these pastors assumed I was with them in their disposition toward the culture wars. Discussion of the “woke agenda” and the response we must have in our churches became the item of the day. Having first been on the defensive about my theological orthodoxy, I had to switch to something of an “offensive” posture as I articulated how my confessional Presbyterian beliefs gave me a radically different approach to the issues they were discussing.

In the first case, to be a Presbyterian among a group of Evangelicals was cause for suspicion and distrust. As the conversation continued, Evangelical theology assumed a hostile stance toward the culture wars.

When our family lived in the DC area, my strategy for evangelism involved joining or facilitating important conversations with non-Christians. For a few years, I was an active member of a group of “freethinkers,” most of whom had left organized religion of some kind and sought to articulate purpose and meaning beyond their former religious beliefs. I also organized monthly meetings at our local brewery, where neighbors could come and discuss topics like politics, community, the arts, and environmental care.

At the time, I believed that words like “Presbyterian” or “Reformed” might be a turn-off to my neighbors. Instead, I would opt for “Evangelical” to describe myself to try and be inclusive of many expressions of historic beliefs and traditions. Yet, in every case, the word Evangelical in these environments did not carry a theological meaning but a political one. Inevitably, as soon as I used the word Evangelical, the conversation would turn to politics, Donald Trump, and the infamous 81% statistic.

When used among non-Christians, especially those who have left the Christian faith, “Evangelical” often carries political rather than theological weight.

I did not grow up in Evangelical circles, yet, prior to our current church-planting ministry, most people I pastored have. As my relationships with church members deepened, it was not uncommon that stories about their Evangelical upbringing made me recognize how different our lives had been. Sometimes, these stories were fun and harmless, such as those about youth group fads or jokes about the media of Evangelical sub-culture. At times, these stories made me feel left out. Often, however, the stories and experiences of church members brought out the pain and harm they had experienced in their Evangelical upbringing.

I regularly heard stories from church members about being brought up in Evangelical circles that held odd and restrictive views of gender roles. I heard agonizing stories about child-rearing philosophies based on distorted, punitive theories of atonement. I was dismayed by the fallout of purity culture. The attitude of some Evangelicals toward mental health had prevented many from receiving the care they needed. I was shocked by the stories I heard from young adults who attended hyper-conservative Evangelical colleges. I did my best to care for these individuals, but the pain they felt – the betrayal – was simply not an experience I could connect to in any way.

Whether painless or painful, the Evangelical sub-culture is something I’ve never understood or been able to connect with.

I share these three stories as examples of my experience with the Evangelical label. While “Evangelical” was a term purposed for bringing clarity to certain broad, theological positions, my use of the term has brought greater confusion. Rather than bringing clarity to my theological beliefs, “Evangelical” has, more often than not, carried cultural or political meaning instead.

I often ask myself, “Am I an Evangelical?” The labels we use for ourselves ought to bring peace and clarity to our identities, not frustration and confusion. If a label only makes it more difficult to describe ourselves then it is not a label worth using. Here is my answer: given the confusion I feel and face with the Evangelical label, it is not one I can continue using for myself.

I hope this piece can chart a path forward for those who share my feelings or experience. Rather than fighting to reclaim the word “Evangelical,” or reacting to it, there may be a different path forward for us.

What is an Evangelical?

I mentioned above that I was not raised in Evangelical circles; far from it. “Evangelical” was a word I rarely heard as I came of age into adulthood. I certainly could not have told you what it meant. If anything, thanks to then-favorite films and TV shows like Dogma and South Park, Evangelicals often found themselves on the wrong end of my crude sense of humor.

I came to faith as a 23-year-old in a large non-denominational church whose key self-describing label was “Evangelical.” I soon came to associate the term with those who strive to take the Bible seriously, a posture I wholeheartedly embrace. Over time, I became acquainted with the classic Bebbington Quadrilateral, which has been accepted as the means for defining the four-fold emphasis of Evangelicalism:

• Biblicism - a high regard for the Scriptures.

• Crucicentrism – a focus on the atoning work of Christ in his death and resurrection.

• Conversionism – stressing the need for conversion, to be “born again.”

• Activism – the belief that Christians need to be involved in the public square.

Taken at a surface level, these are instincts I share. And yet, I still often find these four emphases problematic in how little clarity they bring for me personally or in my interactions with others.

Consider the first point as an example. I am striving to take the Bible seriously; so are the churches in my community who deny the historic doctrine of the Trinity. Our high regard for the Scriptures leads us in two radically different directions in our beliefs about who God is and what he has accomplished. Both of us can declare “Jesus saves!” (crucicentrism), and yet our understandings of who Jesus is are completely different.

Similarly, I agree with the Evangelical pastors mentioned above that Christians should be active in social and cultural issues. And yet, my confidence in the confessionally Reformed tradition, including the Reformed doctrine of common grace, leads me to a very different approach toward activism than their beliefs do.

I don’t find these four Evangelical emphases helpful, then. But it’s not just my anecdotal experience that brings me to this conclusion. Statistics regarding “Evangelicals” in the United States bring even greater confusion and deep concern. For example, the yearly “state of theology” survey by Ligonier Ministries and Lifeway Research shows how little theological unity the term “Evangelical” brings. Ryan Burge’s research has even recently shown that non-Christian Republicans are more likely to use the term “Evangelical” as a label for themselves.

Many other statistics share similar conclusions: “Evangelical” is often a cultural or political label, not a theological one.

A few years ago, Mark Noll, David Bebbington, and George Marsden – three key thinkers within Evangelicalism - edited a book of essays on Evangelicalism. In Evangelicals (Eerdmans, 2019), several leading authors and theologians analyzed the history, present, and future of Evangelicals and Evangelicalism. As I was wrestling with my use of the term, I found myself resonating with several essays in the book.

In Thomas Kidd’s essay “Is the term ‘Evangelical’ Redeemable?” he analyzes three key ways that the term “Evangelical” has been corrupted. As a result, he concludes his essay with these words:

These vague associations have turned “evangelical” into a term that… represent[s] a faux gospel of moralism, nationalism, and politicization. That is a gospel that certainly cannot save.

Historians (including me) will keep on using the term “evangelical” and examining what it has meant in the past. But in public references to ourselves, it is probably time to put “evangelical” on the shelf.^[1]

Similarly, Timothy Keller observed how a new generation of faithful churches was leaving the term “Evangelical” behind while being more committed to the historical impulses of Evangelicalism than ever before. In his essay “Can Evangelicalism Survive Donald Trump?”, Keller wrote:

In my view, these [new] churches tend to be much more committed to racial justice and care for the poor than is commonly seen in white Evangelicalism. In this way, they might be called liberal. On the other hand, these multicultural churches remain avowedly conservative on issues like sex… They look, to most eyes, like a strange mixture of liberal and conservative viewpoints, although they themselves see a strong inner consistency between these views. They resist the contemporary ethical package deals that today’s progressivism and conservativism seek to impose on adherents… these younger evangelical churches simply won’t play by those rules.

Does the word [evangelical], then, have an ongoing usefulness? For now, the answer may be no. These new urban churches are certainly not mainline Protestants, yet they don’t look at all like what the average person thinks of by the term “Evangelical.” Will these younger churches abandon the name or try to redefine it? I don’t know… but I don’t think that is the most important point to make.^[2]

No doubt others will come to a different conclusion than me. However, based on my experience with the term “Evangelical,” and given its numerous present challenges, I have moved on from the label and found a different path forward.

Moving On

For some, the right path forward may be to continue fighting to reclaim the term “Evangelical”; this is especially true for those who grew up within the movement. However, I find that many, if not most, of those leaders fighting for the Evangelical label remain focused on politics and Christian Nationalism as the sole subjects for discussion. Not only do these issues have no application to my current ministry, but I am tired of discussing Donald Trump rather than Jesus. (Note: see my third caveat below for some nuance on this.)

Others sometimes use words like “exvangelical” or “deconstruction” to describe their process of rethinking or healing from their Evangelical upbringing. This is not a move I can associate with either. I do not share the life experiences of those in this movement, nor do I share the impulse that keeps 20^th-century US evangelicalism as the primary reference point for understanding Christianity.

There are other options besides fighting for or reacting to Evangelicalism, however. My path forward has been defined by three key ideas:

First, I have anchored myself to a historic and global Christian tradition. My first suggestion to anyone seeking to move on from Evangelicalism is to do the same. For me, I have found a home in the confessionally Reformed tradition, particularly its global expressions outside of Southern Presbyterianism. There are numerous other traditions one might find a home in. Each of them serves to guide us into a historic faith that is much bigger than what the last century of Western Evangelicalism might have us believe.

Second, become a student of the Christianity of the oppressed. There is great comfort and resilience to be found among our ancestors who trusted Jesus when they, as Howard Thurman said, had their backs against the wall. Indeed, global Christianity is flourishing among the poor, the marginalized, and the oppressed. Too often, expressions of Western Evangelicalism can be associated with the accrual, misuse, and abuse of power. But that is not the only story of Christianity.

Third, focus on the needs of your immediate neighbors. If the forces of Western Evangelicalism had their way with us, they would suck us dry of spiritual and emotional energy. We would have nothing left to give to our immediate neighbor! But it doesn’t have to be this way. There is beauty and life to be found in our neighborhoods; there are people next door who need to find compassion and mercy in Jesus’ name. It is difficult to care for our neighbor when we are burdened by the anxiety and stress that fighting for Evangelicalism can bring.

Labels can still be useful to describe ourselves, of course. Having followed the above steps, I have found much greater utility and clarity in using terms like these:

·      Confessionally Reformed: “Reformed” does not provide enough clarity on its own, as many who hold to basic ideas about sin and election now try to use the term absent of its more historical meaning. “Confessionally Reformed” indicates that I am seeking to follow the historic Reformed tradition articulated in the Westminster Standards.

·      Catholic: While I am at home in the confessionally Reformed tradition, I do not believe it is the only right expression of Christianity! “Catholic,” as it is used in the Apostle’s Creed, indicates my desire to be connected to the historic and global church.

·      Neo-Calvinist: Within Christian circles, this term can articulate my impulse to apply historic Christian ethics and theology to modern concerns.

I’m not trying to prescribe new labels for you. However, if you identify with any of my experiences or feelings toward the Evangelical label, I do want to encourage you that you have other options. You can move on, it’s ok (really!), and you may find that Jesus has something more for you on the other side.

Caveats

In an effort not to be misunderstood or to avoid unintentional offense, I want to conclude with four important caveats. I may add more in the future.

First, I am sympathetic toward those who want to fight for the Evangelical label for the right reasons. A few years ago, I posted something on social media about how I thought it was time to give up the Evangelical label. I see now how simplistic a simple assertion like that can be. One minister reached out to me to tell me how hurt she was by that. Her church had left a mainline denomination because of its progressive theological beliefs. For her, “Evangelical” was a label associated with the orthodox beliefs she had fought for in her previous denomination. That’s not my story, but I’m sympathetic toward those for whom it is.

Second, I understand that this is difficult for institutions that have long identified with the Evangelical label. Like the pastor above, many institutions – and those who are a part of them – find “Evangelical” to be a necessary and key descriptor of a broad, conservative, theological movement. That’s great. You probably should fight to protect that label and identity. However, I also hope those same institutions would understand that their credibility with me will not be found in the Evangelical label, but in much more specific theological and philosophical views.

Third, I said above that I have found many who fight for the Evangelical label to be too hyper-focused on politics and Christian Nationalism. I tried to board that train in 2020; I found it to be just as exhausting and unrelatable as those to whom they are responding.

Still, this is not true of all those who are fighting for the Evangelical label. While I don’t keep up with the conversation much anymore, I deeply appreciate my friend Nicholas McDonald’s approach to Evangelical debates. Rather than keeping a hyper-focus on issues within Western Evangelicalism, he points us toward global expressions of Christianity. His subversion of present issues is often rooted in the insight of historic, global Christian figures. His social analysis is expansive, rather than reductionistic. While his experience is not mine, I look forward to reading his book when it is released.

Finally, the purpose of this essay is not to prescribe one path forward for all have-been or would-be Evangelicals. I only mean to provide an alternative path forward for those who might share experiences like mine (such as an upbringing outside of Evangelicalism or adult conversion). The labels we use for ourselves should bring us peace and clarity. There’s no need to hold on to those that bring us frustration and confusion instead.

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^[1] Thomas S. Kidd, “Is the Term ‘Evangelical’ Redeemable?” in Evangelicals, eds., Noll, Bebbington, Marsden, 250.

^[2] Timothy Keller, “Can Evangelicalism Survive Donald Trump” in Evangelicals, eds., Noll, Bebbington, Marsden, 254-255.