I bang my head against the wall when evangelicals are misleadingly portrayed – a response to Giles Fraser

When you have invested much of your life into something, it is bound to have an emotional effect if, or when, someone attacks it. Some attacks may be warranted; some may even be done with a measure of grace. Unfortunately, neither of these is could be said of Giles Fraser’s spiteful attack on evangelical christians which was published in the Guardian recently.

His misleading caricature on evangelical christians (or as I prefer to call them, christians – see here for more on what I mean by the term evangelical) seems, at the start, to be based on school assemblies he has with the under 5s. That, combined with the picture of Ned Flanders, did not bode well if this was meant to be a well thought-through, reasonable piece.

“This is what evangelicals call “a personal relationship” by which they mean that Cheesus [sic] has become their boyfriend or best mate,” writes the anglican minister. Now I have met a handful of christians who might loosely, if somewhat mean-spiritedly, be described as holding such a view. They are, however, a tiny minority and may make up no more than half a dozen or so out of a medium-sized congregation of hundred or so. In this regard, there is a grain of truth in what he writes. But a grain of sand does not make a beach. To take such a viewpoint and apply it to a wide spectrum of belief is both unfair and unreasonable. Indeed, as I sat at my table to write this response I got rather stuck, given the variety of views that I have come across from evangelicals from a number of different denominations over the last three decades. As such, I can only write this from the perspective of one evangelical, me. Others may agree with what I have to say, some may disagree. That is the very nature of being a non-conformist and a result of free thinking.

So is Jesus my best buddy? Of course not, but there is an element of truth in the personal relationship theme. Because of Jesus’ actions at Easter, both the crucifixion and the resurrection, humans can be put in a right standing with relation to God. This idea is generally known as justification. Though the relationship is not really that of a boyfriend or best buddy, more like the relationship a child has with their parent. That said, it may still have aspects of friendship within it. John 15 records Jesus speaking to his disciples as his friends. Does this extend to his modern-day disciples? Maybe. James 2:23 refers to Abraham as a friend of God. Was that reserved for Abraham, or might it be possible for us? Possibly the best exposition of our relation to God is given in the book of Hebrews, where the writer describes the priesthood of all believers, with Jesus as the high priest, though I’ve written on this before if you want a fuller discussion.

There is not a little irony with Giles Fraser’s use of the term, ‘Patronising, superior and faux caring all at the same time.’ The first two could certainly be applied to his own article, although not the third as he seems to care even less about needlessly offending people than he does about portraying them accurately.

He states that ‘Rowan Williams never spoke of Cheesus [sic].’ Given Giles Fraser’s peculiar portrayal of ‘Cheesus’ this may well be right. However, even though such a simplistic viewpoint of christianity may exist, it is by no means the prevalent view, so not many evangelical christians, let alone the ministers of such churches, speak of Cheesus either. To judge all evangelicals on the basis of one or two who portray slightly lax thinking would be to judge all anglicans on the basis of one minister I encountered whose sermon consisted of reading the newspaper headlines and telling the congregation ‘As christians, this is what we ought to think of such-and-such.’ Nor would I base my view on my time at university, when our college chaplain, who was also canon at the local cathedral would only such much as allude to Jesus but never speak openly of him, let alone give an exposition of a passage of scripture. To him, Jesus was a figure that it was assumed all would know fully. Any sermons consisted of looking at pieces of art and talking about vague ways in which the art “reminded” us of a few aspects of Jesus’ character, though that never involved his turning the tables on the money changers or the one who endured agony on the cross. That was not the Jesus the chaplain preached about. Though such people exist, even in positions of seniority in the church of England, it would be unfair to characterise all anglicans as such. Indeed, as the chaplain was canon at Durham cathedral, it is likely that he knew the new archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, and his predecessor at Durham, Tom Wright, both of whom have been labelled at one time or another as coming from the “evangelical” end of the spectrum.

This brings me to the next point of engagement: Giles Fraser’s claim that to regard the cross as a moment of victory is “theologically illiterate.” Yet if the case can be so simple and accurate at the same time, then to do so would result in regarding Wright as such. After all, did he not write Jesus and the Victory of God which made just this point (in particular pages 592-611)? Though he may not be to everyone’s liking, it would be a brave man indeed who might call Wright theologically illiterate.  That said, as before, there is a modicum of truth in what Giles Fraser writes. If one were to solely view the cross as a moment of victory, then a vital aspect of Easter may be overlooked. Yet it would be equally wrong to ignore any aspect of God’s victory, pretending it didn’t happen.

The cross was undoubtedly an event of great suffering. Different people have different emphases on this suffering. You can you usually tell a catholic cross because the figure of Jesus will still be present on the cross. Those from a more protestant church will have the cross empty, perhaps focusing more on the resurrection. I may well be in the minority of evangelical christians who have read Moltmann’s The Crucified God, where the idea of God suffering is explored extensively. Though I’m not sure it’s required reading in high church anglicanism prior to confirmation. Whether we emphasise the suffering of the crucifixion or the joy of the resurrection, the two lynchpins of Easter ought not to be divorced from one another. Indeed, in 1 Corinthians, Paul opens his letter by talking of the power of the cross and declaring that he “decided to know nothing among you except Jesus the Messiah and him crucified.” Yet the natural progression of the letter leads him to climax the letter with chapter 15, perhaps one of the greatest expositions of resurrection theology and what it means for the world.

Giles Fraser supposes that ‘Cheesus [sic] cannot deal with tragedy.’ This seems to be the point that has upset most people, judging by the reactions I have read so far. I don’t deny that many christians have trouble in dealing with tragedy. But is this because we are evangelicals who hold to some Disney-like Jesus and spend our time singing “All things bright and beautiful”? No. We find it difficult because we are human. Tragedy is difficult whether you are low-church evangelical, high church, atheist or catholic. If anything, I’d be worried by anyone who did find tragedy easy to deal with. We all deal with loss in our own way and we all have different ways of responding to tragedy in those around us. Some feel the compulsion to say something, nomatter how platitudinous it may be. For my part, I treat others how I would want to be treated, which is to say I prefer on the whole to be left alone. I will offer, though only once, to listen to anyone if they want to talk or to offer practical help on things like cooking or cleaning. Simplistic words of comfort rarely go down well, yet it would be misleading to pretend that this is adopted by all evangelicals or that such an approach is unique to them. One of the thorniest questions that can be asked of a christian is ‘how can bad things happen to good people?’ not only because of the implicit assumption that we know and understand the meaning of the words ‘good’ and ‘bad’ but because it is something  that is barely addressed in the gospels. The closest we have in in Luke 13 when Jesus refers to the tower of Siloam falling and killing lots of people. His answer is little more telling than if he had simply said, “shit happens.”

Perhaps one might consider engaging with just a few (out of many) books written on the subject of dealing with pain, tragedy or loss. Surely, if any writer is more likely to be found on the shelves of evangelicals, it is C.S. Lewis, author of The Problem of Pain and A Grief Observed. Or for looking at the subject of unanswered prayer, I’d highly recommend God on Mute. There is scant little of Cheesus in this work, even opening with a note of exasperation with some fellow evangelicals. Oh, by the way, the author, Pete Greig, happens to be on the staff at Holy Trinity Brompton, an anglican church which Giles Fraser seems to have, at best, deep suspicions about, or at worst, a disdainful phobia.

With the instalment of the new pope and the archbishop of Canterbury, religion has been near the top of the news a lot recently. Whether you like it or not, it is a topic that interests people. As a non-conformist evangelical, being neither a catholic or an anglican, I have been hoping that these two leaders who have the ears of much of the world might be able to use their positions to faithfully declare the gospel.  I don’t think they’ve made a bad start. Both catholic and anglican churches have their problems, which people love to focus on; but so do many other churches from other denominations who don’t command the same level of press coverage. Christians of all denominations need to be faithful to the gospel and present Jesus as accurately as we can to the rest of the world. Then people can make an informed decision as to whether to accept or reject him and his message. Caricatures of Jesus, whether peddled by evangelicals or high church traditionalists, are not helpful.

Theology ought not to be about publically bashing those we disagree but about studying the logos theou  – God’ word, working to understand what it means and its implications, listening to one another and to the voices from the who have engaged with the same questions. A church without theology is baseless and a theology without the church is pointless.

Inviting Jesus into your heart?

Preamble

This is just intended to be a short post as a precursor to a forthcoming article on what I mean when I talk about priests and also why I don’t refer to members of the clergy as such. That post is getting quite long, so I wanted to use this to clear a little ground first. So with that in mind, you might want to revisit this after the priest post has been published.

The argument

I have occasionally heard/read some criticism by the use of (predominantly) evangelical christians using the phrase “invite Jesus into your heart” as the means by which one becomes a christian. Much of this criticism is fair, I think, but there’s a little more to it than meets the eye.

The main arguments against its use are as follows:

1) Such a phrase is never used in the bible.

2) It is highly simplistic.

While both of these are true, I would argue that they are not the whole truth of the matter. Rather, the phrase is a summary of a much more sophisticated theology, which I shall attempt to enunciate: When Jesus was crucified, Matthew’s gospel records that the curtain in the temple was torn in two. This is highly symbolic as the curtain was an emblem of the separation of God and mankind. So its destruction, in symbolic terms, said that Jesus’ crucifixion was the act that meant God and mankind were to be reconciled.

Prior to this, Jesus had caused a rumpus in the temple by overturning the tables and throwing out the money-changers. Some regard this as a cleansing of the temple, though others regard it as a parable acted out denoting the destruction of the temple. If we are to accept the second theory (c.f. Mark 13:1,2) then the implication is that the temple was no longer needed. It was more than a prediction of its historical destruction in A.D. 70; it was a declaration that the purpose for which it stood was now redundant.

What was that purpose? It was the symbolic home of God on earth. It was never a literal dwelling (c.f. 1 Kings 8:27, 2 Chronicles 2:6, 6:18, Acts 7:48, 17:24) so it shouldn’t be taken as anything remotely mystical. So if the temple was now redundant, what replaced it?

The short answer is us. The outpouring of the Holy Spirit on the day of Pentecost (see Acts 2: 1-13) filled each person individually with the spirit. They were now the figurative dwelling places of God on earth. So instead of one temple situated in Jerusalem, there would now be a multitude of temples walking across the earth. Or rather, to be less individualistic, there are multiple parts of the temple wandering the planet.

This is expanded upon by Paul in some of his writings. Take, for example, Ephesians 2:19-22. Here, he uses the image of the church to be the new temple. In 1 Corinthians 3:16,17 the same metaphor is used. Though, it seems clear that the message here is for the whole church. 1 Corinthians 6:12-20, however, seems much more aimed at the individual, which was a topic I touched on recently, so as to not have the discussion on individualism here.

Most christians I think would agree with me when I say that salvation (note, I have not defined precisely what this means, for now, I confess to being a little fuzzy in my terminology) comes about through faith in Jesus as Lord. Now, there may be many aspects to this which are worth exploring and indeed, as stated recently, I am pursuing one of these lines of enquiry at the moment. This is why there is an emphasis on the person of Jesus, whose action is history is more readily grasped (if not with complete ease) than discussions of the more tricky notion of ‘God’.

Conclusion

So by stating that we are “inviting Jesus into our hearts” we are making a declaration that we wish to become a part of the new temple, filled with the Holy Spirit. We are trusting that Jesus’ death was a once-and-for-all substitutionary sacrifice for our ‘sins’ (or perhaps, for being ‘sinners’). This step of faith is very much an inward action. The follow up to this is much more public where, as an act of obedience, we are to be baptised, which in itself is a highly symbolic act, which is why in the majority of churches, it is accompanied with a testimony of how that person came to be a christian, though I admit that this latter part is not a biblical imperative; it is merely helpful for the person being baptised and for those in attendance.

Of course, there is an obvious weakness to my argument, which I freely admit. That is, how much of this is necessarily understood by the person making the step of faith? I would argue that the basic tenets of christianity need not be over-complicated. Acts 2:39 makes it clear that from the outset, the gospel was to be accessible to all. You don’t have to have a full grasp of all the details before setting out. That can, and should, come later. For example, you don’t have to know all the details about an internal combustion engine before learning to drive. Later on, some understanding of mechanics may help when the car starts spluttering.

I know that I have used a lot of terms here that I have not defined well and may appear rather religious. This is probably a by-product from having, for the most part, grown up in church, surrounded by the terminology. In due course, I may try and hone some of these terms to make them less religious, thus making them more accessible. But I hope I have been reasonably clear. Let me know if you agree or disagree; this could be a fascinating discussion.

When is an evangelical not an evangelical?

Please forgive me for another post which hinges around semantics, but this is something that has been gnawing at me for some considerable time and which was freshly piqued by a couple of comments I’ve seen over the last couple of weeks.

What do I mean, and what you interpret when we hear or read the words evangelical, evangelism and evangelise?

In my view, there is difference between what I mean and what most people here is growing into an unbridgeable gulf, which then makes me wonder whether it’s worth trying to redress the issue or simply to move on and not use the terms any more.

What I think of when of when I use evangelical and its cognates

When I use the term evangelise what I mean is pedagogical exposition. There are many ways in which this may happen which is why I don’t think it’s appropriate to regard it as a denomination in and of itself. So, even though I went to a wide variety of churches as a teenager, from Baptist, Charismatic, Pentecostal, Methodist, Anglican, Presbyterian, etc. they were all evangelical.

The biblical basis for evangelism is often pinned down to the great commission, Matt 28:18-20;

“And Jesus came and said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptising them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

Yet there was also the time when Jesus sent out the 12, which is told most extensively in Matthew 10, but which has shorter parallels in Mark 6 & Luke 9.

Here, they were simply told to “proclaim the good news” – interestingly they were to travel from town to town and stay in people’s houses. Here, I think some cultural context is called for, as staying in other people’s houses was, I understand, more common in the culture of that time and place than it is in 21^st century England. Nonetheless, they were engaging with people on a personal level.

On the day of Pentecost, Peter addressed a crowd that had been drawn there by what was going on around them, and he freely explained to them what was going on. In Acts 4, where we have the most concise summary of what the early church did, we are told that “the apostles gave their testimony to the resurrection”

In Acts 8, Philip just went to Samaria and “proclaimed the Messiah to them.” It seems that he was in a crowd when he did for we are informed that a crowd was listening to him. We aren’t told explicitly where this took place, but chapter 13 of Acts gives us a strong hint: the synagogue.

Again, in Acts 17, we have Paul who went to the synagogue to reason with them (here, the word commonly translated as ‘reasoned’ is dielexato which is derived from the verb dialegomai which has connotations of converse, preach, lecture, argue).

So what is the modern equivalent of the synagogue? Is it the church building?

I would posit the following: the synagogue was the main meeting place, the hub of the community. It’s where people met in order to listen and to discuss what they heard. It was a social place where the everyday business of living was largely carried out outside of the home or the workplace. That is not to say it wasn’t a place of religious worship, it very clearly was. But it was more than that.

So what does that look like today? Society is not particularly uniform; it’s pluralistic, multicultural and many places, disconnected in isolated pockets that may be physically next door to one another. So the modern day equivalent of the synagogue takes many different forms as a consequence; it might be the pub, the coffee shop, the youth club, the gym. It might also be the digital spaces such as the blogosphere, the discussion board, Facebook, Twitter. All of these are places where people come together to discuss ideas (amognst other things), and as such I don’t think it too far-fetched to suppose that had the apostles been living in today’s world, these would be the spaces that they choose in which to proclaim their message.

What I do not mean (but which is often the common perception)

To me, evangelism doesn’t mean putting pressure on people or trying to get them to change their whole life in an ‘altar call’ or similar act of coercion.  It should in no way resemble browbeating. I can find no biblical precedent for forcing anyone to listen or, worse, forcing them to accept the message. I accept that not everyone will accept the message that evangelists bring, and they are free to reject it. My wish, though, is that they can at least have a fair understanding of what it is that they are rejecting and hence their reasons for doing so may not be based on a lack of understanding or poor reasoning.

For example, in some modern parlance, there is talk of christians believing in a bearded sky fairy, which represents a misunderstanding and misrepresentation of the christian faith. Whether that misunderstanding is deliberate, due to a misunderstanding of what they had been told, or whether they have been poorly informed is not always clear.

I do not consider evangelical to be a denomination in and of itself. It is a characteristic that runs through many widely varying denominations including those (like myself) who do not define themselves by denomination.

The view that it is a denomination comes, I think, primarily from the mega-churches of America, fronted by their celebrity preachers. The sort of ideas that come out from within these churches into the public view is one of a very American, Republican conservatism. John Piper, when describing his father, says, “He was an evangelist – the old southern, independent, fundamentalist sort, without the attitude.”

It is this identification of evangelicals as fundamentalists that disturbs me. To many, I think, the two are synonymous with one another. The term evangelical conjures up images of a biblical literalist, creationist, afraid of good science, homophobic and often with a strong sense of Zionism (none of which are ideas/attitudes I share).

Interestingly, when I once told someone I went to a Pentecostal church, their first reaction was to suppose that my church was “Pro-Israel” when in fact my local church is really quite apolitical, has no official stance and I don’t ever recall contemporary Middle Eastern politics discussed in any church meeting. We’re just busy getting on with the business of being a church.

Am I saying these people aren’t evangelical? No. What I am saying is that they have views that are “stuck on” top. It’s a little like taking a picture and gluing on sequins, glitter, string and bits of felt. The add-ons should not be mistaken for the underlying picture. Admittedly, the more add-ons that we have, the harder it may be to see the picture, so it understandable that some misconceptions exist.

So who isn’t an evangelical

As I visited quite a variety of churches in my teenage years, learning how others viewed the world, the gospel and the role of the church, I never encountered anyone who was openly opposed to the notion of evangelism. That is, no one in churches.

It was only when I went to university that I first encountered a group of conservative, traditionalist Anglicans (who included the college chaplain, who was, and still is, one of the cathedral canons) who thought evangelism had no part to play with christianity. They were very much religionists, whose idea of church was something that happened once a week in an ornate building, where you chant the liturgies, sing some hymns, endure a sermon and go home without thinking about it and without allowing yourself to be challenged.

When I asked about the great commission and the history of the early church, their response was that they thought it was meant only for the apostles and had no application for today. So the obvious follow-up is to ask “How do you expect anyone to know the gospel?” The answer, in summary, was that if anyone wanted to know then they should go to the church and ask, or just pick up a bible and read it.

While these may be ways by which people find themselves in churches, it absolves the churches of any responsibility to be proactive in educating people. Yet, when I went along to their churches the one thing that was noticeable by its absence was the gospel. The sermons consisted of reading the news headlines and saying “as christians, this is what we should think about these things.” It was always assumed that people knew the basic teachings of christianity, and it’s this assumption (or rather, presumption) that I found rather arrogant and out of touch with the modern world.

So what then 

Where does this leave us? One the one hand, we end up with a skewed vision of evangelism that has crept across the Atlantic and in many cases leaves christians open to (deserved) ridicule. On the other, we could become anti-evangelical and stick to religious ritualism, making it very much an ‘insiders’ club.

One compromise that has become more popular over the last 5 years or so is to refer to a church meaning “missional” which essentially keeps the heart of evangelism without the negative right-wing connotations that have accrued around it. However, its use seems just as muddled as evangelical, as it means different things to different people.

To me, the two key considerations that have to be balanced are those of “doing to others as you would have do you” and the issue of efficacy. This latter point is contained within Jesus’ instruction to be “as shrewd as snakes, and as innocent as doves.”

I view this as needing to be considerate to others whilst at the same time trying to get the message across as clearly as possible. Of course, some people won’t want to even listen. There’s fairly clear instruction on that. It’s not easy to get the balance right and it is often done wrong.

So at the one extreme end of evangelism you might have the open air preacher. I don’t care much for this method, as I think it actively detracts from the christian message rather than promotes it. It ensures that people have heard the name Jesus and that he loves you, but little more than that. At the other extreme, you have those who adhere Francis of Assisi’s notion of “Preach the gospel. If necessary, use words” where pedagogical exposition is a matter of last resort, only after someone has somehow grasped the notion of sin and redemption through the historic events crucifixion & resurrection, simply through you being nice to them.

As you can tell from my tone, I don’t think either of these are effective means by which to educate people about the gospel. But there isn’t a one-size fits all approach to evangelism. But has the word itself been twisted so far out of its original meaning that it shouldn’t be used any more? I’m not convinced.

I think it could still serve a useful purpose, as I am not convinced a suitable replacement has usurped it. Missional may well do the trick, but for now it is too nebulous. After all, if someone is willing to listen to you explain what you mean by ‘evangelism’ they may be willing to listen to some more.