The History Evangelicals Prefer

Mark Noll wrote The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind (1994) in the early 1990s but the recovery of a mind for evangelicals had been in the works for at least a couple decades. Prior to 1980, the study of American Protestantism followed the mainline denominations – from the colonists to the National Council of Churches. Of course, awakenings (18th century and 19th century) were part of the story but by 1950 Billy Graham’s revivals were clearly outside the Protestant mainstream.

That consolidation of the mainline Protestant narrative took a beating during the 1960s when so much of the United States’ institutions changed thanks to race (Civil Rights), sex (feminism), and war (Vietnam). From 1965 to 1980, in the history of American religion, mainline Protestants needed to make way for the Black church, Roman Catholics, Jews, and other non-Christian groups. Bringing up the rear were evangelical Protestants who, with a burst of energy supplied by Jimmy Carter’s admission that he was a “born-again” Christian, the founding of the Moral Majority and the funneling of evangelicals into the Religious Right, evangelical history took off like a rocket (that actually worked).

At the forefront of this history was George Marsden whose 1980 book on fundamentalism (Fundamentalism and American Culture) coincidentally came out just when journalist, think tank scholars, and even college professors were trying to figure out where the Religious Right came from. Soon, Mark Noll and Nathan Hatch emerged as leading voices on American evangelicalism, though both worked more on the Founding and the early national period than the twentieth century. Noll’s Princeton and the Republic is still a model of historical scholarship. Hatch’s The Democratization of American Christianity was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize in history.

With those three scholars at the front of the parade, other evangelical historians began to weave evangelicalism into the history of the United States. Some historians thought the recovery of evangelicalism in the history of the United States went too far and tried to explain too much. Mainline Protestant historians began to push back and tried to recover the particular histories of the mainline denominations. But evangelicalism, which hardly anyone knew about in 1975 had by 1990 become one of the most widely researched topics in the study of American religious history.

Where did it lead? Did evangelicals themselves come to a clearer awareness of their American past? Did they come to appreciate the variety of figures that had the most influence in their day when almost no one was reading Jonathan Edwards – figures like Charles Finney, Hannah Whitehall Smith (The Christian’s Secret to a Happy Life), Dwight L. Moody, Charles Parham (of speaking in tongues fame, Josiah Strong (whose social gospel had Christian Nationalist over and undertones), J. Gresham Machen, William Jennings Bryan, Harold John Ockenga, Billy Graham, Carl Henry, or Kenneth Kantzer (who put Trinity Evangelical Divinity School on the map before it wasn’t anymore). Did they figure out the American story?

Recommendations for church libraries may not reveal everything, but they do suggest what parts of evangelical history interest today’s believers. Tim Challies compiled a 250-book list and in it were sections that dip into those figures and eras that indicate the eras, figures, and texts that deserve attention. Readers may not be surprised to learn that Puritans and other Protestants associated with awakenings are the most worthy of study.

In Challies’ “Classics” section – numbers 73 to 84 – were John Bunyan, Augustine (Confessions), C. S. Lewis twice (Mere Christianity and Screwtape Letters), J. C. Ryle twice (Holiness and Thoughts for Young Men), Richard Sibbes (Bruised Reed), Thomas Brooks (Precious Remedies Against Satan’s Devices), Jeremiah Burroughs (Rare Jewel of Christian Contentment), John Owen (Overcoming Sin and Temptation), John Calvin (A Little Book on the Christian Life), and Charles Spurgeon (All of Grace). By my reckoning, that list is heavily weighted to the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Those who want to hear from more contemporary authors are thanking the Lord for the writers with two initials in their name.

The section on biography (numbers 200 to 222) again leans heavily toward the Puritans, awakenings, and foreign missions (this does not include everyone): John Bunyan, John Calvin, Martin Luther, Jonathan Edwards, Charles Spurgeon, Spurgeon’s wife, Susie, George Whitefield, John Newton, William Tyndale, Hudson Taylor, Adoniram Judson, Amy Carmichael, Henry Martyn, John and Betty Stam, Corrie Ten Boom, Elisabeth Eliot, R. C. Sproul (the twentieth century seems to have cultivated the two-initial phenomenon), and Tim Keller.

The last section explicitly recommends texts on church history (numbers 224 to 230). Challies recommends four books that survey the past, two on the Reformation, one on the early church and the doctrine of Christ (Stephen Nichols, For Us and For Our Salvation), and one on the Puritans.

What these lists show is that the work of the evangelical historians, such as Noll, Marsden, and Hatch, did not make much of an impression on rank-and-file evangelicals, their pastors, or the seminaries that train those pastors. Evangelically motivated Protestants came into the POSTWAR!!! (World War II) period with regard for the Reformers, Puritans, and revivalists. The output of evangelical history by evangelical historians has not changed that historical proclivity.

George Marsden actually captured this tendency among evangelicals in his introduction to Evangelicalism and Modern America (1984)

For Marsden, evangelicalism broadly speaking meant that

many American evangelicals participate in a larger historical pattern, having substantial historical experiences in common. All reflect the sixteenth-century Reformation effort to get back to the pure Word of Scripture as the only ultimate authority and to confine salvation to a faith in Christ, unencumbered by presumptuous human authority. During the next centuries these emphases were renewed and modified in a variety of ways, often parallel or interconnected, by groups such as the Puritans, Pietists, Methodists, Baptists, nineteenth-century Restorationists, revivalists, black Christians, holiness groups, Pentecosals, and others.

In contrast, evangelicalism narrowly considered was

for many self-consciously, a community. In this respect evangelicalism is most like a denomination. It is a religious fellowship or coalition of which people feel a part. This sense of an informal evangelical community or coalition goes back to the international Pietism of the eighteenth century. . . . International revivalism, particularly that of Charles Finney in the first half of the century and Dwight L. Moody in the second, as well as efforts in world missions, especially helped foster a unity of purpose among evangelicals from a variety of denominations.

Of course, the history of evangelicals since 1800 has not been particularly inspirational or theologically stable. Even so, some might have expected the recovery of evangelical history by evangelical historians to have moved the favorite-period-of-church-history needle.

It’s Not Salvation, It’s Politics

Christians who look to discern religious significance in the United States have only two options. The first is to sacralize the nation:

By conflating a certain understanding of American history with scriptural revelation, proponents of “Christian America” risked idolizing the nation and succumbing to an “irresistible temptation to national self-righteousness.” They also sacrificed any ability to offer a scriptural critique of the cultural values they themselves embraced.

A second should be to secularize the nation — look at it simply as part of God’s providential care which is almost impossible to discern. But that’s not the way it goes because the search for a Christian American usually results in seeing how un-Christian America is. That leads to sacralizing anti-Americanism:

What, then, might a Christian understanding of the nation look like?

To begin with, it would reject any notion that the United States, or any other nation since the coming of Christ, occupies a unique position as God’s chosen people. It would recall that God’s people, wherever they find themselves, were to be “strangers and pilgrims”—good citizens, yes, but always remembering that their real home lies elsewhere. And Christians must also remember that they will be judged not according to what they profess, but rather according to how they act. Thus, the righteousness of any society should be judged “not merely by the religious professions that people make, but also by the extent to which Christian principles concerning personal morality and justice for the oppressed are realized in the society.”

And that leads to the demonization of Trump’s America (thanks to Chris Gerhz):

I didn’t actually want a Trump sign, but one of the volunteers had shoved it into my hands as I walked through the door earlier; “Make America Great Again!” That sign probably saved someone from getting hurt. I held the sign close to my chest as I positioned myself between the chanting protesters and the angry mob. My 11-year-old daughter was clinging to my arm, sobbing in fear.

The two angry, screaming ladies looked at me, both of them raised their middle finger at me in my face and repeatedly yelled, “F*#% YOU!” Repeatedly.

I calmly responded, “No thank you, I’m happily married.” Their faces and their voices were filled with demonic anger.

I have been in places and experiences before where demonic activity was palpable. The power of the Holy Spirit of God was protecting me in those moments and was once again protecting me and my daughter in this moment.

This is what happens when people try to find religious significance in every nook and cranny. Sometimes a cigar is a cigar. Sometimes a nation is simply a nation. But when you’re in the habit of using religious categories to justify national greatness, it’s only natural to use the same outlook to conclude national turpitude.

Two Kingdoms and Confessional Protestantism Look Pretty Good NOW

Stephen Prothero explains why evangelicals look even less reliable than they always have to those in confessional communions who take church governance seriously:

For decades, pundits have viewed white evangelicals as perhaps the most powerful voting block in American politics—the base of the Republican Party. Cohesive, well organized, and politically active, they crafted their identity around a shared belief in the Bible as the inspired word of God and a shared commitment to supplant the moral relativism of the insurgent 1960s cultural revolution with “traditional values.” It’s a bloc that’s persisted for decades. Today, roughly a quarter of all Americans identify as evangelicals, and white evangelicals make up the majority of Republican voters in many Southern primaries. In 2012, four out of five of them preferred Romney over Obama.

White evangelicals helped to send Ronald Reagan and George W. Bush to the White House, so courting them early and often has become perhaps the great art of running for office as a Republican. For decades, Republican politicians have gone on pilgrimage, Bible in hand, to Bob Jones University and Liberty University to court the Jesus vote. Even nominal churchgoers like Reagan have done what no European politician would ever do: pledge their prayerful allegiance to Christ. Along the way, they have repeatedly promised to restore school prayer or stop gay marriage or overturn Roe v. Wade.

What they have delivered, however, is defeat after defeat in the culture wars. Cultural conservatives failed to pass constitutional amendments on school prayer or abortion. They lost on Bill Clinton’s impeachment. They lost on pop culture, where movies and television shows today make the sort of entertainment decried by the Moral Majority look like It’s a Wonderful Life. And same-sex marriage is now the law of the land.

Scarred by these battles, some evangelicals have withdrawn from politics, pursuing what blogger Rod Dreher has referred to as the “Benedict Option,” which focuses on fostering local Christian communities rather than taking yet another whack at the lost cause of Christianizing the nation. Others have continued to try to bend the arc of American history toward biblical values. And some of them are now denouncing Trump as a wolf in sheep’s clothing—even as the larger flock appears poised to make him the Republican nominee.

The most outspoken of the no-Trumpers is Russell Moore, president of the Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission of the Southern Baptist Convention. Moore has repeatedly whacked Trump—a man whose “attitude toward women is that of a Bronze Age warlord”—as a reprobate unfit for the presidency. “The gospel is more important than politics,” he warns his fellow Bible believers. You can stump for Trump or be an evangelical, he says. But you cannot do both.

But Moore’s effort to keep evangelicalism pure, in a world of increasingly polluted politics, is a lost cause. Paradoxically, that effort has actually alienated him from the modern evangelical movement itself. Moore essentially admits this: in a recent op-ed, he announced that until voting habits change, he won’t even to refer to himself as an evangelical anymore. He lamented how so many of his coreligionists “have been too willing to look the other way when the word ‘evangelical’ has been co-opted by heretics and lunatics . . . as long as they were on the right side of the culture war.”

Prothero is right to see the inconsistency in evangelicalism.

What he misses is the inconsistency of academics who study evangelicals. For at least thirty years students of American religion have told us that the Assemblies of God and the Orthodox Presbyterian Church are — wait for it — evangelical. That’s like saying BMWs and Yugos are cars, as if the parts are interchangeable, as if they cost the same, as if the owners come from the same demographic, as if the same kinds of technology go into these automobiles.

In other words, not many of the smart people who study religion prepared Americans and even earthlings for what’s happening now. Some did.