The New Old-Time Religion
Evangelicals defy easy labels. Here's why--and why their numbers are growing
Whether they identify more closely with Republicans or Democrats, evangelicals are captive of neither party. "I am a registered Republican," says Laura Camp, "but I will vote for a non-Republican candidate who I think is trying to make changes in a positive way." One reason the last presidential election was so close, according to White House adviser Karl Rove, was a lower-than-expected turnout among evangelicals. And Gary Bauer, head of American Values, a conservative organization, provides what he thinks is the reason: "There are a disturbing number of people who feel that the [Republican] party is not fighting enough in areas like abortion and same-sex marriages." To shore up that constituency, the administration has been particularly aggressive in responding to evangelical concerns, both in its domestic policies (through judicial appointments and support for anti-gay-marriage legislation) and in foreign-policy initiatives that range from fighting AIDS to ending sex trafficking.
While most evangelicals would like to see Christian morality as the ruling ethos of the nation, they also believe Americans should be free to live the way they choose. "The bottom line," says North Carolina's Smith, "is that evangelicals subscribe to personal faith as paramount. . . . You can't shove religion down people's throats."
It's a common mistake to reduce evangelicals to their stands on political or social issues. Talk to individual evangelicals or their pastors, and you learn that they have higher priorities. Among his own, says Lon Solomon, pastor of the McLean Bible Church near Tysons Corner, Va., a megachurch that draws up to 10,000 people on Sundays, "abortion and homosexuality are minor concerns in our church. The bell we beat is that we must know Jesus. We are offering people a different and better way to live than secular America offers."
Awakenings. Evangelicalism is, in a way, a counterculture. Everything from the success of Christian pop and rock groups to the phenomenal sales of the "Left Behind" series of novels by Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins attests to its drawing power. Because the great commission of evangelicals is to bring the "good news" to others, the matter of drawing power is crucial. It explains why evangelicals put so much money and energy into extensive social-service ministries, and why so many evangelical pastors strive to create "seeker-friendly" megachurches with nontraditional, multimedia services that reassure and entertain as much as they edify. It also explains why evangelical churches, particularly Southern Baptist and Pentecostal, now send far more missionaries abroad than mainline churches, reversing the pattern of the early 20th century.
While such accomplishments would have pleased Edwards--and fulfilled his optimistic predictions about the spread of Protestant Christianity--there is much that would have alarmed or simply puzzled him. Indeed, one way to make sense of contemporary evangelicalism is to consider how it has both hewed to and strayed from the path laid down by one of its most brilliant founding fathers.
Thanks to Marsden's authoritative new biography, Jonathan Edwards: A Life, that path is now more clear. Running down its center is Edwards's overarching concern with the authentic religious experience. As a Calvinist born in 1703 into a family of Congregationalist ministers, he struggled mightily through his own conversion experience while attending Yale College. Like many who were exposed to Enlightenment ideas, he was troubled by his creed's insistence on a God whose sovereign will alone determined the eternal salvation or damnation of every human creature. After toying with other theological alternatives, Edwards was suddenly seized by the conviction that God was fair in "eternally disposing of men, according to his sovereign pleasure." It was the turning point of his life, leaving him forever convinced of the need for the "experiential" validation of faith.
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