Bonnie Kristian, in In Defense of Evangelicalism: A Response to Its Cultured Despisers, rightly understands the definitional conundrum posed by “evangelical.”
What do we mean by “evangelical”?
Goodness, what an onion to peel.
We could approach the definition historically, and Bonnie does, by tracing the emergence of “evangelicalism” from the fundamentalist–evangelical split in the 1940s. The label “evangelical” was an attempt to distinguish an emerging coalition of conservative Protestants from fundamentalism’s dogmatic separatism and cultural withdrawal. Evangelicals wanted to be much more engaged with and influential in American cultural and political life. And yet, this historical approach quickly gets murky. Those who identified themselves under the “evangelical” banner were a diverse lot and did not all share the same theology, ecclesiology, politics, or cultural commitments. “Evangelicalism” was never a denomination. It was more of a coalition than a church, and its boundaries were fuzzy from the beginning. They remain so to this day.
We could, then, try to define evangelicalism theologically. The most famous attempt is David Bebbington’s “quadrilateral,” which identifies four characteristic convictions of evangelical Christianity: conversionism, activism, biblicism, and crucicentrism. Bebbington’s quadrilateral has been influential because it allows us to speak about “evangelicalism” without reducing it to a particular denomination, institution, or political constituency. But Bebbington’s quadrilateral also illustrates the problem I will shortly focus on. Specifically, while Bebbington’s definition gives us a way of identifying a broad collection of Christians who share certain characteristics, I don’t think it creates a single evangelical “family.”
This matters because Bonnie, as I read her, connects these two things. Bonnie appeals to Bebbington’s inclusive definition of evangelicalism and then makes everyone who fits that definition a member of the evangelical “family” who constitute “my people.” The “my people” identification does important work for Bonnie’s argument. For example, families disagree, sometimes profoundly, but family members are called to charity, forbearance, loyalty, and generosity toward one another. And to be very clear, I wholly agree with the call to charity. What I’m raising a question about is whether the Bebbington group is actually a family.
For example, as I noted above, the historical, theological, ecclesial, political, and lived diversity within the Bebbington category makes the family metaphor difficult to sustain. “Evangelicalism” may be a useful sociological classification of Christians who share overlapping commitments. But a family, those who are “my people,” is something much more intimate and organic than a group of people who happen to share four characteristics. Similarity is not kinship.
Consider my situation. I teach at Abilene Christian University, historically associated with the Churches of Christ, which emerged from the American Restoration Movement. ACU would never describe itself as evangelical. My denomination, the Churches of Christ, would never describe itself as evangelical. My church, Highland Church of Christ, would never describe itself as evangelical. And I would never describe myself as evangelical. And yet, according to Bebbington’s criteria, we can all be rightly described as “evangelical.”
As a sociological classification, I can live with the label “evangelical.” But I would strenuously object to viewing, say, the Southern Baptist Convention as “family.” Nor would I ever view someone like Doug Wilson, James Dobson, or Charlie Kirk as “family.” We’re not “family,” they are not “my people,” though all of us would be described as Bebbington-style “evangelicals.” Resemblance does not imply relationship.
A related example. My church is fully egalitarian. We have women serving as elders and women preaching. And yet, given Bebbington, we would be placed in the same evangelical “family” as churches that would regard our practices as deeply unbiblical and would consider our ecclesiology to be a grave and rupturous departure from Christian orthodoxy. And for our part, as I said above, my church would never describe itself as evangelical.
The examples here can multiply. Egalitarians can be evangelical. Pacifists can be evangelical. LGBTQ Christians, including affirming Christians, can be evangelical. Pro-choice Christians can be evangelical. And, oddly, Christians who strenuously reject the label “evangelical” can be evangelical.
And at some point, it seems to me, the family metaphor is becoming too strained to be useful. The quadrilateral can draw a circle around a population but it cannot tell us if the people inside that circle regard themselves as a community.
Consider, also, Bonnie’s own position. Bonnie identifies as an egalitarian and writes, “I think there’s strong biblical warrant for women to preach and pastor and for husbands and wives to live as peers, and I would not raise my children in a church that taught otherwise.” But it raises an obvious question: Why not? What is the harm that makes the difference important enough that Bonnie would not entrust the formation of her children to a non-egalitarian church?
Whatever Bonnie’s answer to that question might be, I think it matters for the family metaphor. If there are differences within evangelicalism that are consequential to the degree that Bonnie would not raise her children in a church on one side of the disagreement, then perhaps there is something more here than a “family quarrel.”
To be clear, this doesn’t mean that patriarchal Christians are to be demonized. Bonnie is right about that. We can disagree with our fellow Christians while still treating each other with generosity, humility, and love. But Christian charity does not demand that we manufacture a familial identity where one does not meaningfully exist. And this is especially true if we feel called to prophetic indictment about harms we believe are being perpetrated in evangelical spaces. We don’t have to say “those are my people” when, historically, theologically, and ecclesially, they are not.
Stepping back, I think this question about definitions is important for Bonnie’s project. If “evangelicalism” means everyone captured by the Bebbington quadrilateral, then Bonnie is defending an extraordinarily diverse population, including many Christians who don’t consider themselves evangelical and who would resist being described as evangelical. Which, I think, should give us pause. If you tell someone they belong to your family and they respond, “No, I don’t,” perhaps the family metaphor has reached its limit. Simply put, the broader you make the definition of evangelicalism, the harder it becomes to sustain the family metaphor. Something, it seems to me, has to give. Either the definition or the metaphor.
To be very, very clear, I think Bonnie is spot on about our need for charity. But using Bebbington to name all evangelicals as “my people,” I think, goes too far. The historical, theological, and ecclesial boundaries are too porous and contested. To say nothing about the issue of self-identification.
In short, I feel like I’ve been adopted into a family against my will.
And while I am called to love evangelicals, I don’t think we’re related.
