Christian Hamaker

Are Democrats closing the “God gap”—the advantage that the GOP has had with religious voters in recent election cycles? One could argue that the gap was the difference that put George W. Bush into office twice in the very narrowly contested presidential elections of 2000 and 2004.

Amy Sullivan, a religion reporter for Time magazine, suggests that the Democrats’ apathy toward people of faith has cost them badly at the ballot box, and she’s got the evidence to prove it. Sullivan spoke on the issue during one of the first events of this year’s Fall for the Book, a weeklong book festival held in and around Fairfax, Va. Sullivan drew from her recently published book, The Party Faithful: How and Why Democrats Are Closing the God Gap” in painting a picture of a political revival among traditional Democrats.

Sullivan is refreshingly open about her own upbringing and how it informs her view of the relationship between faith and politics. Raised in a Midwestern home where a portrait of Jesus hung alongside a portrait of Bobby Kennedy, Sullivan accepted as gospel that the Democrats were the party of the poor and downtrodden, but when she came east and entered the political arena (she worked for Sen. Tom Daschle), she learned that her colleagues viewed anyone who claimed to be evangelical (Sullivan, raised a Baptist, did) as secretly conservative.

During her talk, Sullivan offered a four-point explanation of what constitutes an evangelical:

1. They believe in the idea of spiritual conversion.

2. They stress the importance of the Bible as opposed to church teaching.

3. They have a personal relationship with God.

4. They see it as an imperative to share their faith.

“Note that there is no requirement to vote Republican,” Sullivan said.

Sullivan then offered a brief history of how evangelicals became an important voting bloc, tracing their emergence as a political force to the Watergate scandal, which she said was not a failure of policy, but a moral and ethical failure. Just as important as the rise of evangelicals was the reaction of liberals. They stopped talking about their faith because they didn’t want to be thought of as conservatives, Sullivan contended. Democrats also “started to talk about issues, not values,” to their detriment at the ballot box.

This tactic of ignoring or hiding from religious voters hurt Michael Dukakis, the Democratic nominee for president in 1988, who rejected all offers to speak to Catholics for fear that abortion would haunt any outreach effort to that large group of voters. In 2004, the John Kerry campaign hired just one person to handle religious outreach, and found itself overwhelmed when reporters began to dog the campaign over the issue of whether or not Kerry, a pro-choice Catholic, would be able to take communion. (Sullivan said this became known to reporters who followed Kerry’s campaign as “the wafer watch.”)

Just as bungled was how the campaign handled the issue of John Edwards’ faith. The vice-presidential nominee carried with him a well-worn leatherbound copy of Rick Warren’s The Purpose Driven Life” but the campaign made sure voters remained unaware of that. Meanwhile, when the chairman of the Democratic party met Warren, he extended his hand and asked the megachurch pastor, “What do you do?”

A third story involves a family of pro-life Democrats who traveled to a Kerry rally with handmade signs reading “Pro Life for Kerry.” When the campaign saw the signs, they asked that the family not display them.

It wasn’t until 9 days before the election that Kerry gave a speech on faith and values, but fearing a possible negative reaction among Catholics, the Kerry campaign had the candidate give the speech at a Jewish senior center.

As the 2008 presidential election campaign drew near, Democrats recognized an “unlevel praying field” and took action, Sullivan says. The party’s outreach to Catholic Democrats has already paid off in Michigan, where the state’s Democratic governor was re-elected with nearly 50% of the evangelical vote. The national Democratic party, in response to overtures from Catholics to downplay its past zeal for abortion rights, also has begun to talk more openly about its goal to reduce the number of abortions.

Evangelicals are changing, too. Rick Warren has helped push evangelicals to expand the issues that they care about most deeply, adding global poverty and AIDS to issues such as gay marriage and abortion. The result, according to Sullivan, has been a “seachange” especially among younger evangelicals, who Sullivan says view John McCain as tied to the politics of the past.

McCain’s choice of Sarah Palin as his vice-presidential running mate addressed the concerns of many evangelical voters, but Sullivan remains skeptical that the choice of Palin will lead to victory, citing a Newsweek poll that puts McCain’s support at the same level after his choice of Palin as it was for the two months preceding that choice.

But Sullivan admits that she’s been wrong—very wrong—in some of her past political predictions.

Conservative Christian readers may see Sullivan as one more example of mainstream media bias that favors liberal candidates, but the shift Sullivan chronicles in her book is very real. Younger evangelicals are moving away from “the old politics” and are embracing ideas that may make them less likely to vote as part of predicable bloc in the future. This movement has been evident in multiple polls, although one recent poll puts John McCain’s support among evangelicals just shy of where George W. Bush’s support was at the same time four years ago.

Politics aside, Sullivan said that it’s been an interesting 18 months since she began working for Time. Pestered by certain coworkers to join them for lunch, Sullivan has discovered that they, too, are Christians but that they are too fearful to talk about their faith in the workplace. “They come out of the closet to me,” Sullivan says with a smile. “I feel like I should start a support group.”

Reader Comments

• Email
• Print
• Discuss

It’s Sunday morning and I’m at home. But my church membership is not in jeopardy. I wish the same could be said for other evangelicals.

So why am I at home? Two of my kids are sick. This is part of family life. The last time one or more of my kids were sick on Sunday morning, my wife stayed home with the kids while I attended Sunday-morning service. This time, it’s my turn to stay with the kids. No means of grace for me today—no preached word, no Lord’s supper. But God’s grace is sufficient; I’ll be back next Sunday morning. In fact, I pray that the entire family will be there because we’ll be having our youngest son, Silas, baptized that morning.

I miss church. I want to be there. Something happens each Sunday through those previously mentioned means of grace, and when I miss the service, I miss out on those elements, which are administered weekly.

Attendance is also, at a bare minimum, part of church membership. Joining with a church community demands that you take part in that community. Many evangelical churches no longer encourage membership, and that’s a loss. It increases the American trend toward individualism and detracts from ideas about community, all of which hurts the church.

These arguments about church membership have been ongoing for decades, but a recent survey indicates that mere church attendance is on the wane among evangelicals. The word “crisis” is now being tossed around to describe the trend among evangelicals to stay home on Sunday mornings.

Julia Duin covers the trend in a recent column, drawing upon findings in Christine Wicker’s book "The Fall of the Evangelical Nation: The Surprising Crisis Inside the Church” and her own new book, “Quitting Church: Why the Faithful Are Fleeing and What to Do About It.”

Duin asks what evangelicals find wrong with church. “I identified several areas,” she writes. “Sermons geared toward babes in the faith instead of mature adults, pastors who don’t get it when it comes to realizing the lives the average person leads, churches that barely tolerate singles (a huge, untapped demographic), churches that have quenched anything having to do with the charismatic movement (which led to significant church growth several decades ago), the never-ending stories of abuse of the Big Three Temptations—money, sex and power.”

So the problem is growing, but being diagnosed along the way. Is it too late to turn things around? Once we’ve clarified the sources of the problem, how do we move toward solutions?

The church has always had problems, and it’s always had disgruntled members. It’s always had some members who are more dedicated than others. But the lackadaisical attitude toward church attendance appears to be on the rise, exposing underlying problems that have long plagued the church but which were easily covered over during the boom in evangelical church growth during the late 20^th century.

I’m no sociologist, but in my humble opinion, it’s long past time for the evangelical church to start focusing less on quantity (number of church attendees/members) and more on quality. Gospel-lite preaching may attract the unchurched for a time, but it’s hard to build the church on a weekly dose of milk, not meat. If preaching all of God’s word, rather than just part of it, results in fewer people in the pews, so be it. Truth matters more than superficial measures of church “success.”

The adjustment will be painful. Church budgets may have to be crunched. They may have to shrink. But the purity of the Word matters. It’s better to have long-term, stable church members than Christians who can’t find a reason to make it to church on Sunday mornings.

I know these are strong words. I know that not all people who don’t make it to church are lazy or uncommitted. I know people are hurting, and some are struggling. But staying away from church won’t make those hurts and struggles go away. Church is the place to take those burdens, not a reason to hide.

As for those who are simply too tired to make it to Sunday-morning service, take it from someone who spent this Sunday morning at home: “Relaxation” is overrated. I'm ready to worship. When this evening's service rolls around -- yes, my church has services on Sunday evenings -- I'll be there, hungry to take part. I pray that my longing to attend my congregation's services won't wane. And I pray that those who are struggling with church attendance would be reinvigorated in their willingness to join with their congregations each Sunday morning.

Reader Comments

• Email
• Print
• Discuss

I’m 6 feet tall and weigh 195 pounds on a good day—and it ain’t muscle. I wish I weighed 20 pounds less. At a few points in the last five years, I have. The rest of the time, I eat dessert. I like dessert. I also like homemade bread, which, unfortunately, my wife makes frequently.

So I often find the scale in the 190-200 lb. range, and I don’t like that. I exercise sometimes, but I’m not convinced that exercise is as important to good health as is one’s diet. Does exercise hurt? No, it makes me feel good and look better. But as the increase in the recommended amount of weekly exercise each person should get has risen, my interest in keeping up has slackened. You mean I can achieve and maintain a shapely physique if I only spend 2 hours a day, five days a week at the gym? DON’T sign me up! 

So I watch what I eat. And I read about what I should eat. Like you, I spent years scratching my head as one study seemed to contradict the previous study. What’s good for us? What’s bad? What’s good for us that we’ve been told is bad (eggs)? What might be bad for us that we’ve been told is good (margarine)?

My eyes have been opened by reading Gary Taubes’ “Good Calories, Bad Calories.” Taubes is not a scientist but he is a science journalist. His dissection of the major studies used to support the current tenets of the nutrition industry is an eye-opener. Highlighting the completely ignored minority reports from these studies, Taubes finds a thread that indicates that the whole truth on these matters hasn’t been reported. Instead, a group-think medical culture has latched onto evidence that is far from foolproof, and rammed it down our collective throats.

Publishers Weekly says Taubes “begins by showing how public health data has been misinterpreted to mark dietary fat and cholesterol as the primary causes of coronary heart disease. Deeper examination, he says, shows that heart disease and other diseases of civilization appear to result from increased consumption of refined carbohydrates: sugar, white flour and white rice. … Taube's arguments are lucid and well supported by lengthy notes and bibliography. His call for dietary advice that is based on rigorous science, not century-old preconceptions about the penalties of gluttony and sloth is bound to be echoed loudly by many readers.”

He has at least one major fan. I’ve seen my triglyceride levels crater as I’ve moved away from sugar, white flour and white rice, and toward whole foods—eggs and butter included! Let’s not even start a discussion about fat—saturated or otherwise. Or the many benefits of eating “real food” rather than the processed stuff so popular among low-fat dieters.

Haven’t we been miserable enough, long enough to be open to reconsideration of what is and isn’t healthy?

I continue to go to the gym—although my frequency has dropped with the birth of my fourth child—and I take a few doctor-approved supplements in an attempt to assuage him that I’m doing all I can to keep my cholesterol levels from rising to a point where he might get (more) nervous.

The time for my next checkup is approaching. Maybe it’ll prove all of my skeptical friends right. Maybe I’ll be a prime candidate for a heart attack at age 37. If so, believe me: I’ll hear about it.

Or maybe I’ll be in good health, with acceptable cholesterol levels, and very low triglycerides. That’s what happened last time, and the time before that. And when I trumpeted those facts, guess how many minds I changed? Zero. But that’s the power of our nutrition gurus.

Reader Comments

• Email
• Print
• Discuss

What are we to make of the daredevil mentality? A Scriptural case can be made that we’re to live life to the fullest. That’s part of the abundance of which Jesus speaks. But where do we draw the line? When does pushing one’s limits cross over into something that’s unhealthy?

I’m a reticent person in any number of areas. I’m not physically adept at anything and have never excelled at sports, although I’ve enjoyed soccer and racquet sports over the years. My current favorite sport is football, at which I’m an expert spectator. No physical contact for me, thank you very much. I enjoy the game most when I’m taking it in from my recliner.

Then there are those who ride motorcycles. Why risk the extra damage if you’re involved in an accident? I spent years wanting a motorcycle when I was a young man, but now I look at bikers with some measure of skepticism. I respect their right to ride as they please, but I think they’re a bit crazy.

What about those who run marathons? Why do they push themselves so? I don’t understand it. Never have. But I admire anyone who can run 26 miles. My hat’s off to them.

Next step up on the crazy train? Parachuting. Looks cool, very exhilarating. Relatives have invited me to join them on jumps. Nope. Not a chance.

I came to all those conclusions when I was single. Maybe I was being prudent, or maybe I was just a wimp. Now that I have a wife and kids, I can’t see any way to justify optional activities that have so much potential for long-term damage.

Still, there’s part of me that wants to experience what I’m missing—the thrill of the freefall after jumping out of airplane, or the feel of the open road from the seat of a motorcycle. Even more exotic and exciting than those things are the trapeze artists and tightrope walkers at the circus, with or without a net. I watch those folks in amazement. What drives them to do what they do?

Maybe that’s why I was so fascinated by “Man on Wire,” the new documentary about Philippe Petit, a Frenchman who in 1974 orchestrated a spectacular stunt: He ran a wire between the top of the two World Trade Center towers and, in the early morning light, walked between the buildings. He and his team broke the law, then taunted the law-enforcement officers who arrived on the scene to put an end to Petit’s escapades. But the awestruck onlookers were dazzled by Petit’s audacity, and the grace of his stunt. More than 30 years later, the act is celebrated. But what, exactly, are we celebrating?

Petit recounts his own adventure. From the beginning we know he survived—he’s right there on screen to tell us about his escapades. The logistics of his team’s efforts to pull off the feat are riveting. But it’s Petit personality that proves most fascinating. What drove this man to do what he did?

We see Petit walking on a wire years earlier, rehearsing for the big event. We see footage (the film includes reenactments, and I wasn’t always sure which footage of earlier events was actual and which wasn’t) of Petit walking a wire at Notre Dame Cathedral and in Australia. High above the ground, with no net to catch him, he walks forward, then backward, then lies down on the wire! It’s breathtaking.

So, why’d he do it? He Petit says he was always obsessed with the Trade Towers, that to walk between them was his destiny. Was he afraid of dying? No! He tells us that “to die in the exercise of your passion” would make for “a beautiful death.” When he steps out onto the cable between the Trade Towers, he informs us that “something I could not resist called me up on that cable.” He knew, in that moment, that “death [was] very close.”

A girlfriend explains that Petit had “a very strict upbringing” and took “great pleasure from taking certain liberties.” But Petit can’t explain why he had to walk between the Towers. “It was magical. It was profound,” he says. “I didn’t have any ‘why.’ There is no ‘why.’” (Petit’s impulsiveness and lack of regret extend to a one-night stand that is briefly depicted—something that might put it out of bounds for viewers not interested in that behavior. It didn’t need to be shown, although it underscores Petit’s willingness to t ake chances and live in the moment.)

“Life should be lived on the edge,” Petit tells us. “Live your life on a tight rope. You have to exercise rebellion.”

Petit’s lifestyle choices weren’t always wise, but his willingness to take chances—even to the point of death—can teach us something about how to live boldly. Do we live our life of faith fearlessly? Does death frighten us? Do we rebel against a world system that seeks to keep us from pressing on toward our high calling in Christ Jesus?

These aren’t questions that “Man on Wire” is trying to raise directly. It’s not interested in a life of faith and obedience. But Christians know that we’re tested in many ways, every day. As one of my seminary professors once said, the trick of living the Christian life is finding how to live in the tension between extremes.

The kingdom of God has come, but has not yet fully arrived. We live in the world but are not of it. We walk a tightrope. And when we do it well, without tipping to one extreme or another, our lives—just like Petit’s wire walks—are beautiful to behold.

Reader Comments

• Email
• Print
• Discuss