An Evangelical Identity Crisis

Kuo's yearning resonates with millions of American evangelicals eager to shed the Darth Vader image they've inherited from the religious right. Cal Thomas hits a common refrain: "What are Christians known for? We're against abortion, against same-sex marriage. But what are we for?" Labels matter, but are, as always, tricky. In a recent issue of Christianity Today, evangelicals debated the proper use of what they called "the E word," much as feminists and blacks did before them. "I'm a social-justice evangelical," says Jim Wallis, editor of Sojourners magazine, pleading to be spared his usual label: left-wing evangelical.

Bill Hybels, who leads the Willow Creek organization of megachurches--an association of 11,000 churches in 45 countries--has recently befriended the Irish rock star Bono. At Willow Creek's annual meeting last summer, the highlight was a video of Hybels and Bono hashing over the fate of the world. Bono quoted Scripture (Luke, chapter 4); the crowd wept. Cally Parkinson, who runs the Willow Creek media-relations department, was there. As she was leaving, she overheard one pastor say to another, "I went in there wondering if Bono was a Christian, and I came out wondering if I was."

To a large degree, the evolution is generational; evangelicals who voted Republican over the past 30 years had parents who were Democrats. And as intellectuals continue to debate the semantics, a diverse group continues to gather under the tent. "Evangelical" is no longer equivalent to "fundamentalist." Today an evangelical church can be white, black, Asian or Hispanic, Pentecostal, charismatic, fundamentalist, nondenominational--or even Catholic. According to the new NEWSWEEK Poll, evangelicals agree with the general public on issues ranging from stem cells to health care.

Despite the evangelical evolution, wedge politics are still sharp--from stem cells to gay marriage to late-term abortion. "Where you get such strong support is on issues where there is clarity," says Tony Perkins, president of the Family Research Council. "For those who believe in the Bible, there's no question in marriage, there's no question on the sanctity of human life."

On these issues, James Dobson remains the man to see--and hear. With a mailing list of a million names and a following built up over the years, he's a force to be reckoned with. "It's painful to have him angry at you," says Dick Armey, former House ma-jority leader and chairman of a conservative Washington think tank. "He responds in a manner that's damaging. You know, he'll say, 'I'm leaving, and I promise you, I'm taking a lot of people with me.' Well, elected officials know what that means ... I think we call it a Dobson's choice."

In the East Room of the White House on the National Day of Prayer in 2005--an event organized by Dobson's wife, Shirley --President Bush told an old story about Abraham Lincoln. A minister once remarked to Lincoln that he hoped God was on the president's side. No, Lincoln replied, that wasn't quite right: it was Lincoln's job to make sure he was on the Lord's side, for "the Lord was always on the side of the right." In the wars of our own time, we can hope, too, that we will end up on that side, whether we come from the right, the left or somewhere in between.