Years ago, in response to a query from a former student struggling with his faith, I penned a rather long post entitled "Why I Am Still a Christian." In it I recounted the story of one Rachael Slick, the daughter of a Westminster Seminary graduate, who had abandoned the faith in which she was raised. Her story, as everybody is now aware, is not unique. Indeed, a widely distributed recent survey from the Public Religion Research Institute suggested that White Evangelical Protestants had declined from 23% to 14.5% in the 15 years from 2006-2021. Over the past few decades, prominent intellectuals have either abandoned orthodox expressions of Christian faith (Frank Schaeffer) or left the faith entirely (University of North Carolina biblical scholar Bart Ehrman). More recently, and at the popular level, I Kissed Dating Goodbye author Josh Harris renounced his faith and announced a "deconstruction" course (subsequently pulled). These, of course, are only the tip of the iceberg.
This iceberg, only now becoming all too visible to the heretofore triumphalist Titanic of American White Evangelicalism, is increasingly being known by the clever moniker of "Exvangelicalism." And it behooves those of us who care about Christianity in its genuine expressions to understand these "exvangelicals" and what they signify in our present cultural and ecclesial climate. One who has attempted to do so is Jay Green, Professor of History at Covenant College, affiliated with the (evangelical) Presbyterian Church in America. Green, to his credit, does more than simply criticize or denounce, taking the time actually to talk to Blake Chastain, one he describes as a "leading spokesman" of the movement (such as it is), who hosts a podcast of the same name. In an article last month at John Fea's Current website, Green, after noting the wide spectrum of beliefs contained under the "exvangelical" umbrella―everything from progressive forms of Christianity to outright atheism―notes the uniqueness of this "movement." What drives this departure from the faith they "once vocally and joyfully professed" is not primarily theological or historical skepticism per se, but rather the fatigue of a perceived spiritual oppression―in Chastain's words, "the totalizing mental and social environment" of evangelical Christianity. In Green's words:
One finds limited talk of theology among these Exvangelicals apart from repudiating the “rigidity” and “literalness” of evangelical faith. The paradigm shifts they have undergone seem more sociological than theological; more concerned with cultural claims than metaphysical ones.
Yet, Green avers, quoting Chastain and adding a bit of snarky commentary at the end, even the exvangelicals have certain hard and fast commitments of their own:
Even so, Chastain is quick to lay down what he sees as a few non-negotiable commitments all share: “We embrace the LGBTQ community fully, are thoroughly feminist, denounce the role of white supremacy in society in general, and white evangelicalism in particular.” (It seems that giving up on the idea of fundamentals is easier said than done.)
The implications, at least as he sees them, are clear. The exvangelicals, in Green's reckoning, have allowed "sociological" factors derived from the prevailing culture to derail them from what Green considers to be the properly theological and "spiritual" factors that legitimately define the faith.
The very next day (!) Green's article was met with a reply by the "Slacktivist," Fred Clark. Clark commends Green for making the attempt, if not a wholly successful one, to understand these people and for listening to Chastain in particular. Yet he maintains that Green nonetheless misses the boat entirely in that the disjunction he makes between "theological" and "sociological" factors, what Clark niftily dubs the "vertical/horizontal dichotomy," is illegitimate. Using Jesus' famous teaching about the inexorable connection between a tree and the fruit it bears, Clark suggests Green underestimates the real reason for the exvangelicals' rejection of evangelicalism:
It's not wrong to say that many of these younger people are rejecting or reshaping the evangelical religion they were taught because of "cultural claims" rather than purely doctrinal or theological disagreements. But what I think Green misses is that this is exactly the basis for much of their critique of the evangelicalism they're leaving behind. They're pointing out that evangelicalism is, itself, more of a cultural/sociological construct than a theological/spiritual/doctrinal one.
Or, to put it another way, "one finds limited talk among these exvangelicals" of the tree itself and greater emphasis on the fruit it bears. That's the language of the Sermon on the Mount ― words spoken by Jesus according to Matthew 7: "A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit. … Thus you will know them by their fruits."
In those terms, it would seem to be one big difference between Green's perspective and that of the exvangelicals he's struggling to understand. From his point of view, as an observer and sometimes critic of evangelicalism within that world, the focus is on the tree ― on the theology, doctrine, spirituality, and religiosity of evangelicalism. And from that point of view it's entirely possible and worthwhile to focus on such things in themselves as something separate and distinct from any secondary "sociological" or "cultural" aspects of the people and institutions holding those theological views.
From the point of view of those exvangelicals, however, it's not possible or meaningful to consider the "tree" as something abstract and distinct from the fruit it bears. Any evaluation of the tree is dependent on the quality and substance of its fruit. And they know this fruit from personal experience. They were fed that fruit for a long time and they say it made them sick.
Clark's argument here is unusually perceptive. For theology, as theoretical and as "vertical" as it might appear to be in theory, has unavoidable, indeed necessary, social or "horizontal" corollaries. Nowhere is this more clear than in Paul's (probably) earliest letter, Galatians. There the Apostle is at his most strident and hot-tempered, attempting to counter the impact of "agitators" who have made inroads in trying to convince his Gentile converts that, in order to truly become children of Abraham, they must become circumcised. It is in this context that he first articulates his famous "justification by faith, not by works of the law" theologoumenon. Traditional Protestantism (the "Old Perspective on Paul") always interpreted this as a polemic against a supposed "works-righteousness," the vain attempt to "earn" one's "salvation" by putting God in one's debt (à la Romans 4:3) and being able, consequently, to boast in one's achievement (à la Ephesians 2:9). Yet observant interpreters should notice that the "works" in question are works "of the law"―they are Jewish practices prescribed by the Torah. What was at issue was not "works-righteousness" as such, let alone "self-righteousness." What was at issue instead was the Torah as the definitive cultural framework of God's covenant people. [1] Paul's opponents in Galatia didn't deny Christ or the necessity of "faith" in him. Nor did they deny his atoning death or the fact that his role in fulfilling the Abrahamic Covenant, any more than did (implicitly) Peter or the "men from James" (Galatians 2:12) whose pressure led the "apostle of the circumcision" (Gal 2:7)―and even Paul's erstwhile champion and ministry partner Barnabas―to draw back, in a bit of play-acting (hypokrisei; Gal 2:13), from table fellowship with Gentile believers in Antioch (Gal 2:12). What Paul's opponents failed to grasp (and fellow apostles failed to act upon in their shameful withdrawal at Antioch) was the simple matter of what time it was. God's fulfillment of the Abrahamic Covenant in the Christ event brought with it an apocalyptic change of aeons; the time of the Torah had now been shown to be merely preparatory (Gal 3:24), now made redundant by the cross and the consequent new creation which rendered circumcision neither here nor there (Gal 6:14-15)―but if insisted upon a de facto rival of Christ and nullification of the cross. Thus in saying justification was by faith in Christ and not by works of the law, Paul was, in effect, driving a theological wedge between things his opponents, on what they considered explicitly biblical, theological grounds, held together. And the "sociological" or "cultural" ramifications of such a wedge were immense. For, in Paul's view, his opponents were forcing Gentile converts to "Judaize," an implicit denial of the gospel truth that "in Christ Jesus there is neither Jew nor Greek" (Gal 3:28). Critics of the so-called "New Perspective on Paul" have often criticized its proponents for substituting sociology for theology. But such criticism is (often) misplaced. For, whereas they are correct in affirming that "justification" is a soteriological doctrine in that it deals with a person's standing before God, it must be remembered that the Apostle articulated the doctrine in the context of, and in the interest of, arguing for the full inclusion of Gentiles in the covenant people of God. And, as Barclay has said, "these social effects are not just the context of Paul's theology, mere illustrations of soteriological principles, but its goal, since the calling of Jew and Gentile in Christ is the fulfillment of Israel's calling in mercy, and thus at the center of God's purposes in history." [2] As in Paul's day, so in ours: bad theology leads to bad practice. And if this is so, bad practice is indicative of defective theology.
This leads to Clark's second master stroke, to wit, his pointer to Jesus' words about trees and fruit in the Sermon on the Mount. The general principle of like producing like, to wit, that there is an unerring consistency between internal states and the external acts emanating from those states, is conventional, [3] and no doubt Jesus, as an itinerant teacher, utilized it in many a teaching situation. [4] In the most famous of these, Matthew 7:16-20, it appears the First Evangelist has taken the Q tradition also found in Luke's Sermon on the Plain with reference to human speech (Luke 6:43-45) and adapted it to apply to the deeds of "false prophets" (Matt 7:15). [5] But the principle, as it did in the first century in the context of Jesus' historical ministry [6], has a far wider application to movements as well as to individual actors: so as not to be deceived by any movement, look carefully to see where it leads. What "fruit" does it bear in the life of its adherents? What fruit does it bear in the culture it purportedly aims to benefit? This is a matter on which I have often reflected over the years, with much consternation as regards the movement in which I was raised. And the "exvangelicals" are forcing my hand.
As I have often reflected, evangelicalism―even in many of its "better," more theologically responsible manifestations―has, because of its inherent "conversionist" tendencies, often put most of its emphasis on how one becomes a Christian and on being part of the "in" group that is "saved" and, hence, will "go to heaven" when they die. What it means to be a Christian, what living like a Christian looks like, is given comparatively less emphasis … or at least less sustained thought. All too often, what Paul refers to as life "according to the Spirit" (Galatians 5:16; Romans 8:4) is reduced to a mere bargain basement, individualistic pietism; the rigorous "obedience that comes from faith" (Romans 1:5) is reduced to a selective moralism focused on sexual "purity;" "worldliness," if it is even frowned upon any more, hardly ever is associated, as it should be, with matters like greed, money, and power. The more frequent target is the more nebulous "liberalism." All too often, as I have lamented again and again over the years, it is simply assumed by huge numbers of White American Evangelicals that the way of Christ is the way of conservative Americanism, with all the tacit, arrogant assumptions of American exceptionalism and militarism along for the ride.
Not so the way of Jesus. The way of Jesus is the way of the Kingdom of God. Indeed, the glory of the New Testament gospel message is that, far from simply being a message about how an individual can "get saved" and "go to heaven," it is rather the royal announcement of the arrival, if only in part and in the midst of the present evil age, of this promised kingdom of God through the historical events of Christ's death and resurrection (I have argued this in detail in my posts here, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here). In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus taught his disciples to pray, "Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven" (Matthew 6:10). This is our hope. This is what we are to pray for daily. And, by implication, what we should be manifesting in our lives and communities are the priorities of this kingdom. According to the Old Testament prophets, one of the defining features of the promised New Covenant of the eschaton was to be the interiorization of the Torah through the gift of the Spirit (Jeremiah 31:33; Ezekiel 36:27). According to Jesus, reflecting the language of Micah 6:8, what mattered especially were the "weightier" or "more important" (barytera) matters of the law, such as justice (krima), mercy (eleos), and faithfulness (pistis) (Matthew 23:23).
Jesus' Sermon on the Mount provides a literary précis, as it were, of what the ethics of this kingdom inaugurated by Jesus look like. [7] When Jesus, at the end of the sermon, speaks of "fruit" indicating the nature of a tree, what sorts of things did he have in mind for his hearers to look for? Consider some of the things he speaks about earlier in the sermon: turning the other cheek (5:39), loving one's enemies (5:43-48), giving to the needy in secret (6:1-4), forgiving others (6:14-15), not judging others (7:1-5). He sums up his ethic in the famous "Golden Rule": "So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you" (Matthew 7:12). [8]
This, to be blunt, is not the "fruit" the exvangelicals, or anybody else for that matter, have tended to see in large swaths of American evangelicalism, and haven't for quite some time. What they have seen is persistent toxic masculinity, [9] unacknowledged and often unrepented-of racism/white supremacy, [10] the well-nigh inexplicable 80+% support of the presidency of Donald Trump, and now the even worse COVID-denialism/anti-vaxxing/anti-masking refusal to love one's neighbors as oneself. [11] And these features of American evangelical culture are, to say the least, toxic to growing numbers of younger Americans, even those raised within the evangelical subculture. Bad fruit, indicative of a bad tree. The logic is as impeccable as the conclusion is inexorable.
At the same time, Clark's enthusiasm for the exvangelicals' standpoint needs to be tempered somewhat. For, you see, Green is entirely correct in his assertion that the so-called "corrections" they see as necessary to the cultural ethos of evangelicalism are gleaned, not from the Bible or by necessary theological deduction, but from the secular culture in which they live. Now I have often observed, and lamented accordingly, the peculiar phenomenon that so often it is atheists and agnostics who in America today show the type of compassion for the underprivileged, oppressed, and marginalized that ought to be the hallmark of followers of Jesus of the Nazareth, the Son of Man who "had nowhere to lay his head" (Matthew 8:20). And surely there is no necessary reason why their genuine concerns need be played off against the major tenets of Christian orthodoxy codified in the ancient ecumenical creeds, including Trinitarianism, Chalcedonian Christology, and the atoning death and bodily resurrection of Jesus Messiah, just as there is no necessary reason―indeed, no reason at all―these tenets should work themselves out "sociologically" the way American evangelicals have, by and large, done. [12] Yes, contemporary concerns matter, and the exvangelicals are entirely correct in their criticism of the inadequacies and failures on the part of American white evangelicals. But first and foremost what matters is how one responds to Jesus and the claims he and his earliest followers made about him. All people are responsible for how they respond to the claims of Jesus of Nazareth. And the so-called "Christians Making Atheists," as the Progressive Christian writer John Pavlovitz calls them, have a lot to answer for.
We are indeed living in a pivotal time for the church. Green, I think, is correct when he writes:
Disappointment, aggravation, and rage against the many foibles and hypocrisies found among Christian believers are not a new phenomenon. They are as old as Christianity itself. And, at least since the Enlightenment, public renunciations of personal faith aren’t especially novel either. But the tenor and contextual specifics driving this recent spate of deconversions give this moment a unique feel. I believe the current wave of evangelical defections signals a kind of inflection point for conservative Christianity in America, where a distinct set of moral, cultural, and political vexations are directly fueling personal decisions to abandon the faith, especially among younger Christians.
Yet, after lamenting the consequences of "tarnished witness," he goes on to say,
But I must continually remind myself that observing the broken practices of deeply flawed believers—my own especially—bears no necessary implications for the validity of Christianity’s truth claims. In fact, they remind us of our great need for a Savior.
I'm sorry, but I must demur. Yes, of course, we are all sinners, none more so than I, for whom Luther's famous dictum, simul iustus et peccator, could have been coined. But what the exvangelicals have identified is more than simply the remnants of sin in regenerated-but-still-sinful creatures. What they have pinpointed is systematic failure indicative of a rotten tree, a theology which may have gotten how to become a Christian right, but which has whiffed badly on what it means to live like a Christian in a fallen society. As I wrote painfully back in January, evangelicalism is dead. The writing has been on the wall for years. It's days are numbered. It has been weighed and found wanting. But all is not lost. According to the First Evangelist, Jesus promised Peter that he would build his church, and the gates of Hades would not prevail against it (Matthew 16:18). And now I speak to myself: let's get moving!
At the time, I obviously had no clue of the Phillies’ sad-sack history: only two pennants (and zero World Series victories) in their 81-year history, 17 last place finishes in the span of 29 years between 1919-1947, and a record 23-game losing streak only 3 years earlier in 1961. All I knew was that in the months of April, May, and June of 1964 the Phillies ("we") were locked in a two-team battle with the Willie Mays-led San Francisco Giants for supremacy in the National League. On June 15, when my family left for a summer at Deerfoot Lodge in New York’s Adirondack Mountains, the Phils and Giants were deadlocked in first place with identical 34-23 records. The Giants, not surprisingly, were led by pitcher Juan Marichal, who on June 15 had an 8-2 record and a typically low 2.42 ERA, and the incomparable Mays, by consensus the National League’s, if not baseball's, premier player. In 1964 Mays was off to the hottest start of his legendary career; he was hitting .400 as late as May 23, and on June 15 was still hitting .360 with 18 homers (despite not having hit any in the previous 18 games) and 48 RBI in 57 games. The Phils didn’t have the same level of star power as did the Giants (or the Reds, Braves, or Cardinals for that matter). Indeed, 38 year-old manager Gene Mauch utilized a platoon system for 5 of the 8 positions, with only second baseman Tony Taylor, rightfielder Johnny Callison, and 22 year-old rookie third baseman Richie (“call me Dick”) Allen playing every day. Callison, though, the hero for the NL with a walk-off homer off Dick "The Monster" Radatz in the All-Star Game at Shea Stadium on July 7, had his best season in ’64 with 31 homers and 104 RBI, and was, apart from Roberto Clemente, the best defensive rightfielder in the senior circuit. Allen, meanwhile, despite what could charitably be called his "shortcomings" at 3rd base (41 errors), was a sensation, running away with the NL’s Rookie of the Year award by hitting .318 with 29 homers, 38 doubles, and 13 triples, while scoring 125 runs. The “Wampum Walloper” remains the single most powerful (non-steroid using) hitter I have ever seen, and his torrid start in ’64 was a prime reason for the team’s quick start out of the gate. 
. But somehow ―Philadelphians might say "typically"―it worked.** Mahaffey, noting Ruiz’s break for home, was distracted enough to uncork a wild pitch outside the reach of catcher Clay Dalrymple, enabling Ruiz to score the game’s only run. The Phillies anemically managed only 2 hits the last 4 innings of the game off Tsitouris, both doubles off the bat of Wes Covington. 
