Showing posts with label evangelism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label evangelism. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 26, 2026

Airplane Evangelism

People on an airplane. Image source.

Apparently there have been some recent tiktok videos where Christians preach on airplanes. See these links:

Christian preachers are turning airplanes into unwanted worship services

‘Airplane evangelists’ vs. ‘Sweet Caroline’

Preach the Gospel, but Not on a Plane

My first reaction to this is ugh, I don't like it. 

But, in the first link above, Hemant Mehta says, 

Other Christians have an especially important role here, too. If they believe faith shouldn’t be imposed like this, they should be the loudest people condemning this behavior—in real time if they’re fellow passengers and later if they hear about it.

And I feel like, it's not that easy. I don't know if I would do that- tell these people "hey I'm also a Christian and I don't think you should preach like this."

Oof. I've done this kind of "go up to random strangers and tell them about Jesus" style of evangelism before. Among my Christian friends in college, most of us who did this were really uncomfortable, but we believed we had to. People are going to hell! They need someone to tell them about Jesus! How can you care more about social awkwardness than about people going to hell????

So that's the logic. And I believed the "people are going to hell" part, so there was always that guilt, like, I should do more, I should tell more people about Jesus, but oh goodness it's so awkward and I'm an introvert.

So yeah, I sometimes did what we call "conversational evangelism" (or, one of my friends called it, "evangelism to the randos"). Usually we went in groups of 2, but also there were times I did this by myself. Go up to someone who's just sitting there by themself, ask them if they're okay with talking about religion- we ask first and we leave if they say no- and then ask them what they believe, and try to find a way to "share the gospel" and convince them to believe in Jesus.

It was, oh man, it was a mixed bag of emotions. So terrifying and awkward to go talk to someone who's not expecting it, to say "excuse me" to get their attention, and then draw them into a conversation where they share their personal beliefs- a weird level of emotional intimacy. But it was exciting, to hear about what these random people thought about God, and to have a chance to "share the gospel"- we felt like "God is working" and it was so exciting to be part of that.

It's the kind of thing that you don't want to do, and you psych yourself up by thinking about how God wants you to do it, and all these people are at risk of going to hell, and Jesus did so much for you so can't you do this for him?

The airplane thing, it's more like what my friends called "street preaching," where you just stand up in a public place and talk loudly about God to any passersby, rather than having a one-on-one conversation. (The difference is that on the airplane, people can't walk away.) I never did street preaching. I remember I had a friend who was interested in doing it, and was checking into the rules at our university to see if it was allowed. I don't know if he ever ended up doing it or not.

But anyway, Mehta's suggestion that other Christians should tell this airplane preacher to stop. I have a few things to say about that:

First of all, even though my initial emotional reaction is "I don't like this", can I actually give a logical argument, consistent with my religious beliefs, about why it's a bad idea? I think I could do that now, now that I don't believe in hell, but in the past I couldn't. I always felt guilty... all the people around me are at risk of going to hell, and I'm too scared to say anything about it? What's wrong with me? And now here's someone who's actually taking action and doing something about it. I don't like it, but I'm the one in the wrong. She's doing what I should be doing.

We always *said* we should do more evangelism, but we were too scared to actually do it. Now here's someone who's actually doing it. How can we oppose that?

I guess the best you can do- if you're in that ideology- is argue that this kind of loud public evangelism is not an *effective* way to convert people. You don't believe that respecting people is a good thing *in and of itself* but it's a strategy that will win you more converts in the long run.

And second, oh man, I know how it is, when you finally get up the courage to violate social norms and just go for it. You just focus on your goal, and what God wants you to do, and you block out everything around you that tells you how wrong your behavior is. Imagine if someone interrupts you right then and says "I'm a Christian and I don't think you should do that." You're not in a state where you can reason about it. You've already decided you're doing it, and if anything gets in your way, it's an obstacle that you need to fight back against. (Obviously this naysayer is a fake Christian who cares more about social awkwardness than about people going to hell!) This other Christian who interrupts you to point out that you're violating social norms- you already know all that. You already know all those reasons, you know them very well, and they have held you back, but finally at this moment you've gotten up the courage to push past them, and it's terrifying. And then someone comes and reminds you of all those reasons that you've been working so hard to ignore. You're not in a state where you can be receptive to that feedback at all.

I'm very hesitant to criticize people for how they do evangelism. It's extremely uncomfortable, and they don't want to be doing it, but they're forcing themselves to, out of obedience to God. I empathize with them, and I wish I could tell them the good news that there is no hell and they don't need to tell random strangers about Jesus, but they're not in a place where they can accept that.

It would be a different thing, if the evangelist is totally fine with what they're doing, if they're not hating it internally and forcing themselves to do it despite how wrong it feels. I feel better about criticizing them, if that's the case. And maybe the people who are posting videos of themselves on tiktok, saying "I just love a captive audience," maybe they're different from me, and they actually *like* doing that. 

It's just very hard for me to imagine *liking* to do this kind of evangelism. You stand up on the plane and make an announcement about Jesus, and then you have to wait around at the baggage claim with all these same people, oh so embarrassing. And what if you need to ask someone for help, like "oh that's my suitcase there", they're all gonna try not to make eye contact with you... You've broken the social norms, and now you're you're trying to just slip back into the world of social norms again.

And then posting it on tiktok... I feel like this is the kind of thing that one would share with one's Christian friends, and they'll admire your faith and say "that's so hard, but you did it." Not something that you would post publicly. I wouldn't think you'd want everyone to know you're the kind of person who preaches on airplanes.

But anyway. What I would say now- now that I don't believe in hell- is that as Christians, we want to be known for our kindness and love for others. People don't like being preached at nonconsensually, so we shouldn't do that. If we really want to show Jesus' love, that means getting to know people, valuing them for who they are, respecting that they have their own beliefs and can make their own choices, and they don't need you to convince them to believe in Jesus or whatever. Don't treat them like your personal mission project, like the only thing that matters is whether they're "saved" or not.

But again, this only works if you don't believe in hell. How can you "value people for who they are" if you believe in a God who isn't going to do that on Judgment Day, but will just sort them into "saved" and "unsaved" and send them to hell? Like the only thing that matters is whether they're "saved" or not.

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Related

The things I've never let myself say about evangelism

When Christians Say "We're Sorry"

"My Evangelism Isn't Working" is a Very Creepy Thing to Say

Yep, I Totally Did This Creepy Evangelism Strategy

Monday, April 20, 2026

Faith, Fruit, and "Do you actually believe your religion?"

Fruit tree. Image source.

In my post The Kingdom of Children: Eschatology, I had a little parenthetical aside that said:

And, to clarify, I'm not saying being religious is better than being non-religious. There's a wide range of different ways that people map their religious beliefs [or lack thereof] onto questions of morality/purpose/how we should live our lives, and I would not say that religious people's mappings are better than non-religious people's.

In other words, we should look at the way that a religious [or atheistic] belief affects people's views on "morality/purpose/how we should live our lives", and that's how we say if the belief is good or bad. We have some sort of "common sense" feel for what good morality is, and that is the yardstick we use to measure and judge religious beliefs.

Here's the thing, though: Yes, that's how I see it now. But when I was evangelical, I would have disagreed with this. I would have said, we can't judge our religious beliefs based on the effects we observe in the real world; the whole point of religion is that we're claiming there is something bigger than the physical world. In view of this bigger spiritual "reality", our behaviors and morality are good and right, though they might appear to be harmful and wrong if you're only looking at the physical world we can see. And if you judge the religious beliefs only by their observable effects in the physical world, you're already assuming an atheistic worldview, where none of the religion's claims are true.

One could argue, if progressive Christians want to live according to the reality of the physical world, and never do anything that seems like a bad idea (but is actually a good idea if the religion's claims about the spiritual world are true), why not just go all the way and be atheists? If you never side with your religion, when assessing a concrete truth claim that people outside your religion would disagree with, which has practical effects on the choices you make in the real world, do you even believe your religion?

Tuesday, November 11, 2025

No, I'm not harboring some kind of wish that my husband will become a Christian

Clip-art image of a bride and groom. Image source.

So JD Vance said that he hopes his wife Usha (who is Hindu) will become a Christian. Here's a link, from Hemant Mehta: JD Vance wants his Hindu wife to convert. It’s Christian Nationalism: Home Edition. 

When asked about this, Vance said a lot of things that sound nice, like how he loves his wife, they talk about this together and work out something that works for their family, he respects that people have free will and can believe what they believe. He's good at saying things that sound nice and reasonable but then when you look at the overall picture of what he's doing, the things he is actively supporting, it's the opposite of that. (JD Vance creeps me out for this reason.)

Anyway, he says they are raising their children as Christians, and that he hopes his wife will become a Christian eventually.

First of all, I want to say I don't find this surprising at all. In my experience with evangelicalism, of course we believed everyone is supposed to become a Christian. Vance is Catholic so there might be some differences between his view and the evangelical view, but yeah overall I get it. We believed that non-Christians are all going to hell. And that knowing Jesus makes our day-to-day lives so much better, and everybody else must be suffering so much, living without Jesus.

There's something kind of ... weird... about being in a marriage and believing that there's something fundamentally wrong with your spouse and they need to change. I'm not sure how to describe it. Disrespectful?

I was taught that Christians shouldn't marry non-Christians- then you will be "unequally yoked" and the non-Christian will be a bad influence, causing the Christian to "water down" their faith. This is an extremely normal thing for evangelicals to say, but I find it really offensive. They use the analogy "what if you were standing on a chair, and you were trying to pull someone up- wouldn't it be much more likely that they would pull you down?" WTF, why are we framing this like Christians are higher, better, more moral than non-Christians. Like a non-Christian can only be a bad influence on you. 

I'm a Christian and my husband is not, and we've been together for a really long time and it just really isn't an issue? Because I don't believe he needs to change. Why would he need to change? What reason is there to think that it would be beneficial to him to convert to Christianity?

(A key part of this is that I don't believe in hell. Or, rather, the evangelical version of hell, where the criteria are one's beliefs about Jesus. But surely there has to be some kind of judgment for people who, for example, go around making up dehumanizing lies about immigrants.)

Sure, if someone is interested in becoming a Christian, then yeah it would be a good thing for them to do so. But if they have no interest in it, then ... why try to convince them? How would that help anything? Even if you make the argument "well it's true, and it's better for people to believe true things than false things"- okay, so if it's true that Jesus was raised from the dead, what are the implications of that? Christians have all sorts of different opinions on what it means for us, what it teaches us about the nature of the world, morality, etc- and some of these interpretations are harmful. It's not clear that the truth of the Resurrection is enough to say that it would be a good thing for people to convert to Christianity- what if they convert to one of the anti-human varieties of Christianity? (Like, for example, one that teaches that non-Christians are lower than us and are only going to pull you down.)

For our kids, my thinking is, I want them to be able to make an informed decision for themselves. I want to teach them enough about the bible and Jesus and Christianity that they can understand why I'm so excited about it, why I find it so amazing and life-giving, why I think about incarnation all the time. To know what I love about it, so then they can decide for themselves.

Sometimes I'm reading a book about Christianity with our son, and my husband walks by and makes some kind of snarky comment about the bible. I appreciate that; we need people who make snarky comments about the bible.

I also want to tell our kids about other religions, and atheism, and that people have all sorts of different beliefs about God, and we can't ever know for sure, BUT the important thing is, we should do good and help people. We can be sure about that.

So no, I'm not sitting here in my marriage, thinking about how I've waited so long and I just hope my husband will become a Christian- no, I don't think like that at all. If he doesn't want to, then why would I want that for him? It's not a matter of "well I want him to, but I'm polite enough to not say it out loud"- no, I genuinely don't believe it's true that everyone would be better off if they became Christians.

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Related:

My Marriage Is So Good, I Forgot "Unequally Yoked" Was Supposed To Be A Problem

This "Do Not Intermarry With Them" Stuff Hits Different Now

Tuesday, November 4, 2025

Good Christians Know My Problem is I was Doing it Wrong

A woman praying. Image source.

I recently wrote a post called The Power Dynamics of the "Personal Relationship With God", and... here's the thing: When I write something like this, it's difficult because I know that the response from good evangelicals will be to say that I was just doing it wrong. That I must have been in the wrong church, or I understood Christianity wrong, or I believed a slightly incorrect version of the "personal relationship with God" ideology that got me totally off-track, and so on.

(I like when people share different interpretations about how to think about God, prayer, etc! Keep 'em coming! I don't like when they do so with the subtext that my experiences are not valid and I need to change and believe the same thing as them.)

I have only experienced this a handful of times- some nice Christian who doesn't know me but very confidently butts into my life and tells me I understood Christianity wrong. My feelings about this don't really come from actually experiencing it myself, but from being on the other side of it when I was evangelical. Oh, we judged people so much. All the time. We were so totally sure that "so-and-so had a bad experience with Christianity, because it was the wrong kind of Christianity, and what so-and-so really needs is to get over it and believe in our version of Christianity instead." Yeah. When we did evangelism, this was a really common thing. Really really common to meet people who had bad experiences with Christianity, and then we schemed about how to get them to just get over that and get in line with the "right" version of Christianity. We didn't know many details about their lives, but we were totally sure we knew what they were supposed to do.

It's an ideology which isn't able to actually care about the religious trauma that people have experienced. Whatever bad thing happened to you in a Christian environment, it's just an annoyance that we have to get past as fast as possible, to get you to where you're supposed to be, which is believing in Jesus in the "right" way.

If you believe in hell, and if you believe in a God whose criteria about who goes to hell is whether or not you have a "personal relationship with God", then yeah, this is what it leads to. You can't care about someone's religious trauma, you can't care about someone's very legitimate reasons to refuse to go to church ever again. You can't care about all the reasons I said I'll never be in a personal relationship with a God again, and I'll never give my life to Jesus- I am in charge of myself. "I'll never give my life to Jesus" comes across like, them's fightin' words, rather than a suggestion that maybe I actually have good reasons for making that decision.

(When I say "I'll never give my life to Jesus," I mean I want to be like the first son in the parable of the two sons. I refuse to swear loyalty, but I'll do the work.)

You believe in a God who doesn't care, so you can't care either. Just rush past all that and funnel people into the "correct" beliefs, otherwise they're in danger of going to hell.

As I said in my 2015 post, When Christians Say "We're Sorry":

If Christians want to really apologize, it has to come with the acknowledgement that because Christianity has hurt this person, Christians never again have the right to tell them what to do.

Let me say that again: If Christians really are sorry, then it means recognizing that the victim's pain and anger are legitimate. It's not something you just "get over." It's something that actually matters.

If Christians really are sorry, they know that people need to heal on their own terms.

But of course, like I said earlier, believing in hell screws this all up. Because how sorry can you really be, and how much freedom can you really allow a victim to have, when you believe in a God who won't care about that on judgment day? When you believe in a God who doesn't care that church people hurt this person, and for their own mental and emotional health, they never went to church again... when you believe in a God who says you're out if you don't believe these specific doctrines about Jesus- no excuses.

How sorry can you really be when you worship a God who puts "the gospel" above caring for victims?

How sorry can you really be if you still believe you have all the right answers and everybody better listen to you?

Maybe try believing in a God who does care. Maybe consider the possibility that people know their own life and their own needs, and your religious answers fall flat.

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Related:

When Christians Say "We're Sorry" 

Cut Out the Middleman (or, why I am the master and commander of my own life) 

"You Weren't There, the Night Jesus Found Me" 

Yep, I Totally Did This Creepy Evangelism Strategy

Evangelism and Blabbing About People's Personal Lives

Wednesday, August 27, 2025

"Faith" means "doing something that is a bad idea"

Image with the word "Faith" on a black background. Image source.

I saw this article, from Hemant Mehta on the Friendly Atheist blog, An Alabama church secretly sent kids to evangelize in a homeless encampment, and I want to talk about it.

Basically what happened is, there was a kids' church camp run by an Alabama church, which at one point took the kids into a homeless encampment to evangelize there- even though the homeless encampment was very much NOT part of the trip that these kids had signed up for. These church leaders just kinda sent the kids to talk to people, without much adult supervision or awareness of safety concerns.

Afterward, one of the leaders, Mike Webb, had this to say:

… When we went to Tent City, I'm not gonna lie, when we first pulled up, we went to the food bank. When we left, I knew that we needed to go serve the homeless, not just in the food bank where it was safe. We needed to get out of our comfort zone and go… As we were leaving, I Googled "Where can I find the homeless population in Houston?" First thing pops up? Tent City. So that's where we're going.

We drive over there in the vans. We pull in.

Ain't no way I'm getting these kids out of this van. I will be fired. Mamas will be beatin’ down my door. We're not getting out.

We pulled to the end. We circled the cul-de-sac. We're pulling back out.

Guys…?

I even… I even tried to justify it.

Guys, I just want you to see what's here. I want you to see how people live. I need you to understand how fortunate you are. This is what it is, guys. All right, let's head back to the ranch…

[After decided to return]

But let me just tell you: We get out, we walk through, and we didn't have anything, because we didn't know what we were doing. That was another piece of it: I didn't want to walk in there with 75 people, into a homeless village, and we ain't got anything to give. Like, we're just invading your space, you know what I mean?

But we had that older couple that walked with us, and we began talking, and I said, "Guys, we're coming back tomorrow. We're going to put together some food. We're going to put together some sandwiches. We're going to come back. We're going to feed, and we're going to open doors."

And everybody was, you know, hearing this message, and we started promoting it amongst the people. We started telling them that was kind of our… our initial welcome.

Hey, we're going to be back here tomorrow…

Oh... this is so real. I know this way of thinking.

This is so common, for Christians to talk this way, to think this way. As if "faith" means God is telling you to do something wild and ill-advised, and you know a lot of people are going to tell you it's a bad idea, but the right thing to do is jump right in, trust God, say yes to the amazing terrifying adventure that God is calling you on.

I feel like the way Webb tells the story is a little hard to follow if you're not familiar with this ideology- he's describing the conflict within himself as he tries to decide whether to take the kids into the homeless camp or not. He feels like God wants him to, but he also knows a whole lot of reasons why it's a bad idea. ("I even tried to justify it" means "I felt like God wanted us to let the kids get out of the van there, but I didn't want to do that, so I tried to tell myself that it was good enough to just drive through and let the kids look at it without letting them get out- but that wasn't full obedience to God.") He struggles and then eventually decides to do it.

He *knew* that the kids' parents wouldn't be happy. He *knew* that none of them really had any training about how to help homeless people. All of that just makes for a more exciting story. What an amazing Christian role model, having faith so big it overcame these concerns that a reasonable person would have had.

The way he tells the story, the point is that it's thrilling because God wanted him to take the kids there, even though it seemed like a bad idea, but you need to trust God and do it anyway, even when you're scared. That's what faith is. Supposedly. The more it seems like a bad idea, the more it shows just how committed you are to God. God wants you to get out of your comfort zone!

I don't believe in this anymore, this religion that glamorizes reckless, one-off gestures, where it's more important that you personally had a wild adventure with God, than that you helped people in the real world. The way to actually make a difference is to do the really boring stuff. Do the work of listening to people, learning, caring about people. If you show up with nothing- no resources, no experience, no idea what you're doing- with nothing but the belief that God is sending you there, well, that doesn't help. That doesn't make you a hero of faith.

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Related:

Renee Bach, who had no medical training, opened a clinic in Africa. Just like missionaries are supposed to.

Evangelism and Deception 

This is so normal. We just don't usually say it in front of other people.

Friday, August 23, 2024

Evangelism and Blabbing About People's Personal Lives

2 people meeting in a coffee shop. Image source.

I just saw this May 6 post from Keith Giles, BETRAYAL: From “He Gets Us” to “He Tricked Us”. It's about how the "He Gets Us" ad campaign has posts on the internet asking people to share information so that "you can have someone local talk to you about how you’re doing and pray for you." The impression people get, when they respond to this, is that they can be connected to some nice stranger, whom they can share their problems with, and this nice stranger will encourage them, and that's all.

But, it turns out, the "He Gets Us" campaign [allegedly?] sends this information to a company called GLOO. ("He Gets Us" denies this, but look at Giles's blog post to see the evidence.) GLOO is intended to be a resource for churches that allows them to get information about people in their local area who may be interested in coming to church. But, Giles found out, anyone can make a GLOO account and pay 49 dollars a month to receive personal information about total strangers.

And there's this example in Giles's post:

Pastor Janice was speaking at a women’s conference out of state. To emphasize the need for their women to reach out to their lost friends, Janice shared a story of how their church used a service from  a company called “GLOO” to receive cell phone info from local women who were looking for emotional and spiritual support.

She then explained to them, in great detail, how GLOO collected data from people who responded to the “He Gets Us” campaign and shared their text info with pastors for outreach.

What happened next was horrifying.

Janice pulled out her phone and proceeded to read Kathy Wilson’s very intimate, personal and private text messages to every woman at the conference.

Janice then continued to share even more private information about Kathy. She mentioned what Kathy did for a living, what days of the week she was at a certain public place offering services to her clients, and what city she lived in.

Later, that sermon was uploaded to the church website in El Paso where Janice and her husband were pastors.

Ohhhhh nooooooo.

I wanted to blog about this because I used to "do evangelism" a lot when I was evangelical, and I can confirm that in the world of evangelism, there was not much awareness of our obligation to not go around blabbing to other Christians about our evangelism targets' personal information.

The way it typically worked is this: A Christian believes that their non-Christian friends are in danger of going to hell, and they need to "share the gospel" with them and convince them to become Christians. But the idea of going up and randomly asking someone about their religious beliefs is very scary for the Christian, so they get their Christian friends to encourage them and share tips about how to do it.

Then the Christian manages to have a conversation with a non-Christian friend, and talks about a bunch of personal things. They ask the non-Christian what they believe and why- this is often a very emotional thing and could be connected to traumas they have experienced. (And, please note, the Christian also shares personal experiences from their own life, and talks about what it taught them about God.)

The non-Christian, however, continues to not be a Christian. The Christian is kind of confused about this, seeing as how they had such a good conversation about the very deep reasons why each of them believe what they believe. What's it gonna take to get this person saved, the Christian wonders.

So, the Christian goes to their Christian friends who have been supportive of their evangelism efforts. They ask, "What should I do? What can I say to my non-Christian friend to convince them to accept Christ?" And they share the details about the non-Christian friend's personal life, so the Christians are able to analyze the situation and come up with some suggestions.

Yeah, that's how it works, if you really want to put in the effort to try and do evangelism effectively. You get non-Christians to tell you details about their feelings and their beliefs, not because you actually care about those things, but just so you can mine them for spots you can shove Jesus into. And you share the personal information with your Christian friends, so they too can help you find the spots to shove Jesus into.

When people are in danger of going to hell, why would you bother with inconsequential things like "respecting people" and "not blabbing their personal information to everyone" and "being genuinely supportive of people's choices instead of acting like you know what's best for them"?

Another aspect of this blabbing was when we gave "testimonies" about our evangelism efforts, in order to encourage everyone to get out there and do evangelism more. Sometimes at our Christian group meetings in college, one of us would stand up in front of the whole group and talk about how we had met someone and had a conversation about Christianity- how "God" had "given us an opportunity"- and these testimonies frequently did include details about what kind of negative experience the non-Christian was going through, or what their reasons were for not believing in Jesus. Or, sometimes the person we had talked to was actually a Christian already, but we didn't think their Christianity was genuine, and we told the whole group the reasons why.

I think that, as humans with a God-given conscience, most of us do have an instinctual feeling that we shouldn't just go around talking about personal things that other people have told us. I can remember many times when I was evangelical, when my Christian friends and I talked about evangelism strategies to target specific non-Christian friends, but we did NOT share all the information that said non-Christian friends had told us. For example, I told my Christian friends that I had "shared the gospel" with someone, and told them about what I said and what he said and asked for suggestions about what else I should say to him- but I didn't tell them his name. Didn't want them to know it was him, because they'd met him before and I felt like it would be weird for them to know all these details about him. I mean, it's still creepy, what we were doing- trying to convince people to change their religion- but my point is that I didn't blab to the full extent I could have. Because I felt like he wouldn't want that. And I remember when I gave a "testimony" in front of the whole group, thinking about how it was in public and therefore I shouldn't say anything that I wouldn't want getting back to the non-Christian in question.

My point is, I remember instances where we didn't spill all the juicy details that we knew about our non-Christian friends' lives. On some level, we had a feeling that it wouldn't be right. (The anecdote in Giles's blog post, about a Christian mentioning someone's workplace and whereabouts and personal problems, in a sermon that is posted publicly online, is SHOCKING to me. At the same time, though, it's very believable to me that there are Christians working hard to do evangelism, who have zero awareness of the fact that their evangelism targets wouldn't want their information broadcast to the whole church.) But we existed in the context of this evangelism ideology, which said it was necessary to tell other Christians why our friends don't believe in Jesus, so we can brainstorm ideas to get them to change. It's a belief system which requires you to be invasive and creepy. 

When we did evangelism training, there was never any training that said "you should respect people's privacy and not tell other Christians what they said." Even though many of us had a conscience which hinted at that, we bought into this ideology that said we needed to convince people to "get saved." So we needed to ask other Christians for help when we weren't able to convince them on our own.

This is why, now, I don't want to talk to evangelicals about what I believe. I know they're not going to listen to me out of a genuine desire to understand me- no, they'll only be looking for places where they can point out why I'm wrong and get me to change. I know they're going to go off and tell their friends about me, misrepresenting what I said. I know they're going to pray for me, and tell God things about me that aren't true.

In an ideology which pushes Christians to do evangelism and get people "saved," there's no room for respecting people's privacy. No, it's all about getting information about the very personal reasons that people believe what they believe, and looking for how you can exploit that to push them toward your brand of Christianity. And of course you tell those things to other Christians, so they can "help." Of course you do.

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Related:

Yep, I Totally Did This Creepy Evangelism Strategy 

Evangelism and Deception

"My Evangelism Isn't Working" is a Very Creepy Thing to Say 

This is so normal. We just don't usually say it in front of other people.

Monday, June 10, 2024

"Desperate for God"

Image text: "Chorus: And I / I'm desperate for you / And I / I'm lost without out (x2)" Image source.

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."

- Matthew 11:28-30

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Here's a recent post from Sheila Wray Gregoire, Valentine's Day: What If Marriage Isn't Supposed To Be That Hard?, which raises the idea that maybe the women who write books about marriage do so specifically because they are in bad marriages and they're trying to cope. (The post also argues against the "marriage is hard" concept. I totally agree with Gregoire here- very not cool how people always say "marriage is hard." Then if you're in an abusive marriage, you will think that's normal because "marriage is hard." My marriage is not hard!)

Here's a quote from the post:

When a woman in a destructive marriage who is a good writer and has communication skills needs to process what she’s going through, and speaking opportunities are open for her, and then soon book deals, it’s natural that these women will write about relationship advice. And so it shouldn’t be surprising if our marriage advice is disproproportionately written/given by women in destructive marriages.

...

I’m not saying that writers write deliberately to process their situations. I’m saying that when you’re in the midst of an untenable situation, and you’re desperate to make sense of it, you tell yourself fervently a lot of stuff about God. And teaching it becomes another way to prove to yourself that everything is actually okay and you’re fine. 

Wow, this is a really fascinating hypothesis. What if, in Christian culture, the writers who are seen as authorities on "how to have a godly marriage" disproportionately have unhealthy marriages? What if the women in unhealthy marriages are doing a lot of very hard work to convince themselves that everything's okay, and to keep obeying "God's" commands about submitting to their husbands, and because they are doing so much work, and they're so dedicated to it, they are the ones who end up being seen as "experts" on marriage. 

Whereas, the people in normal healthy marriages just kind of spend their time being normal people, and there's not really much to say about how they "make their marriage work" because it just works. So they don't write books about it.

I wanted to blog about this because it reminded me of myself, back when I was in college and I was "desperate for God" and believed that was a good thing that made me a good Christian role model. My "personal relationship with God" was, how shall I put this, unhealthy, and that's why everyone saw me as such a good and dedicated Christian. (Similar to how women in bad marriages end up being seen as the experts on marriage.)

We were always talking about how we "need" God. We need God more than anything- more than food, air, anything. Yeah it may not feel that way, but that's the reality, we said. And I felt like... it's quite hard to actually believe such a statement- "I need God more than anything else"- and the people who were the very very best Christians truly believed and internalized it, whereas the not-so-good Christians just lived like... not feeling a constant need and desperation.

I believed that this was the reality, even though it doesn't feel true at all. And that being a good Christian was about working myself into a state where I truly felt like I needed God more than anything. Constantly feeling like I'm barely holding on, I need to pray more, I need God, I need to feel that God is with me. I'm a sinner and if I ever feel like I'm fine, rather than feeling desperate and panicked over the status of my relationship with God, well, that would be bad.

(I should point out here that "we need God" doesn't logically have to lead to "we should constantly feel panicked about our need for God." What if we need God, but we always have God, there's no risk that God will disappear- "neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." What if we need God, but that need is met all the time, regardless of what we believe or feel or do? "In him we live and move and have our being." This is what I believe now. But evangelical Christianity very much teaches that it's not okay to just not be aware of God/ not believe in God. And it's not okay to take it for granted that God is there. You have to always walk a very fine line of being perfect and not sinning, always thinking about God and how unworthy you are, always dedicating all of your energy to the impossible task of truly knowing God.)

I remember hearing a sermon once, on John 21. This is after Jesus' death, when his disciples went out fishing, and they didn't catch any fish, and then the resurrected Jesus showed up and told them to throw their net on the other side of the boat, and then they miraculously caught a LOT of fish. The pastor who was preaching this sermon emphasized how the disciples couldn't do anything without Jesus. The disciples were fishermen, and they went fishing, and they caught NOTHING. Because they thought they could do it themselves. They didn't know that they could not do anything at all, without Jesus. And the lesson for us was, we may think that we're good at something, we may be confident in our abilities, but we shouldn't be, because actually we can't do anything at all. Without God, we can't even do the most basic things- fishermen can't even catch a single fish- and we should never lose sight of that.

That sermon really stuck with me- and I think that's because I'm just generally more prone to having anxiety issues. Maybe other Christians wouldn't take it this way... but I took it to mean that being closer to God (which is what I should be striving for) meant being in a constant state of anxiety. Like everything is a crisis which could have eternal significance. At any moment I might sin- like, for example, having a selfish thought- and that would be an infinite offense against a holy God, and I should feel terrible, and Jesus died because of me, etc. At any moment, God might give me a chance to "share the gospel" with someone- someone who's in extreme danger of going to hell- and I needed to always be watching for those chances.

And if you ever feel confident, like "yeah I know what I'm doing, I'm good at this" and you're not thinking about how you can do NOTHING without God, well, God is going to sabotage your efforts, to teach you a lesson.

It wasn't just that one sermon, of course. I always heard evangelicals talk about how we "need God." There are SO MANY worship songs we sang in church that had that theme: "And I / I'm desperate for you / And I / I'm lost without you." "I'm falling on my knees / Offering all of me / Jesus you're all this heart is living for." "I need Thee / oh I need Thee / Every hour I need Thee." And like I said, maybe I interpreted them in this way because of my own mental health/ anxiety issues. Maybe other Christians didn't take them to mean the ideal is to be in a constant state of desperation. But my obsession, my ever-present desire to be "closer to God", that's what my faith was about, and I do think people viewed me as a good devoted Christian role model because of that.

I didn't know anything at all about mental health back then. I definitely had no awareness of the concept of "maybe if something is stressing you out all the time, it's bad." Heaven and hell were at stake, I couldn't waste time thinking about my emotional state. It's logical to be stressed out all the time, because there are always people in danger of going to hell, and I need to help as many as I can.

One thing I did a lot of in college was start bible study groups with non-Christians. I was really good at it, actually. Thinking back on it now, I'm like "wait, how did I convince my non-Christian friends to read the bible with me?" but yeah I really did. But oh my goodness it stressed me out SO MUCH. And I worked so hard, trying to do all these things that "God" wanted me to do, trying to trust that God was working and my efforts made a difference... dealing with all the emotions that came from this and laundering them into lessons about what God was "teaching me" and how it helped me be closer to God.

For example:

I started a bible study group at a fraternity house. Please note, I am a girl, I was not in this fraternity, I was just friends with a lot of the brothers. I enlisted 2 of the brothers who were Christians to help me promote it. At the first meeting of the bible study group, 1 of the 2 didn't come. And I was mad about that- I felt like, "he doesn't understand how hard it is to start a bible study- he should be here to support me on the first night." But then after thinking about it more, and praying about it, I decided I shouldn't be mad at him- he is free to help me or not. He didn't do anything wrong. And chalked it up to God teaching me to trust Him more, or something.

The reality of it was- and if I were more aware of my emotions, I would have been able to realize this- I felt so self-conscious and embarrassed, trying to invite people to my bible study. I felt so worried about whether anyone would actually come or not. But in evangelicalism, there was no way for me to process those emotions. All I had was the framework that "I'm doing what God wants me to do, so I have to stay strong."

As I continued doing this fraternity house bible study, I sometimes felt unhappy because not many people came. So I prayed about that, and came to the conclusion that my role is to offer this bible study, to the people who want it, and if they don't want it, that's okay. I'm at least doing my part, I'm doing a good thing, and if I resented the fraternity brothers who didn't attend, then that wouldn't be a good thing. And I felt that was a meaningful thing that God was teaching me.

Looking back at it now, I feel like... it would have been much better for my mental and emotional health if I weren't always doing evangelism and trying to start bible studies. It was so stressful for me all the time- but at the time, I would have said "it's hard but it's worth it." (Just like all the Christian leaders who will tell you that marriage is so hard but it's worth it.) Because I loved the feeling that I was working for God and doing important things. Life was an exciting adventure. There was always a crisis, and it was so exciting to feel like I was clinging to God to get through it. That's what a "personal relationship with God" is supposed to be, right?

Our campus Christian group had "evangelism training" sessions where we were very explicitly told to NOT care about these mental health concerns (though obviously they didn't use the term "mental health"). They said if you don't want to do evangelism because you feel awkward / because you're worried about alienating your friends / because you don't know what to say- well you should just repress all those feelings because PEOPLE ARE GOING TO HELL and isn't that more important than your fears of being awkward?

I believed that the best Christians were the ones who not only claimed to believe in the talking points about how everyone who's not "saved" is in incredible danger of going to hell, but who truly deeply believed that, so much so that they could constantly feel the danger, feel it as real and palpable, all around them, threatening their friends all the time. They would be constantly driven to do evangelism and push people toward "getting saved" as much as they could.

(In other words, being close to God causes you to have an anxiety disorder, and that's the ideal you should be striving for.)

And I remember one time, one of my friends told me that she was going to be doing a bible study with a friend of hers who was not a Christian. And I was very happy for her, and gave her some advice. And one of the things I said was, you're going to learn more about God by doing this. I was thinking of my own struggles, trying to handle my feelings surrounding how my bible study wasn't going as well as I wanted, and the way I clung to God through it and believed that God was teaching me. 

And that's what I thought of when I read Gregoire's blog post. The idea that I had useful advice to give someone, because I had been pushing myself to do things I didn't want to do, which weren't really healthy for me. And other Christians who had better mental health wouldn't have been seen as role models with good advice.

So... So where am I now? Well now my faith is completely different. I'm ex-evangelical, and I don't believe in hell. It's just indescribable, how good it feels to stop believing in hell. I don't have to constantly worry about the eternal fate of every random person I meet. I can just interact like a normal person. 

I'm still a Christian- and I'm really happy about being a Christian. I don't have a "personal relationship with God" and I don't want to ever again- it was just way too much stress. Evangelicals always say the word "gospel" means "good news"- well now I believe in a Christianity which actually is good news.

I'm not "desperate for God" now. I no longer believe being a Christian is about maintaining a constant state of anxiety.

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Related:

This is what a "personal relationship with God" looks like. Be very afraid. 

With God, Everything is a Battle and You Can't Just Leave 

My Identity was in Christ 

The things I've never let myself say about evangelism 

"Marriage Is Hard" 

Used By God

God of Bad Snaps

What Feminism Taught Me About Saving the World

Thursday, January 18, 2024

"When Helping Hurts" (I wanted to like this book but it didn't work out)

Book cover for "When Helping Hurts", 2014 edition. (This is not the one I have- the one I have is the 2012 edition.)

So I started reading the book When Helping Hurts: How to Alleviate Poverty Without Hurting the Poor . . . and Yourself [affiliate link], by Steve Corbett and Brian Fikkert. (I have the 2012 edition.) And... I read about one third of it, and decided I'm going to stop there. And I want to just blog about my reaction to this book real quick.

What I was expecting

So, I first heard about this book back when I was in college- and I was very evangelical. I knew this was an evangelical book.

Since the title is "When Helping Hurts" and it's about charity, I assumed it would be anecdotes about how rich Americans sent a bunch of stuff to some overseas tsunami victims, and it was stuff the recipients didn't need, so it was all a waste and the recipients had to deal with the problem of how to dispose of it. Or about how rich Americans make genuine sacrifices to do these things, and therefore there's an emotional component to it, which makes us unwilling to objectively evaluate if the results were actually beneficial or not. Things like that. 

I feel like... I don't really have a good perspective on what my approach should be for giving to charity- from an ethical standpoint, and as a Christian. I mean, John the Baptist said that anyone who has 2 coats should give 1 away. Does anybody do that? Can anybody do that? I really want to have a better framework for thinking about this- but also, maybe that's just impossible because no matter what I do (even moving to China), I'm complicit in the massive economic inequality in this world. But anyway, I shouldn't just be paralyzed by lack of certainty and do nothing- and so, a few years ago I picked some charities and set up automatic monthly donations to them. That's my current approach, and that's what I recommend to people who have a high enough income that they have a responsibility to give some of it away.

Anyway, yeah I knew this book is coming from an evangelical perspective, so there would be parts I wouldn't agree with, but I thought it would be good to see what it has to say. Especially since it's a book I had heard mentioned many times in evangelical spaces.

Okay let's get into what the book says, and my reactions to it.

The preface

The preface of the book is good. Basically it says this book is about how to help without hurting. ie, it's not just "here's all the ways that charity can go wrong" but it's about how to actually do it right. Great! The authors recommend that churches use this book for small group discussions, and every chapter has discussion questions.

In the preface, there are discussion questions about how your church would go about planning a trip to Indonesia to help tsunami victims. You can discuss it in groups and write down your plans, and in a later chapter you'll revisit the plans. I mean, personally, my take on this is, maybe don't plan a trip to Indonesia? Probably not worth it to spend so much money on plane tickets to get your untrained volunteers to go there and, uh, do what exactly? Before you make any plans, you should talk to people who are actually there about what they actually need and what would actually be helpful.

I'm guessing that's the direction the book's going to go with it. But I gave up on this book 1/3 of the way through, so I guess I'll never know. But anyway, I felt like the book was off to a good start here.

The introduction- a story about a "witch doctor"

In the "Introduction" section of the book, there's a story from one of the authors, about when he was in Uganda teaching classes for refugees about small businesses, at a church. The curriculum he used was "biblically based," ie, I guess this is about telling people they have to be Christians, and also giving them training about running a small business.

One person in the class, Grace, says that she is a witch doctor, but she decided to quit that and follow Jesus instead. The local church leader, Elizabeth, tells Grace to bring all her witch-doctoring herbs and burn them right there in the church, and Grace does this. Later, as Grace continues attending the classes, she seems to have changed for the better since becoming a Christian (and this is a big sacrifice for her, because she was making a lot of money as a witch doctor selling questionable products to women to get their husbands to not cheat on them). But then Grace gets sick- and the author of the book talks about how he went to her home to find her, and the appalling conditions she lived in- and he saved her life by buying her penicillin. So, overall it felt like a happy ending, but later the author had some feelings about whether he had actually done more harm than good toward the refugees he was teaching in that class.

As I was reading this, I had 2 main thoughts:

  1. Is "witch doctor" the right term here? I'm thinking it's probably not. "Witch doctor" sounds like the kind of incredibly skewed and biased term that an evangelical would use, to make this sound very negative and bad. Perhaps there's a whole religious system, with meaningful culture around it, and perhaps it serves some beneficial function in their society. I personally don't know, but using the term "witch doctor" just reduces it to a one-dimensional "this is obviously bad" sort of thing.
  2. This story assumes that it's self-evidently a good thing that Grace decides to not be a "witch doctor" anymore and be a Christian instead. (Also, very manipulative of Elizabeth to tell Grace to burn up all her herbs immediately. Not cool!) Okay, well, I understand this book is coming from an evangelical perspective, I understand that evangelicals think everyone should convert to Christianity, I understand that evangelicals see that as so self-evidently true that they wouldn't even think to question it. So I'm reading this, and thinking, "well, maybe the authors just never even thought about how they have this unquestioned assumption that everyone should convert to Christianity. But as long as that's not something the book focuses on and consciously tries to argue for, I'll let it slide."

(Unfortunately, later the book focused on and argued for that...)

Chapter 1 has some very good things to say about Jesus (but also some red flags)

Chapter 1 starts out with these discussion questions:

  1. Why did Jesus come to earth?
  2. For what specific sin(s) was Old Testament Israel sent into captivity? Do not just say "disobedience." Be specific. For example: "The Israelites were constantly robbing banks."
  3. What is the primary task of the church?

Yes! Love this! These are questions that ABSOLUTELY need to be addressed when trying to talk to evangelicals about poverty. I'm really happy with how the book handles this section. 

See, evangelicals would answer the question "Why did Jesus come to earth?" with something like "to die for our sins so we can go to heaven." Like all the things Jesus did during his life don't matter, it's all about the crucifixion. (Also, in this ideology, the Resurrection may or may not matter- which is BONKERS.) 

This is a big deal to me, because my answer to these questions has changed SO MUCH, now that I'm not evangelical. I now believe Jesus came to bring the kingdom of heaven to earth- and that means we need to work on bringing the kingdom of heaven to earth. We need to fight for justice, for equality, for a world where everyone is able to live a flourishing life, each as a unique and amazing person created in the image of God.

And yes, the book agrees with me on that. It cites chapter and verse, about how Jesus came to "preach good news to the poor" and "proclaim freedom for the prisoners", and how "in him all things hold together." It's not about the abstract far-away idea of going to heaven when you die; it's about renewing this world we live in right now.

Love that!

And yeah, I know a lot of evangelicals would be very resistant to this idea, because it sounds like "watering down the gospel" or it sounds "liberal" or it sounds like "putting too much emphasis on social justice instead of the gospel." That's why it's SO IMPORTANT that the book makes a case for this, right here in chapter 1. This part is very well done. It's absolutely necessary to challenge this evangelical idea, that all that matters is getting people into heaven. This is definitely a very major obstacle in getting evangelicals to care about people in poverty.

Next, there's an anecdote about a pastor named Reverend Marsh, who lived in the South during the Civil Rights Movement. He believed the KKK was bad, and racism was bad, but he never talked about it in his sermons. (I conclude that he must be white...) Those were political questions, and he thought the church should only preach on the personal, spiritual aspects of people's lives. (The book portrays this as being very wrong.)

Instead of speaking out against actual lynchings that were happening, Reverend Marsh preached a sermon called "The Sorrow of Selma," which was about "the lack of personal piety and unbelief of some of the civil rights workers."

The book says this:

In one sense, Reverend Marsh was right. Many of the civil rights protestors longed for the peace, justice, and righteousness of the kingdom, but they did not want to bend the knee to the King Himself, which is a prerequisite for enjoying the full benefits of the kingdom. In contrast, Reverend Marsh embraced King Jesus, but he did not understand the fullness of Christ's kingdom and its implications for the injustices in his community. Both Reverend Marsh and the civil rights workers were wrong, but in different ways. Reverend Marsh sought the King without the kingdom. The civil rights workers sought the kingdom without the King. The church needs a Christ-centered, fully orbed, kingdom perspective to correctly answer the question, "What would Jesus do?"

Umm.

Uh.

Umm.

Really not comfortable with how this is framing it like both Reverend Marsh and the civil rights workers were equally wrong. See, Reverend Marsh had the correct religious beliefs, but he didn't actually do anything about racism, and the civil rights protestors didn't have the correct religious beliefs, but they fought for justice, so, see, both had it partly right and partly wrong. Uh. Umm. (Just gonna drop the parable of the sheep and the goats here- Jesus pretty clearly takes a side on the question of whether it's more important to have the correct religious beliefs or to do actual things that help people, and it's NOT the side that "When Helping Hurts" takes!)

But, as I was reading this, I thought, I'll give them the benefit of the doubt... maybe they didn't really mean both of these things were equally bad. Maybe they meant like... like if someone has different religious beliefs than I do, then of course I am of the opinion that they are wrong about those religious beliefs. It's just objectively true that I disagree with them. Maybe the authors just meant that they disagree with people who have different religious beliefs than they do, but they weren't necessarily saying those differences in religious beliefs are important.

(But, unfortunately, later the book makes it clear that those religious beliefs are dealbreakers...)

The next weird bit is when the book is talking about how the early church cared for the poor. This is in contrast with the pagan culture of the Roman Empire:

[Sociologist Rodney] Stark explains that the Christian concept of self-sacrificial love of others, emanating from God's love for them, was a revolutionary concept to the pagan mind, which viewed the extension of mercy as an emotional act to be avoided by rational people. Hence, paganism provided no ethical foundation to justify caring for the sick and destitute who were being trampled by the teeming urban masses.

WHAT.

What. What the what.

Christians were the first ones to come up with the idea of helping poor people? Really? They expect their readers to buy that? "Paganism" just couldn't comprehend the idea of caring about poor people?

Seriously?

This is a very one-dimensional, oversimplified view of the pagan worldview in the Roman Empire. (Like, I don't even know anything about paganism in the Roman Empire, but I know it must be more nuanced than that.) Really these authors should stop trying to make statements about other religions- they're just embarrassing themselves.

(Unfortunately, they did *not* stop making statements about other religions...)

Continuing on. This chapter has a lot of really good stuff to say about how evangelicals wrongly believe they don't have a responsibility to care about the world. Yes, lots of very good stuff, which evangelicals really need to hear. Makes me want to say "I definitely recommend this book to evangelicals" but ... well... the Christian-supremacist stuff gets so much worse, so, I don't.

Chapter 2 is about what poverty really is

I like how chapter 2 starts. The discussion question is "What is poverty? Make a list of words that come to your mind when you think of poverty." Next, it has some quotes from "Voices of the Poor," a project in the 1990s where actual poor people around the world were asked for their views on what poverty is. A lot of these quotes are about feeling helpless, feeling shame, feeling inferior, being dependent on other people. It's not just about not having material things; it's about being trapped in a situation where you can't control your own life, you can't make your own choices, you can't live the life you want to live.

I think this is an important exercise- contrasting the reality of poverty with what well-off Americans *think* poverty is.

The book says that, when you want to help poor people, it's very important that you understand what their real needs are, rather than acting on what you *think* their needs are. Otherwise, the "help" you give them won't help. Yes! Very much agree with this.

But I don't feel good about this example:

Similarly, consider the familiar case of the person who comes to your church asking for help with paying an electric bill. On the surface, it appears that this person's problem is the last row of table 2.1, a lack of material resources, and many churches respond by giving this person enough money to pay the electric bill. But what if this person's fundamental problem is not having the self-discipline to keep a stable job? Simply giving this person money is treating the symptoms rather than the underlying disease and will enable him to continue with his lack of self-discipline. In this case, the gift of money does more harm than good, and it would be better not to do anything at all than to give this handout. Really! Instead, a better-- and far more costly-- solution would be for your church to develop a relationship with this person, a relationship that says, "We are here to walk with you and to help you use your gifts and abilities to avoid being in this situation in the future. Let us into your life and let us work with you to determine the reason you are in this predicament."

I'm reading this, feeling really uneasy about how it veers extremely close to conservative Republican talking points about how those lazy people need to just take responsibility and get a job, and therefore we shouldn't do anything to help them.

But, I thought, maybe the authors don't realize that it's going to read that way to their Republican readers. Just taking this section at face value, it may indeed be true that there are some situations where a person is capable of getting a job, but they don't want to, and they need a little push to get them to actually do it. (Republican folklore says that's the situation for *most* people on welfare, and that's just NOT true- but okay, maybe it is true occasionally, so, okay, this example from the book isn't necessarily bad...)

I'm just... really really suspicious of people (evangelicals, Republicans, etc) saying "oh these people are asking for money, but actually that's not the right way to help them, the right way to help them is [some other thing that we're also not going to lift a finger to do]." It's just a way to sit around feeling superior for having the "correct" opinion about what poor people really need, without doing anything that actually helps.

But I thought, maybe the authors don't realize this is coming across that way. I'll just let it slide.

Then the authors lay out their "biblical framework" of what poverty is. They say that when God created the world, humans were made to have good relationships in the following 4 areas:

  1. Relationship with God
  2. Relationship with self
  3. Relationship with others
  4. Relationship with the rest of creation

But, because of the Fall (Adam and Eve's sin), all 4 of these relationships are broken. All of us have "poverty" in these 4 areas of life. (For example, "poverty" in one's relationship with God would be something like, not believing God exists. "Poverty" in the area of relationship with self would be low self-esteem, or, alternatively, having a God-complex and feeling like you're superior to the poor people you're trying to help. And so on.)

The authors use the word "poverty" here, to describe the situation that all people are in- but they also say that material poverty is a whole different thing. Like, we all experience "poverty", so you shouldn't act like you're better than anyone else- but also, if you haven't experienced material poverty, then you don't know what it's like, it's so much worse.

I don't really think it's useful to define "poverty" in this way. It muddies up the definition. But okay, whatever, let's keep reading.

Then there's this equation:

Material Definition of Poverty
+
God-complexes of Materially Non-Poor
+
Feelings of Inferiority of Materially Poor
=
Harm to Both Materially Poor and Non-Poor

And also a few anecdotes to show how "poverty" in the 4 different relationship types can all come together to make it more difficult for the "materially poor" to improve their lives.

Yeah, this "equation" makes sense, and I think it's useful that the book presents it like this. If rich people think the problem is simply "they don't have [thing], so let's give them [thing]" then it's quite possible that the rich people don't realize how they're coming across (ie, treating poor people like they don't know anything, can't do anything for themselves, etc)- and this can do more harm than good.

Chapter 3 is where I noped out of this book

Chapter 3 starts out with this anecdote:

During the 1990s, Alisa Collins and her children lived in one of America's most dangerous public housing projects in inner-city Chicago. Alisa had become pregnant at the age of sixteen, had dropped out of high school, and had started collecting welfare checks. She had five children from three different fathers, none of whom helped with child rearing. With few skills, no husband, and limited social networks, Alisa struggled to raise her family in an environment characterized by widespread substance abuse, failing schools, high rates of unemployment, rampant violence, teenage pregnancy, and an absence of role models. 

From time to time, Alisa tried to get a job, but a number of obstacles prevented her from finding and keeping regular work. First, there were simply not a lot of decent-paying jobs for high school dropouts living in ghettos. Second, the welfare system penalized Alisa for earning money, taking away benefits for every dollar she earned and for every asset she acquired. Third, Alisa found government vocational training and jobs assistance programs to be confusing and staffed by condescending bureaucrats. Fourth, Alisa had child-care issues that made it difficult to keep a job. Finally, Alisa felt inferior and inadequate. When she tried to get vocational training or a job and faced some obstacle, she quickly lost confidence and rapidly retreated into her comfort zone of public housing and welfare checks. Alisa felt trapped, and she and her family often talked about how they couldn't "get out" of the ghetto.

So, in the first paragraph, the "started collecting welfare checks" was a bit suspect to me because, again, it veers uncomfortably close to Republican mythology about how "those lazy inner-city [black] people are freeloaders living easy lives on welfare." I quoted two whole paragraphs here to show you that overall, this anecdote is not like that- I think the second paragraph is very fair, showing that getting out of poverty is much more difficult than the simplistic Republican mythology of "they need to just get a job." The authors clearly show that there are a LOT of factors trapping Alisa in a system of poverty, and that churches have a responsibility to help people like her.

This chapter of the book also makes it clear that poverty is partly about individual choices, and partly about systems that are stacked against people. It's very good that the book is talking about this! Evangelicals are likely to buy into the idea that if people just worked harder and stopped being lazy, they could pull themselves up by their bootstraps, etc. Evangelicals are likely to not believe in any kind of systemic injustice, taking away people's opportunities and setting them up to fail. It's very good that the book is explicitly pointing out the ways that systems trap people in poverty.

Then the authors start talking again about healing the 4 key relationships, and how, to put it bluntly, you have to be a Christian or else it doesn't work:

Ultimately, the profound reconciliation of the key relationships that comprise poverty alleviation cannot be done without people accepting Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. Yes, people can experience some degree of healing in their relationships without becoming Christians. For example, although it is typically more difficult, unbelievers can often stop drinking, become more loving spouses, and improve as employees without becoming Christians. And as these things happen for unbelievers, they are more likely to earn sufficient material things. However, none of the foundational relationships can experience fundamental and lasting change without a person becoming a new creature in Christ Jesus. Furthermore, simply having sufficient material things is not the same as "poverty alleviation" as we defined it above. We want people to fulfill their calling "to glorify God and enjoy Him forever" in their work and in all that they do. Again, this requires that people accept and experience Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior.

What the actual ****.

"although it is typically more difficult"- what on earth?

And then saying that if people improve their lives so they are no longer poor, but they don't become Christians, it doesn't really count as "poverty alleviation"- WHAT?

This right here, this is called Christian supremacy. The idea that only Christians can live life the correct way, and everyone else is automatically living inferior lives because they don't know Jesus or whatever. This idea is EVERYWHERE in evangelicalism- you can't have a good marriage if it's not centered on Jesus, you can't live a meaningful life without Jesus, everyone has a God-shaped hole in their heart, etc. (And full disclosure, I definitely believed it when I was evangelical. I had no idea how offensive it was, because evangelicals view it as a completely normal thing to believe.) This idea is EVERYWHERE, and it's WRONG. It's WRONG. I want to be very clear here, this is WRONG.

Let me be very clear about what I believe: I am a Christian. I believe that all people are made in the image of God- our creativity, ambition, compassion, conscience, all of that comes from God. And God made this world- all of the potential this world has for good things, for growth, for enjoying your life, for finding meaning and joy, all of that is from God. All of it is from God, and is accessible to people regardless of whether they agree with me about it being from God. Regardless of their religious beliefs (or lack thereof).

I believe those things are from God, but if other people don't believe that, I won't argue with them about it. It's fine if people don't believe the same religious things as I do. Whatever. Okay, so we disagree about it, but so what? What actually matters is how you live, how you treat other people.

(And also, my husband is not a Christian, so this is personal. When Christians say non-Christians just can't be as good as Christians- this is personal to me.)

Okay... so... moving along with the book. Basically, I want to share 3 anecdotes from chapter 3 which show how incredibly Christian-supremacist this book is, and made me decide to just quit reading it. Each of these anecdotes is about how, when you help poor people, if you're not also getting them to convert to Christianity, you're "hurting" rather than helping.

Anecdote 1: Pachamama and the llama fetuses

A Christian relief and development agency attempted to improve crop yields for poor farmers in Bolivia's Alto Plano. Although successful in increasing output, the impact on the farmers' incomes was far less than hoped because of the farmers' deep reverence for Pachamama, the mother earth goddess who presides over planting and harvesting. Seeking Pachamama's favor, farmers purchased llama fetuses, a symbol of life and abundance, to bury in their fields before planting. At the time of the harvest, the farmers held a festival to thank Pachamama. The larger the harvest, the larger the celebration was. In fact, a large percentage of the farmers' income was being spent on the fetuses and on the harvest festival, thereby contributing to the farmers' material poverty. Furthermore, by increasing agricultural output without worldview transformation, the development agency realized it was actually adding to these farmers' idolatry, as the farmers were giving increasing levels of praise to Pachamama for her benevolence.

Okay, this sounds to me like a case where the relief agency didn't get the results they expected because there were some key things they didn't know about the culture and society of the people they were trying to help. They didn't know that even if the "science" part succeeds- ie, even if the agricultural output is increased- it doesn't necessarily cause an increase in the farmers' incomes in a straightforward way, because of these societal/religious factors about what the farmers would then spend the money on. 

This sounds like the relief agency failed to do their research. They should have talked to someone familiar with the culture, who could address questions like "What would success look like for this program? What kind of outcome would have the most meaningful impact on people's lives?" and so on.

The book is framing it like the problem is the Bolivian farmers' religious beliefs, and the relief agency should have, I don't know, manipulated them into converting to Christianity??? 

Wait, wasn't there a whole section earlier in the book about how sometimes your perspective on people's needs and problems is actually wrong, and it will cause you to act in ways that don't really help them? And now the authors are saying what these farmers actually need is to become Christians- where are they getting that from? Just because that's what evangelicals believe about EVERYONE, not because there's any practical evidence for it. Kind of sounds like a case of COMPLETELY MISJUDGING OTHER PEOPLE'S NEEDS and then DOING MORE HARM THAN GOOD.

When I read that part earlier about having misconceptions about poor people's needs, I really thought what they meant was "this is why you need to actually listen to them, before trying to help." But maybe they meant it like... "as Christians, we KNOW what everyone's needs are- they need to have the correct beliefs about Jesus, that's the most important thing."

Ugh.

Also, the thing about the llama fetuses... Perhaps this is a case where the local religious leaders are manipulating the farmers for their own financial gain. Maybe they're jacking up the price of llama fetuses, and pressuring people to buy them. This sounds like it could be an unhealthy power dynamic- and you can find this kind of unhealthy power dynamic everywhere. It doesn't necessarily have to have any connection to religion.

But also, I can very easily imagine an alternative anecdote that would go something like this:

We tried to help these poor Americans, but it turns out that they are Christians, and they watch televangelists on TV, and these televangelists say "you have to give money to me, so God will bless you- the more money you give me, the more God will give you!" So even though we were able to increase people's incomes, it didn't actually help them, because they just gave the extra money to televangelists. See, this is why it's so important to get people to stop being Christians. Otherwise there's just no way you can help them.

Is this not the EXACT SAME THING that the book is saying about the Bolivian farmers' religion?

Yeah, I know at this point, evangelicals would take issue with me equating "Christianity" with "donating to televangelists." Someone will argue, "Hey, I'm a Christian, and I disagree with televangelists. I DON'T think people should give money to them. The people in your anecdote don't need to stop being Christians, they just need to learn that being a Christian doesn't mean you have to give money to predatory leaders."

Oh, so you're saying Christianity is a whole diverse religion, that has some predatory leaders but also has a lot of good in it? Don't you think the same thing could be true of the Pachamama religion?

Ugh. Anyway. On to anecdote 2.

Anecdote 2: Non-Christians don't know how to not let rats eat their food

For example, the Pokomchi Indians are some of the poorest people in Guatemala. Through the efforts of missionaries, many of the Pokomchi converted to Christianity. Unfortunately, the missionaries failed to communicate a biblical worldview concerning human stewardship over the rest of creation; hence, the Pokomchi continued in their fatalism, literally just waiting to die in order to be delivered from the horrors of this life. Over the years, a number of development organizations tried to help the Pokomchi by building schools and latrines for them, but these largely went unused.

Arturo Cuba, a pastor and community development worker, decided to confront the worldview that lay at the foundation of the Pokomchi culture. Arturo noticed that the Pokomchi failed to use adequate crop storage facilities, allowing rats to eat the harvest and contributing to widespread malnutrition. Artuo [sic] asked the Pokomchi farmers, "Who is smarter, you or the rats? Do you have dominion over the rats, or do the rats have dominion over your lives?" The farmers admitted that they were allowing the rats to get the best of them. Arturo then explained the biblical worldview that humans are created to have dominion over the rest of creation. As the Pokomchi began to embrace the biblical worldview, dramatic changes took place: better food storage facilities were created, children went to school, women learned to read, and the men adopted improved agricultural techniques.

Uh. Yeah I don't buy this.

The part about "schools and latrines" that "largely went unused" makes me think this is a problem where people building these things to "help" the Pokomchi Indians didn't talk to them first to find out what would actually be helpful. Very not cool how the book is blaming it on the Pokomchi "worldview" rather than outsiders' ignorance about what their actual needs were.

Also, yeah it is possible that there is a really pessimistic idea that's widespread in a certain culture, which stops people from trying to do anything to improve their lives. Sure, that can happen. (I could give a lot of examples from evangelicalism! Like, let's not do anything about climate change, because the bible says Jesus is coming back soon anyway so it doesn't matter.) I very much do NOT think the answer is "they need the bible." You need to talk to someone who knows that culture, to find out what can be done about it. Probably there's some reason behind this "fatalistic" worldview- maybe the Pokomchi have tried to change things before, but it never did any good. You need to do your research and find out what kind of thing would actually be able to create change, to inspire people to believe that they can improve their lives.

(Hey readers: If any of you are non-Christians, and also you don't let rats eat your food, you are welcome to leave a comment and explain how you figured that out without using the bible. Apparently it's a real tough one!)

The book presents it like, "oh the rats are eating our food" and then some Christian comes along and says "well the bible says you can stop the rats from eating your food" and then they're like "oh my goodness we never thought of that."

Come on.

Anecdote 3: Jobs training needs Jesus

For example, I once served on the board of an inner-city ministry that serves an African-American population. We applied for federal funds to pay for part of our jobs preparedness training program for unemployed people. As part of this program, our ministry was very committed to using a curriculum that communicated a biblical worldview concerning work, including the need for Jesus Christ to restore us to being productive workers. 

The government's grant administrator, who happened to be a Christian, informed us that the law prohibited us from using the government's money to cover the costs of such an explicitly gospel-focused curriculum. He was doing his job in informing us of this law. No problem with that. However, he then said, "Brian, just remove the explicitly Christian material from the lessons. You can teach the same values that you want to teach-- responsibility, punctuality, respect, hard work, discipline, etc-- without articulating their biblical basis. These values work whether people see them as coming from God or not." [Note from Perfect Number: hey I agree with this guy!] In essence, the grant administrator was encouraging us to apply evangelical gnosticism, separating Christ from His world, encouraging us to use Christ's techniques without recognizing Him as the Creator of the techniques and without calling on Him to give people the power to employ those techniques.

We decided not to use the federal funds to pay for the curriculum. Teaching the values of a "Protestant work ethic" without teaching about the Creator of those values and about the transforming power of Jesus Christ is like giving out penicillin without ever explaining the source of the penicillin's power. [There was an earlier anecdote about how it's bad if people benefit from penicillin without being told that penicillin is from Jesus.] Yes, like penicillin, these values work. But how sad it would have been if we had ended up communicating to the program participants: "You can pull yourselves up by your own bootstraps. Become more disciplined, hardworking, and responsible, and you too can achieve the American dream of material prosperity." 

Wow, I have newfound sympathy for all the atheists who just want to improve their lives by going to a job training program/ addiction recovery program/ therapy, without having Jesus pushed on them all the time.

The book is like, oh wouldn't that just be terrible if we improved people's lives but they didn't become Christians. 

NOT COOL.

Conclusion: I quit reading there

This book is called "When Helping Hurts," and I thought it was going to be about when well-meaning donors have completely wrong ideas about what poor people need, so they end up butting in with their big well-meaning charity projects which do more harm than good. But after seeing how extremely Christian-supremacist chapter 3 is, I'm becoming very concerned that these authors actually think "doing more harm than good" would be if you help people but don't pressure them into changing their religious beliefs.

Where's the part about how you need to actually listen to people to find out what they need, instead of assuming you know what they need? That's what I thought this was going to be about. Really, that's the whole reason that charity efforts can do more harm than good. Has the book even mentioned listening to people at all, up to this point? Listening to them, and believing them? I thought it was so obvious, and I was so sure that would be what the book said, that I've been reading it through that lens, and now I'm like, wait, maybe they actually never said that at all???

Anyway. So that's my review of "When Helping Hurts." Hey maybe I'm wrong and it gets better from here, who knows. I decided it's not worth my time to read the rest of it and find out. The Christian supremacist stuff is so bad.

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Related:

Recurring Donations

Evangelicals Agree With What Chau Did (And It Makes Me Angry): Here Are The Receipts

"My Evangelism Isn't Working" is a Very Creepy Thing to Say 

This is so normal. We just don't usually say it in front of other people. 

God of Bad Snaps

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