The One Thing That Will Save Evangelicals

And Maybe Change the Lives of Others Too.

I suppose if I’m fair to those reading or listening, I should limit my knowledge of Christianity to the level of armchair theologian. Similar to the way an armchair quarterback might second-guess the on-the-field play of their favorite American football team. To be sure the descriptor is accurate, I did a quick internet check. Most of what I found seemed apropos. ChatGPT, however, offered one little snipped I found troublesome.

Armchair theologian can sometimes imply a person possesses a lack of depth or real-world application in their theological insights.

The only reason I even engage in theology is for the real-world application.

For crying out loud, if it doesn’t have real-world application, then what’s the point?

In my last post, I told the story of a young man who found himself in a hospital mental ward as he fought drug addiction. Essentially, he was d.u.n. … done with life. At least the way he knew it. He saw the problems it had caused him. He understood he had created the problems himself. He knew he was sick and wanted to get better. He even prayed a prayer of desperation, asking God for help.

God showed up in the form of a hospital staff administrator named Alfonso Handy.

Upon Joey’s admittance to the hospital, Mr. Handy stopped into his room and made sure the boy understood the depths of the situation. He made Joey state, out loud, just how horrible things were, how his own choices led to his bed in a mental ward, and that he was sorry for what he had done. Only after Joey had done this was Mr. Handy willing to help him.

Now, if you’ve read the previous article, you’ll know that last paragraph is not true. It’s not what happened at all. What Mr. Handy actually did was emphasize Joey’s goodness.

The repeated message was this: You can get through this. You are a good person. You are meant for more than the mess you’re experiencing. Essentially - you are worthy of love.

He was the voice of support not condemnation, the one who pointed towards hope, not consequences. He reminded Joey of his value, not his mistakes.

Joe got better. Today he points to Mr. Handy as the reason why. Not the doctors who probably did their job well. Not his parents who I’m sure were at their wits end, desperate for him to get himself together.

No, it was Mr. Handy and his message of hope. He was the answer to Joe’s prayer of desperation, and he literally began his work with Joe by reminding him of the good.

You likely know the origin of the word evangelical. It comes from the Greek word "euangelion" (εὐαγγέλιον), which means "good news" or "gospel." Literally, eu- good, and angelion- news. And if you’re perceptive, the word angel is in there, which is most often understood to be a messenger of God.

So, Mr. Handy’s message of good news to Joey was the epitome of evangelical.

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It strikes me that this isn’t how I understood message of the gospel when I grew up. Here’s how I understood it:

You’re a sinner from birth and deserve to be punished, and you will be. Hell is in your future unless you repent. The good news is that God punished someone else in your place. If you can accept all this [and some other stuff in the small print] then God will forgive you, and not punish you.

The gospel as I understood it began with, “you’re terrible. You always have been, from birth.”

The good news started with some pretty bad news, and nobody ever asked what you wanted to hear first, the good news or the bad.

How did we get to this backwards idea of sharing the gospel?

If you’re Christian at all, you’re surely familiar with a verse that says something like, “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” It’s in the book of Romans, I believe. St. Paul wrote it. And, it can be received as good news, if presented correctly. If we quote that verse to someone like Joey, depressed and perhaps suicidal due to the mess he made using drugs, he might take it as, “Hey, Joey, listen. We all do stupid stuff. No one can claim to live a life of perfection.¹ We’re all human together. You’re one of us.”

But that’s not generally how we used that verse. We used it to inform whoever was listening - and we shouted at those who might not have been listening - that they’re evil.

But then we’d try to rationalize humanity’s evilness because of what someone else did to cause it. “It’s not your fault!” we’d exclaim. It’s because of original sin.

Pete Enns over at

Odds and Enns

, recently published Original Sin in the Old Testament. No, Not Really. It was a good reminder of something I already understood to be true. Original sin is a Christian invention. It wasn’t a thing for the not-Christian people who wrote the Hebrew Scriptures. Just ask Rabbi

Dan Ehrenkrantz

² who opens his piece, Debunking the Myth: “The Fall of Man” Isn’t in the Hebrew Bible with a clever way of showing what happened.

If “The Three Little Pigs” started out as an untitled story and later became known as “The Supremacy of Bricks,” this title would color every reading. This is what has happened with the first few chapters of the Hebrew Bible [the collection of books sometimes referred to as the Old Testament].

That is to say, the Eden story in Genesis existed and was understood in a certain way for centuries before being labeled The Fall of Man. In the piece linked above Dan explains that the Apostle Paul spent a lot of time talking about when Adam and Eve sinned, and how he made the connection from their act to man’s ongoing sin problem. One is left to wonder if Paul came up with the idea. I think he did. In a conversation with my friend, your friend, our friend Pete Enns, I asked him if Paul came up with, perhaps invented original sin. He said it was a good question and that he was definitely going to stop what he was doing and write an article about it. He pinky-swear promised.³

By now you might be saying, “Jeff, you’ve gone off-track. Read your title again, bub. What does any of this have to do with saving evangelicals?”

Annoying, isn’t it? That’s my point. Evangelicals got off-track.

The solution isn’t intellectually profound. It’s mind-numbingly simple.

Bring healing and hope to those who want it.

Joey wanted it. Mr. Handy brought it.

Joey found life.

Man becomes the more cruel, the more the religious element is perverted in him.

-Frederick Douglass

The context of the Douglass quote is in relation to how a slave-master might come to a biblical understanding that would allow for them rationalize their possession and abuse of other humans. But philosophically speaking, I find insight applicable to the context at hand.

When our opening line of the gospel is anything other than, “you’re good,” we’ve perverted the message.

When we lead with condemnation for anything, we’re off-track. It’s an Antichrist move. Literally.

On more than one occasion, Jesus himself said he did not come to condemn.

Jesus: “For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him.” (John 3:17)

My takeaway: Children of God don’t condemn; they save.

Jesus: “If anyone hears my words but does not keep them, I do not judge that person. For I did not come to judge the world, but to save the world.” [John 12:47, Emphasis added by a well-meaning, unfiltered scribe.]

My takeaway: Jesus didn’t even judge people who ignored him.

I fear I’m at the edge of belaboring my point, which is this:

The are countless people out there who are sick or experiencing some form of personal despair, looking for hope. They’re all around us.

So then, why do we spend effort trying to convince otherwise healthy people that they are sick rather than bring hope to those who are asking for it? It strikes me that this is how Jesus spent his time. Instead, we spend copious amounts of energy and money to convince otherwise healthy people that they are in fact, sick.

When we focus on bringing hope to those begging for it, sometimes literally, we may just save the world.

And in doing so, we might just save not only the individuals seeking hope but also our standing in the world - the messengers of good news.

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1. You might ask, “What about Jesus? Wasn’t he perfect?” I have written about that. I don’t think so. Here’s a link.

2. While I might fit the descriptor of armchair theologian, Pete and Dan are both bonafide, well-studied theological heavyweights. What I think I appreciate most about both of them is that I get the sense they would blanch at heavyweight as a descriptor.

3. Confession: My “conversation” with Pete was a question in the comments section of his article. But that’s boring. So, I made it look like we’re friends. Ego satisfied.

Oh, bonus points if you can tell me in the comments where I stole “my friend, your friend, our friend” from. If you’re the first, I’ll buy you a year’s subscription to Pete’s Substack.