Evangelicals

I was accosted on the way to the Metro this evening. I knew it was coming from over a block away; the loud voices with sandwich boards draped over them. As I approached, I saw a face that has become familiar of late. “Nazis! Nazis!” they were saying. “Alito and Cheney are Nazis. Have you heard their speeches? Save the republic for what it’s worth.”

Funny they choose now to call it a republic; most days it’s a democracy. But that would mean that the vote, and the President naming the Vice President and sort of Supreme Court justice he said he would, was legitimate. None of that today.

Glossy papers are hurled in my face, which I’m sure has donned a probably too-condescending smile. I don’t make eye contact. I know by now I just get depressed or angry when I look into those eyes, at once self-righteous and vacant.

I am feet away from the top of the escalator when I visibly halt. On the landing, several pairs are dialoguing. What good souls, to be patient enough to engage them on a Friday night, I muse. Then I consider the protesters are probably congratulating themselves on the same point.

Just before I step onto the moving staircase, a chill runs down my spine in spite of the unseasonable warmth. If one took a soundless snapshot of this tableau, it would look a lot like street evangelism.

But my mind plows on for a moment. Give me a break – don’t these people have anything better to do than bother us on a Friday night? And if they’d listen to themselves for any amount of time, they’d realize even their main analogy is flawed – if Nazis ever heard someone speak out against them, they disappear. Forget wiretaps. Try dead. You are lucky to live in a country where expressing free speech, even when stupid, is not just tolerated, but often revered – even when it’s treasonous.

My attempts to continue in my internal policy rant are suddenly silenced by a small voice.

So… what do you believe in enough to do that?

Cough. Excuse me?

When was the last time you evangelized?

Swallow. You mean, for something other than a political campaign?

Yes.

Silence.

Not saying street evangelism is the only service there is… but at least these folks believe enough in something to make a statement with their time and energies. They are worthy of your respect.

Ouch.

Most dictionaries even today will have definitions of “evangelical” relating to creating coverts of the Christian faith; the word at its root speaks of truth-telling, so I’m glad that our philologists are still being faithful to that. One definition I found is “militant or crusading zeal.” I think that pretty well encompasses the sort of evangelism we see today, whether Christian or not. The guys surrounding Capitol South today were full of militant and crusading zeal. So in a sense, it was not evangelicalism in the purest sense of the word… but I think they were certainly evangelists in their own right. They believe something so firmly, many would probably die for it. But tonight, they were doing something that is, in a sense, above and beyond that… they were living for their cause. And it comes back to a point that I have had to admit before the throne of God again and again: it is easier to be a martyr than a living sacrifice.

A lot of us talk about being willing to die for something… to die for the sake of Christ, for the cause of liberty, family. But consciously living for your causes, these causes, requires a different attitude, namely, being an evangelical. It’s not about street corners and propaganda, or raised platforms and Billy Graham crusades. Evangelism is what’s supposed to happen with every breath between when we begin our transformation and when we are ultimately transformed, the moments that we call life. If we have good news to tell, we need to exude it – say it, sing it, talk it, like Scripture says, “...these words which I command you today shall be in your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates…”

Heaven knows I’m the furthest thing from Exhibit A on this. But by His grace, maybe when I run into protestors from now on, I’ll think twice before getting indignant… and perhaps even learn a lesson or two.