Michele Bachmann Preaching and Loving White People

On Friday, August 5th, Michele Bachmann showed up at the Spirit Midwest Christian Music Festival in Des Moines, IA.

Since there were microphones there, Michele Bachmann spoke to the crowd and glorified Jesus. She also asked the audience, "Who loves white people?." This might have been very unfortunate, had there not been a band on the bill that day called The White People Soul Band.

So, we'll give Michele Bachmann a pass on that, although it was certainly something a presidential candidate might not want to say in public on a microphone.

Bachmann continues to lay down some remarkable evangelical preaching.

One can only hope that, if elected, her State of the Union addresses would not resemble the following:

'This Was Your Life': The Chick Tract That Horrified Children

I have always loved Chick tracts. I can remember reading them as a child. I am not sure where I first received one, but they would pop up in the strangest of places: on public restroom urinals, truck stop pay phones, gas station counters, or handed out at rock concerts.

Over the years, even in my adult life, I have stumbled upon Chick tracts (I remember seeing them being sold in some record and comic stores in the 90's) and thumbed nostalgically through them, delighting in their absurdity. I still have one in my bedside table drawer, and I thumb through it on occasion. Beneath all the nostalgia and kitsch, however, when I look through a Chick tract, I can still feel the mild existential discomfort they inflicted on me as a child.

These comics seem to reside in a certain corner of my mind, right next to memories of Ouija boards, backmasking, Anton LaVey, and the Satanic ritual abuse hysteria of the late 70s and early 80s.

I recently ran across an animated flash version of the most popular Chick tract of all time, 'This Was Your Life.' It's pretty great, and I can't believe I haven't seen it before.

The blog Jack Chick's Funnybook Gospel has a great post (a review, actually) about 'This Was Your Life.' As it turns out, this tract (hands-down the most popular Chick tract ever) is available in over 100 languages. The blog post features snippets of several different versions, adapted for black audiences, Chinese audiences, Indian audiences, and one for women.

Anyone who has read more than a few Chick tracts will remember that the Gospel According to Chick is a very specific brand of Evangelical Christianity. Although Jack Chick's brand of religion echoes that of many TV evangelists of his time, he did not seek personal attention. Yet while he was a recluse (he has only given one interview since 1975), his work is known the world over. Chick Publications claims to have sold over 450 million tracts. Even if we account for some exaggeration, that's a lot of terrified children.

Given the fanatical, dogmatic, and judgmental nature of the tracts, it may not surprise many that the Southern Poverty Law Center has labeled Chick Publications as a hate group. The tracts are anti-gay, anti-evolution, anti-any-religion-that-is-not-Chick's-brand-of-hellfire-Christianity. The tracts feature all sorts of bogeymen, including Islam, drugs, Halloween, gangs, alcohol, money, the gays, evolution, and 'false religions.'  All of these things (and much, much more) are here to distract us from serving God. According to Chick, anyway.


But no bogeyman captured our imaginations quite as much as death himself -- the reaper. Or no, actually that projector in heaven that replays all your worst moments as a human being. That's pretty horrifying. Also the Book of Life that does not contain your name is fairly disturbing. As is the eternal lake of fire. Harrowing stuff.

In hindsight, Chick tracts represent what is wrong with religion, specifically the brand of fire and brimstone of evangelical Christianity.

Here is what is implied by 'This Was Your Life,' (and what is often implied in many churches in America): You had better not make poor decisions, because every move you make is being watched, and every thought you think is being recorded. And these poor decisions will land you in a pit of fire for all of eternity, because let's face it, there's at least a good 20 minutes worth of questionable footage that we could play for the Big Guy.

This begs the question -- do we really want to be surrounded by people whose behavior is shaped by fear and guilt? If you ask me, those are horrible motivators. I don't want children (or grown-ups) to act morally because they fear they will land in a lake of fire. I want them to act morally because it is good for humanity, society, and the environment. Our moral actions will benefit our fellow humans, and will benefit us as well. I want children to avoid making poor choices because they are worried about how it will affect them and others in this life -- not because they are worried about how it will affect the afterlife, of which we have no evidence. To avoid causing pain and suffering because one fears their own suffering in the afterlife is actually a selfish notion, and one based on a supernatural assumption.

What's beautiful about the Chick tracts (aside from the fact that they're funny) is that they serve as a time capsule. They are fossils of beliefs that are endangered and which are being supplanted by more liberal theology, and ultimately, by secular morality.

Imagine a world where humans do good deeds simply because it feels good, and because good deeds minimize suffering in the world.


Imagine a world where guilt relates to how we have affected others, instead of whether or not we have disappointed an angry supernatural agent.

The grim reaper, Satan, angels, a shiny faceless God in a big chair with a naughty-and-nice list, a burning lake of fire. At least Chick had foresight. This is the stuff of comic books.

How To Reach Atheist Teenagers: An Evangelical's 'Rules of Engagement'

Greg Stier of Dare 2 Share Ministries

Over at the Christian Post, Greg Stier (president of Dare 2 Share Ministries) has a post called How To Reach Atheist Teenagers.

Dare 2 Share Ministries' mission statement reads: "Mobilizing teenagers to relationally and relentlessly reach their generation for Christ," so I can't really fault him for doing what he has the right to do. He's an evangelical, and that's what evangelicals do. But his Christian Post piece left a bad taste in my mouth, for more than a few reasons.

From Stier's playbook:

1. Mock religion as early as you can in the conversation

In other words, right off the bat, approach your mark and misrepresent yourself and your agenda. It's the old 'gotcha' trick employed by snake-oil salesmen, pickup artists, politicians, and predators. It's cynical, dishonest, and misguided. It's easy to see where Stier is going with this:

Gain this common ground as soon as possible with atheist teenagers. When they see you sickened by the hypocrisy that inevitably accompanies religion, the emotional barriers that often keep them from taking a second look at Christianity can begin to fall down.

He continues:

2. Focus on Jesus. 

Jesus was a radical, rebel and revolutionary. This same “vibe” often appeals to atheist teenagers, many of whom consider themselves the same.

Show them stories in the Bible where Jesus healed lepers, hung out with “sinners” and bucked the religious system. Paint the picture of Jesus as a hero of the downtrodden (because he was) and his death as the ultimate injustice (because it was!) When they begin to see Jesus’ willingness to suffer injustice so that they could be justified the code of unbelief can be cracked in their souls.

In other words, if you can show teens that Jesus was rad like you, hung out with societal rejects, and gave it to The Man on occasion, then they will be able to accept that he was the son of God, was born of a virgin, was able to suspend the laws of the cosmos at will, died and came back from the dead, and rose up to this place called Heaven, body and all.

Then Stier comes in with the  old 'if you say it enough times, it becomes true' ploy:

3. Speak of God as if he exists.

Instead of assuming they are true atheists, speak of God as a reality.

He then applies the tired old 'no atheists in foxholes' trope:

At the end of the day there are no true atheists. In the deepest parts of their soul every atheist, according to Romans 1, truly believes in the existence of God but doesn’t want to give glorify him or give him thanks.

So, there are no true atheists because a guy said so in a book that has no supernatural significance to atheists. Would you also say that there are no true Muslims, Greg? No true Jews? Keynesians? Pacifists? Vegetarians?

And, because, at the end of the day, there is only so much you can do, Stier finishes off with:

4. Pray, love, repeat.

I've been trying to put a finger on what exactly bugs me so much about Stier's piece. (There are a lot of things to dislike.) Beyond all the creepy, stealthy, dishonest stuff, I think it's the reminder that the faith community still doesn't understand atheism.

Atheism comprises a broad spectrum of individuals, with varying philosophies. The only uniting characteristic is an absence of a belief in a deity.  The 'atheist' moniker could be applied to agnostics, secular humanists, Buddhists, Hindus, nihilists, anarchists, or any number of life stances that do not require a belief in a deity.

Stiers seems to perceive atheists as simply people who are anti-religion, or who have had bad experiences with the church and organized religion. Are there atheists who fit this description? Sure. But this description would only fit a small subset of atheists.

It's easy to see the pointless nature of Stier's approach when we substitute the atheist with a vegan and the Christian with an omnivore.  Let's take Stier's own words and see how silly it becomes:

1. Mock meat-eating as early as you can in the conversation.

Gain this common ground as soon as possible with vegan teenagers. When they see you sickened by the hypocrisy that inevitably accompanies the commoditization of animals, the emotional barriers that often keep them from taking a second look at meat-eating can begin to fall down.

Veganism, like atheism, is not a condition that develops due to a misunderstanding the opposing stance. (Most vegans have a very good understanding of what meat-eating is all about -- often they are more educated than the omnivores.) It is most often a life stance that has resulted from a great deal of research, self-reflection, and critical thinking. By showing a vegan that meat-eaters can be good people, generally free of hypocrisy, you have done nothing to eradicate the ethical dilemma that is at the core of their veganism. No matter how many rad omnivores exist, or how convincingly a covert omnivore pretends to also despise animal products, the central philosophical viewpoints remain.

Even if Stier's ploy made sense, how incredibly weird would it be if some person came up to you (a vegan) and pretended to also be a vegan, befriended you and gained your trust, when in fact they weren't vegan at all, and only wanted to convert you?

I have had believers approach me with the same angle as Stier's approach. The assumption is often that I am not a Christian because I was turned off by the church's stances on social issues, or perhaps by the hypocrisy that often accompanies religious figures and religious politicians. Or maybe something bad happened at church. Maybe I was molested by a priest. Who knows?

Sure, I do get upset when religion is used to justify inequality, greed, and exceptionalism. Sure, I get angry when authority figures in the church abuse their power and prey on children. But if all these things suddenly were eradicated from the church, it would not change the fact that I simply cannot accept the tenets of Christianity.  My inability to believe is as real as anything else about me. It is as real as my preference for certain melodies or works of art. It is as real as my aversion to violence, or my attraction to certain physical characteristics. My disbelief is very real to me, even though I grew up in a wonderful church full of wonderful people, many of which I am still very close to today.

It's not that I choose not to believe in the fantastical claims made in scripture, it's that my brain will not allow me to suspend disbelief in order to accept those claims.

Stier might want to reconsider his stealth plan to bring atheists into the fold. I would first suggest he differentiate between teens that don't like church and teens that do not accept the supernatural claims of religion.  There is a difference between teens that haven't made up their mind about religion and teens who have come to the conclusion that they can't accept the existence of a supernatural being based on the evidence that they have examined through critical thinking.

If he doesn't understand the difference, then he is probably wasting his time.