The Problem with “Evangelical”: A Call for Clarity and Charity
It’s been a minute.
Life has been full lately—we welcomed a baby girl into our family about eight months ago (a huge blessing), and time just hasn’t allowed much space for recording. But today, working from home while my oldest is on spring break (and a little under the weather), I felt the need to step away and share some thoughts that have been rattling around in my mind.
Before I begin, a quick caveat: some of what I’m about to say may be uncomfortable—even for people I deeply care about and respect. That’s not my goal, but it may be the result. I’m sharing this both as a form of healthy processing and in the hope that it might help someone think more clearly—or at least more charitably—about an issue that continues to shape our conversations.
Let’s talk about the word evangelical.
What Does “Evangelical” Even Mean?
At its best, evangelical Christianity can be described simply:
A faith centered on the gospel, committed to Scripture, personally following Jesus, and eager to share that faith.
That’s it. That’s the heart of it.
But like most words in the English language, evangelical has taken on different meanings over time—depending on context, culture, and moment in history. And in recent years, that meaning has shifted significantly.
For many, the term no longer primarily describes theological convictions. Instead, it signals political alignment, cultural posture, or even social identity.
And that’s where the confusion—and the problem—begins.
When Theology Gets Entangled with Politics
In the years surrounding the 2016 presidential election, many people began paying closer attention to how different groups identified politically. One of the most visible trends was that a large number of people who identified as evangelical also aligned with conservative politics.
For those who were uncomfortable with that alignment, the reaction was often not just political—but theological. If that is what evangelical means, then many concluded:
“I don’t want to be that.”
This led to a wave of people distancing themselves from the term altogether. Some even began questioning whether they should call themselves Christians at all.
I saw this firsthand.
A friend of mine, new to the faith, found himself caught in the middle of all of this. As he tried to follow Jesus, he was also trying to navigate what it meant to belong to a community that seemed more defined by political identity than by Christ.
At one point, he said to me:
“I don’t think I can call myself a Christian… I definitely can’t call myself an evangelical.”
That moment stuck with me.
Because it revealed something deeper: when our categories become confused, people can lose sight of Christ altogether.
Rediscovering the Bigger Story of the Church
In response, many believers have done the hard work of rediscovering the broader, historic roots of Christianity.
They’ve explored traditions like the Coptic Church, Eastern Orthodoxy, and other expressions of the faith that remind us:
Christianity did not begin in the West.
It is not owned by any one culture, race, or political system.
Some have even embraced older names and practices—referring to Jesus as Yeshua, or grounding themselves more deeply in the rhythms of the ancient church.
And honestly, I think much of that has been good.
It has helped people see that the faith is bigger than the categories we’ve inherited.
Where the Real Issue Lies: “Pure Theology”
Here’s where things get more challenging.
In some circles, evangelical has come to mean more than gospel-centered faithfulness. It has come to imply something like:
“Right theology.”
Or even more strongly—pure theology.
And that’s where we need to be careful.
Because historically, whenever humans start defining something as pure, exclusion isn’t far behind.
If my theology is pure, then anything different must be… what?
Contaminated? Dangerous? Wrong?
And if it’s wrong, then it needs to be corrected—or removed.
That mindset doesn’t lead to unity. It leads to fear, suspicion, and division.
A Personal Wake-Up Call
I’ve experienced this tension personally.
As someone shaped by both evangelical spaces and the Anglican tradition, I’ve come to deeply value ecumenism—the idea that Christians from different traditions can come together around shared essentials.
In the Anglican world, we often talk about “streams”—different expressions of Christianity flowing together into one body.
But I realized something recently:
When I said “ecumenical,” not everyone heard what I meant.
Some assumed I meant “anything goes.”
But that’s not it at all.
True Christian unity is not boundless—it’s rooted in historic orthodoxy:
The authority of Scripture
The core doctrines of the faith
The creeds that have guided the church for centuries
Within those boundaries, there is room for difference.
But somewhere along the way, many began to equate evangelical not with shared essentials—but with agreement on everything.
And that’s simply not sustainable.
When Differences Become Threats
One of the clearest examples of this shows up in conversations about the end times—what theologians call eschatology.
All Christians agree on the essentials:
Jesus will return
Evil will be defeated
God will make all things new
But beyond that, there’s room for different interpretations.
And yet, in some evangelical spaces, those differences aren’t just disagreements—they’re treated as threats.
If you don’t hold the “right” view, you’re seen as less faithful. Less biblical. Less trustworthy.
That shocked me.
Because I had always believed that a broader, hope-filled perspective—one that trusts Jesus without fear or speculation—would be welcomed.
Instead, I found that for some, anything outside a narrow framework felt dangerous.
The Danger of Purity Thinking
Here’s the core issue:
When we pursue “pure theology,” we often end up excluding people rather than building the body of Christ.
And that’s not how the kingdom works.
The church has always been diverse—across cultures, traditions, and perspectives. That diversity isn’t a weakness. It’s a reflection of God’s creativity and grace.
Even historically, many of our denominational divides—especially in America—were shaped by racial and cultural realities, not just theology.
The existence of the Black Church, for example, is not a problem to solve—it’s a testimony to God’s faithfulness in the midst of injustice.
And it has been a profound blessing to the entire church.
A Better Way Forward
So what do we do with all of this?
I’m not saying we should abandon the term evangelical. At its best, it still describes something beautiful and true.
But I am saying this:
We need to be cautious about equating our preferences with purity.
Because when we do:
We shrink the kingdom
We divide the body
We lose sight of charity
Instead, we should aim for something better:
1. Hold tightly to the essentials
The gospel. Scripture. Jesus.
2. Hold loosely to secondary differences
Eschatology. Church structure. Non-essential practices.
3. Lead with humility
As my wife’s grandmother used to say:
“We’re all going to get to heaven and realize we were wrong about something.”
That’s a healthy posture.
Final Thoughts
If you consider yourself evangelical, I’m not calling you to abandon that identity.
I’m simply inviting you to examine what you mean by it.
Because if “evangelical” becomes synonymous with purity, we risk turning fellow believers into opponents—and differences into threats.
But if we root it again in the gospel, we might rediscover something far better:
A community shaped not by fear, but by faith.
Not by exclusion, but by grace.
Not by uniformity, but by unity in Christ.
And that’s just my two cents.
