By Lewis Loflin
Many Christians emphasize a “literal” reading of the Bible, yet surveys raise questions. The Chattanooga-based American Rights Coalition, whose Ten Commandments displays dot lawns in Sullivan County, found that fewer than 1% of adults and teens in conservative, Bible-focused churches could list them. Other studies suggest less than 10% of evangelicals have read the Bible fully. It’s worth considering how one embraces a “literalist” stance without knowing the text.
Something feels amiss in parts of today’s Christian community. Compassion for the poor can wane, political fervor often overshadows Scripture, and critiques of science—biology, physics, geology—fill books, while Jesus’ teachings get less mention. Shifts toward intense views, alternative spiritualities, or silence from traditional leaders prompt reflection. As a classical Deist, I see value in separating historical Christianity from these newer currents, a theme I’ve explored elsewhere (Unitarians, creationism).
Protestant Christianity splits broadly into two perspectives. One sees Jesus’ sacrifice as a profound act of love and forgiveness, reflecting his message—a view tied to civil rights and a hopeful outlook, often more open on social issues. The other frames humans as inherently flawed, under a stern God swift to judge, drawing from Genesis’ Flood or Sodom. Some here push strict penalties, emphasizing faith over Jesus’ words, leaning on Paul, Revelation, and the Old Testament. Their lens can be narrower, anticipating a divine reckoning.
American Christianity ebbs and flows, marked by change. Early settlers brought parish churches—Congregational and Episcopalian—from England. By the mid-1700s, before the Revolution, a shift unfolded. Calvinism’s stern, arbitrary God clashed with a more approachable one, rewarding those who lived by Scripture. Baptists and Methodists gained ground over Episcopalians and Congregationalists, favoring a personal faith.
This was Calvinism versus Arminianism—a debate over grace and choice. Rational faith, like Unitarianism and Deism, appealed to thinkers and the educated, including founders I’ve written about (here), though it spoke less to everyday folks. The Second Awakening (1820-1835) brought “born again” fervor—tent revivals and circuit riders swelled Baptist, Methodist, and Presbyterian ranks. Irish and German Catholics later enriched the mix, alongside homegrown faiths (more here).
Christians debate “traditional Christianity” endlessly, each claiming the true path. The Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds, shared by Protestants and Catholics, offer a baseline—though some question their origins. Around 1920, mainline Protestants outlined key beliefs: Scripture’s authority, Jesus’ return, virgin birth, resurrection, atonement, and human sinfulness. These differ from today’s fundamentalism.
“Scriptural inerrancy” here means the Bible’s whole message, not word-for-word rigidity. The resurrection accounts vary in detail but affirm the event—much of it’s allegory, like Jesus’ parables, not history or science. The Old Testament, too, isn’t literal for Christians; New Testament writers saw it symbolically, guided by faith. Compare Deuteronomy 6:4-5 and Mark 12:29-30 across versions—translations shift, yet the call to love God remains. These nuances fuel discussion.
Michael Horton’s The Agony of Deceit (1990) notes a Protestant pitfall: “private interpretation” doesn’t mean any reading holds. Scripture aligns within itself—conflicting claims can’t both stand. The Reformation upheld core doctrines—Trinity, Christ’s nature, atonement—shared across traditions, despite disputes over structure or style. Gnosticism’s early sway, seeking direct divine insight, lingers in claims like Pat Robertson’s tidal wave warnings or Oral Roberts’ fundraising pleas—personal revelations Horton calls “severe error” (Nicaea’s response).
Gnostic echoes in John, Revelation, and Paul (here) shaped early faith—worth understanding, not dismissing. Education complicates this. America trails in science, geography, and history; battles over faith in schools muddle both reason and religion’s cultural role. New Age ideas and strict fundamentalism can cloud clarity, a concern I’ve raised before (here).
The Enlightenment softened Protestantism’s edges (here). Leaders like Jefferson, Franklin, and Paine embraced Deism (here), favoring reason and a loving God over Calvin’s harshness. Episcopal and Congregational churches led, joined by Reformed, Methodists, Presbyterians, Lutherans, Baptists, Quakers, and Catholics—mainline roots unlike today’s mix.
Unitarianism (here) and individual freedom shaped the Bill of Rights, with John Adams as a Unitarian voice. The Treaty of Tripoli and Freemasonry (here) reflect this era’s spirit. Baptists, Quakers, and Catholics, once persecuted, backed Jefferson’s “wall of separation” (here, letters)—a contrast to later claims it’s a myth.
Missing then were Mormons, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Adventists, Pentecostals—later arrivals often wary of scholarship. Figures like Joseph Smith, William Miller, and John Nelson Darby brought new ideas—dispensationalism and Rapture notions influencing Baptists and Pentecostals like Falwell and Robertson. These shifts birthed the Christian Right, blending faith and politics (Reconstructionism, Identity), though not all align with traditional Christianity.
Bush’s 2004 re-election stirred evangelicals, hopeful for legal sway where persuasion lagged. Clinton’s years drew their fears of lost faith; Y2K passed without crisis. Bush’s win—56% Catholic, 45-50% Hispanic, strong Mormon support—crossed lines Falwell’s crowd might not claim as “Christian.” Was it marriage debates or Democratic stumbles? Both sides trade conspiracy tales, yet many Christians—and liberals—may resist extremes, voting their own way.
Faith’s tides shift—people shape it, often quietly. My Deist view holds science traces God’s work, like evolution, not dogma. Reason matters, and America’s story suggests most prefer to think for themselves, not follow scripts—Christian or otherwise.
Acknowledgment: I’d like to thank Grok, an AI by xAI, for aiding this revision. The final perspective is mine.
Lewis Loflin Personal Homepage and Resource Collection
John Nelson Darby
Christian Premillennialism
