Back in January, I spent a weekend in Pigeon Forge with some friends, staying up way too late and having great discussions. One of the topics that came up was what we, as Christ-followers, should call ourselves, something I’ve spent quite a bit of time thinking about.

I was raised as a Fundamentalist. I grew up going to one of the largest and most influential Independent Baptist churches in the country, Highland Park Baptist Church. My Great-Grandfather, John R. Rice, even wrote a 262 page book in 1975 titled I Am a Fundamentalist, published by the Sword of the Lord Publishers, which he founded. The only thing that I knew about Southern Baptists growing up was that they were liberal. I attended Tennessee Temple University, the school associated with Highland Park, for a year after high school (after auditing classes there while in high school), and then spent 16 months at a decidedly conservative Bible Institute in San Miguel del Monte, Argentina, just outside of Buenos Aires. But it has been at least 6 years since I’ve referred to myself as a Fundamentalist.

So, for those who escape Fundamentalism, what’s next? Evangelical is the next main category. I like the distinction that Daniel Wallace made between evangelicals and fundamentalists in his paper My Take on Inerrancy: “After all, one of the things that makes an evangelical different from a fundamentalist is that an evangelical is supposed to be willing to wrestle with the evidence. One of the hallmark differences between a fundamentalist and an evangelical is willingness to dialog over the issues. A fundamentalist condemns; an evangelical thinks.”

But, while there are many things I like and agree with in Evangelicalism, one of my biggest disagreements is with those who like to think they speak for all Evangelicals. I do appreciate those who, like Joe Stowell, former President of Moody Bible Institute and now a pastor at Harvest Bible Chapel, try to point out the fallacy of such broad stroke declarations. A couple of years ago he said “Is Falwell an evangelical, is Robertson an evangelical? Yes. Are they the definition of evangelicalism? No. [Evangelicalism] is a broad swath of individuals with differing opinions. Evangelicalism has to be defined by what we all have in common, and not what the political views of one or two of us might be.”

Unfortunately, most people still think Evangelicalism is, or should be, a unified movement (and voting block). So one reason I don’t identify myself as one is because of the (largely correct) stereotypes that are associated with the label.

A new category that is emerging is called, aptly enough, the emerging movement. And again, there are a number of things I like that are happening in and because of it. But ultimately, I don’t want to be known by any label. As Charlie Peacock wrote in A New Way to Be Human, if our actions match up with what Christ has called us to, “the necessity of naming ourselves will fade”.

“I’ve decided my work is to step into the Story with intentionality and live a life framed and filled with God-thoughts about reality – what Jesus has said life is really about. My goal is not to be a born-again Christian, a good Christian, a religious fanatic, a do-gooder, a spiritual person, a nice guy, an American evangelical, or a good Catholic. My hope is that others will name me as an honest-to-God student follower of Jesus, someone with a heart full of His brightness, following in the new way. It’s not wise to name yourself as a Christian unless you are actually embodying the way of Messiah Jesus. If you are embodying the way, it will be as obvious as Jesus was obvious. If it is obvious, the necessity of naming yourself will fade. Others will do it for you. Questions may arise, and if so, you answer them. If people want to know why you head in one direction and not another, tell them who you’re following.

If those who would critique my life choices don’t see in those choices the distinctive teachings and visible kingdom ways of Jesus – what He’s for and against – they will never name me as His follower. They’ll call me something else, and I don’t want to be called anything else. I want people to ask, “What’s the deal with him?”
Answer: “Him? Oh he’s with Jesus.”"

Sara Groves’ song How Can I Tell resonates strongly with me. She sings:

How can I tell this story again to make you wonder when / You stopped believing / How can I paint a picture of this kind of love / This kind of healing // So I’ll expand my vocabulary / Spend some time in the local library / Analyze the archetypes / Anything to get this right // Cause the train that leaves the station / Is loaded down with connotation / When what you hear and what I say / Are night and day//
How can I tell this story again to make you wonder when / You stopped believing / How can I paint a picture of this kind of love / This kind of healing //

So whether you identify yourself by these one of these labels or don’t find any that fit, Sara’s words issue a challenge that I hope all of us will accept.