James C. Alexander
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It has been said that the opposite of faith is not doubt, but certainty. Drawing on this notion, Stories of a Recovering Fundamentalist: Understanding and Responding to Christian Absolutism recounts the author’s journey as a member of the fundamentalist subculture as a child and his life among the Jesus Freaks (Jesus Movement)-- a congregation of deserters from the hippie drug culture of the late 1960's and early 1970's. This movement, though of great importance in the culture of the times, now largely goes unrecognized--although the Jesus Movement provided the cover stories for many prominent secular magazines chronicling the youth culture of the late 60's and early 70's. While, not devoted to a history of the Jesus Movement, the book does a service in bringing a discussion of the Jesus Freak phenomenon to the attention of today's readers. The book goes on to recount the author's eventual abandonment of fundamentalism. As the story unfolds, critical research related to the psychology, sociology, and history of the subculture provides a framework for understanding Christian fundamentalism. Stories of a Recovering Fundamentalist recounts a gripping personal pilgrimage—at times both humorous and painful— that is rooted in honest reflection and informed by theory and research. It offers worthwhile reading for mainline Christians, curious evangelicals, recovering fundamentalists or anyone wanting to understand this timely topic.
James Alexander grew up in Kansas City, Missouri where he was part of the Jesus Movement in the early 1970's. For a few years, he lived in a commune and spent most of his days street witnessing. It was during his "Jesus Freak" days that James began to seriously question the fundamentalism which was rampant among his co-religionists. Eventually, he renounced fundamentalism as basically flawed. After graduating from college, James taught first-grade and primary level remedial reading for several years. He is an ordained minister who has served congregations in the Church of the Brethren and Cumberland Presbyterian denominations. He attended Central Baptist Theological Seminary (American Baptist) and graduated with honors from St. Thomas Theological Seminary (Roman Catholic). He has completed additional studies through Regents College Seminary in Vancouver, BC. He also holds a doctorate in curriculum and instruction from the University of Arkansas with an emphasis in literacy education and educational psychology and serves as a professor of education in a church-affiliated college.
He has published many articles and book chapters related to education, philosophy, and the psychology of reading as well as several articles in religious publications including Brethren Life and Thought and Memphis Theological Seminary Journal. In 2003-2004, James completed a major study of small congregation dynamics for the Cumberland Presbyterian Church. The study resulted in a book on small church health and vitality entitled The (Very) Small Church Revival Guide, which is available from the Cumberland Presbyterian Board of Christian Education.
Dr. Alexander and his wife, Irene, a special education teacher, have two adult sons, Aaron, a software engineer and Galen, a sociologist. James and Irene reside in Kentucky. They are eagerly awaiting the arrival of their first grandchild.
CONDENSED FROM THE INTRODUCTION
The word, fundamentalist, has been through several incarnations in American history. In the sense used here, it derives from a twelve-volume work commissioned in 1909 to combat the emergent voices of theological modernism. Its composers included a wide range of writers, including some that came from denominations now recognized as being rather liberal. The work, The Fundamentals, was a battle cry, a throwing down of the gauntlet in the face of higher criticism and modern scholarship….
Fundamentalism came to national attention largely through the Scopes Monkey Trial [in 1925]. The trial dealt with the teaching of evolution in Tennessee schools, which was illegal at the time. The prosecutor, William Jennings Bryan was a nationally known politician, local hero, and prominent fundamentalist. The trial made national headlines [and] the nation arrived at a view of fundamentalists as ignorant, intolerant, and fanatical….
Several decades passed, and then rehabilitation of the title came through the emerging involvement of fundamentalists in politics, beginning in earnest in the 1970’s. The term became a badge of honor for some, a source of irritation to many, part of an electoral strategy for more than a few, and the sound of political careers ending for yet others. Then came September 11, 2001, and the name acquired yet a different connotation.
Now, when some hear it, they think of planes flying into the World Trade Center on that fateful September day. Many folks associate the word fundamentalist with that event and pair it with the word “Islamic.” They see fundamentalism as something dealing with “them” and not “us….”
The problem with many Americans is they will readily see the danger of the other person’s absolutism, but are slow to recognize the danger of their own. It is easy to say, “But my absolutism is based in the real truth. It is different from the garden variety of narrow-minded absolutism.”
Fundamentalism carries with it the connotation of violence and hate-mongering. No one wants to own up to that. In addition, to be perfectly honest, I am not at all certain it applies to most varieties of American fundamentalism….
I use the term absolutism to refer to the belief that certain individuals possess absolute, undeniable, indisputable truth. That truth is a court from which there is no appeal. It knows with complete certainty. Of course, technically speaking, absolutism is definitely part of the larger phenomenon of fundamentalism. In fact, it arguably forms the basis for the more brazen acts of fundamentalism….,
As a child, my parents made little provision for my religious training. I tended to be a rather unhappy child. I was overweight, not very sharp academically, and had many irritating mannerisms. I did not discover until I was nearly twenty-three that I suffered from Tourette’s Syndrome (I am fifty-one at this writing). Medication all but cured me—at least if you do not count the rather annoying and frightening side effects.
A woman in our neighborhood ran a children’s Bible Club. Going to Bible Club was the high point of my week. We heard Bible stories, sang songs, played games, and did crafts. However, there was a darker side to the Bible Club as well. It was a part that terrified me and gave me bad dreams at night. Each week I endured the evangelistic appeal with all of the hellfire and brimstone the Bible Club Lady could muster, and she could muster. plenty!....
When I hit my teen years, the hippy movement was just making the scene in Kansas City. It appealed to me. I began to experiment with marijuana and LSD. I quit the entire church
scene. I began quitting school. In ninth grade, I only attended forty-seven days. At age fifteen, I had a terrible argument with my father and moved out of the house. I began to live by staying with friends and panhandling….
Almost as soon as I met the hippies, I met the ex-hippy Jesus Freaks. Something began to call me back. They were every bit as absolutist as the Bible club, but they were more free-spirited and countercultural. Over the years, I began to sense I had found my way back home. I moved into the Christian commune right after I turned sixteen. Now my days consisted of street witnessing and Bible reading. As our leaders explained the Bible to me, I found fewer objections. By pure power of choice, I became an absolutist. The Bible was right from cover to cover, and I was sure I had an inside track to understanding it….
It is a long story, but in 1980, we ended up in a Mennonite church. Irene loved it. The heavy yoke of male authority was now gone. We began to grow in new ways. The first question I asked myself was about the story from Bible Club days that always troubled me. I began to wonder about the whole hellfire deal. Of all the parts of the story the Bible Club Lady told, this was the most troubling. There had to be another way of looking at things. I mused long and hard over it, beginning in earnest when I was in my first pastorate. I finally came to terms with it all some years later. Little-by-little I began viewing the entire notion of eternal perdition in a completely new way.
One day I was discussing the Bible with our assistant pastor. He said, “You know, I just can’t believe every word of it is true.” I thought about that one for a minute.
“Neither do I,” I replied.
I half-expected lightning might come out of the sky and strike me. Strangely, though it had always given me a sense of stability, I realized at that moment that I was not an absolutist. I felt light, as if I were soaring to new heights of freedom. I also felt uprooted. I had betrayed a sacred trust. Again, I was alone and scared.
