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The American Spectator    
 


 


 


 


 



 
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< 
Special Report 
The Downfall of the Muscular Christian  Pastor Mark Driscoll
He could be back, as there's always a need for his  no-nonsense form of 
preaching. 
By _Mark Tooley_ (http://spectator.org/bios/mark-tooley)  –  11.12.14 
 
 
 
 
Famous Seattle pastor Mark Driscoll’s recent resignation from his  Mars 
Hill megachurch and empire of church satellites is maybe vindicating to  some 
of his many critics, who denounced his brash, hyper-masculine Calvinism. He  
was accused of plagiarism and inflating his book sales, but his downfall 
seems  more related to a brusque, often obnoxious demeanor that ultimately 
turned many  associates against him. 
Driscoll, age 44, has been a successful pastor and religious  celebrity for 
18 years, and perhaps he rose too far too fast, without sufficient  time to 
mature into his fame and responsibility. He is a dynamic preacher with  an 
artful stage presence. And his creation of a robustly conservative and once  
thriving evangelical church network in the secular northwest, especially  
appealing to much vaunted hipster, often tattooed Millennials, showcased both 
 his own skill and the Gospel’s capacity to appeal even in difficult 
terrain. 
It was especially memorable and satisfying when Driscoll’s Mars  Hill took 
over a once glorious Seattle Methodist sanctuary that had served  thousands 
but whose congregation collapsed into irrelevant liberalism. As the  highly 
reduced United Methodist church met nearby in much smaller space,  
self-congratulating itself on its supposed inclusiveness, Mars Hill transformed 
 the 
church-turned-theater back into a vital worship space, attracting hundreds  
that inert liberal Methodism never could. 
Driscoll famously denounced liberal religion as effete and  feminized, 
offering instead his own manly, sometimes vulgar but popular form of  Reformed 
orthodoxy. Here’s a quote from a New York Times _story_ 
(http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/11/magazine/11punk-t.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0)  
 about him five 
years ago: 
 
 



As hip as he looks, his message brooks no compromise with  Seattle’s 
permissive culture. New members can keep their taste in music, their  retro 
T-shirts and their intimidating facial hair, but they had better abandon  their 
feminism, premarital sex and any “modern” interpretations of the Bible.  
Driscoll is adamantly not the “weepy worship dude” he associates with liberal  
and mainstream evangelical churches, “singing prom songs to a Jesus who is  
presented as a wuss who took a beating and spent a lot of time putting 
product  in his long hair.” 
… The mainstream church, Driscoll has written, has transformed  Jesus into “
a Richard Simmons, hippie, queer Christ,” a “neutered and  limp-wristed 
popular Sky Fairy of pop culture that… would never talk about sin  or send 
anyone to hell.” 
Wonderfully, the same Times story cited early  twentieth-century evangelist 
Billy Sunday, who also championed muscular  Christianity, quoting him: “The 
Lord save us from off-handed, flabby-cheeked…  effeminate, ossified, 
three-carat Christianity.” 
Sunday seemingly had more staying power than Driscoll. He  preached for 50 
years nationwide in sawdust-strewn tents and tabernacles. A  former 
professional baseball star, he laced his sermons with sports analogies,  
sometimes 
slid across the stage as if landing on home plate, and occasionally  waved 
chairs aloft, even smashing them for dramatic emphasis. He deplored  sin:  
Listen, I’m against sin. I’ll kick it as long as I’ve got a  foot, I’ll 
fight it as long as I’ve got a fist, I’ll butt it as long as I’ve  got a 
head, and I’ll bite it as long as I’ve got a tooth. And when I’m old,  
fistless, footless, and toothless, I’ll gum it till I go home to glory and it  
goes 
home to perdition.
Sunday denounced saloons, theaters, dance halls and gambling dens  as 
Satanic instruments. He championed Prohibition and America’s war against  
Germany’
s Kaiser. He sometimes listed the famous names of the damned in Hell,  
including irreligious philosophers like Voltaire and Rousseau, prompting a  
disapproving Isadora Duncan, the flamboyant Russian dancer, to pronounce that  
Sunday should go to a Hell himself, “where he may speak with more authority.”
  Sunday had little use for the infamously scantily clad Duncan, calling 
her, not  entirely unfairly, a “Bolshevik hussy,” and noting she wore not 
enough clothes  to “pad a crutch.” 
Such controversy animated Sunday and led millions to hear his  provocative 
message, which, like Driscoll’s, was also full of damnation,  inspired by a 
form of Calvinism. Sunday responded to the increasing emasculated  
milquetoast Protestantism of his day, as Driscoll pivoted against therapeutic,  
somnolent religion of today found both in Mainline Protestantism and  generic 
Evangelicalism. 
Sunday largely avoided scandal and seems, thanks to his wife, who  
successfully managed his ministry, to have kept ego mostly in check. Driscoll,  
whose resignation specified he was not guilty of immorality, illegality or  
heresy, is still young enough to recover from his errors. Maybe he will  
eventually reemerge chastened and wiser. Unapologetic, polemical, muscular  
Christianity is needed in every age to challenge sleeping, self-satisfied,  
apathetic religion








 

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