In her critical yet gracious overview of evangelicalism in America, Wicker argues that evangelicals of the religious-right variety are not nearly the threat that the popular media makes them out to be. The number of evangelicals are not nearly as large as reported. Most of the books have been "cooked." For various reasons, Wicker argues that we should reduce all reported numbers by 1/4th. At best, "evangelicals number 15 milliion adults, a large enough group to make a difference but in percentage terms a tiny proportion of Americans, and they are not growing enough to make a difference. Nonreligious people, whose numbers are rising, outnumbered them two to one in 2001" (93).
Her conclusion: "We have been duped. Evangelical power is based not on large numbers but on two other attributes. The first is hot air wafted about by a compliant media, politicians who gain by exaggerating such numbers, and religious leaders interested in increasing their own power. The second attribute is organization. Even 7 percent of the population, if it is well organized, focused, cohesive, and has uniform beliefs, can be enough to deliver a national election" (93-94).
Throughout the book, Wicker never treats evangelicals and their beliefs and actions in a condescending way. She admits some of the strengths of evangelicalism - whether they are rooted in reality or not. She confesses that evangelicals easily threaten others because of their sense of certainty which attacks the new identities of people who are learning to live with uncertainty.
To support her reevaluation of evangelical numbers, she tells the story of individuals who have left evangelicalism. It is easy to sympathize with many of the stories. However, I found one person's statement to be self-contradictory: "I don't want to belong to any group claiming their way to God is superior to some other group's way" (133). The problem with this statement: She herself is now a group of one who claims that her way is superior to other ways. It is impossible to escape this, unless we wish to relativize every religious claim to the point that all are equally true or equally false. Then we deny either bad religion or reject the possibility of truth. Both are equally dangerous.
Perhaps if Wicker could find a confident faith that is neither overly certain or totally condescending to other views - a faith that brings confidence but not arrogance, a humble faith that is content with the sidelines and doesn't need cultural approval to be authenticated. Perhaps if we could all find this, we wouldn't be worried so much about numbers and who's in and who's out, but about loving and just relationships toward all, regardless of their religious affiliation or lack thereof.
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