Quick Thoughts: Are you being persecuted?

Another goodie from Rachel Held Evans, author of “A Year of Biblical Womanhood.”

It’s almost Thanksgiving which means the it’s already time for Christmas decorations to come out because, really, who waits until after Thanksgiving (or Halloween for that matter)? And each holiday season, there’s inevitibly a few news stories about how some folks believe they are being persecuted when attempting to celebrate their religious holidays. In this cheeky chart, you can answer a series of questions to see if you are, in fact, being persecuted. persecution-download

Rachel Held Evans on being divisive

rachel held evans

When we discuss “living Christian in a religiously diverse world” of course Christian witness regularly comes up. What is our witness to our religiously diverse neighbors as individually, but perhaps more importantly – as a Church…as a body of believers.

It’s a challenging question since as a body of believers – as the Church – we are not all theologically uniform and this often causes tension, arguments, and division.

Rachel Held Evans addresses this issue, specifically regarding the Evangelical strands of Christianity, in her recent post, “On being divisive…”

Like most Christians, when I read the prayer of Jesus from John 17, my heart aches for the day when the Church will be unified, when our love for one another and for the world will be our greatest witness to the truth of the gospel message.


Strive to Love

 I work for a public university in Florida full-time in their Interfaith Center. I am the Programming Coordinator which means it is my job to put together programs and events for students in order to promote religious pluralism on campus. On a daily basis I engage with students of diverse religious and non-religious identities from Atheist to Baha’i, Christian to Jewish, Mystic to Muslim, Secular to Unaffiliated and everything in between.

Engaging with students of so many different religious and non-religious backgrounds and understandings is the most exciting part of my job. I learn something new every day about how young people understand themselves and the world around them: what’s more, I learn something new every day about how I understand myself and the world around me.

I also identify as an Evangelical Christian. And I’m not really that shy about sharing my religious identity with my students. I want them to be comfortable sharing themselves with me, so I try to model how to talk about their identity as a religious or non-religious identity by doing so myself.

Since I’m not shy about sharing my own religious identity, naturally a lot of question come up. In particular, I have been asked by many people…

                        How can you be a Christian and do full-time interfaith work?

Sometimes this is asked out of genuine curiosity, sometimes it’s asked more as an accusation than an actual question, and other times it’s asked by Christian students who genuinely want to participate in interfaith dialogue and cooperation while holding onto their Christian identities and need help understanding how to do so.

I don’t mind being asked this question. In fact, I’m grateful that I’ve been asked so many times since I started my job over a year ago. Being asked this question enables me to take a moment to stop, take a step back, and reflect. I use this question to keep myself accountable to Christ’s calling on my life. Is my work enabling me to act as Christ’s witness, or is it hindering me? How do I follow Christ and do my job? Or, what’s better – how do I follow Christ by doing my job.

You see, I take my Christian identity (or role as follower of Christ) very seriously. I like to consider it my first identity- more important than my identity as a wife, daughter, sister, female, etc. When engaging with the normalcy and routine of life, sometimes it’s easy to lose track of who we are in Christ; what God’s call on our lives has to do with the mundane; how our actions reflect something about who our God is – the list goes on. Interfaith work is my job. It has become a very normal part of what I do on a daily basis.

So it’s important for me to ask myself, as often as possible, “Why do I do what I do?”

Of course in every person’s life there is a series of events and relationships which creates a path, a journey, that leads them to where they are, wherever that is. And my case is no different.

So of course there is a story about how I got here.

Though when you walk into the church in which I grew up today, demographically (I emphasize “demographically!!”- not in substance) it’s very much like a saltine cracker – white and plain (with few exceptions)-it wasn’t always like that. When I was very young the church was a pretty international and diverse church (unless my memory serves me poorly). There were all sorts of different people – artists, scientists, musicians, black, white, asian. India, Uganda, China, Puerto Rico, England were all places people within our congregation called home. Five of the Seven Continents were represented, and I think this is, at least in part, what drew my parents to this place. I can’t help but think it was this early exposure to ethnic and international diversity that fostered a desire within myself to bridge gaps and understand difference – because I saw what a community can be capable of when difference (at least certain kinds of difference) is embraced rather than feared.

I didn’t always have such cushy feelings towards other religions. And of course certain relationships brought me to a place where I was able to start opening up to other faiths and to see them as an opportunity for learning and cultivating understanding rather than as a conflict or something to change to be more like me.

But the most important relationship I’ve had that brought me to a place where I saw this work as necessary, was my relationship with Jesus.

I know it sounds hokey-but I don’t believe that it is.

Jesus loved with everything; with his whole self. Jesus was (and I believe-is) the embodiment of love. I want to love others the way Jesus does; and though I know this is impossible, I want to spend my life striving to do so.

He said the two greatest commandments were to Love the Lord your God, and to love your neighbor.

I truly believe that by serving and loving my neighbor – Hindu, Jewish, Baha’i, Muslim and so on- I am loving God and serving Christ.

There’s a whole lot of ugly in this world, and often that violence and ugliness are created at the fault of the religious (and even at the fault of Christians – gasp!). As a religious person I want to bring people of different religious backgrounds together to serve the community, the country, and the world, rather than breaking it.

So I do this job as a Christian seeking a way to serve God and serve God’s children to the best of my ability.

And that’s how I do full time interfaith work as a Christian – by striving to love as Jesus loves me.

“So in Everything – Strive to Love,” I Corinthians 14:1

Christian privilege at college: Interfaith work needs more than good intentions

By Hannah Pynn, guest writer for Faithline Protestants.

I want to first identify myself as a protestant christian who is wrestling with my privileged identity. Being raised in a christian family, I was immersed in a christian community throughout my childhood, attended a christian school for eight years, and experienced my faith development in a religiously homogenous environment wherein being white, being christian, and being “American” seemed inseparable identities.

Walking through a critique of my protestant christian identity is an intimidating process that is connected to all other aspects of my identity. My gender, race, sexuality, cultural, and even professional identity all face examination through this process.

As a higher education professional that is specializing in student spiritual development, I acknowledge that my value for this aspect of holistic student engagement is strongly tied to my privileged christian identity. During my undergraduate experience, resources and relationships were available to me that enabled me to progress through stages of my christian faith, and there by cultivated my passion for college student spiritual development.

As I continue to deconstruct my christian privilege, I hope the process will shed light on how I might give voice to those that my privilege has oppressed and that, like Jesus, I can act as a humbled advocate for the agency of all people. I’ve chosen to not capitalize the word “christian” in this text to emphasize my hope to diminish the dominance and oppression of my faith.

A non-christian Campus

On my college campus, I have to attend classes on Sunday mornings. We have a winter break, but I don’t get Christmas day off. Last year I had a midterm on Easter Sunday. The university seal has a symbol of a foreign God on it and is prominently placed on the front doors of my student union. I wanted to run for an officer position in my academic club, but a rumor started to circulate that I was a religious extremist and only wanted to convert people. At the beginning of university ceremonies, the president of my university steps aside for a priest to chant a prayer that I do not know or understand. There is a small christian student group on campus that I go to for support, but I have to drive to a bigger city that’s an hour away to attend church.

Okay, this isn’t my university. If it was, I think that I would feel incredibly isolated and it would take a lot more effort to practice my faith. I have not had this experience because of my christian privilege in higher education. Replace the names of the holidays, symbols, and prayers in the paragraph above and this describes the experience of university students, faculty, and staff who do not identify as christians in the United States.

I thought christians were oppressed

When I first heard of christian privilege, I argued with the concept. I have been taught my whole life that christians have been an oppressed people since Jesus walked on earth. We are counter-cultural, we have customs and values that non-christians don’t understand, and it takes sacrifice to be obediently committed to God. However, when I began developing genuine interfaith friendships without the agenda of proselytizing, I started to see how easy I had it, especially on the college campus where I work. I began listing out some of the individual, institutional, and societal privileges for me as a Christian (Blumenfeld, 2009; Schlosser, 2003)

*Some of these are adapted from the “Beginning List of Christian Privileges” (Schlosser, 2003) to specifically articulate christian privilege in higher education environments.

1. I have Sundays and major christian holidays off, therefore I don’t have to rearrange my school or class schedule to observe my holy days.

2. Course reading assignments have references to the christian God, the bible, and portray christians as the dominant faith that has won wars and shaped classic literature.

3. If I want to find christian friends on campus, I have multiple denominational and non-denominational student clubs and organizations to choose from.

4. It is easy to find a romantic partner who shares my christian faith. (Ok, this may not be easy, but chances are there is more than one other christian on campus that is of dating age.)

5. When someone on my campus refers to God, I can assume they are referring to my christian God.

6. My college or university very likely has a history of being a christian institution and may have christian symbolism in their traditions or ceremonies.

7. There is a chapel on my campus or a christian church in very close proximity.

8. It is easy to see others on my campus wearing christian symbols on their jewelry, clothing, or body art.

9. When displaying christian symbols as a form of personal expression, I do not have to worry about being physically harmed or assaulted.

10. I can find people reading bibles in the public areas of my campus buildings.

11. If I wanted to choose a christian college or university, there are many denominational options available in my state.

12. People on my campus know the names and dates of christian religious holidays.

13. Philosophical or religious debates on my campus have a representative from the christian faith.

14. My christian holidays are considered “normal” and are observed by my government and my culture.

15. I have the option to vote for christian politicians who are making decisions about my education system and its government funding.

16. My christian faith is never regarded as exotic or foreign.

17. My personal expression of my christian faith is viewed as a personal choice, not as a cultural mandate.

18. Volunteer projects and service opportunities at christian-based hospitals, organizations, or businesses are readily accepted as valid educational experiences and can even be counted for credit.

19. I can choose if I want my christian identity to be public or personal at school.

20. If I get married young, people do not assume that my christian faith creates a system of marital oppression.

21. I am viewed as a complex person, not viewed solely by my christian identity.

22. When I tell others that I am a christian, they ask about my denominational affiliation and understand that there is diversity within the christian faith.

23. As a christian, I am encouraged as part of my religious duty to persist in sharing my faith with classmates, friends, and acquaintances, regardless if it makes them feel uncomfortable.

Christians as the oppressor

These privileges do not come easily; they come at a cost for people of other faiths and belief systems. In order to gain these privileges, christians limit the freedom of others under the good intentions of telling people about Jesus on their college campus.

I have met christians who sign up to be conversation partners with international students with the hope of sharing the gospel with them. International students sign up for these programs to learn English, and christians take advantage of their desire for friendship and language support.

I have met christians that have protested Pride Centers on their campus because they say they shouldn’t have to pay student fees to support something that is against their religious beliefs. The LGBTQ student community is a group of people who are highly at risk for poverty, homelessness, mental illness, and depression. The reason for their suffering is largely because of the christian community using political leverage to limit the rights they have as United States citizens.

I have met christians who have participated in social justice programs but are not willing to acknowledge the need for racial, LGBTQ, environmental, and women’s rights justice. Addressing social justice issues like abortion and human trafficking without fighting all systems that oppress and disenfranchise vulnerable populations prioritizes the value of some humans over others.

I have met christians who attend events put on by other religious student organizations so they can carry their bible and start up conversations about Jesus with non-christians. There are a multitude of other ways that christians can develop relationships with people who believe differently, invading their safe spaces to carry a christian agenda is disrespectful at best and threatening at worst.

These actions are examples of christians (knowingly or unknowingly) leveraging their dominance on college campuses. Christians believe that they have the right to take these oppressive actions because they have the good intentions of getting out the message of Jesus.

What do I do with my christian privilege?

I often hear stories from my interfaith friends who experience prejudice, hate, and marginalization from the christian majority that surrounds them. It is a painful process for me to acknowledge that my grace-based faith had been used as a tool of oppression to try to gain dominance over others. But I believe that identifying myself as someone who benefits from and has even leveraged my own christian privilege, is the first step in aligning myself with the humility of Jesus.

Philippians 2:6-8

6 Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; 7 rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness.8 And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross!

Jesus humbled himself and did not leverage political power, privilege, or strength in order to make known his good news. Jesus loved, listened, and served. As someone who works on a college campus that is full of all creeds and faiths, I hope to give support and access to all students.

What do you do with your christian privilege on your college campus? How will you repair the damage that christian privilege has done to other faiths?


More readings on christian privilege:

Blumenfeld, W. J. (2009). Christian privilege in the United States: An overview. In Investigating Christian Privilege and Religious Oppression in the United States (pp. 3–22). The Netherlands: Sense P.

Schlosser, L. Z. (2003). Christian privilege: Breaking a sacred taboo. Journal of Multicultural Counseling and Development, 31, 44–51.

Seifert, T. (2007). Understanding Christian privilege: Managing the tensions of spiritual plurality. About Campus, 12(2), 10–17. doi:10.1002/abc.206

Proselytism and Interfaith

This piece was originally posted to Interfaith Youth Core’s blog, www.ifyc.org/stay-informed on October 16, 2013

Thanks to IFYC’s Alumni Professional Development Fund, I was recently attended the President’s Interfaith and Community Service Campus Challenge Gathering in Washington, D.C. The Gathering brought together staff, faculty, administrators and students from universities all over the country who are participating in the President’s Challenge. The two days were spent in plenary and breakout sessions listening to panelists from various college campuses discuss what their schools are doing to work across lines of religious and non-religious difference for the common good of their communities.

Though it was great to hear a number of inspiring stories about the work of young people who are able to come together in their difference, see a need in the community and work to fill that need, I left the Gathering knowing there is still much work to be done.

During one of the breakout sessions a question was posed to the panel that went something like this: “How do you get people of different religious identities together in a room to dialogue—and what do you do about those who are there to only proselytize?” While the panel offered some helpful advice about how to recruit students for dialogue, the panel never answered the question about proselytism. I am not criticizing the panelists here, but it reminded me that there is still much work to be done in how we deal with proselytism. It is a topic we love to brush under the rug. This is a common frustration of mine as an Evangelical Christian.

At interfaith gatherings I regularly hear interfaith professionals talk a big game about making safe spaces for students of different religious and non-religious identities to express themselves authentically, but in the next breath say something denigrating about Evangelical Christians or other “conservative types.” At the same time, interfaith professionals regularly complain that they cannot seem to get Evangelicals involved in interfaith work.

There’s an obvious disconnect here.

While we can agree that interfaith dialogue is not a place for proselytism, we still have to be intentional about making sure those whose spiritual practice involves proselytism can still have a place at the interfaith table. How can we allow Evangelical Christians, and others who proselytize (let’s remember that this is not only a Christian practice), to participate in interfaith work while being authentically themselves? One of the ways we can do this is by affirming that proselytism is a central spiritual practice for some.

Gatherings like the President’s Challenge Gathering at Georgetown last month are a great way to be reminded of the wonderful interfaith work being done across the country. We can be motivated by the interfaith work of others to do better interfaith work ourselves. Let’s remember that this is a young movement, and there is still much to learn about how to be the best movement we can be. One thing we can work on is our reception of Evangelicals (and other proselytizing groups) and how we talk about proselytism within the interfaith movement.

Born Again Christian + Interfaith Activist = Not Mutually Exclusive

This blog originally appeared on Talking Taboo, a forum for Christian women to explore the unspeakable experiences of their faith.

There’s a moment when I meet someone new and I’m asked what I do for a living where I look down at my watch and calculate whether or not I have enough time to explain that I work for an interfaith organization – and what that means for me as a born again Christian.

I’m a medium sized town Baptist girl from North Carolina. I made my profession of faith when I was nine years old by asking Jesus to come into my heart and hopping into our church’s beloved “dunking booth” to be baptized. I’m a born again Christian who does interfaith work for a living at an organization in Chicago called Interfaith Youth Core, which seeks to make interfaith cooperation a social norm, and I’ve been at it now for almost seven years. When I tell some of my Christian brothers and sisters what I do for a living, I get a range of reactions: furrowed brows, polite head nods, enthusiastic reactions, and challenging, critical statements about my chosen career path. Here are some of most common examples of push back I get within my own community and how I respond:

 “You aren’t a real Christian if you do interfaith work.” There are common misconceptions about interfaith work – that it means everyone should all be a part of one big religion or it implies that everyone essentially believes the same thing we’re just taking different paths. Neither of these definitions describes the interfaith movement I belong to.  At IFYC, we define interfaith as respect for people’s diverse religious and nonreligious identities, mutually inspiring relationships between folks of different backgrounds, and common action for the common good. That means that you don’t have to water down your identity to come to the table of interfaith cooperation – whether you’re an evangelical, Muslim, Hindu, Jew, or an atheist – and you don’t have to compromise what you believe (or what you don’t believe). We may not agree about who gets into heaven, or if heaven exists at all. We may be divided across political lines. But we can all agree that hunger is a problem in our community and we should tackle it together because when we start from a place of shared values and combine our social capital, we are better together.

“Interfaith work isn’t biblical.” There are many biblical arguments for interfaith work. My friend and IFYC alum Nick Price, former InterVarsity staffer and pastor in training, wrote a three part blog series on sharing his theological framework for interfaith cooperation. My theology of interfaith cooperation starts at the parable of the Good Samaritan. Jesus tells the parable in response to an expert in the law who wants to know how Jesus defines the “neighbor” that you are called to love as you love yourself. There are four Greek words for love in the Bible – the specific word for love used here is “agape” which means a full and complete love. And who is our neighbor? In the story, the Samaritan, who was someone from the oppressed group in that time, showed compassion and mercy to the Jewish man who was robbed and left for dead. Jesus is emphasizing the importance of caring for your neighbor especially when that person is from a different background and tradition from your own. Engaging in interfaith work gives me that opportunity to love and serve alongside those that are my neighbors, as well as to talk about Jesus as the inspiration for my life.

 “You’ll get converted if you do interfaith work.” Engaging in interfaith work has only strengthened my identity as a Christian. Many non-Christians have asked me questions about my faith story and different tenants in my tradition that have challenged me to go back to my Christian community to get answers. My favorite question was from a young Muslim girl who wanted me to explain the relationship between Jesus and Santa Claus. Learning about other traditions hasn’t made me want to convert or let go of my faith, in fact, quite the opposite. For example, when I learned that many of my Muslim friends pray five times a day and I juxtaposed that against my paltry two prayers a day, that inspired me to take a hard look at my own prayer life and consider how often I’m spending time with my Lord and Savior. Another example was when I first started at IFYC and encountered a Catholic mother who was reticent to send her son to our programs. He was barely interested in church as it was, she explained, and she didn’t want him coming away from the faith. After spending time with folks from other traditions and talking about his faith in a new way, this sixteen year old kid came home and expressed an interest in going to seminary. She promptly called our office and asked if we could get her other son immediately involved in our programs.

I believe the Christian community has a biblical calling to interfaith work. I also believe that Jesus is the way, the truth and the light. I don’t have to compromise my deeply held beliefs to engage in interfaith work. I am a born again Christian. I am an interfaith leader.  I do interfaith work not despite the fact that I’m a Christian, but I do it because I am a Christian. Many other folks in the Christian community are starting to recognize the importance of engaging in interfaith work. I invite you to join us.

The Elephant in the Room: Christian Privilege & Interfaith Work

You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself. ~ Luke 10:27

Interfaith engagement calls me and fascinates me, yet also troubles me. For me, it’s rooted in the above words, which ground love of neighbor as the heart of my faith. Interfaith engagement was also the basis of my thesis project at Chicago Theological Seminary. I studied Christian privilege and the ways such privilege disrupts the full potential of interfaith work, and my full potential to offer love to all my neighbors, Christian and non-Christian.

Christian privilege is a touchy subject because acknowledging privilege makes us squirm. I’m a white woman. When I first heard the term “white privilege,” I resisted. Since I love and care for people regardless of skin color, I felt somehow exempt from white privilege. I didn’t see white privilege as part of a system of oppression impossible to step out of or avoid. Because racism works to push one group of people down, privilege is the necessary “up” side to that equation. People of color are systematically disadvantaged in our society as evidenced in endless ways including access to education, housing, medical care, and in our criminal justice system. Where people of color are disadvantaged, white people are more advantaged. It’s a simple equation, but it’s difficult for whites to feel our advantage. Our privilege has become normalized.

A similar phenomenon hangs over interfaith work. Christians in the United States, even those of us deeply committed to religious pluralism, are steeped in privilege. In spite of our best efforts to foster religious tolerance and mutual respect, Christianity is normalized and reinforced as the default and expected religious identification of Americans. Other religions are exactly that; they are “other.” And just as it’s difficult for me as a white person to see my white privilege, it’s difficult for me as a Christian to see the ways our culture privileges my Christian identity.

To illuminate these enculturated advantages, psychologist Lewis Schlosser created a list helpful in naming and understanding Christian privilege. The statements are designed to be read in a true-or-false fashion, with true statements indicating the benefit of religious privilege. I include a sampling from his list and invite readers to consider the validity of these statements vis-á-vis their own lives:

  • I can be sure to hear music on the radio and watch specials on television that celebrate the holidays of my religion.
  • I can be sure that my holy day is taken into account when states pass laws (e.g., the sale of liquor) and when retail stores decide their hours.
  • I can assume that I will not have to work or go to school on my significant religious holidays.
  • I can be sure that when told about the history of civilization, I am shown people of my religion who made it what it is.
  • I can easily find academic courses and institutions that give attention only to people of my religion.
  • I can, if I wish, arrange to be in the company of people of my religion most of the time.
  • I can do well in a challenging situation without being called a ‘credit to my religion’ or being singled out as being different from other members of my religious group.
  • I can buy foods (e.g. in grocery store, at restaurants) that fall within the scope of my religious group.
  • I can travel and be sure to find a comparable place of worship when away from my home community.
  • I can be sure that if I need legal or medical help, my religion will not work against me.
  • I can be fairly sure that if I ask to talk to the ‘person in charge,’ I will be facing a person of my religion.
  • I can remain oblivious to the language and customs of other religious groups without feeling any penalty for such a lack of interest and/or knowledge.1

To Schlosser’s list I would add the following:

  • I can feel confident that I will receive fair and due process under the law and will not be detained or interrogated due to my religious identity.
  • In film and television, I am likely to see positive portrayals of members of my religion.

Sharing this list is not meant to shame Christians. The forces that constructed and reconstruct our privileged position have lengthy historical, political and social roots. We Christians, like those of us with white skin, have been thrust into this system involuntarily. However, acknowledging the existence of this troubling phenomenon is the first step toward undoing its corrupting power.

Attempting to view Schlosser’s exercise from the perspective and experience of a non-Christian opens our eyes to the often invisible power and punch of Christian privilege. This list helps me to imagine living as a non-Christian in American society and the daily bombardment of messages, subtle and overt, that a non-Christian religious identity is somehow less worthy.

Perhaps more importantly, this list pushes me to ask how I can show love to my neighbors who are steeped in a culture that says my religion is better than theirs. How can I help to foster authentic interfaith engagement—based in principles of mutuality, interdependence and respect for difference—when the larger culture declares the opposite of those principles? How can I offer hospitality and welcome when our culture normalizes my Christian identity and alienates other identities? What does it mean to extend love of neighbor from a privileged position? Time and again Jesus refuses privilege and “lowers” himself according to societal standards: washing feet, eating with sinners, healing lepers. How am I called to actively resist my privilege in ways that challenge systems and give value to those whom society devalues?

These questions trouble me. I hope that individual Christians and communities of faith will discuss this list, perhaps reading it in parallel with the Good Samaritan story. The troubling questions it raises do not have easy resolution but they must be considered, confronted, and wrestled with. “For I was a stranger [or made to feel strange] and you welcomed me.

May we work together on love, and welcome, and the dismantling of all forms of oppression.


~ Lisa

Lisa Seiwert serves as the Director of Recruitment & Admission at Chicago Theological Seminary, where she earned an MDiv and STM with an emphasis in interreligious engagement. As of October 24, she will be an ordained minister with the United Church of Christ. She has worked in faith-based community organizing and ministered with The Night Ministry, a Chicago-based outreach program serving homeless and vulnerably housed youth.

Chicago Theological Seminary has a long-standing commitment to interfaith work, and a vibrant and engaged Center for Jewish, Christian & Islamic Studies. The institution recently received a grant to develop curriculum intersecting ecological and interfaith commitments. Known as “ECOmmunity: The Ecology of Theological Education in a Religiously Pluralistic World,” the program expands social outreach, increases curricular offerings and education in interreligious and ecological studies, and increases religious diversity. For more information about this new initiative or other programs at CTS, visit the website at www.ctschicago.edu or contact Lisa at lseiwert@ctschicago.edu.

1Lewis Schlosser, “Christian Privilege: Breaking a Sacred Taboo,” Journal of Multicultural Counseling and Development, Volume 31(January, 2003), 48-49.

Persecution of Christians in America?

The word on the street is we’ll be having some conversation on Faith Line Protestants next month about Christian Privilege. This piece by Ian Harber popped up over at Relevant entitled, “The Myth of the Persecuted American Church.” I thought it would be a good way to get you thinking about some questions: Does Christian privilege exist in America? Does the persecution of Christians exist in America?

Harber writes,

It’s not that Christians are not occasionally persecuted in America. There are instances—such as an incident this summer in which Evangelical Christians were labeled as “extremists” in a Pentagon training session—that we ought to take seriously. However, the type of persecution endured in the United States is far less than anything our brothers and sisters suffer from around the world. In fact, calling Christians in America “persecuted” seems like a disservice to our fellow believers overseas who face jail—and far worse—for their relationship with God.