Fundamentalists evangelists wear many different hats — not the least of which is the position of showman and entertainer. Most evangelists have some kind of hook, and act that is their signature. Ventriloquism, art, magic shows, karate (but the good kind not the evil eastern mysticism kind) demonstrations are par for the course. Many evangelists also sing and play instruments.

Now while some speakers will stick with guitar, piano, or trumpet others get a bit more…creative. You’ve never lived until you’ve been serenaded for 15 minutes by an accordion or heard How Great Thou Art scraped out on a muscial saw. But the prize for uniqueness goes to those few (including evangelist Hal Webb) who have mastered the art of playing the theremin.

For those of you who have never had the privilege of seeing one of these in action, the theremin is an instrument that has two antennas that adjust volume and pitch based on how far or close the players hands are to the antennas. So the evangelist literally moves his hands through the air in front of the instrument to produce the music. It’s the sort of thing that would have had you burned at the stake during the middle ages but makes for a great performance during special services. You can check out some video of one being played here

Here is a clip of author Gail Riplinger, a staunch defender of the King James Bible. Notwithstanding that “a large portion of Riplinger’s books and interviews have been found to contain gross errors“,she and her books still have quite a following in some circles of KJVO fundamentalism.

In this clip she explains…well…I’m not really sure what she’s explaining but it sure is entertaining to listen to.

Once a year, fundamentalists pack their kids a suitcase and wave goodbye as the youngsters are hauled away to Christian camp. This is considered vital to to the children’s spiritual upbringing and also gives mom and dad a break — defined as “only taking care of the four youngest kids.” It’s a win-win.

Christian camp is a wonderful time to enjoy the outdoors, participate in sports, make new friends, and listen to approximately 3,468 sermons over the course of the week. This presents plenty of opportunities to get saved as many time as you like. After all, going forward to get saved again is always preferable to being stuck in your seat through an hour of singing while the counselors save other kids. It’s far better to walk the aisle and join in the fun.

Getting saved isn’t the only highlight though, there is also Scripture to memorize, crafts to make, and a camp store full of enough soft drinks and candy to ensure that the counselors never get a moment’s peace from chasing down hyper eight-year-olds. Another bright spot in the camping week is regular visits to the swimming pool (no mixed bathing of course). While dunking kids in chlorinated water may not be a substitute for daily bathing, it certainly doesn’t hurt.

As the week draws to a close, it’s a time for tearful farewells and getting saved one last time just to be sure. Then it’s back on the buses and back home until next year when they’ll do it all over again. No fundamentalist childhood would be complete without it.

A good fundamentalist is in church every time the doors are open, no matter how often that may be. (Hint: it’s often).

Whether it’s Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night prayer meeting, Friday night Youth Group, or a myriad of special events, attendance is not optional. To a fundy, to miss a service is to miss out on the very blessing of God. And you don’t want to miss a blessing do you? Well do you? I didn’t think so.

Some fundy preachers take pride in reminding everyone of the time that they were sick with the bubonic plague, had their car stolen, broke both legs, and had just gotten off a shift at the salt mines where they had worked 73 straight hours nonstop, BUT HE STILL CAME TO BIBLE STUDY ANYWAY! So don’t even bother trying to use the excuse that you have the sniffles and didn’t want to give them to everyone else or that you’re just too tired after work to make prayer meeting. That sort of lily-livered tale is only for sissy’s and compromisers.

The postal service may still prevail through rain, sleet, and dark of night but the fundamentalist isn’t even deterred by hurricanes, wildfires, or the church being full of fresh paint fumes. Open the doors and see all the people.

Nothing is more bizarre to the outside observer of fundamentalism than seeing two fundies who have almost come to blows because each believes that the other is not a “true fundamentalist.” In fact, it’s every bit as fascinating as watching two Trekkies argue over the design of an anti-matter drive. Not only is it impossible to win such a fight but it wouldn’t really matter even if you did.

The list of tests of true fundamentalism has become quite lengthy over the year and gathered to itself more than a little weirdness. Questioning a person’s fundamentalist credibility may involve asking things such as… Has any child of theirs ever worn their baseball cap backwards? Have they ever had a face lift? Does their church’s hymnbook remove the word ‘worm’ from the first verse of At the Cross? Have they been observed at the mall walking in rhythm with the rock music playing? Then they may not be a true fundamentalist.

Do they believe that Jesus had a belly button? Do they not believe that Cain had one? Are they waiting for a mid-trib rapture? Do they believe Revelation 2 and 3 might just be talking about churches instead of church ages? Do they allow canned music in their services? They’re obviously too liberal to be a true fundamentalist.

Indeed, there are only true fundamentalists left: me and thee. And I have my doubts about thee.

Before multimedia displays and PowerPoint presentations, fundamentalists had chalk. Credit where it’s due, if done well, chalk talks were a great way to keep people’s attention and make a point. If done badly, however, the presentation may end up looking vaguely like a cubist artist’s impression of a sunset at the North Pole. In short, it’s a royal mess.

In the really extravagant chalk art presentations, a black light may be used to reveal hidden images at the end of the talk. Or perhaps, the artist would draw upside down and then later reveal the real picture by flipping over the canvas. Not too many people do this anymore; it’s really a shame. Watching someone doodle on a screen in MS Paint just isn’t quite the same.

If you’ve never seen a chalk talk done, you can check out a video of none other than Peter Ruckman giving a presentation while drawing an “original autograph.”

For many fundamentalists, the voice of God sounds curiously like a Shakespearean actor from the 1930’s. For that matter, so does the voice of everyone else in the Bible from Adam to Zechariah.

Whether it’s the daily Bible reading on the radio, the cassette tapes enshrined in their plastic cases, or the original LP albums, Alexander Scourby is the voice of the King James Bible. Fundamentalists accept no substitutes. Not even James Earl Jones’ fine work recording the Bible can hope to compete with the long tradition of the original recordings. They are the Authorized Version.

Alexander Scourby’s skill is such that even the genealogies somehow take on a new and invigorating air when he gravely intones them. Perhaps Moses and Joshua and Boaz may not really have sounded like Scourby — but until we get to hear the originals, it would be hard to find a better substitute.

…and if you think this is a little off, you should hear his theories about Cabbage Patch dolls.

Once or twice a year, a fundamentalist church will hold a series of revival services. An evangelist or special speaker who is specially trained to give spiritual CPR will come into town and spend a few nights trying to get the church’s pulse going again. The fact that they are apparently so feeble that they needs periodic five-day-long jolts from a biblical defibrillator to keep them alive does not appear to bother fundies at all. They rather seem to enjoy it.

Revivals are a great time to combine a lot of fundy favorites: hard preaching, old fashioned altars, evangelist fish stories, and coming up with new things to feel guilty about. Throw in some special music and a few covered dish suppers and it’s a great time for everybody.

Another emphasis of revival services is bringing out lost people to hear the messages. This may strike some as odd since it would seem to be a contradiction in terms to try to ‘revive’ something that’s never been ‘vived’ in the first place. But the philosophy goes that if there’s preaching on sin going on, it’s a good idea to get a bunch of genuine sinners in to hear it. And there’s a reward Bible with your name on it if you can bring in the most.

Oh, Revive us again (and again, and again, and again).