For all their posturing about being separated from all other Christian denominations, Independent Baptist Fundamentalists do a fair number of activities which are familiar to other Christians. They have sermons, they sing songs, they memorize Bible verses, and they evangelize in one form or another. But what marks the stark contrast between the fundamentalist and so many others is the internal logic that drives the choice to do these things or do them in a particular way. A thing is not worth doing until it’s worth doing scared.

Most Christians might memorize portions of God’s word so that it will be in their heart and mind for them to meditate upon in times of need or during personal worship. The hardcore fundamentalist, though, is just as likely to memorize God’s word so that when the Communists come to steal and burn his Bible (or possibly replace it with a Good News For Modern Man) he’ll still have a little of it left. It could happen any day now.

Many Christians enjoy playing an instrument or participating in music during worship for no other reason than that it is a pure expression of joy and worship. The fundamentalist, however, might be playing the piano because if she ever stops God will likely make her hands fall off to punish her. He does that kind of thing. I think it’s in Leviticus.

Still other Christians look forward to church services as a respite from the daily struggle, a place of refreshment and of touching a bit of heaven here on earth. The fundamentalist on the the other hand knows that skipping church increases their chances of being decapitated, hit by a car, or becoming a Peace Corps volunteer by about 18,000%. There’s a proof text for that in the Bible somewhere too — but I haven’t memorized it yet.

The call is clear: whether ye eat or drink or whatsoever you do, make sure you’re driven by the purest of motives. And the greatest of these is paranoia.

And when it shall come to pass that thou shalt eat thy breakfast or begin any trip or shall be called upon to “close us out in a word of prayer” by thy pastor (if thou shalt be lucky enough to not be a women) that thou shalt heed the words which are written in this book that thy prayers and thy fundy cred be not hindered.

For when thou prayest thou shalt in no wise use words that have ever been used before in a prayer. For God shall only hear and answer prayers that are as different from each other as one snowflake is from another. And in the day that thou shalt use a prayer that has been ever said or written then shalt the Lord tell you that he’s already heard this one and ignore you as if you were a tattooed heathen or an Episcopalian.

And if when thou prayest thou shouldest have a creative lapse wherin thou canst not think of what to say next then shalt thou throw in the word “Lord” as a filler. For the Lord doth dearly love to hear his name used as punctuation and never wearies of it. And if thou art really stuck adding a few “Father God’s” or “Good God Almighty’s” might work too.

For when Our Lord taught his disciples to pray he gave them only an outline example which he never really expected them to use except as they might modifying it extemporaneously with much verbal clutter and a meandering purpose. Go and do thou likewise.

Independent Baptist Book of Everlasting Rules and Requirements, p 3

From time to time, people write me to ask whether I think this or that church or preacher fits the description of “fundamentalist,” “crazy fundamentalist,” or “likely-to-be-taken-into-custody-any-minute-now-for-their-own-protection fundamentalist.” To give some assistance in answering these queries for a fundamentalist taxonomy, I now provide you with the following list of warning signs that you might be in a fundy-style church…or possibly in an Amway convention — it’s sometimes hard to tell them apart.

So get out your pencil and score your church like this…

If your church is run by one man (regardless of actual position) who makes most of the decisions unilaterally without regard for the opinions of others or the consequences to individuals then yell “that’s my pastor!” and give yourself five points.

If your pastor spends more time talking about being “biblical” than he actually does reading and explaining actual Bible passages then give yourself three points and a poem and plan on bringing a nice book to read the next time you come to church.

If the people in your church would feel uncomfortable sharing Jesus with people while sitting in a bar then give yourself no points but do feel free to obtain and drink an adult beverage at some later date for your stomach’s sake.

If sermons preached from your pulpit consistently contain stories told by the speaker that cast himself as the hero and bring more glory to himself than Jesus then give yourself six points and bottle of whiteout to use on the signatures on your Bible cover.

If your church’s organized outreach program consists almost exclusively of cold calling and hard sell techniques involving scripted encounters where at least 2/3 of the people involved are wearing a tie then give yourself one point for each of the soul-winners involved then subtract one for every bogus decision card you managed to wrangle out of small children, deaf senior citizens, and folks who don’t even speak English.

If the last time you observed the Lord’s Supper (last Easter) you refused to serve it to any visitors because you couldn’t be sure they weren’t Catholics or opponents of the Second Amendment and then ended up not taking it yourself because you didn’t want to risk not confessing something, then give yourself one point for every fluid ounce of Welch’s that remained in the little plastic cups at the end of the service.

If your church refuses to sing Steve Green’s music in their choir until the songs have been “cleaned up” by removing the African drums and straightening out the off-beat bits then slowly give yourself one point then three points then another one then another three.

If your pastor is pretty sure that the Holy Spirit packed up his bags and went on vacation right after the Bible was finished being written (with brief return around 1611 to make sure it got translated right) then add one point for each member of the Trinity you’ve totally missed the point of.

If you’re a Christian who is so focused on keeping himself pure and clean from “the world” that you forget the second greatest commandment (and most of the other important ones too) and think that love is measured in the number of sermons you’ve yelled, and sinners you’ve condemned, and gospel tracts you’ve strewn around then award yourself the whole world. And lose your soul.

Because in the end, it’s people not the points that really matter.

The lore of fundamentalism is rife with the terrifying specters of a thousand faceless enemies that threaten to destroy your life, wreck your home, pervert your children, and embarrass your pastor. These threatening figures come cloaked in all manner of cunning disguises. They look like your co-workers, your neighbors, and maybe even your own family members. They are the bogeymen of fundyland and the tales of their evil should keep you from ever straying too far from home.

There’s hardly a group that isn’t a card-carrying member this fearsome horde of evil. Why, if I stand upon the front porch of my house and gaze past our massive Scripture verse lawn signs, I can see the faces of the enemy all around me…

Look, right down there at the corner there’s the nice Catholic grandma who always waves hello to people and gives them cookie as she tries to send them to hell with her idolatry. Also I’m pretty sure that fruitcake she gives out at Christmas has alcohol in it. Every time she gives me one I hand her a tract about how wrong it is to worship Mary so hopefully I’m getting through…

And there is Miguel and his partner Jim. They always offer to cut my grass in the summer and shovel my walk in the winter time but I know that’s just their way of making me accept their filthy lifestyle that is going to be the ruination of our entire country. They do have a really nice lawn, though…

And then there’s that Nigerian family that just moved in on the other side of the street. The man said something about being an Anglican but I sure hope they’re not secretly bringing us any of that African voodoo. I’ll get my loudspeaker system and KJV Scourby tapes ready just in case we need to repel the darkness…

Well, I’d better get back inside now. One of the neighbors just started his car and I can hear it playing that terrible rap music nonsense. Better get inside and make sure the windows are closed so the kids aren’t exposed to it…

In fundyland a healthy dose of paranoia isn’t nearly enough. The bogeymen are everywhere.

Or you could just pretend that the scandals just don’t exist and focus on some other equally important topics…

Of course! Obamacare and gays! If there are two more pressing issue for Christ’s church today I certainly can’t think of them. Can you?

Like most spiritual ideas in fundyland, the Little Foxes Theory begins by yanking a couple of verse from the surrounding passage and doing them no small amount of violence. Apparently the best way to understand this bit of Scripture is that in the middle of writing out some spicy love poetry, the author suddenly takes a break to write a brief essay on why little sins like not tucking in your shirt lead to bigger ones like not wearing a shirt at all. It certainly makes perfect sense that right after penning the words “let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely” that the time is ripe for a bit of moralistic guilt-tripping.

Watever its questionable exegetical roots, there is no question that the “little foxes” concept has taken firm root in fundyland and then grown into quite a warped and twisted shape. For the way this principle is often taught is that as long as one takes care to obsess over the minutia of life then the larger sins will never even be a temptation. If you dress right, listen to the right music, never say “golly,” or watch The Simpsons on TV then there’s almost no chance at all of you smoking pot or getting your girlfriend pregnant. Almost.

This idea of keeping the little things in order to thwart the larger sins also informs the sermon habits of many fundyland pastors who honestly believe that as long as they are keeping kids from running in the hallways and keeping their parents from reading the NIV that they have nothing to fear from the sins of lust, and greed, and pride. It’s a very tidy notion that is not at all bothered by its complete disconnection from reality.

The real tragedy here is that oftentimes people in fundyland are led to believe that if they cannot “win” over the temptation to listen to rock n’ roll or wear more than one earring per ear that they might as well give up and live a life of debauchery. After all, what’s the difference? The little foxes are going to get you. It’s only a matter of time.

It’s just like Solomon says in the very next verse: “My beloved is mine, and I am his: he feedeth among the lilies.” I know it sounds a lot like more love poetry but I’m sure that is somehow related to the topic at hand. You just have to know how to look.

Teenager, are you in a jam? Have you been caught red handed shoplifting or listening to the rap music or indulging in some heavy petting in the school gymnasium? Will people in your church be talking about the scandal of your misdeeds for weeks on end? Is your future career as a preacher boy or pastor’s wife in jeopardy?

There is a simple solution that is 100% guaranteed to get you out of the mess you’re in and even turn it into a net gain: Get Saved Again.

That’s right, boys and girls, take a trip down and old fashioned, red-carpeted aisle to the mourners bench and confess that all these years you’ve just been “playing church” and just today when the pastor preached on how the Democrats are ruining America (as found in Judges chapter’s 6, tapes available in the back after church) you felt the conviction of the Spirit and made a choice of your own free will to get saved. Again. For the eight time. But who’s counting? This time it was real!

Now, if you’re going to commit to this, course of action the details are very important. It helps if you grab an available adult by the arm and drag them down to the altar with you to pray with you. And you’ll need to it on the second verse of the invitation hymn so that it doesn’t seem too premeditated but also doesn’t risk that the invitation might conclude before you go. Note that tears are not optional. Neither is snot. If your church doesn’t supply tissues at the front then pack your own. Finally, be careful not to run the aisle on the same night as some other troubled teen is pulling the same stunt — unless it’s someone who was actually involved in your own scandal.

It’s almost impossible to lose in this scenario. The church gets to write off your past wrongs as the indiscretions of a lost person and avoids the embarrassment of admitting that their own young people are prone to evil. They also get another soul saved for the yearly report. And you get a clean slate as long as you don’t do anything too bad for a month or two. Buying a slightly larger Bible than the one you currently carry is also a nice piece of window dressing.

There are two warnings for this particular strategy. First, you can’t do it more times per year than your church has Bible conference. Second, it really only works until you graduate from Bible college. After that, it stops being cute and it really doesn’t impress the members of the jury at all.

And when it shall come to pass that thou and thy kindred and thy manservants and maidservants (or “church staff” as they are now called) shall think upon the good old days that thou shalt in no wise remember the bad things that have happened and remember only the good. For in the day that thou shalt call to mind any scandal or heresy or really funny blooper committed by a fundamentalist then shalt it be known that thou art bitter and “stuck living in the past.” And they shall shake their heads at thee and their tsking sounds of displeasure shall be loud in thine ears.

But if thou shalt recall only those things that are good, and funny, and that one time when we had a great time at that youth outing playing Chubby Bunny then shalt it be said that thou art right and just and a real good sport. And nobody shall in any case accuse thee of being a rabid sycophant who is obsessed with days gone by nor shall they tell that thou needest to just move on with thy life and probably go soulwinning more or something. For to remember only the good is the best choice of all.

And if thy church or thy college or thy family or thy fundy friends hath lied to thee or stolen from thee or done thee grievous injury then what is the big deal? Shalt thou dwell upon it for all time? Are not there lost people who need rescuing from the very fires of hell this moment? Nay, if thou value thy fundy cred and thy very soul thou shalt join the happy few who have decided that bad things never actually happened and that the good times were extra especially amazing.

So shalt thou rewrite the past and move on with thy life and thy manservants and thy maidservants and their children’s children shall rise up and call thee blessed (if a bit clueless).

Independent Baptist Book of Everlasting Rules and Requirements, p 97

The entire time I was growing up, I heard tales of how Saturday morning cartoons were the instruments of Satan to warp young minds into a worship of the occult and practice of witchcraft. People like this guy told us that everything from He-Man to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles were really part of a global conspiracy to enslave the nation’s children in between ads for breakfast cereal. Sneaky.

Of course, the real problem with these claims of satanic subterfuge is that the vast majority of a generation of cartoon watchers eventually grew up into more or less responsible adults who were curiously non-satanic. One would think that if Old Nick was afoot in our subconscious there would be a whole lot more ritual sacrifice, demon possession, and general witch-like cackling going on. Heck, to hear some folks talk, by this time you’d expect a pentagram to have replaced the stars on the American Flag. A quick look around, however, shows that instead of the really cool sins we were promised, it’s pretty much just the same old lust of the flesh, lust of the eye, and pride of life that we’ve always seen.

But maybe the conspiracy theorists will be proven right after all. Perhaps our entire society is composed of sleeper agents who harbor dormant demons unaware and some fateful day when a yet unwritten Miley Cyrus song plays on the radio, a veritable Satanic army of cartoon watchers will spring to life, wreaking havoc, sacrificing small animals, and possibly even bringing back disco. The word “nightmare” doesn’t begin to cover it.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go deal with my daughter who has been watching Scooby Doo all morning and is now levitating our cat.

Update: Jordan Poss has provided me with some excerpts from the book Turmoil in the Toybox (PDF 4MB) by Phil Phillips which describes some of the various cartoons and toys are of the devil.