Megan Basham’s new book, Shepherds for Sale: How Evangelical Leaders Traded the Truth for a Leftist Agenda, continues to create a stir. In the weeks since publication, it has catapulted to No. 5 on Amazon’s bestseller list, and No. 12 for the New York Times. It’s a mistake, however, to take Basham’s title as her thesis, as it suggests that readers will receive a specific list of pastors who have sold their doctrine and ministries for a DNC admission ticket. Basham does not prove such to be the case. Instead, she shows that two temptations face evangelical leaders and parachurch ministries.
First, there is the temptation of prestige. By softening biblical prohibitions and declarations of sin, Basham shows that certain leaders, exemplified by Russell Moore and David French, have risen to national prominence. “French has transformed over the past eight years from a stalwart conservative favorite with a somewhat niche audience at National Review to the heights of the New York Times precisely because of his opposition to his fellow evangelicals over Trump.” She cites former Christianity Today editor Mark Galli describing the excitement CT staff felt when they were mentioned positively by journalism giants like the New York Times and the Wall Street Journal. Christian leaders are not immune to the siren call of public acclaim.
Second, leftist organizations are specifically targeting evangelicals as a voting block opposed to progressive policy goals. Basham shows that groups like the Arcus Foundation and the Democracy Fund have developed long-range plans and invested millions of dollars to make evangelical Christians friendlier to their policy goals. “Around 32 percent of the U.S. electorate describe themselves as evangelical, and the vast majority of that group leans right. Among Americans who describe themselves as conservatives, Protestant evangelicals are the single largest religious group by 23 points.” If such progressive organizations could shift this voting block to neutrality or even support for their ambitions, such movement would be a win for their causes.
While Basham cannot prove that these evangelicals changed their doctrinal stances as a result of taking funds, she does show that such activist groups now realize that evangelical groups will, nevertheless, take their money, and her analysis does invite the reader to ask why secular, progressive organizations are giving such large donations to these evangelicals. The best she can show is correlation, indicating that both Christianity Today and the Trinity Forum have experienced mission drift during this time period. Christian organizations are not immune to incentives, and leaders must be careful which incentives they pursue.
For example, in 2016, Basham notes, the Lilly Endowment (philanthropic arm of big pharma company Eli Lilly) “awarded, for the first time, a sizable grant to Christianity Today—just over $2 million for a project to ‘[Create] a Future for Christian Thought.’” Basham further notes that “between 2019 and 2022, [the Lilly Endowment] would award [Christianity Today] another $1.6 million, with more than $1 million earmarked for a ‘compelling preaching’ initiative to create content to help ‘educate’ preachers.” Basham does not oppose Christianity Today’s receiving funds, but notes that “the issue with the Lilly grants is that they are specifically going to evangelical institutions for pastoral and ideological efforts, and [the Lilly Endowment] appear[s] to have no commitment to orthodoxy.” Basham does not define “orthodoxy,” however, except in an implied historical sense. Such an orthodoxy would affirm that marriage exists only between a man and a woman, and that humans cannot change either sex or gender because they are made in the imago dei. These traditional Christian values stand against progressive policies, and the goal of groups Basham identifies is to move Christians to seeing progressive policies like open borders, gay marriage, and transgender affirmation as acceptable to their beliefs.
Congregations and institutional supporters should not be blind to these realities. Southern Baptists are right to ask why their lobbying agency is taking money from secular groups: the ERLC “is a fellow beneficiary of Omidyar’s largesse [via the Democracy Fund], to the tune of some $150,000. The Fetzer Foundation, likewise, has gifted the ERLC $220,000. Facebook’s Mark Zuckerburg was good for another $90,000—and all this between 2018 and 2021 alone.” It is impossible that these funds come with no strings attached. To what extent have Southern Baptist interests, which the ERLC exists to advance in the policy arena, been compromised by these gifts?
Basham further contends that outright heresy is present in the evangelical church, and that trusted leaders have embraced progressive ideologies contradictory to Christian teaching. They have used their platforms to shift secular ideas into the place of traditional theological categories: climate change doom-mongering for eschatology; critical race theory for biblical forgiveness; LGBTQ+ affirmations for the Christian doctrines of sin and anthropology. Here as well Basham shows significant levels of correlation but cannot indicate causation. She highlights major leaders who advocate progressive views but does not show they have done so in exchange for financial gain.
Chapters in Shepherds for Sale are of varying strength, and Basham’s evidence is not always easy to follow. Her endnotes contain direct links enabling the reader to follow her research, but typing URLs into a web browser is a time-intensive process. In the notes this reviewer checked, Basham’s sources supported her claims (with one exception—chapter 1, endnote 40, where Basham cites Katherine Hayhoe’s speech as evidence that six speakers delivered climate change talks at a SEBTS conference). Chapters are also organized around different themes: climate change, illegal immigration, abortion, Christianity Today, COVID-19, CRT, how churches handle sex abuse scandals, and LGBTQ issues. Basham focuses on high-profile leaders and the way that those with high status in evangelicalism used their positions to legitimize other big names. “[Timothy] Keller, [Rick] Warren, [N.T.] Wright, [Russell] Moore, and [Ed] Stetzer all publicly lauded [Francis] Collins as a godly brother, as did Christianity Today and Relevant.” The use of platforms to legitimize certain voices draws specific attention from Basham. In her description of Francis Collins, for example, Basham focuses on his previous lack of access to major Christian platforms and how those names listed above facilitated his ability to persuade church leaders to comply with COVID-19 policies. Basham sees Collins’ ability to access Christian platforms via these voices as a form of support and vetting, resulting in buy-in from evangelical congregations.
One of Basham’s strongest chapters follows the financial efforts to encourage megachurches to embrace LGBTQ+ affirming positions. The Arcus Foundation
began devoting tens of millions of dollars to, in its words, “challenging the promotion of narrow or hateful interpretations of religious doctrines” within major Christian denominations. Between 2013 and 2018, for instance, it gave over two million dollars to the Reconciliation Ministries Network to “secure the full participation of people of all sexual orientations and gender identities in the United Methodist Church.”
Basham argues that the recent split in the United Methodist Church over LGBTQ affirmation is a result of the Arcus Foundation’s influence. For a second example, Basham points to Greg and Lynn McDonald’s founding of Embracing the Journey for “parents of LGBTQ children” at Andy Stanley’s North Point Church, which enjoys an average weekly attendance of some 23,000. Their organization eventually spread to Rick Warren’s Saddleback Church. Basham shows that such groups are willing to invest significant funds to encourage the church to soften preaching against sin and the hope found through repentance.
Needless to say, Basham faced an X-storm when some named in the book responded to her analysis. Gavin Ortlund released two videos refuting Basham’s claims in chapter 1 (see here and here), Marvin Olasky insinuated that she should have footnoted her memory of his comments, Phil Vischer objected to Basham’s quoting his desire for “nuance” in discussions of abortion, and J.D. Greear posted a long, personal essay on his website.
Analyzing the responses would require a separate article, but both Ortlund and Greear, in objecting to Basham’s representation, also demonstrate the strength of her overall claim: both men are more comfortable with unbiblical positions than they recognize. In Ortlund’s case, he ignores the rhetorical emphasis his original video gives to those who agree with his reading of climate change science (those who do not are free to do so but are cast as ignorant). Greear both advanced the idea of how “love thy neighbor” should have informed COVID responses and affirmed his intention as (now former) SBC president to advance diversity.
It should be noted that most of the X-warriors opposing Basham have not denied her argument but instead have focused on perceived inaccuracies in details. They resemble the fathers in B.H. Fairchild’s poem “Body and Soul” who are condemned for “nuzzling the facts but mauling the truth.” The merit of Shepherds is not found in whether every quotation is excerpted correctly or incorrectly but in answering the question evangelical leadership does not want to address: Have leaders exchanged the truth of God for a lie? Basham argues, “It’s the practice of wolves to dismiss the concerns of those who see compromise and false teaching slipping into the Church to accuse those sounding the alarm of making mountains out of molehills.” Basham leaves it to the reader to conclude whether her concerns are mountains or molehills.
Those skeptical of Basham’s claims should read her conclusion first; her argument makes more sense in light of her testimony. Basham found Christianity after a season of overt sin, and learning to claim freedom from sin through Christ was a crucial part of her discipleship. Basham writes not out of a desire to get pastors fired or raise a mob; instead, she writes out of a love for the church’s doctrinal purity. She wants to give the “wounds of a friend” rather than the kisses of an enemy. In that sense, Basham merits praise, despite weaknesses in her approach.
Shepherds for Sale makes inescapable the reality that worldly ideas can infiltrate the church, and all church members and leaders must be on guard to protect “the faith once for all delivered to the saints.” Andy Stanley and Rick Warren remain enormous names in evangelical Protestantism, even though, if Basham is right, both left orthodoxy long ago. The elevation of heterodox and heretical leaders is a problem that Jesus foretold—he knew false ideas would infiltrate his church. Church history is an ongoing reflection of the tension in preserving a living tradition. Beginning with Paul rebuking Peter for not eating with Gentiles in Galatia, the orthodox theology of Christianity has developed through a combative process. Marcion published his edition of Luke’s gospel, leading to clarification of the New Testament canon a century later; Arius proclaimed a false vision of Christ’s nature that took two centuries to settle; the Protestant Reformation highlighted a variety of abuses and human customs that had arisen within Catholicism, provoking the Council of Trent to clarify the actual teaching of the Roman Catholic Church. Yes, Basham paints with a broad brush, and she pulls no punches in hurling accusations. But her argument is one that evangelicalism needs to consider: if false ideas have infiltrated the highest levels of evangelical leadership, Christians must be warned, be wary, and be active in defending Christian truth.
