Given Chuck Colson's history, I've always questioned whether or not he had a "religious conversion" or merely latched on to Christianity as a ruse to restore his reputation and make a good living in his post penitentiary days. Where else other than in a so-called "ministy" can a convicted felon find an easy route to the good life financially and find gullible sheep to give him money freely (I've seen ads on Christian sites about "incorporation one's ministy for $99). Colson strikes me like as so many in the "ex-gay" industry - largely unemployable psychologically disturbed drug users and alcoholics who found Jesus as a route to financial susccess and respectability - at least among the simpleton set. The Washington Post has a piece that looks at Colson's effort to "metastasize" society with his intolerant and exclusionary for of Christianity. Ironically, metastasize is the correct word given that Colson and his followers are, in my view, a form of cancer on society. One has to wonder about the mental health of anyone who would want to be one of Colson's "centurions." I sincerely hope that his efforts fail. We clearly do not need more members of the Christian Taliban in this nation. Here are highlights from the Post article:
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Charles Colson assembles the newest members of his Christian army at a Loudoun County convention hall on a winter Saturday. . . . . They’ve spent the year — and as much as $4,000 — reading the books Colson reads, watching the movies he watches, praying the way he prays. It’s all part of an ambitious effort by Colson to replicate his spiritual DNA and ensure that his vision of Christianity doesn’t die when he does.
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“This is the time for us to metastasize and impact society!” the gravelly-voiced former Nixon aide tells his rapt audience. “And this is a really, really urgent hour.” . . . . They are called Centurions, a name that conjures battle-hardened Roman soldiers. They number 640, and their marching orders from their commander are clear — to expand Christ’s kingdom. “What this country needs,” Colson declares, “is a movement.”
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Colson, who lives in Florida full time after years of dividing his time between the Sunshine State and Northern Virginia, hasn’t lost his taste for politics. He works against measures to legalize gay marriage and served as an informal adviser to former George W. Bush aide Karl Rove. . . . . [He] is treated like a rock star at Christian events.
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“The point was to get more people to be like Chuck,” says Chip Mahon, a retired financial services executive who sits on the board of BreakPoint, the umbrella group for Colson’s various ministries, including the Centurions, which began in 2004.
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Regardless of how traditional evangelicals describe themselves, they are facing some discouraging trends. Polls show that young evangelicals are more concerned about poverty and environmentalism than same-sex marriage or abortion and other “sanctity of life” issues. A few months ago, Apple booted an iPhone app for a conservative Christian manifesto that Colson co-wrote called the Manhattan Declaration because the company deemed the document’s opposition to gay marriage and other “immoral sexual partnerships” to be offensive. Just one of the original signers was under 40.
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Centurions are required to create a three-year ministry plan. Most involve grass-roots evangelizing to work colleagues, neighbors or people at church who think they know Christianity but don’t.
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I find Colson and his followers frightening. Should they ever succeed on a large scale, this nation will be a scary place for anyone who doesn't fit the Christianist mode. At the risk of being called horrible, I see the only positive note in all of this is the fact that at 79, Colson's days of disseminating poison may be limited.
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Charles Colson assembles the newest members of his Christian army at a Loudoun County convention hall on a winter Saturday. . . . . They’ve spent the year — and as much as $4,000 — reading the books Colson reads, watching the movies he watches, praying the way he prays. It’s all part of an ambitious effort by Colson to replicate his spiritual DNA and ensure that his vision of Christianity doesn’t die when he does.
*
“This is the time for us to metastasize and impact society!” the gravelly-voiced former Nixon aide tells his rapt audience. “And this is a really, really urgent hour.” . . . . They are called Centurions, a name that conjures battle-hardened Roman soldiers. They number 640, and their marching orders from their commander are clear — to expand Christ’s kingdom. “What this country needs,” Colson declares, “is a movement.”
*
Colson, who lives in Florida full time after years of dividing his time between the Sunshine State and Northern Virginia, hasn’t lost his taste for politics. He works against measures to legalize gay marriage and served as an informal adviser to former George W. Bush aide Karl Rove. . . . . [He] is treated like a rock star at Christian events.
*
“The point was to get more people to be like Chuck,” says Chip Mahon, a retired financial services executive who sits on the board of BreakPoint, the umbrella group for Colson’s various ministries, including the Centurions, which began in 2004.
*
Regardless of how traditional evangelicals describe themselves, they are facing some discouraging trends. Polls show that young evangelicals are more concerned about poverty and environmentalism than same-sex marriage or abortion and other “sanctity of life” issues. A few months ago, Apple booted an iPhone app for a conservative Christian manifesto that Colson co-wrote called the Manhattan Declaration because the company deemed the document’s opposition to gay marriage and other “immoral sexual partnerships” to be offensive. Just one of the original signers was under 40.
*
Centurions are required to create a three-year ministry plan. Most involve grass-roots evangelizing to work colleagues, neighbors or people at church who think they know Christianity but don’t.
*
I find Colson and his followers frightening. Should they ever succeed on a large scale, this nation will be a scary place for anyone who doesn't fit the Christianist mode. At the risk of being called horrible, I see the only positive note in all of this is the fact that at 79, Colson's days of disseminating poison may be limited.
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