Power(less)-brokers

That has nothing specifically to do with Rick Santorum, their consensus choice. Nor is it about Mitt Romney, whom they oppose, nor  Barack Obama, whom they despise.

It has everything to do with the fallacy of a bunch of preachers and other religious leaders deciding they have the right—much less the wisdom—to anoint the next president.

No violation, but no effect, either

Unless some of them convince their organizations to endorse a specific candidate, these leaders—acting as a collection of individuals—have not violated the First Amendment's ban on the marriage of church and state.

And unless Santorum pulls a stunning upset in the South Carolina Republican primary, they most likely did not impact the outcome of the presidential election. (Except, of course, they nailed the lid on the White House aspirations of Texas Gov. Rick Perry, whom many of them backed last summer. But Perry's debate gaffes already ruined his chances well before the would-be power-brokers assembled on a ranch near Brenham.)

Black-eyed Jesus

Rather than select the next president, these folks continued their quest to give Jesus a black eye.

David Neff, editor-in-chief of the evangelical Christianity Today Media Group, stated the issue pointedly: "By conspiring to throw their weight behind a single evangelical-friendly candidate, they fed the widespread perception that evangelicalism's main identifying feature is right-wing political activism focused on abortion and homosexuality."

Over and over again, conservative U.S. Christians ask: Why does "the world" hate us so much? The answer is rather simple: Too many Christians act like judgmental jerks, and "the world" is not stupid.

Over the past 40 years, evangelical politics has boiled down to sexual politics. More recently, many of conservative evangelical leaders have been co-opted by financial politics. The result is the justifiable public perception that "Christians" judge everyone else harshly, oppose and condemn weaknesses in others while ignoring their own foibles and hypocrisies, and serve the purposes of powerful people who dupe them and play them for rubes.

These perceptions may not be entirely accurate. But they're built upon sufficient real-world examples that millions of non-Christians believe them to be true.

If you doubt this, visit major news websites, read articles that touch on issues of faith and religion, and then read the comments that follow. You'll see depressing and overwhelming evidence that many of our fellow citizens feel condemned, hated and despised by Christians and the church. You may not condemn, hate and despise them yourself, but their repeated statements testify to the harsh, judgmental situations they have experienced with people who called themselves Christian.

Light, yes; political lackey, no

Of course, issues such as the leadership of our nation and the policies that guide our government are vital. Christians should be "salt" and "light" in the discussion and formulation of our shared future. We must speak to issues, and we must be sure to vote.

But to align with either political party and to throw religious endorsement behind candidates only alienate people and narrow the opportunity for them to relate to Jesus. Besides, all human institutions, including—or maybe especially—political parties are fallible and broken. When we place the banner of Christ over one or the other, we ensure the inevitable association of the Savior with corruption and sinfulness.

As evangelical columnist Cal Thomas wrote two decades ago, when a dozen years of evangelical fealty to a conservative political party failed to affect policy change: Christian faith is not in principalities and powers. The power of Christianity is not in engineering electoral landslides. It resides in gentle, loving persuasion—urging individuals toward fairer, nobler aspirations. 

Persuasion such as that cannot be tabulated, much less tendered, by a straw poll of wanna-be kingmakers on an East Texas ranch.