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Mark Driscoll, head pastor of local megachurch chain Mars Hill, is profiled in this week's New York Times Magazine . It's not the first time

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Hey, Mark Driscoll, Let's Fight

driscoll.jpg

Mark Driscoll, head pastor of local megachurch chain Mars Hill, is profiled in this week's New York Times Magazine. It's not the first time he's been profiled in a (secular) national outlet (Salon did an excellent profile of him and Mars Hill in 2006), and he gives his usual array of very thinly veiled anti-woman and anti-gay statements. Mark Driscoll's Jesus is a shitkicker who washes his hands with the blood of infidels and never has to tell his woman twice.
 
If you think that's an exaggeration, check out quotes like this: "Some emergent types [want] to recast

Jesus as a limp-wrist hippie in a dress with a lot of product in His

hair, who drank decaf and made pithy Zen statements about life while

shopping for the perfect pair of shoes. In Revelation, Jesus is a pride fighter with

a tattoo down His leg, a sword in His hand and the commitment to make

someone bleed. That is a guy I can worship." I wonder if that's what Barack Obama meant when he said "we worship an awesome god in the blue states." (Also check out this spoof of Driscoll by Christian humor site The Wittenburg Door, which fooled me until commenter dave set me straight.)

A

primary focus of the NY Times piece is Driscoll's Calvinism, something

that hasn't received a lot of press previously. Driscoll's a believer

in predestination, meaning that God decides before you're born whether

you're going to heaven or hell, and that no number of good deeds you

perform can change that. Of course, if one can be predestined for

salvation or damnation, one can probably be predestined for epic

douchebaggery as well.

Says Driscoll, "I can't worship a guy I

can beat up." So here's an idea. I'm pretty soft. But I do think I

could kick Mark Driscoll's ass. So, Mark, how's this: let's fight. If

you win, I'll worship your Jesus, at least for a Sunday. If I win, you

have to worship me. .

 
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