I'm a card-carrying member of the professional religious right. No, that's an understatement. To simply call me a "member" would profoundly understate my antagonistic role in the culture wars. Fans of comic book movies (and all of you should be) may remember a scene in X2, the sequel to X-Men, when Pyro tells a frightened police officer: "You know all those dangerous mutants you hear about in the news? Well I'm the worst one!" and then proceeds to wreak fiery havoc on an entire neighborhood.

I am that havoc-wreaking mutant (in a peaceful sense). I sue governments and individuals who deprive Christians of their constitutional rights. I'm the guy you will see on the "O'Reilly Factor" or hear on conservative talk radio decrying the abortion lobby, opposing jihadist Islam, or fighting to end the leftist ideological monoculture on campus. To the secular and religious left, I am the equivalent of a Sith Lord (or at least a particularly nasty apprentice).

In other words, I make my living fighting the culture war. I travel the country speaking to thousands of Christians about our cultural and political battles, I raise a significant amount of money to fight those battles, and I'm constantly interacting with the media—both religious and secular. In other words, I have my finger on the pulse of that part of Christian America that is particularly concerned with threats to life, to marriage, and to religious liberty.

And that's why I chuckle when I hear the common critique of the religious and secular left: "Evangelicals are obsessed with gays and abortion." The criticism is so common that it's often internalized and adopted by the church itself. Similar to our reaction to another leftist refrain ("Christians care about children until they're born"), we act as if the critique is legitimate—as if it's the result of some kind of empirical, good-faith analysis of Christian action in America. But it's not. It is, pure and simple, a talking point.

And it's false. Demonstrably false.

What if I told you that American Christians, in fact, are "obsessed" with helping the poorest and weakest members of our society? Would that improve our image? What if I told you that this "obsession" was so obvious as to be demonstrable even to the most hardened skeptic? Would that make you doubt the good faith of the "obsessed with gays and abortion" critique?

While the full scope and sweep of all Christian charitable activity (both in donations and volunteer time) would require book-length treatment, we can at least begin to isolate one critical factor: money. Our obsessions are reflected in our expenditures. Obsessed with Apple products, I have put my money where my heart lies: in an iPhone, an iPad, a Macbook Pro, and an iMac (and listing the rest of the family inventory would take the rest of this column). So where do Christians put their charitable dollars? What is their charitable obsession?

We can find part of the answer by looking at the budgets of the largest and most influential Christian organizations. A website called Guidestar publishes the tax filings of most charitable organizations, so register (it's free) and take a tour of Form 990s.

First, you'll notice that Christians do give lots of money to what I'd call "pure" culture war organizations, but not as much as the Left. The largest (by budget) include my employer, the Alliance Defense Fund, and the Family Research Council. Of the pro-life organizations, two of the largest are National Right to Life and Americans United for Life. These organizations raise quite a bit of money—almost $60 million combined. But it's not as much as the leading legal organization on the Left. The ACLU Foundation (which does not include the various state ACLUs) took in $98 million with the national ACLU itself raking in an additional $33 million.