day. Now he gets 200. Why the increase? "Now people are seeing that they can be more open with their faith in the marketplace and the workplace. They're more emboldened," says Chandler. "I also think a lot of people feel that we're in the last days, and we've really got to share our faith." The last days? One might have assumed that for evangelicals, these were the glory days. In fact, just as Chandler suggests, what's behind this surge in "Christian" businesses seems to be a little of both. Mark Justad, executive director of the Center for the Study of Religion and Culture at Vanderbilt University, attributes the growing visibility of "Christian" businesses to, on the one hand, "an increasing public awareness of Christianity and people's comfort with identifying themselves as Christian." "Comfort" seems to be a gentle way to put it, though. "There's been a concerted assault on this thing called 'the separation of church and state,' and the boundaries of where religion can and should be expressed are shifting," he continues, noting that the explicit "Christianity" of particular businesses is related to the increasing acceptance of religious expression in secular workplaces in general. "There's an aggressive assertiveness on the part of one aspect of the Christian church, charging that this is a Christian nation, our roots are Christian, and we shouldn't have to pretend that we're not. They see it as 'pretending that they're not' if they're not bringing their whole lives into the mix. I'm sympathetic to that, but it does beg the question of how to live in a pluralistic society with many viewpoints, which is also part of the American tradition." On the other hand, the act of identifying a business as explicitly Christian is "part of the ongoing culture wars, a statement that the culture still isn't Christian enough," says Justad. "You could see calling a business 'Christian' as an act of faith and an act of defiance at the same time." Cynical readers may at this point be thinking, Faith, schmaith: Couldn't calling yourself "Christian" be nothing more than an act of savvy marketing? Well, yes and no. Some so-called Christian businesses -- such as debt consolidators -- are guilty at least of the sin of spamming, and possibly of much worse. Debt Relievers Inc., for one, which also used the name Christian Debt Management, is currently under investigation for fraud by the Office of the Attorney General of Florida. But many business owners express sincere horror at the notion of using the Lord's name purely for gain. "Heck, no!" exclaims Mark Carr, founder of Christian Brothers Automotive, when asked if his company's name could be considered a marketing ploy. "One of the guys in church criticized me for that, and I got down on my knees and said, 'Lord, I would never use your name to capitalize on it.' I get a few snide e-mails about it, but I have to blow them off because that stuff is nonsense. I'm proud to have that name on my building, man. It's not for marketing purposes, because that turns my stomach." Others say that using the word "Christian" isn't so great for business to begin with. "If I was going to come up with a gimmick, I would come up with a better gimmick than that!" insists Irene Trammell, founder of This Is IT! Christian Fitness ... for Ladies in Pasadena, Md. (The "IT" represents her initials.) "I have made my market smaller by putting that sign up there." Trammell, who used to go in person to sell vitamins and nutritional supplements to area gyms, developed a distaste for the lyrics of the workout music and the fact that the women who were exercising could be seen from the street; one day she got into her car and heard a "still, small voice" -- a reference to the way God speaks to Elijah in 1 Kings -- suggesting that she start her own gym. "We have three big window shades in front, but I can hear through them what people are saying on the sidewalk: 'They're Christian? I'm not going in there!'" says Trammel. "It's actually unfortunate; this world is wicked and the name of the Lord sometimes repels people." Perhaps even fellow Christians, suggests Justad. "Christianity is very diverse, and there are a lot of people -- Christians -- who I know would feel that putting a 'Christian' sticker on one's business lacks humility," he says. Scripture itself, after all, warns against flaunting one's own righteousness. "There's a difference between Christianity in your heart and Christianity in your face," says James Twitchell, author of "Branded Nation: The Marketing of Megachurch, College Inc., and Museumworld" and professor of English and advertising at the University of Florida at Gainesville. But for many Christian business owners, it's not proclaiming their faith that would be insincere. The more liberally, or less devoutly, religious might see their lives divided into overlapping circles such as "personal," "professional" and "spiritual." But for an evangelical Christian, there is generally no clear line between "work" and "religion," no hard distinction between Monday through Friday and Sunday. "Jesus has placed on the hearts of Christians that they should get out there and let others know: 'I am God and I am going to be present in all aspects of people's lives, not just at church but seven days a week,'" says Trammell. Thus, for many born-again Christians, every action -- from prayer to wheel alignment -- is an opportunity to glorify God, perhaps even spread the Gospel. "I got saved at an Amway meeting, so the marketplace is where I invite Christ into my life," says Chuck Ripka, 46, co-founder of Riverview Community Bank in Otsego, Minn. ("We invited Jesus to be the CEO of our bank," he says, attributing the bank's "supernatural" growth -- from $5.5 million in start-up capital to $103 million in 27 months -- to divine intervention.) While the bank's name may sound generic (and the company Web site is "God"-free), the Ten Commandments banner in the foyer, the "God Bless You" sign at the tellers station, and the painting in the CEO's office of two businessmen shaking hands with Jesus, might tip customers off. "God has allowed us to be who we are: We're Christians and we're bankers, and we're allowed to mix the two. To me, it's seamless. We're a bank first, but in the midst of it all, when customers express their own needs, I am able to pray along with them," says Ripka, who customarily asks God's blessing for reporters at the end of interviews. For those who patronize certain businesses because they label themselves as Christian, that's affinity marketing at work: It's like going to the plumber you know from Bible study -- only now the plumber's advertising as such. "This is hardly new," says Twitchell. Back in the day, he says, "you went to church, you looked around, you saw a lawyer or a doctor who was part of the community, and you wanted to deal with them because they're familiar and you're going to see them on Sunday." The difference is that now, in the megachurches that dominate the evangelical landscape -- and often attract transient populations -- you often don't know your neighbor, he says. The result: Christian businesses need to make themselves known as such. One could say the same not just of megachurches but of the exurbs in general, many of which may have lost their everyone-knows-everyone town center to a local Wal-Mart. Some companies, in fact, such as the Christian Real Estate Network -- which pledges "to represent our clients as Christ would have us do, and to approach each transaction with a servant heart" -- have sprung up precisely to match up relocating Christians with Christian loan officers or real estate agents. The network has 360 agents in 48 states who are familiar with area churches and Christian schools. To the jaded homebuyer, "Christian real estate agent" -- much like "Christian auto mechanic" -- may sound like an oxymoron. That's also, of course, part of the point. The word "Christian" does seem to promise an exceedingly ethical, love-thy-customer, "How would Jesus sell?" approach to doing business, though Christian entrepreneurs themselves admit that it's no universal or automatic guarantee (two words: "Jim Bakker"). (They are also quick to add that they don't mean they wouldn't trust the local atheist electrician.) According to gym owner Trammel, there's just one downside to this assumption of Christian kindness: Customers occasionally figure that "Christian" means "nice to a fault." Trammell has had to explain that, no, just because she's a Christian doesn't mean she's going to let you break your contract. "You shouldn't expect to be able to steamroll over the Christian business, but you should expect to be treated more than fairly," she says. "The ones that are tricking people, they'll be found out," she adds, chuckling. "After all, he's the one in charge of the lightning bolts." Christian business owners a