Rachel Held Evans's Blog, page 4

Best Faith-Themed Reads For Summer 2016

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I get a lot of free books in the mail. 

Like, a lot. 

 It’s one of the many perks to doing what I do for a living. (Other perks: pajamas count as work attire, book purchases count as tax deductions, zoning out on Facebook at night counts as “platform building.”) 

Most of these books come to me from publishers and imprints with a faith-based focus, so at the end of each week I find myself sorting through a stack of freshly printed titles on topics ranging from biblical interpretation, to racial justice, to faith and doubt, to “Christian sex,” in the form of everything from spiritual memoirs, to specialty Bibles, to coloring books.  (No “Christian sex” coloring books…yet.) With a newborn in the house, I’ve had less time than usual to comb through this spring’s offerings. Still, there were a few standouts that I simply had to share in case you’re looking to add some Jesus to your summer reading list. These were the titles that most delighted and surprised me. Enjoy! 

(Note: I’m not paid for reviews, but I am an Amazon affiliate.) 

#1 Pick…

How To Survive A Shipwreck by Jonathan Martin

I’ve long enjoyed Jonathan Martin’s perspective on faith and life, but How To Survive A Shipwreck caught me off guard with its remarkable wisdom and beauty.  This is such a poetic and profound book. Drawing from the rich imagery of Scripture and speaking transparently from his own experience, Martin offers a series of reflections on surviving loss, failure, and change with your faith and humanity intact. 

This one was competing with a newborn for my attention, so I’d planned to simply scan it for endorsement, but a few pages in I turned to Dan and said, “this is not a book to be skimmed; this is a book to be savored.” So I took my time, reading while I was nursing, and underlining entire paragraphs so I could return to them again (when I’ve had a bit more sleep!). 

Highlights for me include a chapter on sea monsters that invites the reader to confront the untamed forces in our lives, a reflection on the apostle Paul’s meal on his threatened sea vessel as Eucharist, and this quote on presence—“If we will attend to this moment, God will attend to us.” 

Get your hands on this book if you can. I suspect it will become one of the treasures of your bookshelf. 

Best Memoir…

Bipolar Faith: A Black Woman's Journey with Depression and Faith by Monica Coleman (Releases July 1) 

We interviewed Monica Coleman for “Ask a Liberation Theologian…” years ago, so I knew her primarily as a scholar. But with Bipolar Faith, Coleman takes her place as one of the finest writers in Christian literature today. 

To say this is a book about depression is to severely limit its scope, which includes arresting reflections on race, sex, womanhood, death, love, community, church, and faith.  

A master storyteller, Coleman knits together the personal and the universal, the particular and communal to tackle some really difficult, complex topics but in a narrative style that leaves you eager to turn the next page. We need more books like this in faith-based publishing. They would make us wiser and more compassionate. 

 

In Theology/Bible…

Reviving Old Scratch: Demons and the Devil for Doubters and the Disenchanted by Richard Beck

Y’all know I love everything Richard Beck writes, but the man has simply outdone himself with Reviving Old Scratch. This is such a fun and insightful read! Lively, engaging, and super-relevant, Reviving Old Scratch revisits the theology of the devil and demons to forge a fresh way forward that avoids the conservative tendency to over-spiritualize the devil and demons on the one hand and the progressive tendency to reduce these powerful forces to social issues on the other. 

By understanding evil as a very real force in the world, Beck argues, we are better able to name it for what it is and thus to combat it as Jesus did. We resist the devil by joining the kingdom of God's subversive campaign to interrupt the world with love.

Even though I had two copies of Reviving Old Scratch already, I bought another one for my dad for Father’s Day and will likely be handing out more in the months and years to come. Next time someone asks me what I think about Satan, demons, or spiritual warfare, I’ll be glad to recommend something so simultaneously entertaining and challenging. 

Devotional…

Transformed by God’s Word by Stephen J. Binz, with Icons by Ruta and Kaspars Poikans

This unassuming little book sat on my desk for months before I casually cracked it open, only to be delighted by what I found inside.

Transformed by God’s Word combines the ancient Western practice of lectio divina (sacred reading) with the Eastern Orthodox tradition of visio divina (sacred seeing) by pairing reflections on twenty gospel readings with a series of beautiful, never-before published contemporary icons .

Each chapter takes the reader through six steps—reading, seeing, meditating, praying, contemplating, and acting—and also provides suggestions for self-reflection. It’s a gorgeous little book. I only wish I’d discovered this in time to recommend it for Lent.  

 

 

Justice/ Contemporary Issues…

Rescuing Jesus: How People of Color, Women, and Queer Christians are Reclaiming Evangelicalism by Deborah Jian Lee

This book is billed as an examination of progressive evangelicalism, but to me it read more like a series of dispatches from “the margins”—where the Spirit is working in some mighty ways.

Lee’s reporting skills really shine as she features the stories of women, people of color, and queer Christians are rising up to lead the Church.

Rescuing Jesus is a thoughtful, well-researched, and compelling page-turner that gives me hope for the future of Christianity. Those of you who long for a more just and inclusive evangelicalism will be encouraged by it. 

 

 

 Trouble I've Seen: Changing the Way the Church Views Racism by Drew Hart 

While racism is certainly not an issue that can be tackled in a few days, Drew Hart has managed to write a really fine book about it that can be read in a weekend. In Trouble I’ve Seen, he addresses police brutality, mass incarceration, antiblack stereotypes, poverty, and everyday acts of racism by placing them in the larger framework of white supremacy.

It’s an uncomfortable yet incredibly accessible read—perfect for a book club or church group new to the topic and work of racial justice. I was continuously impressed by the skill with which Hart managed to call out all the b.s. that tends to surface in well-meaning religious conversations around race (“stop being divisive; we should focus on unity!” “why dredge up the past?”) while maintaining a tone of approachability and grace. That’s not an easy thing to do. 

Here’s the endorsement I wrote for the back cover:  "Drew Hart masterfully cuts through all the platitudes and good intentions to reach the fleshy, beating heart of true justice. An unforgettable read, Trouble I've Seen deserves the Church's full attention and considered action. It certainly challenged and changed me."

Literature…

Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy

For more than a year now, I’ve been savoring this translation by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy, which includes an informative introduction and a series of delightful notes written by the translators to correspond with each poem. The poems themselves are of course transcendent, and revisiting them at this time in my life has rekindled my love for Rilke’s work and invited me to see it with new eyes. The narrator’s relationship with God in these poems is tender, complicated, dark, and disarmingly sincere. I would go so far as to say it is relatable— in deeply profound and moving way. Highly recommended for fellow “searchers,"

Rilke's Book of Hours has become one of my most treasured books. (Be sure to listen to this On Being episode with Joanna Macy)

Church…

The Next Worship: Glorifying God in a Diverse World by Sandra Maria Van Opstal

I don’t think or write a lot about worship, but after four or five people told me I needed to check out Sandra Maria Van Opstal’s work on multiethnic worship, I had to check this book out. I’m so glad I did!

Van Opstal describes herself as a “Chicago-born, second-generation Latina and preacher, trainer, liturgist and activist passionate about creating atmospheres that mobilize people for reconciliation and justice.” That passion is evident in The Next Worship, which provides biblical foundations for multiethnic worship, with super-practical tools and resources for planning services that better reflect the sounds and colors of the Kingdom. 

While the intended audience is clearly evangelicals, Van Opstal’s ideas are so considered and helpful,  so persuasively articulated, church leaders from all sorts of denominations will benefit. As I read The Next Worship, I was impressed with Van Opstals’ prophetic confidence. I suspect we will be hearing a lot more from this woman in the future, so keep her on your radar!

Guides for the Journey…

Out of Sorts: Making Peace With An Evolving Faith by Sarah Bessey

I received my review copy of Sarah Bessey’s Out of Sorts at the lowest, most exhausting point in my pregnancy and so I never got around to writing an endorsement, which killed me a little because Sarah is such a kindred spirit. And if you’ve ever experienced a crisis of faith, or are in the midst of one now, this book is a must-read.

Written in Sarah’s trademark style—incisive yet gracious, personal yet prophetic—Out of Sorts invites the reader to walk courageously through the tough questions of faith with a maturity that avoids cynicism on the one hand and naïve acceptance on the other. The thing I love about this book, (and all of Sarah’s writing), is that she really gets the evolving faith experience and how it’s not just an intellectual exercise, but rather a deeply personal and consuming rearrangement of the self that affects body, soul, relationships, and identity. When you’re wrestling with doubt and disillusionment, the thing you need most is a friend who understands. In Out of Sorts, Sarah pulls up a chair and offers healing words of encouragement and help. 

Spiritual Sobriety: Stumbling Back to Faith When Good Religion Goes Bad by Elizabeth Esther

If anyone knows the way out of an unhealthy religious environment, it’s my friend Elizabeth Esther. I love how this lady has taken the broken fragments of her past in a dysfunctional fundamentalist cult to piece together a roadmap for those who find themselves experiencing religious burnout. (If you haven’t read her first book, Girl at the End of the World, you must. It’s a page-turner!)  In Spiritual Sobriety, Elizabeth explores how religious fervor can become religious addiction and lights the path forward for those longing for sobriety. rarely is a single book this personal and practical. 

By Yours Truly...

Of course I love it when folks use the summer to pick up one or two of my own titles: Faith Unraveled, A Year of Biblical Womanhood, and Searching For Sunday

On My Nightstand…

A few titles I’ve yet to finish, but recommend: Life’s Too Short To Pretend You’re Not Religious by David Dark, The Very Good Gospel by Lisa Sharon Harper, and Boy Erased by Gerrard Conley. 

 

 

Let the World Change You: A Commencement Address Do-Over

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Way back in 2003, when people still left voicemails and Mark Zuckerberg’s “Facesmash” was just a mildly sexist college experiment, I was chosen by my classmates to deliver a commencement address at graduation ceremonies for our conservative Christian university. 

I took the honor seriously, prepping for weeks amidst all the final exams and senior parties, working through multiple drafts and soliciting feedback from my parents and professors. 

And I did okay, (though, to this day I still have nightmares about approaching that podium only to look down and realize I left my notes…or my pants… in my dorm room).  I admonished my classmates the way any other 21-year-old evangelical would admonish her peers: 

I told them to go out and change the world. 

I told them that as Christians, fresh off four years of apologetics training, we were uniquely equipped to speak the truth in love— 

that the world is dark, and we are the light,  

that the world is sick, and we have the medicine, 

that the world is lost, and we know the way. 

Granted, it was a different time. The ash of 9-11 still clouded the air. American forces had just unleashed “shock and awe” upon Baghdad and we were sure to be out of there in a matter of months. Evangelicals elected presidents and Pluto was a planet. 

It was easy to be overconfident. 

So I try to give my younger self some grace, especially since “go out and change the world” is a perfectly suitable message for a commencement address—it’s given all the time.  

But if I had it to do over, if I could somehow transport 34-year-old Rachel back to that sunny morning when things were simpler and I thought myself so much smarter, I would add: 

Class of 2003, let the world change you too. 

Because that’s exactly what happened after I descended that platform and walked into a world inhabited not by the straw figures I’d been taught to defeat and convert, but by flesh-and-blood human beings who didn’t stick to the atheist/Muslim/feminist/gay/liberal/poor/skeptic/foreigner script, a world less characterized by black and white certainties than by mile after mile and year after year of thick, impenetrable gray. 

I thought I was called to challenge the atheists, but the atheists ended up challenging me. 

I thought God wanted to use me to show gay people how to be straight. Instead God used gay people to show me how to be Christian. 

I thought the world needed my answers, but as it turns out, I needed the world’s questions. I needed to learn how to doubt well, listen better, and be humbled by how little I know. I needed to discover that evangelicalism is just one table in Christ’s banquet hall, the Great Cloud of Witnesses far more sprawling and diverse than I’d ever imagined. 

The world, it turns out, is not all weeds. There is evil growing, certainly, and fear and hate and prejudice. But I’ve found life sprouting out of all sorts of unlikely soil, wheat enough for a lifetime of harvests. 

I am so thankful for the feminist coworker who mothered me through my first reporting job, for the library where I discovered Richard Rohr and Marilynne Robinson, for the physicist who helped me embrace evolution, for trips to India and Bolivia, for conversations lasting until 2 a.m., for the foul-mouthed and tattooed Lutheran pastor who gave me permission to love the church again. 

These people and these things changed me for the better. They challenged everything I thought I knew, and I’m glad.  

Oh I resisted at first. Worried about compromising my beliefs, I clenched them more tightly and dug in my heels. So convinced it was my job to be Jesus to others, I nearly missed the chance to let others be Jesus to me—to teach me, heal me, love me, and call me to repentance. 

And lest you think I count myself finished, know this:  When I was a Bible-thumping, church-going, know-it-all Republican, God used bleeding-heart, politically-correct, question-everything liberals to teach me to be human, to challenge my notions of who the enemy is.  But now that I’m a bleeding-heart, politically-correct, question-everything liberal, God insists on using Bible-thumping, church-going, know-it-all Republicans to teach me to be human, to challenge my notions of who the enemy is. 

God, it seems, is rather stubbornly committed to extracting me from the notion that this is all about being right. 

Now, the 21-year-old me would point out that Scripture warns against “conforming to the patterns of this world.” Indeed, the world of the early Christians and the world of today tends to favor the destructive patterns of power over humility, materialism over generosity, retribution over forgiveness.  

But even the first apostles allowed themselves to be changed by goodness in the world.  When the law-abiding, kosher-eating, Roman-hating Peter encountered a Roman centurion who feared God and gave to the poor, Peter—to his own astonishment—says,  “I now realize how true it is that God does not show favoritism but accepts from every nation the one who fears him and does what is right.” He even goes so far as to share a meal with his new friend. “You are well aware that it is against our law for a Jew to associate with or visit a Gentile,” he tells Cornelius. “But God has shown me that I should not call anyone impure or unclean.” 

What a delight it is to be surprised! 

So if I had it to over again, I would tell my classmates:  

Before you can make your mark on the world, let the world make its mark on you. Be curious. Stay open. Nurture the humility it takes to admit you can get it wrong. 

And I would tell myself: 

“Rachel, in a few years, you’re going to doubt everything you said in your speech just now, and—guess what— you’re going to be okay.”

Follow Friday: Transgender Christians

It’s been reported that in the wake of all the controversy surrounding North Carolina’s HB2 “bathroom bill,” calls to transgender suicide hotlines have more than doubled. A quick glance at my Facebook timeline would explain why, as the amount of fear and misinformation being spread about transgender people seems to be reaching a dangerous peak. 

So for today’s Follow Friday, I wanted to feature some beautiful siblings in Christ who are doing the hard work of telling their stories, engaging the culture, and helping the Church better understand what it means to be a transgender person of faith. Please consider sharing their videos and articles online to counter some of the destructive messages getting airtime these days. (Or, better yet, invite them to speak at your conference or church!) 

Allyson Robinson 

I had the privilege of getting to know Allyson at the Why Christian? conference in Minneapolis last year, and she is one of the kindest, wisest people I’ve ever met. And with a background as an Army officer and Baptist pastor, with degrees in both physics and theology, she’s also one of the most interesting! 

Allyson is believed to be the first openly transgender person ever to be ordained by a Baptist church. She recently served as transitional pastor of Washington, D.C.’s Calvary Baptist Church, a congregation that has served the nation’s capital for over 150 years. Allyson is the founder and principal of Warrior Poet Strategies, a D.C. based consulting firm advising clients in organizational design, diversity and inclusion, and social and civic entrepreneurship. Previously, she led diversity initiatives at the Human Rights Campaign and was the first transgender person to lead a national LGBT organization as exective director of OutServe-SLDN. Allyson has degrees from West Point, Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University, Arizona State, and Oxford University. She’s been married to Danyelle for more than 20 years, and the two have four children. 

Also, this lady can preach! Allyson is one of my favorite speakers, not only on topics related to gender and sexuality, but also on topics related to science, faith, doubt, and bridge-building. Be sure to check out these talks…

At TEDx Nightingale: 
 

At The Reformation Project Conference, Washington DC: 
 

At the Progressive Youth Ministry conference, Dallas: 
 

Allyson will be speaking at Middle Collegiate Church in New York City on June 26, and at Foundry United Methodist Church in Washington D.C. on July 24. Be sure to check out Allyson’s Web site and follow her on Twitter. 
 

Austen Hartke 

I only recently discovered Austen’s work but he’s since become my go-to for resourcing Christians who are new to the topic of transgender identity and faith because this guy is SUCH a Bible nerd! He is perhaps best known as the creator of the YouTube series “Transgender and Christian,” which seeks to understand, interpret, and share parts of the Bible that relate to gender identity and the lives of transgender individuals. But he’s also got an excellent blog and active Twitter presence. 

Austen is a graduate of Luther Seminary’s Master of Arts program in Old Testament/Hebrew Bible Studies, and is the winner of the 2010 John Milton Prize in Old Testament Writing from the same institution. As a transgender person of faith, his greatest passion is helping other trans and gender-non-conforming people see themselves in scripture, and to walk with them in their journey towards wholeness.

Some of my favorite, most shareable articles from Austen include: “What does it mean to be transgender?,” “Dysphoria and Dysmorphia: Understanding Identity and Mental Illness,” and “Standing Up for Transgender Neighbors” 

Here's a sample from his "Transgender and Christian" series: 

Nicole Garcia 

Nicole Garcia is a transgender Latina who began her gender transition in 2003 while employed as a law enforcement officer for the state of Colorado. Ten years later, she resigned from her position as a state parole officer to complete her education in counseling. On May 17, 2014, she was awarded a Master of Arts in Counseling from the University of Colorado Denver and opened her own private counseling practice. She is enrolled in a hybrid online/campus Master of Divinity program through Luther Seminary in St. Paul MN, allowing her to pursue her calling to ordained ministry in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America.

Nicole has shared her story with The New York Times, RNS, and GLAAD. Check out her Web site, follow her on Twitter, and watch her speak at The Reformation Project conference in Kansas City: 

Asher O’Callaghan

I’m absolutely thrilled that Asher O’Callaghan agreed to speak at Why Christian? 2016! Asher serves as Pastor of Zion Lutheran Church in the small mountain town of Idaho Springs, Colorado. He’s bisexual and transgender. So after a fundamentalist upbringing, Asher thought he was done with organized religion. He fancied himself spiritual but not religious. But then he stumbled into a church called House For All Sinners and Saints (HFASS) in Denver and God screwed up all his plans. There he heard an invitation he couldn’t help but go share. From Christ’s open Table he heard: “Behold who you are. Become what you receive.” It changed everything. As a pastor, Asher still finds himself hungering for that same Meal every single week. 

Follow Asher on Twitter, and be sure to join us for Why Christian? in September. 
 

Lisa Salazar

Lisa Salazar has been a friend of the blog since she participated in “Ask a Transgender Christian” way back when.  

She is a photographer, educator, graphic designer, and the author of Transparently: Behind the Scenes of a Good Life.

Lisa shared her story with The New York Times here.  Be sure to check out Lisa’s Web site and follow her on Twitter. 

***

Note: Some additional trans voices are listed in this RNS piece by Eliel Cruz. 

‘Searching for Sunday’ Anniversary Giveaway

“I didn’t want to put my church story in print because, the truth is, I still don’t know the ending. I am in the adolescence of my faith. There have been slammed doors and rolled eyes and defiant declarations of ‘I hate you!’ hurled at every person or organization that represents the institutionalized church…Church books are written by people with a plan and ten steps, not by Christians just hanging on by their fingernails...And yet I am writing. I am writing because I suspect the awkward teenager in the yearbook picture still has something to say about the world, some sort of hope to offer it, if nothing more than a few hundred pages of ‘me too.’ I am writing because sometimes we are closer to the truth in our vulnerability than in our safe certainties…” - from "Dawn," Searching for Sunday

It’s hard to believe it’s been a year since the release of Searching for Sunday. I poured into those pages my best writing and my best effort to tell a story about Church that is at once honest and hopeful, imaginative and dusted with the earth of everyday life.   The response from readers confirmed what I’d only dared to hope—that I’m not alone, that there’s still a place for us misfits in the Church, that you can speak candidly about the struggles of faith without surrendering to naiveté on the one hand or cynicism on the other. 

Excerpt: “Body”
Excerpt: “Breath” 
Excerpt: “Going First” 
Excerpt: “The Labyrinth” 
Excerpt: “Table” 
Excerpt: “Resurrection”
Excerpt: “Sacraments” 
Excerpt: "Scars" 

Arranging the book around seven sacraments,  (baptism, confession, holy orders, communion, confirmation, anointing of the sick, and marriage) gave shape to my story and connected it to the stories of all who have met God in those tangible, tactile ways.  So one of the most rewarding elements of this particular creative experience was the way it inspired companion works from other artists.  

My sister Amanda Opelt, a singer/songwriter out of Boone, North Carolina, created a companion album to Searching for Sunday entitled “Seven Songs.” Her songs are haunting, beautiful, and lyrically profound. Amanda and I have always been close in mind and spirit, but there were moments in listening to the first cuts of Seven Songs that I felt she had reached into my brain and put my best dreams into song.

Take a listen to the first track, “Snow (Baptism)”. 

Another artistic response to Searching for Sunday came from Ruth Meharg, who created a series of acrylic paintings connecting the sacraments to the symbolically-rich imagery of birds. 

Baptism: 

Confession: 

Communion:

You can find Ruth’s amazing work at www.RuthMeharg.com. 

To mark the one-year anniversary of the release of Searching for Sunday, I wanted to do a special giveaway to thank those of you who have read and shared the book.

To enter, all you need to do is leave a comment below this blog post with your favorite quote or chapter from the book, or just a general comment about why you want in on the giveaway, by Monday April 18th at 9 a.m. EST.

1.    A personalized, signed copy of Searching for Sunday
2.    A download code for Amanda Opelt’s album, “Seven Songs” 
3.    A print of Ruth Meharg’s “Baptism” 

I’ll randomly select a winning comment and announce the winner's first name and last initial here on my blog soon after the April 18th deadline. Be sure to sign in to DISQUS (the comment system below) with your email so I can contact you if you win and get your mailing address to send you the book and art. I will email you the download code with redemption instructions for the album.

Thank you so much for all the feedback and encouragement you’ve offered through the years. It means more than you can know.

Buy Searching for SundayBuy "Seven Songs"Shop Ruth Meharg Art

 

The Absurd Legalism of Gender Roles, Exhibit D: ‘Biblical’ Manipulation

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[See The Absurd Legalism of Gender Roles, Exhibit A: Black Belt Stand Down; The Absurd Legalism of Gender Roles, Exhibit B: Guys and Dolls; The Absurd Legalism of Gender Roles, Exhibit C: “As Long as I Can’t See Her…”’]

It’s been a while since I’ve written here about Christianity, gender roles, and the whole egalitarian/complementarian divide, but a couple things prompted today’s post. 

First, our recent dive into parenthood has made me exceedingly glad we ditched the strict gender roles promoted by conservative evangelical culture in favor of a relationship characterized by mutuality and flexibility. Dan has risen to the occasion of fatherhood with more sweetness and energy than seems possible, changing diapers, doing seemingly infinite loads of laundry, rocking and burping the baby, making pot after pot of coffee (which we now refer to as “liquid hope”), researching baby poo on the internet, and so on. Owen Strachan of the Council on Biblical Manhood and Womanhood may characterize this shift in his priorities as a “man fail,” but for us, it’s working beautifully.  I’ve never loved and respected my husband more. 

Second, John Piper recently posted an article at Desiring God entitled “Six Things Submission Is Not,” intended to explain to women how they should and shouldn’t submit to their husbands under a complementarian (patriarchal) understanding of a “biblical” familial structure.  While I appreciate Piper’s rightful condemnation of a husband who demands his wife seek his permission before using the bathroom, I believe Piper’s entire premise—that wives must be subordinate to their husbands—is faulty, and that this article’s application of that premise can actually damage marital relationships by, among other things, impeding honest communication. 

To review: In their letters to the early church, the apostles Peter and Paul include what you might call a Christian remix of the traditional Greco-Roman household codes, which detailed the responsibilities of a male head-of-house, his wives, slaves, and adult children (see Ephesians 5,  Colossians 3, and 1 Peter 3).

Complementarians like Piper believe these instructions are universally binding, and argue that what makes the New Testament household codes countercultural is their rejection of feminism in favor of male headship.  However, Peter and Paul didn’t live in a feminist culture; they lived in a patriarchal one. Noting that wives are to submit to their husbands and slaves to their masters was nothing radical. The authors were essentially stating the obvious about the nature of their time and place in the world and expected social norms. What makes the New Testament household codes radical is that they take a step toward mutuality by directing all members of the household—those with power and those who are powerless—to emulate the humility of Jesus Christ in their relationships. Piper’s post about “what submission is not” contains a glaring omission, then—the fact that “biblical” submission is not meant to be one-way. In his letter to the Ephesians, Paul calls both wives and husbands, men and women to “submit to one another out of reverence for Christ” (Ephesians 5:21). Directing a “how to submit” list to women alone perpetuates the mistaken notion that the deference and humility celebrated in the New Testament household codes are exclusively feminine virtues. 

[Perhaps the strongest argument against Piper’s hermeneutical approach to the New Testament household codes is the fact that the very same hermeneutic has been applied to these passages to justify slavery. All three of the biblical passages that instruct wives to submit to their husbands are either directly preceded or followed by instructions for slaves to obey their masters, with phrases like “likewise” and “in the same way” connecting them.   If the New Testament household codes mean that patriarchy is a good, God-ordained system for all places and times, then to be consistent, one must also argue that slavery is a good, God-ordained system for all places and times. There’s really no getting around that.] 

I, (and many biblical scholars and fellow Christians), would argue the point of these passages is not that patriarchy is the best foundation for marriage, but rather that the humility and service of Jesus Christ is the best example for marriage…and any relationship. That’s a posture one can carry in a patriarchal culture or an egalitarian one, so faithfulness to Scripture does not require an embrace of patriarchy. If it seems as though I’m repeating myself, it’s because I’ve written on this topic dozens of times, including an entire series on the New Testament household codes, which you can read here.

Not surprisingly, trying to force first century societal norms onto modern-day marriages has proven…complicated…even among those who subscribe to this approach.  I remember countless conversations in the dorm rooms of my conservative Christian college about how to defer to a guy as the “spiritual leader” in a relationship, an ideal that far too often resulted in women deliberately diminishing their own gifts, ideas, and dreams in an effort to better play second fiddle. 

Forced gender roles impacts relationships in countless negative ways, but the one I want to unpack here is the way this form of legalism can hamper honest communication between spouses by requiring women to “influence” their husbands without ever actually leading them. 

In his post, Piper says, “submission does not mean you do not try to influence your husband” and suggests that a good test of proper male headship in a relationship is to examine who says “let’s” most often—as in, “let’s go out to eat, let’s try to get our finances in order, let’s get to church on time next Sunday.” He seems to be saying that a woman can guide her husband, but not directly, not overtly. 

Piper expands on this idea in his book, Recovering Biblical Manhood & Womanhood, in which he advocates for what he calls “non-directive leadership.” 

“To the degree that a woman’s influence over a man is personal and directive will generally offend a man’s good, God-given sense of responsibility and leadership,” he writes, “and thus contradict God’s created order…A wife who ‘comes on strong’ with her advice will probably drive a husband into passive silence, or into active anger.”  Instead, “a woman who believes she should guide a man into a new behavior should do it in a way that signals her support of his leadership.” 

Ironically, his choice for an example of “beautiful non-directive leadership” is the biblical Abigail, who in talking David out of killing Nabal, “exerted great influence over David…but did so with amazing restraint and submissiveness.”  Missing from Piper’s analysis is the fact that Abigail was far from submissive to her actual husband at the time (Nabal), rejecting his leadership by going behind his back to gather the provisions requested by the king and appearing quite pleased when he keeled over from a heart attack. (Also missing is any mention of the fact that the supposedly model marriage between David and Abigail included multiple wives and concubines.) 

Here’s the problem, as I see it: When women are instructed to “influence” men without leading them, to “guide” them without offending their fragile masculinity by using scary words like “let’s," we end up with women who must resort to non-direct communication in order to try and achieve their ends. The result is a relationship characterized by repression and manipulation. 

Indeed, I’ve endured plenty church-sponsored bridal showers in which the older women instruct the younger ones on how to get their way by “making him think it was his idea.” Even sadder, I’ve listened with a broken heart to women recount decades of frustration and pain that went unaddressed because they believed a good Christian wife avoids saying things like, “I want” or “I need” or “let’s.” 

Few things make me ache more than watching decent, Jesus-loving people struggle under the weight of legalism, and I’ve received countless messages from couples who did just that before casting off the ill-fitting roles imposed onto their marriage by complementarianism.  Anyone who knows anything about healthy relationships knows direct communication is key. You can’t expect your spouse to read your mind, and you can’t build an effective partnership by beating around the bush in an effort to stick to unnecessary hierarchal roles. W

Dan and I discovered early into our relationship that being honest and direct with one another saved a ton of time and spared us all sorts of needless frustration. Dan’s masculinity is not threatened when I’m upfront about what I think or when I tell him exactly what I want us to do. In fact, he prefers not having to guess at those things.  And contrary to everything you’ve heard from the complementarian camp, in nearly 13 years of egalitarian marriage we’ve never reached that big, bad hypothetical impasse in which we simply cannot agree and need someone to play a gender-based trump card to prevent paralysis.  It just hasn’t happened. 

When both parties look to the example of Jesus, decisions can be made together, with mutual humility, gentleness, and deference. 

While I’m sure it’s not Piper’s intention to encourage repression or manipulation in marital relationships, I’m convinced that’s often the result when women are instructed to protect the fragile male ego by practicing “non-directive leadership.” 

You know what’s way easier, and more natural? 

Honest, direct communication of wants, needs, and ideas. 

In my experience, most men—indeed, most people—respond much better to that anyway.

So let’s give it a shot. 

***

For more on all this, check out our 2013 series on mutuality and our 2014 series on the New Testament household codes. 

For Dan’s take, read “Dan on roles, leadership, and supporting your partner.” 

You might also enjoy my book, A Year of Biblical Womanhood.

Follow Friday: Drew Hart

Today I’m eager to highlight a writer, theologian, and justice advocate who penned what I believe is one of the most important books of 2016.  

Drew Hart is the author of Trouble I've Seen: Changing the Way the Church Views Racism, which released in January and which tackles police brutality, mass incarceration, antiblack stereotypes, poverty, and everyday acts of racism by placing them in the larger framework of white supremacy. It’s an uncomfortable yet incredibly accessible read—perfect for a book club or church group new to the topic and work of racial justice. I was continuously impressed by the skill with which Drew managed to call out all the b.s. that tends to surface in well-meaning religious conversations around race (“stop being divisive; we should focus on unity!” “why dredge up the past?”) while maintaining a tone of approachability and grace. That’s not an easy thing to do. 

Here’s the endorsement I wrote for the back cover:  "Drew Hart masterfully cuts through all the platitudes and good intentions to reach the fleshy, beating heart of true justice. An unforgettable read, Trouble I've Seen deserves the Church's full attention and considered action. It certainly challenged and changed me."

I urge you to pick up Trouble I’ve Seen today. You’ll probably finish in a day or two.  

(Note: Englewood Review of Books made Trouble I’ve Seen their book of the month. You can follow the discussion here.) 

Drew has also written some of my favorite blog posts and articles, not only on race, but also on discipleship, Christian history, urban ministry and peacemaking. (Drew comes from an Anabaptist background, which makes his perspective especially fresh and interesting.) 

Here’s how you can follow: 

Drew’s Web site 

Drew’s “Taking Jesus Seriously” column at Christian Century 

Drew on Facebook 

Drew on Twitter 

Office of the Night Watch: A Meditation on Nursing

© 2014 Jeffrey, Flickr | CC-BY-ND | via Wylio

If this is not prayer—this wordless, rhythmic meeting of souls, this dance both utterly instinctual and pull-your-hair-out hard—then I don’t know what prayer is. Do you, little one? 

They say the church fathers gave us fixed-hour prayer, but now I know the church mothers marked sacred time long before these hours had names like lauds, sext, vespers, compline, matins, and the office of the night watch. Mamas have been keeping watch for as long as God has cooed and whimpered and shrieked through a baby’s tiny lungs every hour…every two hours…or, if you’re lucky, every three. If this is not prayer—this half-awake yet fully-alive cycle of feeding and being fed, of fussing and fumbling through the dark—then I don’t know what prayer is. Do you, little one?  

Once, before your were born, I tried keep the offices for forty days. Baby, I gave up after five! Only the joyless saints of bygone time, I reasoned, would wake at 3 a.m. to talk to God. But there is no giving up this time around.  You are far more hungry for milk than I have ever been hungry to pray, little one. And so I rise again, and again, and again, never knowing if you will be sleepy or ravenous or recalcitrant, or if our next session will be like walking beside the still waters or wrestling with an angel. 

Perhaps it’s wrong to say it out loud, little one, but I suspect I will love you more than I will ever love God. Critics may call this a failure, but if three weeks of motherhood offer but a glint of the Ultimate Love coursing through the universe, then my heart could never bear it full force.  I love God the way you love me—wholly, but not on purpose, the way you are learning to breathe without being told how to do it, the way you root and claw at my breast until you are filled.  It worried me at first, how you only looked me square in the eyes for a few seconds before glancing away, but the doctors said this is normal, that those gazes just beyond my face are your way of taking me in without growing overwhelmed, of loving me without looking right at me. If this is not prayer, little one, then I don’t know what prayer is. 

The office of the night watch, between 1:30 and 4:30 a.m., is the hardest and the best. We are resting, yet working  We are two, yet one.  We are saying everything there is to say to one another without uttering a single word. Sometimes it feels like we are the only two breathing bodies in the universe, the only two souls awake and alive. So I pray: 

Keep watch, dear Lord, with those who work, or watch, or weep this night, and give your angels charge over those who sleep. Tend the sick, Lord Christ; give rest to the weary, bless the dying, soothe the suffering, pity the afflicted, shield the joyous; and all for your love’s sake. Amen. 

The office of the night watch is the hardest and the best. 

We keep it together, little one, and I am so glad. 

***

Note: As you may know, Team Evans has officially expanded to become a family of three! Our sweet little guy met the big, wide world three weeks ago and we couldn’t be happier…or sleepier. A textbook pregnancy ended with a textbook delivery, with all the right doctors and nurses in place. Dan has risen to the occasion of fatherhood with more energy, tenderness, and support than seems possible, and so far motherhood has proven exactly as my friends said—harder and better than I could ever imagine. This past year has taught me a lot about the limits and dangers of social media, so while I’ll share some reflections on motherhood from time to time, I won’t be posting pictures or details about the little guy himself on my public media channels. As a memoirist and blogger, I love sharing stories from my life with readers who care and relate, but not everything is for public consumption. Thanks ahead of time for respecting that boundary. Thank you, too, for all the heartfelt congratulations and encouragement. It has meant so much over these last nine months and will continue to buoy me in the challenging weeks and months (and years!) ahead. I am deeply, profoundly, inexpressibly grateful. 

 

Ash

© 2009 auntjojo, Flickr | CC-BY-ND | via Wylio

Today’s post is an excerpt from Searching For Sunday: Loving, Leaving and Finding the Church: 

We are made of stardust, the scientists say—the iron in our blood, the calcium in our bones, and the chlorine in our skin forged in the furnaces of ancient stars whose explosions scattered the elements across the galaxy. From the ashes grew new stars, and around one of them, a system of planets and asteroids and moons. A cluster of dust coalesced to form the earth, and life emerged from the detritus of eight billion- year-old deaths.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

In the creation story of Genesis; God shaped man out of the dust of the earth and animated him with divine breath. God placed the man in a garden by a river and taught him to tend it.  When God saw that man needed a partner in this work, God  created woman and together the pair learned how to be alive: to plant and prune, to laugh and make love, to crack open sticky pomegranates and dig dirt out from under their fingernails, to  recognize the distinct melodies of the birds and to walk with  God in the cool of the day. They lived in the shade of the Tree of Life and were naked and unashamed.

But when life was not enough, when the man and woman  wanted more, they sought
in the garden’s only forbidden tree—the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. They  thought its fruit would make them like God. But in their grasping and rebellion, in their independence and greed, they instead learned fear, anger, judgment, blame, envy, and shame. When God came to walk with them in the cool of the day, they hid in the brush, afraid. So God banished them from the garden, away  from the Tree of Life, and they understood that they would die.

By the sweat of your brow, you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken,” God  told the man. “For dust you are and to dust you will return”  (Genesis 3:19).

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

When the descendants of Adam warred against one another,  armies burned the cities of their enemies to the ground. The  sons of Adam and the daughters of Eve knew well the smell of ash, the bitter aftertaste of forbidden fruit. They knew, too,  the difference between good and evil, yet they chose evil again and again in a violent quest to be like God. The gray residue of incinerated matter signified destruction, mortality, grief, and repentance. In the wake of tragedy or in the anticipation  of judgment, our ancestors traded their finer clothes for coarse,  colorless sackcloth and smeared their faces with the ashes of  burned-up things. They ritualized their smallness, their dependency, their complicity.

“Put on sackcloth, my people, and roll in ashes,” said the  prophet Jeremiah, “mourn with bitter wailing as for an only son, for suddenly the destroyer will come upon us” (Jeremiah 6:26).

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

The Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil didn’t reveal  every secret. Even the wisest found its fruit pulverulent. Solomon  declared, “Everything is meaningless. All go to the same place; all come from dust, and to dust all return” (Ecclesiastes 3:19 20). When Job demanded an explanation for his suffering, God asked, “Where were you when I laid the earth’s foundation?  Tell me, if you understand” (38:4). Job retreated to a heap of ashes and cried, “Surely I spoke of things I did not understand,  things too wonderful for me to know” (Job 42:3).

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Once a year, on a Wednesday, we mix ashes with oil. We light candles and confess to one another and to God that we have sinned by what we have done and what we have left undone.  We tell the truth. Then we smear the ashes on our foreheads and together acknowledge the single reality upon which every  Catholic and Protestant, believer and atheist, scientist and mystic can agree: “Remember that you are dust and to dust and to dust you will return.” It’s the only thing we know for sure: we will die.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

But a long time ago, a promise was made. A prophet called  Isaiah said a messenger would come to proclaim good news to the poor and brokenhearted, “to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.” Those who once repented in dust and ashes “will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor” (Isaiah 61:3).

We could not become like God, so God became like us.  God showed us how to heal instead of kill, how to mend instead of destroy, how to love instead of hate, how to live instead of long for more. When we nailed God to a tree, God forgave. And when we buried God in the ground, God got up.

The apostle Paul struggled to explain the mystery: “The first man was of the dust of the earth,” he said. “The second man is of heaven . . . just as we have borne the image of the earthly man, so shall we bear the image of the heavenly man” (1 Corinthians 15:47–49).

We are not spared death, but the power of death has been defeated. The grip of sin has been loosed. We are invited to share the victory, to follow the path of God back to life. We have become like seeds about to transform, Paul said. “What you sow does not come to life until it dies” (1 Corinthians 15:36).

Life to death, death to life—like seeds, like soil, like stars.

No wonder Mary Magdalene mistook the risen Jesus for a gardener. A new Tree of Life has broken through the soil and is stretching up toward the sun.

***

Read more, (including chapters on the water, oil, and bread of the sacraments), in Searching for Sunday.  And listen to my sister Amanda Opelt's musical reflection on the sacraments in her album, "Seven Songs." 

Donald Trump and a Tale of Two Gospels

© 2014 nestor ferraro, Flickr | CC-BY | via Wylio

As it becomes clear Donald Trump’s candidacy for president will be more than a sideshow this year, the probable Republican nominee is making his pitch to Christian voters. 

You would think it would be a hard sell given the fact that the real estate mogul and reality star has boasted about his extramarital affairs, profited off casinos and strip clubs, said he doesn’t need to ask God for forgiveness, called for targeting innocent civilians in war, mocked a reporter with a disability, threatened the religious liberty of minority groups in the U.S., and gained wide support among white nationalists for consistently lying about and demeaning blacks, Mexican immigrants, Muslims, and Syrian refugees. 

But polls show that despite all of this, Trump remains favored among evangelical voters. After speaking at Liberty University last week, Trump scored an important endorsement from Jerry Falwell Jr., a prominent leader of the Religious Right who, to the applause of thousands, compared Trump to Jesus and Martin Luther King, Jr. 

Despite what the polls say, I personally don’t know a single evangelical Christian who considers Trump a model Christian. His scant church attendance and clumsiness at citing Scripture have not gone unnoticed here in the Bible Belt. Russell Moore of the Ethics & Religious Liberty Commission of the Southern Baptist Convention has been an outspoken voice against evangelical alignment with Trump, and I’ve found his righteous incredulity over Trump’s religious pandering refreshing. 

Yet Falwell’s support is hardly isolated, and I suspect if Trump is the nominee, he will continue to find even more of it from the Religious Right (which I designate as a subset of a broader and more diverse evangelicalism). Despite about a million think-pieces on the topic, the reasons are not that mysterious. Racism and xenophobia remain powerful forces in our country, as does celebrity worship, and white Christians aren't as immune from these influences as they like to think.

Indeed, a quick study of history shows the origins of Liberty University and the Religious Right lie not in their opposition to abortion (that came later), but rather in their opposition to racial integration. Trump’s message mirrors several postures that have characterized the Religious Right from the beginning: 1) a glorified nostalgia for the past (“make America great again!” “America was once a Christian nation!”) that minimizes the historical suffering of women and minority groups in this country, 2) an overwrought persecution complex that confuses sharing civil rights with others with being persecuted by them, and 3) a persistent fear of the perceived “other”—Muslims, LGBT people, immigrants, refugees, etc.—that results in culture wars meant to “take back” the public square. Trump’s promise that “everyone will say Merry Christmas” when he’s president appeals to those who think being wished “happy holidays” by a store clerk is a form of religious oppression (and who apparently remain unconcerned about how Trump's mandate will be enforced upon those of other faiths). Both the Trump campaign and the Religious Right movement begin with the assumption that things were better in this country when the culture was dominated by white Christian men and that things will get better if white Christian men are freed from the burden of “political correctness” and restored to dominance once again.  

But perhaps the most tantalizing of Trump’s pitches to the Religious Right, and the one with broadest appeal, is his promise to protect their power.

“I’ll tell you one thing,” he told a crowd in Sioux Center, Iowa, “I get elected president, we’re going to be saying ‘merry Christmas’ again…And by the way, Christianity will have power…because if I’m there, you’re going to have somebody representing you very, very well.” 

This is the gospel of Donald Trump, his “good news” to Christian voters:  Stick with me and you’ll be a winner. Stick with me and I’ll give you power, protection, prestige. 

It’s also the very thing Satan promised Jesus when he tempted him in the desert.

 “I will give you power and authority over all the kingdoms of the world,” Satan said, “it has been given to me and I can give it to anyone I want to.” 

While Jesus resisted the allure of power and privilege, it has long been a snare to his followers, and the Religious Right sold its soul long ago. Its support of Trump proves once again it will do anything to protect its power, even if it means baptizing as anointed a candidate whose rhetoric and actions contradict any sane understanding of what Christianity is about. 

Trump’s sloppy citations of Scripture are accepted by many at Liberty University because, as an arm of the Religious Right, the school’s primary function is political, not religious. The Bible is harvested for a few conservative sound bites, Jesus reduced to an object of veneration whose death saves but whose life and teachings remain inconsequential. When power is the end game, faithfulness bows to political expediency.

Another Gospel…

After his pep rally at Liberty, Trump was flying high, claiming with his usual hyperbolic flourish that Christians just LOVE him.  

…And then he made the critical mistake of actually walking into a church.

Last Sunday, Trump took a break from the campaign trail to surprise the congregation of First Presbyterian Church in Muscatine, Iowa with a visit to their regular morning service. 

[See “Donald Trump Accidentally Sat Through A Sermon About Welcoming Immigrants”]

Now understand, as a liturgical Mainline Protestant congregation, First Presbyterian Church follows the Revised Common Lectionary, which means the Scriptural passages for the service and sermon are determined years in advance.  Had Trump wandered into my church—St. Luke’s Episcopal Church in Cleveland, Tennessee—that morning, he would have encountered the very same texts. Thousands of congregations around the world—from Lutherans to Anglicans, to Presbyterians, to members of the United Church of Christ and other denominations—stick with this calendar as a way of pulling the days’ focus around a common theme. Nothing about the service would have changed just because Trump walked through the door...(well except maybe the tension in the room!)

The first Scripture reading that morning came from 1 Corinthians 12, and at First Presbyterian Church Muscatine, was read from the The Message, an idiomatic translation by Eugene Peterson: 

“But I also want you to think about how this keeps your significance from getting blown up into self-importance. For no matter how significant you are, it is only because of what you are a part of. An enormous eye or a gigantic hand wouldn’t be a body, but a monster. What we have is one body with many parts, each its proper size and in its proper place. No part is important on its own. Can you imagine Eye telling Hand, “Get lost; I don’t need you”? Or, Head telling Foot, “You’re fired; your job has been phased out”?…

Then came the sermon, which was based on one of the most important passages of the New Testament, the one where Jesus teaches at the synagogue in Nazareth and explains exactly what his ministry is all about: 

“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.”

This passage from Luke 4 is a declaration of the nature and aim of the gospel—the good news—and as the next verse reveals, it nearly got Jesus thrown off a cliff. As it turns out, the kind of people Donald Trump and the Religious Right deem acceptable collateral damage in their quest for power—the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized, the hated minorities—are the very people Jesus prioritized. His life and ministry started with them and his kingdom will ultimately be realized through them.  The gospel isn't about protecting power and privilege, but rather about surrendering them until God's vision of justice is fulfilled. 

As Rev. Dr. Pam Saturnia put it, “Jesus has come to proclaim freedom and healing to those who are the most unloved, who are the most discriminated against, the most forgotten in our community and in our world. Jesus has come to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor on the teenagers who are homeless, on the Syrian refugees, on the Mexican migrants, and the people who find themselves prisoners of addiction and their families, on the poorest of the poor in Haiti — Jesus has come for them.” 

After the service, Trump seemed a little defensive, wondering aloud to the press if the Corinthians passage was directed at him, (“I have more humility than people think,” he said), and arguing, “I want to take care of all people but with Syrians, we just can’t do it here.”  

But contrary to Trump’s prevailing worldview, this event had not in fact been orchestrated around him. The man had simply stepped into a big ole’ pile of actual gospel and immediately realized it contradicted everything he stands for.  

In contrast to Liberty University's convocation service, this church was a place where Scripture was quoted at length and in context, where the words of Jesus were honored and heeded, and where the vanities of a racist billionaire were challenged rather than coddled for the sake of financial and political gain.  Kudos to Rev. Saturnia for sticking with the prophetic word God had given for that day and not cowering or compromising because it might offend one of the most powerful men in the world. 

Donald Trump had an encounter with the gospel of Jesus Christ and rather than propping him up, it made him uncomfortable…as tends to happen with anyone who is actually paying attention, myself included. 

When I left evangelicalism for a Mainline church, I was teased by some evangelicals who informed me I’d picked the losing team. They reminded me that Mainline churches like my Episcopal church in Tennessee and First Presbyterian Church in Mascatine, Iowa, are losing members at faster rates than evangelical churches are losing them. I’d jumped the evangelical ship, the said, for nothing but a capsizing lifeboat.

They aren’t entirely wrong. We Mainliners don’t fill many mega-church buildings these days, and our pastors don’t typically write bestselling “biblical diet” books or get quoted on CNN. But what these critics fail to understand is I don’t go to church to be with a bunch of “winners." I go to church to be with the people of God, people transformed by the gospel of Jesus Christ. 

Sure, the “good news” of safety, popularity, and political power is more appealing to the masses, but it’s not the good news Jesus preached. Not by a long shot.  No one ever said the fruit of the Spirit is money, success, or political power. Rather, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and self-control - qualities that can be found in all types of communities be they conservative or liberal, evangelical or Mainline Protestant, big or small. Getting lots of people to go to church (or to attend a convocation/ political rally) isn’t the same as making disciples of Jesus Christ, and Christian leaders would do well to remember the difference. 

As Rev. Saturnia said, the words of Jesus tend to “comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable.” 

Last Sunday, those words were enough to make one of the most powerful men in the country squirm. How’s that for being politically incorrect? 

Christians, MLK Day, and Historical Amnesia

© 2012 Ron Cogswell, Flickr | CC-BY | via Wylio

On the second day of Martin Luther King Jr.’s imprisonment in a Birmingham jail, a guard slipped him a copy of the morning paper. By the dim light of his cell, King read the tall black letters that headlined the second page: WHITE CLERGYMEN URGE LOCAL NEGROES TO WITHDRAW FROM DEMONSTRATIONS. 

Eight Alabama pastors had penned a statement entitled “A Call for Unity” in which they expressed basic agreement with King regarding integration and Jim Crow, but took issue with his methods, arguing protests and sit-ins represented the sort of “extreme measures” that only incited racial tensions. This appeal to Christian unity and “law and order and common sense” found resonance among many of Birmingham’s white Christians. 

In response, Martin Luther King wrote his famous “Letter From The Birmingham Jail,” which has become a standard entry in freshman writing and rhetoric classes. His words are as relevant today as they were in 1963:

I have almost reached the regrettable conclusion that the Negro’s great stumbling block in his stride toward freedom is not . . . the Ku Klux Klanner, but the white moderate, who is more devoted to ‘order’ than to justice; who prefers a negative peace, which is the absence of tension, to a positive peace, which is the presence of justice; who constantly says, ‘I agree with you in the goal you seek, but I cannot agree with your methods of direction action.’ . . . Shallow understanding from people of good will is more frustrating than absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will. Lukewarm acceptance is much more bewildering than outright rejection. . . . We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the hateful words and actions of the bad people but for the appalling silence of the good people.

People in schools and churches across the country will pay homage to Martin Luther King Jr. today, and many will read “Letter From The Birmingham Jail,” which is right and good. 

But few will read “A Call for Unity” or any of the thousands of editorials, letters, articles, and sermons composed by American whites—most of them Christians—in opposition to King’s work.  We forget that just as our most heated discussions on social media emerge from the context of a cultural conversation, so too did the treatises of theologians and activists past.  When we familiarize ourselves with only one side of the debate (typically the side ultimately found to be just) we miss the full depth of the argument and, worse yet, slip into a sort of historical amnesia that allows us to believe we too would have chosen the side of good on account of its seemingly obvious virtue. 

Everyone does this of course, but today I want to focus on how we Christians in particular tend to whitewash history, a phenomenon recently explored by blogger Neil Carter in a post engaging Tim Keller’s book, The Reason For God. 

In The Reason For God, Keller argues that Christians have served on the front lines of nearly every social movement toward morality and justice in modern Western civilization, including the abolition of slavery and the Civil Rights Movement in America, which is certainly true given the religious demographics of Western and American culture. But as Carter rightly notes, there’s no denying the reality that these Christians faced their most adamant (and violent) opposition, not from atheists or Muslims or Hindus...but from other Christians. Reducing the struggles of the past to conflict between “the Christians” and “the culture” disregards the fact that slavery, Jim Crow, Native American removal, and all sorts of racial and gender inequalities have all flourished in a supposedly Christian culture. 

Of course it is just as erroneous when (some) atheists claim religion serves only as an impediment social justice. After all, Dr. King was a devout Christian who masterfully appealed to Scripture to comfort the oppressed and challenge their oppressors. To downplay the sincerity of his faith, and the faith of many who have worked for justice and compassion through the centuries, dishonors their legacy in another way. 

But it cannot be forgotten that Christian ministers wrote nearly half of all defenses of slavery in the buildup to the Civil War, and that many segregationists cited religious freedom to justify their opposition to integrating private Christian schools. Dr. King was not as universally beloved at the time of his assassination as he is now and in 1966 carried a 63% disapproval rating. It seems it’s much easier for white people to sing the praises of Martin Luther King Jr., Rosa Parks, and other civil rights leaders when they are dead than when they are alive and making us uncomfortable. 

This is why I believe it’s so important to study both historical religious arguments supporting the abolition of slavery and historical religious arguments opposing the abolition of slavery (see my post on Mark Noll’s The Civil War as a Theological Crisis” for a sampling), as well as historical religious arguments supporting desegregation and historical religious arguments opposing desegregation—not because I believe both sides are equal, but because the patterns of argumentation that emerge are so unnervingly familiar: 

The Bible is declared "clear" on a matter to oppose any challenge to the status quo. 

Those disrupting social norms are said to be threatening the peace and Christian unity.

Sympathy may be expressed for the plight of the oppressed, but their methods of protest are criticized as “disruptive” or “uncivil.” 

Civil rights are opposed on the grounds of religious freedom. 

Those calling attention to systemic injustice are accused of inciting tensions rather than simply calling them out. 

Deaths are justified because the dead brought it on themselves by committing some infraction. (I'm thinking here of the similarity between justifications for lynchings in the past and justifications for police brutality in the present.) 

And on and on it goes. 

It’s easy to comfort ourselves with the thought that Christians of the past were only using religion and Scripture to support their oppression, but in truth those Christians rarely saw it that way. Often the difference between using Scripture to justify injustice and appealing to Scripture to support the truth proves clearest in hindsight. Pride, privilege, and confirmation bias are formidable adversaries on the path to justice, which is why we must familiarize ourselves with past justifications for oppression or inaction lest we make the same mistakes again. 

We see all of this play out today as Liberty University observes MLK Day by hosting Donald Trump as its convocation speaker. Trump has enjoyed wide support from white supremacist groups on account of his hateful rhetoric regarding Muslims and immigrants, and the Republican frontrunner has shared bogus crime statistics from white nationalist Web sites to oppose the #BlackLivesMatter movement and stir up fear of black people. 

When protestors questioned Liberty’s timing, officials responded by saying they plan to honor Martin Luther King Jr. as they do every year with a short tribute video.

It would be funny if it weren’t so insulting.  (Note: Some Liberty students plan to hold a protest outside the event.) 

I suspect that missing from the tribute video will be any acknowledgement of the fact that the founder of Liberty University, Jerry Falwell, vehemently opposed the work of Martin Luther King Jr, publicly condemned him as a communist, and delivered an impassioned sermon the day after King's march to Selma opposing civil rights marchers as “left wing leaders” whose only aim was to stir up racial tensions and violence. Missing also will be any mention of the fact that Falwell and other conservative evangelicals fought tooth and nail against the 1978 ruling that stripped tax-exempt status from all-white private schools formed in reaction to integration, calling it a violation of their religious freedom. (For more on Liberty’s history of racism, see “When Donald Trump goes to Liberty U” by Stephen Prothero.) 

Inviting a white supremacist to speak on MLK day and then supposing that a short tribute video will make up for it shows just how real and pervasive the “shallow understanding” and “lukewarm acceptance” King warned about remains a part of white Christian culture.  

So, white folks, before you share that MLK quote on Facebook or join in a service project today, ask yourself: 

Would I have disobeyed the instructions of my pastor and walked alongside black protestors in Birmingham? 

Would I have risked being seen as a troublemaker by friends and family for joining a movement that landed many of its participants in jail? 

Would I have been willing to sacrifice my reputation as a “Bible-believing Christian” by rejecting biblical arguments used to support segregation and oppose civil disobedience? 

Am I ready to consider how I might be complicit in similar injustices today? 

I wish I could be more certain my own answer would be yes. 

***

Additional Resources: 

Birmingham Revolution: Martin Luther King Jr.'s Epic Challenge to the Church by Edward Gilbreath

Forgive Us: Confessions of a Compromised Faith by Mae Elise Cannon, Lisa Sharon Harper, Troy Jackson, and Soong-Chan Rah

 

The Civil War as a Theological Crisis by Mark Noll

The Cross and the Lynching Tree by James Cone

The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in an Age of Colorblindness by Michelle Alexander