In my latest letter on The Resistance Prays, I'm considering how we can pursue faith-based unity. Not just with religious progressives, but within the religious community in general. Can unity and resistance exist side by side? My thoughts.
I've been a little quiet on my site, but it's not for lack of writing! I've been making my way around the interwebs, and prepping for conference presentations, new opportunities, and writing where and when I can.
One new endeavor is a regular spot writing for The Resistance Prays. Started by a fellow alum of my seminary, these daily email newsletters focus on a piece of news and then give people biblical, prayerful ways to respond.
My latest letter focuses on the impending threat to DACA, and what we can do now to defend it - while reminding ourselves that as people of the Christian faith, we have a long line of spiritual ancestors who know what it's like to be "strangers in a strange land."
You can sign up for the daily letter here.
I mentioned almost exactly a year ago that I would be writing an essay for a book in response to one of my favorite modern theologians, Tom Oord. His book, The Uncontrolling Love of God, examines new concepts in Free Will and Open Theism. The book of essays -- called Uncontrolling Love - contains responses to his work from a number of different perspectives.
The book came out earlier this month and of course I'm super excited to see my name in print! As part of the launch efforts, I did a Facebook live video where I primarily talked about how we can re-imagine some of the "traditional" conceptions of God - such as omnipotence, omniscience, determinism, etc. - in light of Uncontrolling Love. You don't have to be logged into Facebook, or have a Facebook account to watch it. And I hope you'll give it a listen!
I’ve been operating under a false assumption. An unexamined theology, of my own making, that I have been forced to confront: The gospel is good news, but it is not good news for all. At least not in the way we want it to be.
"Good news for all" is often understood to mean "we are free to live an unexamined life." Free to prop up our self-serving theology with Scripture, twisted to support any endeavor we pursue.
I have done this. The church as I know it has done this. White Christianity has done this. And I am convicted to say that the gospel is, for many of us, not good news. Its very essence is a message we probably aren’t going to like. But I know with a certainty — beyond my own doubt and fear of repercussion or implication — that it’s a message the white, wealthy, comfortable church in America needs to hear.
I’ve been operating under a false assumption. An unexamined theology, of my own making, that I have been forced to confront: The gospel is good news, but it is not good news for all. At least not in the way we want it to be. "Good news for all" is often understood to mean "we are free to live an unexamined life." Free to prop up our self-serving theology with Scripture, twisted to support any endeavor we pursue. I have done this. The church as I know it has done this. White Christianity has done this. And I am convicted to say that the gospel is, for many of us, not good news. Its very essence is a message we probably aren’t going to like. But I know with a certainty — beyond my own doubt and fear of repercussion or implication — that it’s a message the white, wealthy, comfortable church in America needs to hear.
Read more in my latest post, up on Sojourners.
What is the great commission? It's a universal call to do the work of Jesus' gospel, living and speaking it out. Read in context, it's also an antidote to doubt. Did you know that right before the disciples are told to "go into all the world," many of them are doubting the resurrected Christ?! And yet, Jesus calls them into the message of the kingdom: to speaking, and teaching, and even leading.
The great commission provides powerful evidence that doubt can exist alongside faith, and that we can be mobilized to put that faith into action in spite of - or maybe even because of - our doubt. My latest sermon, in blog form, is up on Women in Theology.
I had the incredible opportunity to write a piece for Christianity Today about how peace, as we often understand it, may actually not be the most loving response to the people we care about.
We live in an age of sharp division. According to the Pew Research Center, an “overwhelming majority” of Americans (86%) believe the country is more politically divided than it has ever been before. These political and ideological differences aren’t merely a matter of red or blue states; these same sharp divisions exist within many families, potentially alienating parents from children, sisters from brothers. When we disagree with those we love about some of our most closely held beliefs, must keeping the peace always mean keeping quiet?
You can read more here.
Since the beginning of organized religion, people have been claiming that their way is the only way. In this famous passage from John, Jesus appears to do the same thing. He says: “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to God except through me” (John 14:6). This text is simultaneously used to bolster claims of Christian exclusivity, meanwhile causing concern for people who believe God’s truth is revealed inside and outside of Christianity.
In Jesus’ own words, is he substantiating a view that Christianity is the only way to God? Our combination of in-the-weeds interpretation and over-arching scriptural themes can help us here. This is another challenging passage when held up to the scriptural themes we’ve focused on: order, love, justice, renewal.
As a traditional statement of the exclusivity of Christianity, it’s hard to see where love and renewal might be experienced. Perhaps there is an element of order and justice for people who are willfully disregarding Jesus’ invitation to life in God. But even then we are forced to come back around to our other themes and, I think, admit that this seems a bit vindictive in light of God’s word revealing God’s heart for love and renewal.
So let’s get a bit into the weeds with some context.
IN Judaism, but not OF Judaism
Scholars think that the Johanine audience was a close-knit community of Jews who had come to confess Jesus as Messiah … but they were still active and participating in the Jewish community, perhaps trying to convince people of Jesus’ salvation. John was written within and to this group: Jews who were now following Jesus.
After the destruction of the temple in AD 70, scholars think this group of people was expelled from Jewish community, which would have resulted in deep feelings of social, religious, economic, and familial dislocation. Although John is sometimes criticized for only being concerned with the community of Christ-followers, it’s understandable given the history of the audience.
Read with these circumstances in mind, John 14:6 is perhaps more about an appeal for unity within an oppressed community, than it is a statement of exclusion.
The way to God is God
Broadening our view out to the wider textual context brings further clarity. This is Jesus’ farewell to the disciples, a group of people who (at least on their good days!) already believed. Jesus assures them that he must leave to prepare a place for them (with many rooms!), but that he, God, and the spirit will be with them. He encourages the disciples that through love, they already know what to do: love Jesus, and act in that love as Jesus acted. This will bring them to relationship with God.
Which, perhaps, is what this passage is actually about, when put in the context of the original audience and the Johanine early church: Relationship. It’s may not be about other religions at all, or even about salvation. It’s about Jesus inviting those who follow him to relate to God through him.
Author Steve McSwain puts it in a way I find particularly helpful: Jesus is saying, “If you believe anything, believe not WORDS but the WAY to Life itself. My way ... will guide you into the Eternal. In fact, you cannot separate the way to God from God herself. The way to God IS God.”
Another way I think about it is this: beyond being a literal, 33-year-old person who walked and talked among us (something I do think is true, and beautiful) Jesus was the divine in-breaking of God, ultimate Love, the Word, good news. He was, is, and will be earth-altering Love that dwells in us and around us, calling us to a place of right relationship while nurturing our brokenness. Wherever we see these things taking place, Jesus is there reconciling creation to divine Love.
Faith accompanied by action
Like in so many other passages, when we really drill down, and simultaneously take a birds-eye view we see a call to action: a call to right relationship, to follow Jesus on the way, to live the life he laid out, and embody the truth we claim. We get to know God though Jesus who, like he told his disciples, is God-in-action. We find Jesus in so many places. Understood this way, I think we can flip this passage from being a statement of exclusivity, to a statement of inclusion. And this, perhaps, is one of the most beautiful threads of scripture.
(I published a version of this post a few months ago on Women in Theology, but I addressed it in my Troubling Texts class and thought it was worth updating and re-hashing in light of my current interpretive efforts.)
As we dive into another week of looking at specific troubling texts, I want to reframe our understanding of the Binding of Isaac, and offer an alternative interpretation.
What if we’re making the wrong assumption about the “testing” happening in the story of the binding of Isaac (Gen 22:1-18)? Traditionally we read this story to be about God’s call for Abraham to be willing to sacrifice his son. Different modes have been used to try to make sense of this: Maybe Isaac knew God would provide a different sacrifice; maybe it’s a (disturbing) lesson in priorities; maybe the authors - from their position writing at a later date and knowing the outcome - created or read into this story the extent of God’s involvement in order to convey themes of obedience and faithfulness to a people that was prone to wander.
But as I’ve struggled with this text, and come up against these interpretations I’m forced to acknowledge that they don’t fully honor the story I believe the Bible to be telling: A story about a God who is creating order out of chaos, ushering divine, inclusive love into the world through a call for right treatment of creation, in order to bring about renewal and redemption in the world.
To be sure there are other stories scripture is telling — a need for obedience being one — that the Binding of Isaac text might more closely align with. But when confronted by a story that doesn’t seem to pass muster when related to God’s love and care for creation, I feel compelled to investigate! And this is exactly why it may be helpful to view the Binding of Isaac from a different perspective.
Re-examining our traditional interpretation
I agree that the traditional interpretations of this story, which hang on righteousness and obedience, need to be wrestled with as well. But what if the “testing” isn’t about Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice Isaac, but is about his willingness to engage with God about what Abraham knows to be right? What if Abraham’s response isn’t the one God is looking for? What if Abraham is taking faithfulness to an ungodly conclusion?
The heroines and heroes of the Bible are frequently tested - it’s a literary tool just like the plots in our favorite epic adventure tales: ordinary people are called into overwhelming circumstances which they manage to conquer through reliance on a divine power.
Perhaps no tale comes to mind to better illustrate this point than the story of Job. His character is cast as being righteous and good (Job 1:1). When calamity befalls him and he is tested, he continues to put his faith in God - but he doesn’t take it lying down. In fact, his push-back leads to a dramatic revelation of God’s character and power (Job 38-41). God is seen reminding Job of who God is, but not as rebuking Job for having complaints and questions in the first place. The authors put Job and God in dialogue, and without Job’s half of the conversation, we might not have had the opportunity to witness divine revelation.
Moses’ story has a similar effect. He pushes back against God’s call to lead the Israelites, and in the course of the back-and-forth, God reveals the core of God’s essence: God is I AM, being itself (Ex 3:14).
So at the very least God can definitely handle push back, and we could even make the argument that God encourages or rewards a healthy dialogue. A well-reasoned back-and-forth is exactly NOT what happens in the story of Abraham and Isaac. It’s clear from different parts of the story - and absolutely expected! - that Abraham doesn’t WANT to do what’s been asked, but he isn’t fighting back. It’s not because he’s afraid to fight back: he has argued with God in other instances, like when he questioned whether or not he and Sarah will have a child, or when he advocated on behalf of the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah (Gen 18:16-33).
Maybe God is expecting Abraham to continue in this vein, in which case we can only speculate about the outcome. Maybe God had another point to teach that would have been illustrated through a discussion with Abraham, maybe God was actually encouraging Abraham’s love and devotion to Isaac. Of course, these are all hypotheticals gleaned from reading between the lines. What we do know is that - regardless of if there was another, more ideal way this story could have played out - in the end God praises Abraham’s faithfulness.
Yes, God commends Abraham for not withholding Isaac, but could God have been surprised at Abraham’s compliance? Could this have gone another - more faithful - way? As it is, Abraham complies with God’s literal request, and prepares to sacrifice Isaac. Reading this story from an alternative perspective filtered through our themes of order, love, justice, and renewal, we can see how God make senses of humanity’s mess. God reveals a nature that brings order from chaos by providing a different sacrifice.
Order from chaos
As we’ve discussed in previous posts, God’s tendency to make order out of chaos becomes a theme in the Bible. When Israel is wandering in the desert, grumbling, God sends them guidance (Ex 13:21) and provisions of food (Ex 16). When things start to spiral a little too far out of control, God calls judges, prophets, and ultimately kings. When the Israelites are eventually exiled to captivity, God finds a way to draw order even into such desperate circumstances through characters like Daniel who remain faithful, or the remnant of Israel that helps Nehemiah rebuild the city of Jerusalem.
And in the binding of Isaac story, when Abraham is ready to take his faithfulness to disastrous ends, God steps in to calm the chaos and provide another sacrifice.
In fact, at just about every turn, God is creating order out of chaos. It’s a recurring theme in the Biblical narrative and - as I’ve argued in previous posts - an overarching theme throughout all of creation.
Read with this theme in mind, I think we can take Abraham’s “testing” as a call to engage with God in discerning dialogue when things don’t make sense or we feel too much is asked of us. But whether or not we behave this way, God continues to weave God’s spirit through our stories, leaving open the possibility for divine redemption - no matter what results our decisions lead to.