theology

“Jesus Feminist” and the Why We Need Women Theologians

church, Evangelicalism, theology, women

Although John Piper and I would disagree on how this plays out, a quote of his has stood out to me:

Wimpy theology makes wimpy women. Wimpy theology simply does not give a woman a God that is big enough, strong enough, wise enough, and good enough to handle the realities of life in a way that magnifies the infinite worth of Jesus Christ.”

A few months back I read the book “Jesus Feminist” by Sarah Bessey. The book is simply marvelous. A lot of female theologians tend to bullhorn their theology in a way that is counteractive.  Bessey writes in a way that is empathetic and has a way of saying, “You may disagree, but we both love the Lord the same. Neither of us is more right than the other.”

Her book reminds me why we need female theologians:   We need people to express God’s Word in ways that are sensitive, nurturing, and that narrate the stories of our lives. Bessey’s book does that.

Here are some of my favorite quotes:

So may there be grace and kindness, gentleness and love in our hearts, especially for the ones who we believe are profoundly wrong. The Good News is proclaimed when we love each other. I pray for unity beyond conformity, because loving-kindness preaches the gospel more beautifully and truthfully than any satirical blog post or point-by-point dismantling of another disciple’s reputation and teaching. (p5)

Years ago, I practiced anger and cynicism, like a pianist practices scales, over and over. I practiced being defensive —about my choices and my mothering, my theology and my politics. And then I went on the offense. I repeated outrage and anger. I jumped, Pavlovian, to right every wrong and defend every truth, refute every inflammatory blog post, pontificate about every question. Any sniff of disagreement was a dinner bell clanging to my anger: Come and get it! Rally the troops! Like many of us, I called it critical thinking to hide my bitter and critical heart, and I wondered why I had no real joy in this ongoing search for truth. . . I won’t desecrate beauty with cynicism anymore. I won’t confuse critical thinking with a critical spirit, and I will practice, painfully, over and over, patience and peace until my gentle answers turn away even my own wrath (pp. 5-6).

We can choose to move with God, further into justice and wholeness, or we can choose to prop up the world’s dead systems, baptizing injustice and power in sacred language.  (p. 14).

I’m pretty sure my purpose here on earth isn’t to win arguments or perform hermeneutical gymnastics to impress the wealthiest 2 percent of the world. (p. 16).

Throughout the records of the Gospels, I saw how Jesus didn’t treat women any differently than men, and I liked that. We weren’t too precious for words, dainty like fine china . We received no free pass or delicate worries about our ability to understand or contribute or work. Women were not too sweet or weak for the conviction of the Holy Spirit, or too manipulative and prone to jealousy, insecurity, and deception to push back the kingdom of darkness. Jesus did not patronize, and he did not condescend. (pp. 17-18).

“God bless your mother— the womb from which you came, and the breasts that nursed you!” Yet Jesus replied to this common blessing with “But even more blessed are all who hear the word of God and put it into practice.”  Women aren’t simply or only blessed by giving birth to greatness; no, we are all blessed when we hear the Word of God—Jesus— and put it into practice. We don’t rely on secondhand blessings in Jesus.  (pp. 20-21).

I stopped expecting everyone to experience God or church or life like I thought it should be done. In fact , I stopped using the word should about God altogether, I sought God, and he was faithful to answer me. I came to know him as “Abba”— a Daddy. He set me free from crippling approval addiction, from my Evangelical Hero Complex, from the fear of man. He bathed my feet, bound my wounds, gave rest to my soul, restored the joy of church and community to our lives. I learned the difference between critical thinking and being just plain critical. And I found out that he is more than enough, always will be more than enough— yesterday, today, forever. (pp. 49-50).

Stay there in the questions, in the doubts, in the wonderings and loneliness, the tension of living in the Now and the Not Yet of the Kingdom of God, your wounds and hurts and aches, until you are satisfied that Abba is there too. You will not find your answers by ignoring the cry of your heart or by living a life of intellectual and spiritual dishonesty. (p. 52).

People want black-and-white answers, but Scripture is rainbow arch across a stormy sky. Our sacred book is not an indexed answer book or life manual; it is also a grand story, mystery, invitation, truth and wisdom, and a passionate love letter. (pp. 56-57).

It’s dangerous to cherry-pick a few stand-alone verses, particularly when they are used as a weapon to silence and intimidate, effectively benching half the church in the midst of holy harvest season when the harvest is plentiful and the workers are few. But it is equally dangerous to simply get on with doing what we “feel” is right. We cannot ignore any portions of Scripture simply because they make our (post) modern selves uncomfortable. We can’t simply dismiss the parts of the Bible we don’t like— not if we call ourselves followers of The (whole) Way. Nor should we weigh the desires or practices of our own culture and personal experiences to the exclusion of Scripture or tradition  or reason. Theologian N. T. Wright believes that to affirm the “authority of Scripture” is precisely “not to say, ‘We know what scripture means and don’t need to raise anymore questions.’ It is always a way of saying that the church in each generation must make fresh and rejuvenated efforts to understand scripture more fully and live by it more thoroughly, even if that means cutting across cherished traditions.” (pp. 58-59)

But then who is the spiritual head of your home? Only Jesus. Only ever our Jesus. (p. 74).

No, I am a biblical woman because I live and move and have my being in the daily reality of being a follower of Jesus, living in the reality of being loved, in full trust of my Abba. I am a biblical woman because I follow in the footsteps of all the biblical women who came before me.  (pp. 97-98).

Stop waiting for someone else to say that you count, that you matter, that you have worth, that you have a voice, a place, that you are called. Didn’t you know, darling? The One who knit you together in your mother’s womb is the one singing these words over you, you are chosen. Stop waiting for someone else to validate your created self: that is done. Stop holding your breath, working to earn through your apologetics and memorized arguments, through your quietness, your submission, your home, your children, and your “correct” doctrine that God has already freely given to you. Because, darling , you are valuable. You have worth, not because of your gender or your vocation or your marital status. Not because of your labels or your underlined approved-by-the-gatekeepers books or your accomplishments or your checked-off tick boxes next to the celebration you’ve mistaken as a job description in Proverbs 31. (pp. 192-193).

Call Me a Boom Baptist.

christianity, millennials, theology, unchurched

Evangelicalism is getting radical.

In my last post on what Millennials want, I hit on this, but not completely: Evangelical Christians are not fitting into a mold anymore.  Millennials are desiring to live a faith that is not dichotomized into liberal/conservative, Democrat/Republican, evangelical/mainline categories. Millennials just want to live like Jesus, and that’s not in some pretty boxed-up category.

I’ve been taught my whole life that being anything but Southern Baptist was just not “the way.”

Then I went to a SBC college, took theology and doctrine classes, and learned that it was possible that I would spend eternity with other denominations, as long as they were evangelical or didn’t baptize babies.

Then I graduated college and spent some time in an Evangelical Presbyterian church, a church that taught me that baptizing babies wouldn’t send you to hell.

And now I work in a Mainline church, so I hope that isn’t true.

I share my background to let you know that I have grown a lot. I’m constantly being shaped.

So are a lot of Evangelicals that I HIGHLY respect.  The best example is Lecrae, a Christian Hip-Hop artist whose initial songs were so explicitly Jesus, that they were cheesy. His next round of albums, although amazing, had such deep theology in its lyrics that you had to be a pretty mature Christian to even really understand what was going on.  Now, his music has turned up (Turnt up?) in production quality, but isn’t so explicitly Jesus anymore.  Some conservative Christians think he’s turning back on his faith. But as Lecrae points out countless times, especially in this Huffington Post article, he’s trying a new approach to reaching people for Christ: loving on them. Walking with them. And stopping the shoving of Jesus down their throats. I could lie and say that nothing about Lecrae has really changed, but au contraire: Lecrae is trying to imitate Jesus instead of just preaching him.

I feel like I relate to that so incredibly much, and I often struggle with how I’m perceived because of it. Andy Mineo, another Christian Hip-Hop artist, says in the song at the end of this post, “I talk about Jesus, all the Christians love me. I walk like Jesus, now they wanna judge me; ain’t it funny?”  I’m in a stage of life where I’m questioning and incredibly empathetic towards others, and it’s the most beautiful and the most frustrating thing about me. But I finally feel like I’m beginning to understand the state of humanity as well as individuals.

Another Evangelical that I wasn’t expecting, but who blew my mind (and impressed me) was Bart Milliard of MercyMe. I’ve probably been to more MercyMe concerts than any other artist. I connected with their music as a young Evangelical, and they helped shape some of my faith as a teenager.  It would be safe to assume, since our culture is assuming this about all Evangelicals, that the members are probably close-minded and uber-conservative. Like Lecrae, their music was very “Jesus Jesus Jesus” all the time; and that’s not bad! But I think Evangelicals are beginning to realize that they were only reaching other Evangelicals.

And I read this article by Bart that made me weep like a baby.

And again, as Andy Mineo put it, “I’m on a different tactic, call me a Boom Baptist.”

I am unashamedly rooted in an Evangelical foundation. Now I’m going to take the “Evangelize” out of “Evangelical” and put it to work–by walking with the lost where they’re at. Loving on them. Finding and giving them hope (as my church puts it).

I’m on a new path.

Balancing Liberal VS Conservative Worldviews

Blogs about Heather, christianity, church, theology, unchurched

Trying to find the balance between the “uber-religious-Bible-thumping-conservative” and “uber-worldy-Bible-ignorant-liberal” worldviews can be TOUGH.

First-off, it is a false dichotomy; but just like with American political parties, there is a pressure to align with one or the other.

So I do what I’ve always tried to do–read a variety of sources that are conservative, liberal, and all in between–to challenge my existing and developing worldview.

But some days, like today, I just want to hit my head against the wall.

God has gifted me with the spiritual gift of empathy and exhortation. This gift means that I understand where people are coming from, for the most part. So I can read one side and go “wow, I totally see where you are coming from. not sure if I agree, but I get it” then read the rebuttal and go “ditto.” Or, sometimes, I read something (from both sides of any issue), and can go “What kind of crock is this?”  How is it not one or the other? How can it be both?  How could it be neither?  I grew up with the worldview that it was one or the other…and that’s a worldview that we all kind of get stuck with.

Some of my recent posts on teaching sex to teenagers raised some eyebrows from my conservative friends, who thought I was pushing a little heretical. Which made me laugh, because…uh…  I’m still fairly conservative, just a little provocative in thinking. At least, in my opinion.  I was even told by a friend I was bold for posting these, as she wouldn’t if she was looking for a position in a church like I am.  But then this morning, I was told in a comment to an article on Facebook that I was teaching sexism to my girls.  So what am I? Am I a liberal feminist? Or a conservative sexist? Surely I’m not both.

These are the woes of a young evangelical trying to own her faith. And do you think I’m the only one experiencing this? How about all people in their twenties are going through the same thing…yet we don’t have a place in our church to help them out. That’s another soapbox for another day.

Here’s the take-a-ways from this random rant:

  1. Own YOUR faith. Don’t just follow along with whatever you were taught as a child, or what your pastor teaches you, or what your parents tell you, or what popular media tells you. Don’t take things at face value.
  2. Read/watch/immerse yourself in varying materials, materials that challenge your existing worldview. Yes, you will want to hit your head against the wall like me. But you will be able to identify (1) what you believe (2) why you believe it (3) rebuttals to your view (4) why others believe what they believe. You won’t have to claim ignorance.
  3. Don’t feel pressured to be “one” or “the other.”  Christ, Paul, and the early church made Pharisees and sinners alike cringe at times.  You’re not going to fit into some pretty, packaged box.
  4. It is okay to feel confused when it comes to faith. Just look to Christ. Strive to live like Him, and all that other stuff will fall in line or fade away, depending on how important it truly was.

Check out this photo by Andy Mineo http://instagram.com/p/dmfkNJRtvI/ I saw it and went BINGOOO.

Love God, serve others, seek the Kingdom, be like Christ.

God is Able

christ, faith, faithfulness, god, identity, jesus, prayer, theology

Saturday I had the blessing of spending a few hours with my teenager sister while she copped my WiFi.  We watched a Mythbusters episode together, where they proved it is scientifically impossible to be buried alive and escape.

This was comforting.

Why? Because that means no Zombie apocalypse. Unless it’s Walking Dead style.

Why else? Because it exemplifies what Christ did.

Now, I know that his grave is way different from our graves…I get that.  But for a while (and don’t cry “heretic” out to me) I forgot how magnificent it is that Christ rose from the dead.

Not only that he rose from the dead, but that he rose others from the dead.  He healed the sick, the  handicapped, and the diseased. He gave hope to the hopeless and changed ridiculously lost people into the examples by which we lead our Christian walks by.

Wow.

For a while…and I hate to admit it…I forgot two central truths:

God can do anything.

God can save anyone.

For a while, I wasn’t sure of this; at least, I wouldn’t have admitted it out loud. In fact, I didn’t even realize that I wasn’t sure of this.  It wasn’t until a few weeks ago that I realized that I wasn’t operating my life based off of these truths.  And when you’re not walking, you stop talking.

You see, these truths radically change the way that you live.  It means that nobody is too far of a reach to pray for.  It means that you don’t just complain about people, but pray for a change of heart in them.  And speaking of prayer, it radically changes your prayer life.  Prayer isn’t just a time of asking, but a time of believing that it can actually be done.

 

At one time, these truths provided me hope and comfort…..and I want to cling to them again.  Because, if God can move mountains, then God can save my family from drug addiction.  And if Christ can raise from the grave (which I watched on Mythbusters yesterday is scientifically impossible) then Christ can raise up my teenagers from their sin. If God can lead adulterers and bigots and prostitutes and cheaters and hypocrites to him and use them as leaders, why could God not lead certain people in my life to salvation?

God can do it.

I know he can.

And as soon as I realized this in the least bit, I saw it happen in a huge way. I really did.  God is working in the lives of the people I didn’t think he can save, and he is slowly moving them away from their addictions to sin.  Can I get a stinking Hallelujah?

God is able.

I never again want to get in that dark place of not believing that.

Don’t just "understand" the other side, EMPATHIZE.

america, Blogs about Heather, christianity, church, faith, freedom, leadership, lgbtq, love, sin, social activism, theology, unchurched
I have half a dozen or so documents in my laptop right now of “potential blogposts” of different rants and ramblings about politics; from Chick-Fil-A to the ability for a Christian to vote different political parties to my stance on gay marriage, I have been wanting to speak out for a while now.  But I have held back.  Why?  Because there are others who can say it better.  Because I’m no expert.  Because I’m still learning.

That is what I want to emphasize today in my all-encompassing post on politics, ethics, and anything else that seems to matter these days.  I am extremely irritated with the election, as both “sides” of the United States are exposing their dirty ignorance and disregard for people who do not agree with them.  It is this mentality of, “If a person does not agree with my political stance, which is the only way, then their entire character must be attacked publicly.”  One day I posted on Facebook, “I think it says a lot about President Obama’s character for him to visit Joplin a year after the tornado came through.”  I wasn’t making a political statement, just a statement of appreciation for the remembrance of a small town near me that had been devastated by a storm.  One parent of one of my youth wrote, “I think we should all worry about Heather’s character.”  Then a full-fledged debate began on my status about gay marriage, Obama being a dirty Muslim from Kenya, etc.  One of my friends wrote, “Shame on all of you.  This status wasn’t about any of that.”  And it wasn’t, but to many Christian brothers and sisters that I respect, a politician that they don’t agree with can’t have any redeeming qualities.

I think it’s extremely dangerous to claim to hold absolute knowledge of any subject.  I’m sure some of you are shocked, as I am a Christian and you probably are too; how can I say that I don’t know undoubtedly that God exists?  Simply, if I knew it wouldn’t be called faith.  I know it in my heart, but empirically I do not know that.  I’m not a skeptic, and I’m not saying that if I don’t know things, that I can’t express my opinions on them; in fact my faith in God precedes all other faiths I have and consequentially demands me to express that faith.  The point I’m trying to make is:  It is extremely important to be empathetic to opinions that differ from your own, for you do not know your opinions to be fact.  In fact, it becomes dangerous when you claim to know it all and aren’t empathetic.

Why?  Because once you claim to hold the key to knowledge on a particular subject, you get arrogant.  You push people away from you with your words and your attitude.  For example:  Those Christians who are outspoken about gay marriage push people who agree with it away; it scars the LGBTQQ community and its allies and pushes people away from the Christ who ate meals with prostitutes, tax collectors, and the self-righteous.  Christians (and everyone else) definitely have the right to discuss their opinions and alleged knowledge on a subject; but if we aren’t empathetic of the other side, we can and will push them away.  I took some time trying to understand the LGBTQQ community a few years ago when a group came to my conservative Christian university to speak out against our allegedly persecuting contract that we had to sign in order to be a student there.  Instead of pushing my doctrine, I took the time to listen; a time of learning and growth.  Once I heard the stories of how they’ve been treated by people inside the Church, I began to understand that it’s not necessarily my place to indoctrinate a homosexual upon meeting them (and that’s just the beginning of that journey).  It went without being said what I believed.  I spent time trying to be empathetic, not with the sole goal of strengthening my argument, but because there were things on the other side of the debate that I never even considered.  And my opinion, although not perfected today, has come a long way.

I think this is also apparent in the Neo-Calvinist movement within the SBC, trying to take it back to its supposed Calvinistic roots and forcing churches to adhere to them and teach them as if it’s an essential truth in order to believe in God.  Every time I found out someone that I knew was a Calvinist, I would judge them.  I am currently very sympathetic to Calvinism, but took a long time telling anybody; I was fearful that I would be labeled as an arrogant, close-minded reformer like many of the Neo-Calvinist leaders are looked at. Also, I’m not 100% sure on any of it.  I once thought I was when I was anti-Calvinist, and then I read scriptures and listened to people and changed my mind.  I might change my mind again.  But more importantly, why is it necessary to be sure on this topic?  It cheapens God’s sovereignty in my claim that I am all-knowing on any subject.  When we become face-to-face before God, we’re going to learn that a lot of our political, ethical, and even religious beliefs were wrong (I honestly can’t wait for God to go, “Heather, remember how you were so arrogant about __? Well, you were wrong, and there’s grace for you because I was more important to you than even that.”).

This goes beyond politics and quarrels within the Church.  This comes to our everyday life.  It is well-heard, “Before you judge someone, walk in their shoes.”  I think it’s dangerous to form an opinion, and especially to claim knowledge of a subject, without hearing all sides.  More than hearing them, but understanding them (taking their place and walking in their shoes).  Understanding a side different than yours takes more than reading a few books or listening to a few podcasts.  It takes learning from people, talking with people.  This should be especially true within the church.  We are to be in community with one another, and it strongly discredits Christ’s love for the Church when we break off communion with one another on topics that we haven’t taken the time to understand.  Maybe that person is a Calvinist because they don’t believe they could have found God without Him choosing them.  Maybe that woman hates hymns because she didn’t make it past 8th grade and has a small vocabulary.  Maybe that man isn’t a fan of small groups because his last one gossiped the entire time.  Maybe that man doesn’t come to church on Sundays because the only job he can find works those days.  Maybe that woman is pro-choice because her sister could have died in a pregnancy.  Maybe that Christian man is a Democrat because the fight against social injustice overrides the need to ban gay marriage.  Maybe that lady is for gay marriage because she separates legal marriage from covenant relationships.  Instead of judging people, understand them.  You don’t have to agree, but you don’t even need to tell them that either (with proper discourse, that will naturally come in a non-pushy way).  You just need to see people the way Jesus sees them: broken, fallen, and beautiful.  Christ sees you that way too.  You are just as much His bride as the rest of the Church; in fact, you are His bride together and that entails the need for empathy.  And at the end of the day, if you still disagree with them, that doesn’t mean their entire character should be shattered, especially if they are a follower of Christ; if you agree on the essential truths of salvation, then you are still a part of the Church and should edify one another.

Occasionally, you are going to run into a person who says while debating with you, “I’m listening to you, but I’ve heard this all before.  I’ve thought through this topic and have my opinion.”  This translates, “I’m listening to your comments, but I already know all there is to know on the subject and there is no new information you can give me.  There is no point in debating me, because I won’t change my mind but will debunk all your arguments in the most mocking way I can.”  THIS. IS. DANGEROUS.  I can’t tell you how much I have thought through, prayed through, and talked through different topics.  I may have strong opinions on subjects, but the day I claim to have it all together: please take me out of the local church before I infect people with my arrogant ignorance. Can you tell I am hurting right now?  Yes.  Because I used to be the person who was arrogant to think that they knew it all and only struck up debates to be the smart conqueror of them.  Because right now, people are discrediting me for being provocative in thinking and trying to be the “Devil’s Advocate” and understand both sides of issues.  But primarily because in a world where we have tragedies such as mass murders, children starving, public shootings, and great moments of glory like the young people beast-moding the Olympics; we are more concerned about our disagreement with a single politician or company that supports an ethic stance that differs from ours than for understanding our brothers and sisters.

ps, as I finish this post, I’m like “what do I even name this?!” hah.

Why I Love Luther

christianity, theology

I never used to like history. I thought it was boring. I used to hate knowing different theologies of different people. I thought it was a waste of time. All I wanted to do was love on teens, and give them the gospel.

But I’m loving history more and more, and loving learning about theology more and more (so much I now minor in it).  I groaned at the thought of taking “History of Christianity” this semester, but let me tell you–my heart is changed. I am fascinated.

The other night I read about Martin Luther. I’ve read about his guy 30487 times, but something really hit me the other night.  Luther wanted so badly to obtain salvation.  He desired more than anything not to go to hell and to have a restored standing in God’s eyes.  Luther went on pilgrimages, beat himself, and was constantly confessing his sins to become closer to God.  I can’t even begin to wrap my mind around it.  In his quest, he ended up denying the church’s means of atonement through indulgences.  Luther desired God so much that he even spoke out against the church’s practices and began a movement of reformation.  And this inspires me.  Do I desire the Lord that much?  What have I done that shows this?