“But if they confess their iniquity and the iniquity of their fathers in their treachery that they committed against me, and also in walking contrary to me, so that I walked contrary to them . . . then I will remember my covenant” (Lev. 26:40-42).

Is this something a congregation should consider? Should a congregation repent of the sins of their forefathers?

Church in Decline

This was a particularly relevant question for us. First Presbyterian Church (PCA) of Montgomery, Alabama, was the first church formally established in Montgomery (1824, we beat our Baptist brothers and sisters by six months; whew!). We’ve seen lots of blessings from God over our history. One of our early pastors was the great-uncle of Winston Churchill. In the late 1800s we were key supporters of the Presbyterian missionaries God worked through to bring about the 1907 Pyongyang Revival and the Christianization of Korea. In the 1920’s we were a “megachurch” before there were such, with a membership more than 2,000. Even in 1961, our membership was still at a respectable 1,100.

When I was called to be the pastor of Historic First Church (our nickname) in 2008, the church had moved from its downtown location to a suburban one, where it was thought that folks more like the existing congregation would join. Yet that hadn’t really happened. While official membership was around 100, the reality was that we had about 50 active members—many of whom were from the Silent Generation, well into their 70s and 80s. The common renewal plan of many a downtown church (move to the suburbs) wasn’t working for us.

Yet, as often happens with a new pastor, we saw an increase in our ministry over the next few years. By 2011 membership rose to a little more than 100. It looked like there was a re-birth of new life, that God was going to bless us with more years of ministry. Yet over the next few years, the historic slide toward dissolution continued. By 2015 membership was down to the 70s, with active membership back at the 50s.

The elders at the time agreed that we needed to spend some time investigating why God seemed to be “walking contrary” to us (Lev. 26:41), why he seemed to be cursing rather than blessing our ministry efforts.

The Past Is Never Dead

I conducted a thorough search of our church records (something Southern Presbyterians are very good at keeping) back to the founding of our church. Regarding our current circumstances, the records from the civil-rights era forward seemed most relevant. Starting in the 1950s our church, both the congregation and also leadership, engaged in actions and decisions that are most simply described as racist, a refusal to love our black neighbors as ourselves.

Oh, historic First Church wasn’t all racist all the time. Some members sought to obey Christ and love our fellow black Montgomerians. For example, Rosa Parks’s white attorney was a deacon in our church, and his wife was one of Mrs. Parks’s best friends. In the 1960s, even though he suffered for it, one of our ministers accepted the call to be the pastor of a small struggling black congregation (planted out of our church in the 1880s). Other notable examples were seen throughout 1950s and ’60s.

Yet far more often in this era, our church chose to partake of racial sins. In 1956, about a decade before most other white churches in Montgomery took this action, our leadership chose to formally block blacks from membership and attending services at our church. In 1961 our church was located a half-block away from the Greyhound Bus station where the Freedom Riders were attacked. Rather than offering sanctuary, we ignored what was happening. As late as 1974 our elders and deacons were still affirming their intention to not allow backs to join or attend any services at our church. Numerous other racist attitudes and decisions littered Historic First Church through the civil-rights era. In fact, these attitudes and actions only began to disappear from our records in the late-1970s.

Yet these sins were still present and would occasionally make themselves known. An outreach decision to open up a daycare was actively hindered for the whole of the 1980s, in part, because it would require letting black children participate in the daycare. The dominant debate among the elders in the 1980s and ’90s was whether or not to reach the surrounding community with the gospel, a community that was no longer white. While not overt in every discussion, the underlying opposition to including blacks in outreach meant that virtually no witnessing ministries took place. Then in 1999 the decision was made to move to a suburban community where the demographics of the surrounding community matched that of the congregation.

Back to 2015. Despite a number of attempts, witnessing efforts at Historic First Church met with little response from the congregation. Comparing this to the research gleaned from our history showed a startling similarity. In the civil-rights era Historic First Church refused to reach out to a people unlike them: blacks. By 2015, with most members never being a part of the downtown church, we had become a congregation that was all but unwilling to reach out to anyone. All might be “welcome,” but we weren’t putting any effort into taking the gospel to them, white, black, or the proverbial purple with pink polka dots.

This was the context for the debatable practice of repenting of our forefathers’ sins. It sure looked like we were experiencing the fruits of past sins, even though we were no longer racist. It certainly looked like God was “walking contrary” to us. Was repenting for past sins, sins that no one in the existing congregation participated in, God’s path to restoring the ministry of the gospel among us?

Visits from God

The answer to this question is not immediately obvious in the Scriptures. There seems to be a contradiction at play in this question. As many others have noted in recent years, the Bible is expressly clear that God does not impute the culpability of forefathers’ sin on their descendants.

The soul who sins shall die. The son shall not suffer for the iniquity of the father, nor the father suffer for the iniquity of the son. The righteousness of the righteous shall be upon himself, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon himself. (Ezek. 18:20)

On the other hand, there are numerous warnings that God “visits the iniquities” of forefathers on their descendants (Exod. 20:5; 24:7; Num. 14:18; Deut. 5:9; Lev. 26:39-41; Isa. 14:21; Isa. 65:6-7; Jer. 14:20; 32:8, and so on). The notable examples of Daniel (Dan. 9:8, ff.), Ezra (Ezra 9:6-7, ff.), and Nehemiah (Neh. 9:16, ff.), each confessing their forefathers’ iniquities, gives strong evidence that God both fulfills the warnings and the promises attached to “visiting the iniquities.”

The way out of the apparent contradiction here is found in the details associated with the words visit and iniquity. Rather than overwhelm you with the breadth and depth of these details, let me summarize them. One of three words used for sin in the OT, the Hebrew word translated iniquity, is used to express sin with its results. We are most familiar with the result of culpability. Sin makes us culpable before God, accountable to him for our rebellion against his law.

Yet there is another result of sin, one that is as common as culpability, but not often focused on. In addition to culpability, sin also results in corruption. This is the spiritual pollution, the contamination factor attached to sin. It spiritually infects others. A significant part of the Mosaic ceremonial law dealt with picturing the corruption result of sin:

And Aaron shall lay both his hands on the head of the live goat, and confess over it all the iniquities of the people of Israel, and all their transgressions, all their sins. And he shall put them on the head of the goat and send it away into the wilderness by the hand of a man who is in readiness. The goat shall bear all their iniquities on itself to a remote area, and he shall let the goat go free in the wilderness. (Lev. 16:21-22)

One of the reasons for church discipline is to protect the other members of a congregation from the corruption of the offending member’s sin:

Your boasting is not good. Do you not know that a little leaven leavens the whole lump? Cleanse out the old leaven that you may be a new lump, as you really are unleavened. For Christ, our Passover lamb, has been sacrificed. (1 Cor. 5:6-7)

The corruption result of sin is so pervasive that there is nothing we can do to avoid it:

We have all become like one who is unclean, and all our righteous deeds are like a polluted garment. We all fade like a leaf, and our iniquities, like the wind, take us away. (Isa. 64:6)

The Hebrew word visiting explains how the sins of forefathers corrupt their descendants. The visiting in view is not some sort of social call, as if God were promising to drop in for milk and brownies. Instead, the word refers to a covenantal visiting: God visits on people, he gives them the experience of, the blessings or curses of his covenants to those in covenant with him, and their descendants. The fourth commandment (Exod. 20:5-6) illustrates the pattern of covenantal visiting succinctly:

“You shall not bow down to them or serve [other gods], for I the LORD your God am a jealous God:
[covenant curse] visiting the iniquity of the fathers on the children to the third and the fourth generation of those who hate me,
[covenant blessing] but showing steadfast love to thousands of those who love me and keep my commandments.”

It is quite simple: God gives to the descendants of those in covenant with him the corruption results of their forefathers’ sins. If the culpability result of sin is personal (it only attaches to the sinning individual), then the corruption result of sin is corporate (it also attaches to those in covenant relationship with the sinning individual).

Admittedly there are many more details that show this corruption result is basic to the nature of sin. But this is nothing more than the historic understanding of the church: God curses the descendants to follow in the sinful footsteps of their forefathers, sinning in related ways.

This explains why Daniel, Ezra, and Nehemiah were resolute in confessing their forefathers’ sins. They knew that God had promised to forgive those sins, not their culpability, but their corruption. So, they confessed and led their congregations to confess with them. Likewise, in the letters to the Seven Churches of Revelation, Jesus advises certain congregations to repent of sins committed only by some of their members (e.g., Pergamum, Rev. 2:13-17; Thyatira, Rev. 2:18-29; Sardis, Rev. 3:1-6). While not personally culpable for the sins of the few, all the members of these congregations were corrupted by these sins. Corporate repentance, confessing the sins of others to whom they were covenantally related, was Jesus’s gospel-rooted solution.

Time to Repent?

In 2016 as we explored these things, our leaders were aware of some of the controversy around repenting for sins of the forefathers. But as they played no part in our considerations, we did not give much attention to various social motivations and concerns. It was quite straightforward for us. We understood we could not repent for sins we did not commit. But could we repent of sins, sins committed by those covenantally related to us?

We were shepherding a congregation that seemed to be experiencing problems related to sins of forefathers. For us then, it was purely a matter of gospel practice. Did our forefathers commit atrocious racial sins? Yes. Was God visiting the corruption of these sins on subsequent generations, including the congregation under our care? Yes. Was repenting of these:

• Acknowledging the wickedness of those sins,
• Acknowledging God’s righteousness in visiting the corruption of those sins on us,
• Trusting that in Jesus there is cleansing from the corruption of these, and
• So confessing the sins of our forefathers,

The gospel-rooted resolution before us?

We understand that this corporate usage of repentance is outside the common personal usage. We respect that others may come to different conclusions. That’s ok. We didn’t apply this principle to make a statement, to persuade others to do likewise. Our sole purpose was to seek God to remove the burden of our forefathers’ sins, and thereby bring glory to his holy name.

Forgiveness Brings Freedom—and Fruit

In summer 2016, following the tradition of our Presbyterian forefathers, the elders and I signed a solemn declaration of all these things, particularly identifying our forefathers’ sins, and our repentance for them. At the beginning of 2017 we entered into a formal period of renewal. We added to our historic name a second name that identified us with our community: located on the grounds of a historic slave plantation, the name “The Church at Chantilly” (the location marker) declares that this church has been freed from the curse of sin, including all forms of racism. The members of the congregation at that time asked to follow their elders’ lead, and signed their names to the declaration of repentance. That document now hangs in the entry hallway of our church, right next to a picture of our downtown buildings, for all visitors to see.

In God’s providence and through no intention of ours, the story of our repentance was publicized both locally and nationally. This many years after the civil-rights era, and after many other churches took a similar action decades ago, we were not concerned with publicizing our actions. Yet God honored our efforts in restorative ways. Over the last few years we have been contacted by numerous former members of our church, and even some of the descendants of former members, who had all taken a stand against Historic First Church’s racism and had been driven out of the congregation for doing so. The experience of asking them to forgive the sins of our forefathers brought healing and, in some cases, a believable gospel witness from a church with a previous reputation of hypocrisy.

While our current congregation is small, for the first time in more than half a century (possibly longer) we are seeing new conversion growth. In the last year and a half we have seen a good half-dozen millennials make a profession of faith and actively participate in the ministries of the church. Sustained weekly witnessing activities have been going on for more than a year now. Two-thirds of the congregation has participated in evangelism training, now offered twice a year.

In 2016 we were blessed to partner with Korean brothers and sisters in Orlando, Florida, to plant Montgomery Open Kingdom (Korean, PCA) church. In fall 2018, we were blessed to host a Spanish-speaking (Baptist) congregation, Light to the Nations, reaching Spanish speakers in Montgomery hailing from numerous Central and South American countries. Today all three congregations share Historic First Church’s facilities, with multiple worship services, joint children’s Sunday school, and numerous joint activities throughout the year.

You might notice that I didn’t mention anything about outreach into the black community in Montgomery. While we maintain strong relationships with sister black congregations in our area, God has not yet seen fit to grace us with this blessing. We prayerfully continue to reach into the black community around us, praying for God to raise up a family or two from which he would grace us with further elders and deacons.

Truth be told, we’re small enough now (about 40 active, 50 + including shut-ins), that statistically speaking, there is every possibility that Historic First Presbyterian Church of Montgomery might close before she reaches her 200th anniversary. We’re ok with that. Repenting of the sins of our forefathers was not some pragmatic church renewal step. It was simply the right thing to do. The corruption of sin is real. In a community filled with so many churches, and the next generation all but abandoning them, turning to God and pleading for his forgiveness from all sins (including those of the past) is nothing more than what gospel-believing people ought to do. Because in God’s providence, some who had lost hope, who had been helped by our forefathers’ sins to disbelieve in Jesus Christ, have found a new hope in him through our repentance.

Repentance Comes Home

Let me end with one of the most interesting and unexpected examples of this. Vivian is an older Baby Boomer raised in Montgomery. With some background in the hippie movement, she was won to Christ and then spent some time as one of the early English-language teacher missionaries in China. In 2016, sensing she only had a few more years in Montgomery before she would need to move to be near family members as health needs increased, she wanted to join our church because she wanted to focus on reaching millennials.

Like many members raised in Montgomery, Vivian was a tad suspicious when her pastor and elders first began discussing repenting of the sins of our forefathers. “Social justice” concerns, and so on, filled her with questions about the what and why. Yet as the biblical basis for the action was explained, Vivian began to see that repenting of the forefathers’ sins was a godly thing completely consistent with living by faith taught through the gospel’s ministry. She willingly joined her fellow members in signing her name to the declaration of repentance.

At the beginning of the following year, 2017, Vivian got an odd query from her brother (living in a Western state). He asked if she knew about any first cousins still living in Montgomery? The answer was no; Vivian was the only one left from her family in this area, all others having moved away years ago. When she asked why, her brother told her that a DNA test he had completed sent back results telling him that he had a first cousin, one he didn’t know anything about, living in Montgomery. He gave her the contact information and left it up to Vivian to do the sleuthing.

Vivian contacted the first cousin, Mattie, and arranged to meet her. I was blessed to briefly meet Vivian’s new-found family at one of those first meetings. Gathering at a hospital for a doctor’s appointment, Vivian, white, sat with her new-found cousin Mattie, black.

The story that unfolded was in some sense rather common here in the Deep South. Yet because it was personal for Vivian and Mattie, their meeting was momentous for both of them. Mattie was the daughter of Lily (half-black/white). Lily’s father was Ray, Vivian’s (white) grandfather (poppee). An archetype story, Lily’s mother, Mattie the first, had been the maid in Ray’s household. In case you haven’t put things together yet, let’s put it in biblically blunt terms: Vivian’s white grandfather had raped her cousin’s black grandmother.

As a little girl Vivian remembered her poppee taking long walks on Sunday afternoons, ostensibly to smoke down at the park, and not coming home till well after dark. Vivian now heard the real story. Her grandfather would walk two blocks down from his house, get picked up by his daughter of rape, Lily, and spend the afternoon with his black family. They all resented him, yet consistent with the times, he was their patriarch, and they had to show him some respect.

You can just imagine Vivian’s shock as she learned all this family history she had never heard before. She knew that her poppee, like many Southern white men from the first half of the 20th century, showed common racist behaviors (e.g., Jim Crow cultural attitudes and acts). But that he had raped a black woman, and had a whole other, black, family?!

I was fascinated by the new family history Vivian had to share. But then she revealed a fact that caused me to join her in being shocked to my core. While her poppee was raping his black maid, while he was engaged in keeping a second family with their daughter, Vivian’s grandfather was a respected elder of, yep, First Presbyterian Church of Montgomery!

When repented of the sins of our forefathers, we did not envision the opportunity to express repentance to some of the families that had been hurt by those sins. Imagine our delight when Vivian’s family circumstances surfaced. Here a terrible wickedness, one attached to the name of Christ, perpetrated by a man who had been a shepherd in our church, had come to the fore only after we had taken the action of repenting of our forefather’s sins. Imagine our delight later that year, when Vivian’s new-found black family attended worship with us in the very congregation where their white rapist grandfather was formerly an elder. Imagine their joy as the pastor of that church asked that family to forgive the sins of their forefathers, particularly the rape of their matriarch. Imagine this black family in Montgomery, Alabama, home of some of the best and worst from the civil-rights era, receiving the amen-ing applause of the white congregation affirming their pastor’s repentance of their forefathers’ sins!

Burden Removed

Some discussion and investigation about this doctrine of repenting of the forefathers’ sins is well and good. The congregation at the Church at Chantilly, Historic First Presbyterian Church of Montgomery, Alabama, is sufficiently satisfied that God has given this principle in his word to bless his people, that their repentance might show forth his glory, glory that removes the stain of the worst sins, and restores the gospel’s hope in Jesus Christ.

In Jesus, the worst of burdens can be removed, including our forefathers’ racism. With that, we’re grateful to submit to his will and repent. He has removed the burden of our forefathers’ sins, and his gospel is going forth from us!

To be sure, there’s a place for re-examining mission practice. We need to learn from the history of cross-cultural gospel ministry, especially those painful and shameful aspects we do not wish to repeat.

But it’s also important to note that some missionaries were valiant in the cause of justice. Where the gospel and the church have spread, so too has liberation and justice. Yesterday my missions pastor shared a tidbit from the life of William Carey that I did not know. It’s an excerpt from Ruth and Vishal Mangalwadi’s “Who (Really) Was William Carey?” in Ralph Winter and Stephen Hawthorne’s Perspectives on the World Christian Movement: A Reader, 3rd edition. The Mangalwadis write:

Carey was the first man to stand against both the ruthless murders and the widespread oppression of women, virtually synonymous with Hinduism in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. The male in India was crushing the female through polygamy, female infanticide, child marriage, widow-burning, euthanasia and forced female illiteracy, all sanctioned by religion. The British Government timidly accepted these evils as being an irreversible and intrinsic part of India’s religious mores. Carey began to conduct systematic sociological and scriptural research. He published his reports in order to raise public opinion and protest. . . . It was Carey’s persistent battle against sati for twenty-five years which finally led to Lord Bantinck’s famous Edict in 1829, banning one of the most abominable of all religious practices in the world: widow-burning.

Carey’s pioneering work is known by nearly all Christians with a rudimentary knowledge of Christian missions history. Yet I wonder how many know of this aspect of Carey’s work—engaging the religious cultural practices and advocating for justice using the tools of both social science and the Bible? Carey wasn’t perfect—no Christian is. But we need more “Careys” not fewer. Perhaps then Christian missions will be associated with positive good rather than injustice, with not only freedom from sin but also freedom from oppression. May it be so. May the Lord be pleased to make it happen in our lifetimes!

Fast forward 30 years and things have changed dramatically. Democratic presidential hopefuls now speak largely as if reparations are an obvious policy response to the country’s “original sin” of slavery and exploitation of African Americans. The subject has suddenly rushed into primetime national discourse from the “deep six” of unpopular House bills.

Over the past couple years, some Christian writers and speakers have cited reparations as one of the tell-tale signs of “cultural Marxism” and other “godless ideologies” wreaking havoc on the society and entering the church. These opponents declare in sweeping terms that reparations itself is an “injustice” and “unbliblical.”

Today I want to continue my series on justice with a defense of reparations.

For Clarity’s Sake

Before laying out a case for reparations, let me try to state what I mean and what I do not mean.

In this post, when I refer to “reparations” I am arguing for a principle rather than a specific policy or program. There are many ways reparations might be enacted, from baby bonds to cash transfers. I am not here addressing those policies or programs. Debating the pros and cons of any proposal is certainly necessary, and I assume any policy or program will have both positives and negatives, some of which we would only discover later as the policy is implemented. Weighing all those issues is beyond my knowledge and ability. So I am limiting my concern to the principle.

How might we define “reparations” in principle? I would define reparations as “material and social repayment made as acknowledgement and restitution by an offending party to an aggrieved party for wrong(s) done in order to repair the injuries, losses and/or disadvantages caused by the wrong.” Though these are my own words, I have in mind the work of William “Sandy” Darity at Duke University, who argues that reparations should have three aims: (a) acknowledgement of the wrongs done, (b) payment for the wrongs done, and (c) closure for both parties.

In any discussion of reparations, it’s necessary to identify the wrongs being addressed. In other words, one has to answer the question, “Reparations for what?” Usually people think immediately of slavery, but as Ta-Nehisi Coates has shown, we could update the case to focus on 20th-century housing discrimination and predatory practices. Merely for the purpose of illustration, I will limit my concern here to slavery as practiced from 1619 to 1865. Were this an actual proposal for a program of reparations, I would add much more to the record and request. But I am simply to defend the principle, so a commonly accepted period should suffice.

One last comment for clarity’s sake. In this post, I’m focusing on the state as the actor owing reparations to African Americans as a class of injured persons. I do that because the state enacted, expanded, and protected laws that empowered citizens to exploit African Americans. The state derived inestimable benefit from those laws both economically and socially. So the state, in my view, is an appropriate target for reparations advocacy.

Shared Agreements

It’s also important to state some basic areas of agreement among people on all sides of the issue. In general most people agree:

1. Restitution is biblical. There’s disagreement about whether to emphasize the individual or groups, and whether repayment for the estimated cost in today’s dollars is feasible, but no one I know rejects restitution in principle (Exod. 21-22; Lev. 5; Luke 19:1-10).
2. A grievous wrong was done in the American practice of slavery. There are some fringe perspectives that deny slavery was “all that bad” or attempt to argue slavery was “for the African’s good.” But in general, most people think slavery was wrong and a grievous wrong done to African Americans.
3. Reparations was owed at some point. Even many of the opponents of reparations in today’s context will allow that reparations should have been paid to that generation of freed persons following the Civil War. Some would even cite Special Field Order 15 and argue that had it been followed then we would not be in the predicament we are in today. However, after that generation of African American freedmen, agreement on reparations breaks down.

Some Objections

As I’ve listened to the discussions and debates, it seems to me that a couple of objections recur. Opponents of reparations argue it would be an injustice today to:

1. Make one person/group who committed no crime pay for the crimes of others. Let’s call this the “innocence objection.”
2. Pay to one person/group who were not directly injured by the crime restitution owed to those who “actually suffered.” Let’s cause this the “unharmed objection.”
3. Tax today’s citizens in order to pay for atrocities committed by earlier generations. Let’s call this the “generational tax objection.”

So, as best I understand the objections raised by some Christians, a “biblical case” for reparations would not only have to make claim to restitution (an agreed-upon principle) but also demonstrate the fairness or justness of having later generations at the coercion of the state transfer payment from a group of people who did not commit the injustice to another group of people who did not suffer the injustice.

My Brief Case Drawn from an Historical Incident

I might put my brief case in one sentence: If the Lord God himself caused a state head through taxation to require later generations of people who committed no crime to pay monies to their contemporaries who did not suffer the original crime, then it cannot be unjust (quite the opposite!) for state actors to do the same today.

Where do we see the Lord do this in the scripture?

Consider the book of Ezra. The action begins “in the first year of Cyrus king of Persia” (Ezra 1:1). That places us at 539 B.C. when Cyrus the Great came to power. It is 70 years after Babylon captured Israel and took them into captivity. Already we’re talking about roughly two generations. Please note that everything that happens is so “that the word of the LORD by the mouth of Jeremiah might be fulfilled” (Ezra 1:1). What had God spoken through Jeremiah? Essentially that after 70 years the Lord would return Israel from captivity back to the land (Jer. 29:10-14). One hundred years prior, Isaiah also prophesied that the return would happen at the hand of a pagan ruler named Cyrus (Isa. 45:1). Ezra really records the fulfilling of God’s promise.

So two generations (70 years) after the Babylonian defeat by Nebuchadnezzar, an entirely new empire has emerged, and a pagan king uninvolved in the sacking of Israel initiates the repatriation and the reparation of Israel. That reparation began with returning the items taken from the house of the Lord when Nebuchadnezzar defeated them (Ezra 1:7-11). This was the first act of reparation. This was all by God’s hand.

But the story does not end there, of course.

Fast forward to Ezra 6. Another 20 years or so have passed since the opening of Ezra 1. The prophets Haggai and Zechariah speak God’s Word to Israel. Some Israelites have returned to the land, but other waves have yet to arrive. Now King Darius rules the empire. In one historical recounting, the temple is rebuilt in 515 B.C. (an alternative but improbable dating would put it much later during the reign of Darius II between 423-404 B.C.). So we’re now about 100 years after the first exiles went into Babylon, about three generations later.

What do we see relevant to our discussion of reparations? We see exactly what we’re told would be injustices in any modern program of reparations. In Ezra 6:6-12, King Darius—a king who wasn’t even born when Israel was conquered ruling over an empire that wasn’t even in existence when the exile began—passed a law decreeing that taxes be paid by people who did not conquer or abuse Israel in order to restore Israelites who themselves were not alive during the Babylonian conquest of Israel.

Darius decreed, “The cost [of rebuilding the house of God] is to be paid to these men in full and without delay from the royal revenue, the tribute of the province from Beyond the River” (Ezra 6:8). In fact, those citizens “from Beyond the River” were themselves a people who were at some point conquered and swallowed up by the empire. In other words, Darius, as head of state, compels his citizens through taxes to pay a reparation to Israel even though those citizens did not commit the offense and those Israelites did not directly suffer the offense. What had been stolen was returned and then some as the province was commanded to give “whatever is needed” to restore temple worship and offerings “day by day without fail” (v. 9).

So it seems to me that the “innocence,” “unharmed” and “generational tax” objections all fail in this historical example. If God, who is just and only does justice, has acted in this way then it cannot be unjust for nation-states to voluntarily repay its own citizens for crimes suffered at its hands—no matter when the crimes occurred.

One Caveat

Now, I do not think this historical example requires reparations. I am not here drawing a dark line between the Book of Ezra and current U.S. debates about reparations. I am simply contending for the principle of reparations as just—so just, in fact, that God himself enacted it in this historical example.

I simply think the historical case of Israel during the days of Ezra proves that reparations in the case of African American descendants of slaves in the United States is no injustice at all and therefore is quite biblical. If reparations of this sort is an injustice based on the objections above, then those who hold those objections have the unenviable responsibility of showing that God himself is unjust, since all that happens in Ezra happens according to God’s premeditated plan.

Solid Program

If you allow that reparations or restitution is biblical in principle, and if these objections are overcome in Ezra 1-6, then there should be no principled objection to reparations in current discussions—certainly no principled biblical objections. Reparations are simply the biblical principle of restitution taught throughout Scripture applied to the specific history of slavery and the descendants of slaves in America.

The principle is solid. The programs and policies require debate.

It usually takes us two years to recover from the fellowship, teaching and work!

But given the country is headed into another national election in 2020 and given the surprising extent of misunderstanding and division in the church in 2016, it seems good and necessary to host a special 2020 conference whose theme is “Pilgrim Politics: Healing Conversations about Christians and Politics.”

Here’s the heart behind the conference:

A description from the conference website:

No one saw the 2016 presidential election coming. No one envisioned the effect the election would have on the country—and the church. To some extent, our tribalism has been exposed and perhaps deepened. Unity has become more fragile.

In all likelihood, the church will face the same stark choices and the same potential for misunderstanding, disunity and tribal politics. This time, however, we have an opportunity to approach politics and the election differently. Like Christians. Like the pilgrims and aliens we are in the world.

The goal of Just Gospel 2020 is NOT to engage in partisan rancor or endorse any party’s platform. Or to bind the consciences of attendees to a particular policy prescription. Or to recommend or even comment on any candidate.

The Just Gospel 2020 conference goal is to help Christians think biblically and deeply about being Christians and taking our Christian identity and perspective into our political lives. We hope to aid each other in our discipleship. We hope to model how Christians who differ in secondary or prudential points can nevertheless do so charitably and in a way that preserves both unity and freedom of conscience. We hope to make a difference.

We need and want healing conversations that serve the church in advance of the upcoming political season. Join us!

We invite you to join us as we prepare for the season that lies ahead by thinking together about what it means to be Christians whose hope lies in a world to come and how to reflect that hope in our political engagement.

We’re excited about the assembly of speakers and thinkers who will help us grow in Christ and sharpen our witness, including: David Platt, Russell Moore, Jon Ward, Nicola Menzie, Jenny Yang, Garrett Kell, Darryl Williamson, Justin Giboney, Andy Naselli, Esau McCaulley, Gracy Olmstead, Mark Vroegop, Vincent Bacote, Kelly Kapic, and Roland Warren!

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In the post, I took issue with the evidence Tom cited in a brief presentation he gave on the subject of secular progressive ideologies affecting Western civilization and evangelicalism. Tom has kindly responded to my critique. He has expanded some of his argumentation and listed other incidences he believes make his case.

So here’s where we are:

1. Tom says there is a social justice movement enticing and affecting evangelical churches;
2. I say there is not such a movement.

What’s vital in such an impasse is an examination of the underlying evidence for the claims, especially for the positive claim that a movement does exist. What we are now debating is not whether the phenomena Tom describes is good or bad (it would be very bad) or whether one should oppose it or support it (one should oppose it strongly). What we are debating in order to break through the impasse is the underlying evidence and the basis on which we judge evidence. That’s where I’ll focus in this post while replying to Tom along the way.

As I mentioned in the original post in this series, I don’t intend to have a long back-and-forth about these issues, and I hope to draw a close circle around the conversation by simply addressing the persons I’ve critiqued rather than be drawn into a much wider and usually less focused conversation. With that reminder, this will be my last comment in exchange with Tom after which I’ll give Tom the final word and happily move on to my final planned post.

Equal Weights and Measures

At bottom, Tom’s approach (and that of others who share it) fails on three counts:

1. It fails to ask, “Is this true?” and “How does the author know it?”
2. It fails to put forth compelling evidence of a movement beyond anything circumstantial.
3. It fails to apply the same methodology and standard to itself.

Let’s take these in turn.

Is It True? On the first point, consider Tom’s listing of Ekemini Uwan’s comments at the Sparrow Conference. He offers it as proof of secular social-justice ideologies infiltrating evangelical spaces. It’s true that Ekemini’s comments have much in common with the fields of whiteness studies and CRT. She uses “whiteness” not as a reference to skin color or even race but to a social ideology rooted in power and greed. But that’s a view at least as old as Frederick Douglass’s writing, well before CRT/IS, cultural Marxism, or today’s social-justice trends. Her view is rooted much more firmly in the Black sojourn in the United States than errant academic disciplines.

But the real questions regarding Ekemini’s comments (and those of Anthony Bradley that Tom mentioned) are: Is this true? And, how does the author know this?

Her statement was and is true (for a crash course see here, especially here or here). It’s an unpleasant truth. A hard truth. A difficult-to–hear truth. But it is true nonetheless, and we know it to be true simply by reading the laws of this land from the Constitution itself down through to the end of Jim Crow and the passage of suffrage laws for women and people of color. That whiteness is an ideology rooted in greed and power is a matter of historical and legal fact. That we don’t like how it’s said or care for the particular terminology or associate the terminology with other ideologies doesn’t change its veracity. If we get caught up in tone and word policing rather than the substance of the claim, then we miss something foundationally important—the truth.

While I was happy to express support for Ekemini following the Sparrow Conference and am happy to support her claim now, the issue presently under discussion is whether Tom’s method holds under scrutiny. Because the method employed to make the case that a “social-justice movement” exists doesn’t stop to ask first questions—is it true and how do they know—it’s a method flawed from the outset. We cannot avoid the sense that what people are being asked to do is accept some person’s umbrage for evidence without actually understanding the basis for another’s claims. That won’t do.

Is It Evidence? On the second point—and to me, this is a critical point—no one has yet defined the basis on which we are to judge any evidence. But in every field of human inquiry we have standards for weighing evidence. For example:

• In psychometrics, correlation is not causation. To prove something has causative power you must demonstrate that the relationship is not one that occurs by chance or randomly but systematically. You must arrive at some measure of confidence (technical term) for your research findings.
• In philosophy we’re taught to avoid genetic fallacies, a fallacy that’s based on someone’s or some argument’s history, origin, or source. Simply identifying a source or an origin does not mean any current user uses the term or idea in precisely the same way a previous user did or does.
• In the physical sciences, we have rules of science that rely on objective observation, test, and retest. A single instance or an unobservable phenomenon does not provide sufficient evidence for making scientific claims. Theories must be tested with experiments.
• In law we must observe rules of evidence, which include meeting a burden of proof that ranges from reasonable suspicion to preponderance of the evidence, clear and convincing evidence, or beyond a reasonable doubt.

In this “debate” thus far, the rules of evidence have not been specified. Sometimes people note a correlation or a suspicion and pronounce with certainty that a movement or an infiltration is there. I think that’s largely what’s happening when people claim a “movement” exists. Some look at the number of followers on Twitter or the number of returns on a search as “evidence.” But raw numbers tell us nothing about whether those Twitter followers agree with the one they follow or whether the followers were even purchased. Raw numbers of “hits” on searches tell us nothing about whether the content of the hits were for or against the subject searched.

The entire discussion is being built on an inadequate evidentiary approach. We have a low bar that actually breaks the rules of evidence in most every field, and it proves too much.

Is It Impartial? By “proves too much,” I’m referring to my third point above. If we use the standard of evidence Tom and others use, then we’re in a position where impartiality requires we apply those same standards to Tom and others. But that surely would lead to conclusions they would want to reject.

Let me illustrate what I mean. Tom leads an organization called “Founders Ministries.” It’s a reference to the theology and ministries of the founders of the SBC. Founders is dedicated to calling the convention back to the theological commitments (doctrines of grace) of those founders, among whom were men like Basil Manly Jr, who owned 40 slaves. Manley would not be the only early leader of the convention who owned slaves. In fact, the convention was formed following a split on the question of slave owning. You could say the SBC was the pro-slavery denomination. Its flagship seminary, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, recently issued a report documenting that institution’s history on the question of slavery and racism. The report indicates that the seminary’s founding faculty—James P. Boyce, John A. Broadus, Basil Manly Jr., and William Williams—all held slaves and, in some cases, actively defended the practice. Yet such men are cited in books and sermons as heroes of the convention and of evangelicalism.

Now, here’s the question: Are we to attribute all the beliefs and commitments of the founding leaders of the SBC and Southern Seminary to Tom as a leader of “Founders Ministries”? If a person expresses indebtedness to Boyce, Broadus, Manly, or Williams for their writing on some subject, are we to attribute to that person anything or everything we find repugnant in Boyce and company or their writings on that subject? I would answer an emphatic “No” to both questions.

But Tom argues in his response that “it stands to reason that anyone who has been shaped by that book [referring to Critical Race Theory: An Introduction] and enthusiastically recommends it as a “necessary” book is doing so for reasons other than merely ‘illustrating the other side’s viewpoint.’” I suspect that applying that standard to Tom using the slaveholding founders he enthusiastically recommends and think necessary for an entire denomination would result in Tom crying, “Foul!” I think he would be right to do so without some compelling evidence beyond book recommendations and even beyond an admission that those founders had shaped his view in some way on some things.

I trust that the charitable reader would not attribute one author’s beliefs and commitments in toto to someone who appreciates that author. I trust the charitable reader would not conclude that quoting these writers favorably in one area means the person doing the quoting would agree with these writers in every area or even agree with them on all they wrote on the topic quoted.

Or, let me switch the example. Tom expresses concern that “Western civilization” is under attack and being undermined by “godless ideologies.” As a defender of “Western civilization,” are we to infer that Tom would support everything that comes under that label? Not to be too pedantic, but “Western civilization” has a long heritage of godless ideologies. Cultural Marxism, for example, originates in “Western civilization.” But Tom clearly rejects some things under that banner, and it would be charitable for us to assume he would. It would be charitable for us to believe the best about Tom, that he would test what is good and toss the rest.

Charity demands Christians extend to others the judgment we want for ourselves, lest we be guilty of what we charge others with (Matt. 7:1-5; Rom. 2:1-3). Even when a Christian brother or sister approvingly quotes a non-Christian, we ought to first ask whether or not the quote—whether from a Christian or a non-Christian—is, in fact, true. We ought to assume the best of a brother or sister as we go on to inquire about the Christian’s reasoning.

The methods employed by those who oppose the influence and incursion of “social justice” do not extend such charity. Nor does it use clearly defined, solid rules of evidence in making its case. Nor does it apply the same standards to their own writings and the influences one might suggest are reflected in them. The inconsistency and inadequacy of the approach invalidates the entire enterprise. It’s unequal weights and measures.

Linguistic Blind Spots?

Tom expresses concern that I mischaracterized some of his words, especially those regarding Jarvis Williams. He says he doesn’t think he’s “ever said that ‘evangelical institutions are about to be overrun by godless pagan philosophy’ or that Jarvis Williams is ‘smuggling in’ CRT to Southern Seminary.” He writes, “I am quite confident that I have never called Dr. Williams a ‘cultural Marxist.’”

I take Tom at his word when he says he did not intend to disparage Jarvis or his motives.

But I don’t think I’ve mischaracterized Tom. First, Tom regularly uses the “Trojan horse” trope to describe what he believes is happening in evangelicalism. “Smuggling” may be my word choice, but a “Trojan horse” is entirely about smuggling things into a camp. I don’t see how you can use that phrase so often and with such intensity without communicating some clandestine effort akin to “smuggling.”

Tom denies asserting that evangelical institutions are being overrun. But in the video I critiqued, Tom states, “This new pagan religion is making vast inroads in evangelical churches.” “Overrun” and “vast inroads” seem to be semantic equivalents. Tom concludes the talk by returning to the shipping metaphor he used in his introduction. He says, “The good ship evangelicalism and the SBC has been severely damaged,” presumably by the water of godless ideology seeping into the ship. These are word choices and pictures that communicate pretty powerfully something more than mere influence but an actual incursion.

I happily accept Tom’s more measured statement of his intent. But I would like to suggest he may be connoting much more than he intends given the actual language he’s using.

That applies to his characterization of Jarvis as well. After 11 minutes of warning about “godless ideologies” and Satanic devices, one can hardly offer Jarvis as a case in point without impugning Jarvis’s motives or suggesting he’s a “cultural Marxist.” The problem was not my summation; the problem was Tom’s pejorative argument and his definite association of Jarvis with it.

If impugning Jarvis’s motive and associating him with cultural Marxism is not Tom’s intent, it seems a clarification and an apology are needed. Comments like those in the video have definitely given a false impression of Jarvis, and a good number of people seem to have reached judgments of Jarvis that Tom denies were his aim. There is a difference between intent and impact, and sometimes we must attend to the impact even if we intended something different.

From ‘Movements’ to ‘Tools’

Later in his reply, Tom writes: “If by ‘movement’ [Thabiti] means a coordinated effort by evangelicals to make social justice something that will undermine or supplant the gospel, then perhaps he has a point.”

That is what I meant by “movement,” as evidenced by the contrast with the “anti-social-justice side” that concludes my original post. Tom appears to concede the point.

But then he switches the language from “movement” to “tools.” He cites Resolution 9 as evidence of the adoption of “tools” and argues “that even if there is not a formal evangelical social justice movement there is enough evidence of influence from godless ideologies on evangelical teachers and entities to warrant concern.”

Christians ought always have a healthy concern for ungodly influence on their teaching, teachers, and entities. As I said in the original post, wherever such things exist the faithful Christian is bound by the Bible to oppose it. But what we’ve seen thus far does not amount to a healthy concern. It’s been unhealthy precisely because the evidence is not there and because Tom seems to deny any explanation other than his own theory.

Resolution 9 champions the authority and sufficiency of scripture and makes these “analytical tools” subservient to the Bible. I understand that Tom rejects the use of the “tools” in any fashion. But I reject the notion that the mere use of a tool necessarily involves the adoption of an anti-biblical system the tool comes from or necessarily indicates the incursion of a formal theory like CRT. We all participate in capitalism despite its ungodly uses and unbiblical moorings. But in using the tools of capitalism we are not thereby becoming ungodly capitalists destined to be wolves of Wall Street. That’s even less the case when our resolutions and statements explicitly call us to hold fast to the Word of God as the only sufficient “tool” for addressing humanity’s most fundamental problems as Resolution 9 does.

Shifting the focus from “movement” to “tools” doesn’t help Tom’s case much at all.

Insistence Is Not Evidence

What needs to be recognized is that insistence is not evidence. Saying something repeatedly and loudly does not thereby prove the existence of something or the truth of a claim.

Take, for example, Tom’s expanded critique of Eric Mason’s work in Woke Church. Tom gives a fuller quote of something Eric wrote in his book, emphasizing the phrase—”without which persons will not be receptive to the gospel message.” Tom then concludes, “Mason’s statement makes the pursuit of social justice a sine qua non to people coming to Christ.” Again, that’s Tom’s assessment of Mason’s writing, not what Mason actually argued. He’s insisting that his view is what Eric must mean.

We ought to resist the tendency to conflate what people said or wrote with what the critic insists they must mean. So, I took the liberty of texting Eric to ask, “Would you say or have you ever said ‘the pursuit of social justice is a sine qua non to people coming to Christ”? Mason’s unequivocal reply was, “ABSOLUTELY NOT.” He went on to add an unsolicited expansion: “I’d say it’s a helpful witness to the gospel and the love of God to the world.” In other words, it’s an apologetic, not the evangel. So, Tom’s comments completely misrepresent what Mason actually thinks, believes, and practices. Tom insists his explanation is the correct one, “even though Mason may not see it that way,” and as far as we know without asking Mason to verify. That’s not evidence, beloved.

Or, for another example, consider this comment regarding Matthew Hall: “A commitment to CRT is the only reason that Dr. Matthew Hall, provost at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, can openly confess, ‘I am a racist,’ and not immediately resign his post.”

Tom insists there’s only one explanation for Hall’s service at Southern given his admission. But far from being the only reason, I can think of several others. Such confession and continuance might be the result of honest self-reflection in an institution that just published a report doing the same kind of reflection. Such confession and continuance might also be the kind of integrity, conviction, humility, repentance, and forgiveness that ought to characterize Christians and Christian institutions. We could go on listing other plausible explanations. Tom’s insistence that CRT must be the explanation falls flat.

Those who know Matthew Hall know him as a godly, humble, thoughtful man with the courage of his convictions. He’s the kind of man you’d want as a provost, modeling godliness to students and staff, following the truth wherever it takes him. Hall can arrive at an assessment of his own life without CRT being the only reason for said assessment and continuing in his post. If Hall should step down, then it seems to me we had better remove the names of Boyce, Manley, and others from Southern’s campus—men with far less integrity and character than Hall, who not only failed to admit their racism but actively defended it. If the choice is between an SBC that names slaveholders as its heroes and names parachurch organizations after said slaveholders, or a man like Matthew Hall who humbly confesses his sins with nothing to gain and much to lose, then give me Matthew Hall any day.

My point is not that the names of Boyce, Manley, Williams and Broadus be removed; my point is that the likes of Hall be included without the disparagement of unfounded allegations as a necessary correction to the founders’ lives and doctrine.

Without compelling evidence, Tom’s depictions of the viewpoints of saints like Jarvis Williams, Ekemini Uwan, Matthew Hall, Anthony Bradley, and Eric Mason are libel and slander. We should demand a higher bar of proof demonstrating the “influence” of “godless ideologies” than merely objecting to language or insisting on our interpretation of what they “must mean.”

Unconvincing Conclusions

Tom writes, “I don’t think [Thabiti] has sufficiently understood the evidence I set forth in my arguments and for that reason I find his conclusion unconvincing.”

I think I understood Tom’s argument (as he admitted multiple times), and I think I understood Tom’s “evidence.” I simply don’t think what he has offered is evidence of any compelling sort. As I’ve already said in this post, if we are to take it as compelling evidence then we need to apply it even-handedly. If we do apply their method even-handedly, then I suspect a lot of people should be more alarmed about the evidence of racism and white supremacy in evangelical churches, and how racism and white supremacy gave rise to responses like CRT, intersectionality, and the like. If we apply this standard evenly, then it seems to me we should pull up the root of the problem—racism and white supremacy—rather than solely battle symptomatic responses to it like CRT.

But as it is, I’d rather see a higher burden of proof, more charitable judgment between the saints, and openness to the possibility that people arrive at judgments based on things other than CRT—like biblical teaching, consideration of history, and so on. May the Lord make us more generous in our view and treatment of others, especially those we disagree with.

I should note from the onset that Tom and I have known each other over a number of years. Our interactions, even in disagreement, have always been cordial and respectful. This is another reason I’m choosing to engage his comments directly.

So here goes . . .

Another Religion Spawned in Spiritual Warfare

If you have not kept up with Tom’s prodigious output on this subject, perhaps the most efficient way to get his viewpoint would be to watch this 16-minute speech, “Progressive Ideological Challenges to Biblical Christianity,” delivered at Sovereign Nations during CPAC. Please take the time to watch or listen. You will have the advantage of hearing Tom in his own words and emphases.

In this talk, Tom frames the problem in terms of worldliness. He maintains, “The last few years we’ve seen the ocean of the world begin to swamp the ship of the Christian church.” He sees this as having already happened in mainline denominations, with the threat now reaching evangelicalism and the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) of which he is a part.

But the source of the problem is much deeper than worldliness in Tom’s view. He states, “The Devil has effectively enticed many churches to welcome godless ideologies into their environments. And he’s done it through the trojan horse of what is called ‘social justice.’” In his assessment, the SBC “is failing miserably in the spiritual warfare we face.”

The net effect is that these worldly ideologies are undermining Christian teaching and taking Christians hostage. Via these ideologies, attempts are being made to redefine reality and reorder the lives of Christians as well as Western civilization as a whole. Chief among these ideologies, according to Ascol, is cultural Marxism, which he sees as an adaptation of classic Marxism from an economic to a cultural view of history. Tom maintains that cultural Marxism has become the worldview of the rising generation, a worldview that misguidedly places all people in either “oppressor” or “oppressed” groups and subsequently attempts to overthrow “oppressive” groups and structures in society.

In the video, Tom also comments on the rise of the religious “nones,” that group of individuals who mark “none” in response to questions about religious affiliation in the census and other demographic surveys. For Tom, the “nones” represent the rise of a new religion rather than an absence of religion. He describes it this way:

Nones represent the rapid rise of a new religion. More and more evangelicals are confusing this new religion with a “better form of Christianity.” Christians sitting in churches are being led astray, and Christian virtues are being displaced by worldly values. Christian values are not just being removed but replaced by this new religion. So pastors must forcefully reject this new religion with all of its presuppositions and all of its critical assessments. And we cannot simply ignore it. We must expose it as an all-out assault on biblical Christianity. We must refute it by proclaiming the simplicity and fullness that is in Jesus Christ.

In email communication with Tom to be certain I understood his comments correctly, Tom explained that it is not so much that Christians are giving way to blatant unbelief as much as being influenced by this “new religion.” In his view, the same worldly ideologies that give rise to the nones also tempt Christians to view themselves in terms of their group identities and buy into the oppressor/oppressed dichotomy he thinks is harmful to justice.

He argues in the video:

The authority of God’s Word is dismissed when it contradicts the new mission of deconstructing historic Christianity. Boundaries are rejected in the name of “equality.” Orthodoxy is political correctness, so you must toe the line or be branded a heretic. In the new religion holiness is accrued by the number of victim statuses you can accrue to yourself. And if you don’t have any or don’t have many, then the only way you can pursue holiness is by becoming an ally of those who have various victim statuses. Conversion is becoming awakened to cultural Marxist categories, or in the language of the new religion becoming “woke.” Original sin is privilege, the most notable of which is white privilege.

If I have understood Tom correctly, what he opposes is a Satan-inspired worldliness that takes the form of various ideologies that have entered the church to distort and destroy historic Christianity by either replacing it with a new religion or convincing Christians to adopt worldview elements inimical to historic faith claims. He understands the threat to be present, active, and significant.

Let me say unequivocally: Wherever such a threat actually exists, I am against it too! Every pastor required to be faithful (1 Cor. 4:1-2) ought to resist such a situation with all their being. There can be no compromise with worldliness, since it is hostile to God (James 4:4; 1 John 2:15-17).

But the key question is: What evidence is there that such a phenomenon is happening among evangelical Christians today? Is there actually a movement afoot matching Tom’s analysis and description?

What Is the Evidence?

In the 16-minute talk mentioned above, Ascol cited three instances of “social justice” influence on evangelical Christians and the SBC. It may be helpful to consider two of those references here.

Jarvis Williams’s Book Recommendation. First, Tom mentions Jarvis Williams of The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary as someone introducing CRT into SBC institutions. His evidence for this claim is Jarvis recommending someone read Richard Delgado’s book on critical race theory (see Ascol’s comments beginning at the 13’ 40” mark). Here’s Tom’s comments:

Jarvis Williams, professor at SBTS, has urged every evangelical to read Delgado’s book. He did so because evangelicals tend to be decades behind on critical race discussions. Delgado openly admits CRT grows out of radical feminism, built on Antonio Gramsci and Jacques Derrida. You can’t follow Gramsci and Derrida and follow Jesus Christ.

That book recommendation is enough in Tom’s mind to associate Jarvis with a Satan-inspired incursion of worldly ideologies shifting people away from biblical truth. It’s a heavy charge—especially since it’s highly doubtful Jarvis’s intent was ever to suggest that following Gramsci and Derrida would be an appropriate way to follow Jesus.

But stop and consider Tom’s “evidence” for a minute. Does a mere book recommendation constitute evidence supporting his theory?

Jarvis is a committed scholar. What do scholars do? They read, write, and recommend books. It’s their craft, their stock and trade. And what would a good scholar do if they wished to critically engage others on a topic? They would read the works of people who differ from them, who sometimes differ dramatically. And what would a good scholar do if they wanted to encourage their audience to understand the other side’s viewpoint? They would recommend important texts illustrating the other side’s viewpoint. That’s what scholars do. But recommending a book that characterizes a viewpoint does not at all make Jarvis a proponent of that viewpoint or anything sub- or anti-biblical. Chastising a book recommendation is closer to censorship than evidence.

Nor does Jarvis’s book recommendation suggest, as Tom contends, that evangelical institutions are about to be overrun by godless pagan philosophy. Mature readers and scholars read widely. That should be true of every seminarian. It’s true of Jarvis, and he should not be branded a “social justice warrior” or accused of “smuggling in” CRT because of it.

Jarvis Williams is about as prodigious and biblically rigorous a Christian scholar as you will find. He’s a rare blend of passionate and careful, just as you would hope for a Christian scholar. If you’ve ever read or heard Jarvis, you know that an avalanche of biblical texts come your way with careful systematizing, exegesis, and application. That a man so committed to the Bible, rooting his arguments in the whole of Scripture, could be assailed as a “cultural Marxist” or someone importing “secular social justice” into SBC institutions boggles the mind.

But don’t take my word for it. Also don’t take the word of Williams’s critics. Take Jarvis’s word. Read his work or listen to his talks, which are plentifully available. If he’s going to be put forth as a representative of the secular “social justice movement” encroaching upon evangelical institutions or listed as someone influenced by secular pagan views, then you should be able to see it in his body of work. Go check the sources for yourself.

Eric Mason’s Missiology. The second example Tom used to make the claim that secular “social justice” ideas are infiltrating the church was a quotation from a section of Eric Mason’s book Woke Church. Tom comments:

Eric Mason has written a book calling for a new movement which he labels “woke church.” In his book, he advocates viewing the world and viewing the mission of the church through lenses that come from cultural Marxism, though he himself might never see it that way. He argues that the church must be busy righting the wrongs that we see in society so that we can gain access to people’s hearts. But that gets it exactly wrong according to the New Testament commission of the church. We’re to go preach the gospel of Jesus Christ and make disciples so that those who are being discipled can be the light of the world and those who know Christ can address the wrongs and impact it with truth and righteousness. (emphasis added)

Please note what’s being said here. Tom represents Eric as advocating a view of the church’s mission influenced by cultural Marxism. He qualifies by saying Mason “might never see it that way.” So why represent Mason in a way you suspect he would not accept? If Mason would not ascribe his view to cultural Marxism, would perhaps even reject cultural Marxism, do we really gain much understanding or show much charity by charging him with “cultural Marxism” anyway? It’s a misrepresentation in service to a theory that cannot be demonstrated using Mason’s published work.

But consider carefully the content Tom finds objectionable. Tom paraphrases Mason as saying the church must be busy righting wrongs to gain access to people’s hearts. Tom then contends that the actual mission of the church is to make disciples (i.e., grow the church) who then affect the world in truth and righteousness. What really is the difference between these two statements once you remove the unsubstantiated charge that Mason is influenced by cultural Marxism?

Mason says “the church,” by which he means congregations of Christian disciples, must affect the world. Tom says, we must make disciples—by which I assume he means converted, committed church members—who go on to affect the world. It’s virtually the same argument presented in slightly different terms with Tom starting a little further upstream to reference evangelism, which Mason practices and assumes. But Tom has made things sound as if Eric is making an entirely different and nefarious argument. Tom appears to represent Eric this way in order to levy a charge of “cultural Marxism,” even though he knows Eric would deny the charge.

This is not careful, charitable Christian debate. Nor is it evidence that supports the basic premise that “social justice” influences Christians and subverts biblical Christianity.

Pivotal Role

Again, I’ve chosen Tom Ascol for this post because he has played a pivotal role in the anti-social justice “side.” His comments are representative of the kinds of comments typical to that viewpoint. The wider mass of argument decrying a “social justice movement” depends on the same kind of methodology and “evidence” Tom uses here.

In my opinion, demonstrating that a “social justice movement” exists has failed utterly. That’s not surprising to me. No movement has ever existed to my knowledge. No organization or steering committee guides anything. The various persons criticized, while sometimes friends and acquaintances, have not worked together to produce a joint statement, specify any goals, or take any action—all things necessary to a “movement.”

To be honest, the anti-social justice “side” bears many more markings of a movement than anything or anyone they criticize among Christians. They have produced a statement and written a good number of posts expositing the statement. They have called others to join their cause by signing the statement. They have held conferences and meetings expounding their concerns and goals. They’ve spawned hours of podcasts and sermon series. They’ve developed their own lexicon replete with pejoratives and hashtags to mark out their perspective and the people who share it. They’ve sometimes sought to bring pressure on people and institutions. That is a movement. But it’s a movement built on conspiracy theories rather than compelling evidence.

There is no evangelical “social justice movement.” However, there does need to be a movement for justice. A movement that combines evangel and ethics, proclamation and practice, doctrine and duty. There needs to be an organized investment in teaching Christians and churches to apply what we learn to every area of life so that we more consistently and faithfully bear witness to the character and work of God in the world.

I actually think most everyone agrees with this basic need. Given that, it would be good to stop the recriminations and get on with constructively pursuing evangel and ethic, good news and good work. May the Lord give us grace to do so.

My last two posts made an assertion that I hope to illustrate further in this post. To do so, I need to get more specific about some disagreements. And to do that, I think I need to begin with an issue raised in my April 2018 post, “We Await Repentance for Assassinating Dr. King,” and subsequently engaged by John MacArthur in his four-part blog series and four-part sermon series on Ezekiel 18 (I’ve linked to the first in each of those series).

Given that John mentioned me by name in some of his public comments, that we have sometimes served together at conferences, and that I’ve expressed my appreciation for him on multiple occasions on this blog (here and here, for examples), I trust the fair reader will understand that my mentioning him directly is (a) but returning his friendly critique, (b) is in the context of overall appreciation, and (c) is done with the hopes of being specific about issues. My aim is not to personally attack John, simply to clarify where our disagreement lies and to do so in a way that draws the circle of conversation to a smaller, tighter circumference. That’s my hope anyway.

The contested point has to do with repentance. Specifically, whether personal repentance is in any way tied to what might be called cultural sins or sins characterizing a generation.

So let’s begin . . .

John’s Concern

John began his contribution to the social justice debate by asserting, “Over the years, I’ve fought a number of polemical battles against ideas that threaten the gospel. This recent (and surprisingly sudden) detour in quest of ‘social justice’ is, I believe, the most subtle and dangerous threat so far.” It was a bold claim, as you would expect from him. It’s an assessment that dials up the issue to first-order dispute insofar as we’re talking about the nature of the gospel itself. At least that’s how John sees it.

For his part, John argues that “social justice” (in my opinion, ill-defined in his sermons and writing) represents an addition to the gospel or another gospel altogether. He sees current advocacy for “social justice” as essentially a pragmatic re-hashing of the social gospel. He thinks vague “social justice” demands, like repenting for the sins of prior generations, are being added to the gospel as a necessary part of repentance. His contributions to the discussion aim most pointedly at rebutting this notion.

There Are Actually Three Errors to Avoid

Theologian Graham Cole, writing about praying to the Holy Spirit in his book Engaging with the Holy Spirit, provides a helpful comment when thinking about threats to the gospel:

There are many ways to spoil the gospel. One such way is by addition: Christ plus Mosaic circumcision as the gospel for the Gentiles. Galatians addresses this error. The gospel may also be spoiled by subtraction. Christ is divine but not human. . . . This docetic error was the problem facing the original readers of John’s first letter (1 John 4:1-3). But the gospel may also be spoiled by a lack of due weight in theological emphasis, by giving an element in it either too much or too little accent. A biblical truth may be weighted in a way that skews our thinking about God and the gospel. (p. 64; italics added)

By addition, by subtraction, by a lack of due weight in theological emphasis. Three ways to spoil the gospel.

John appears to think I and others are threatening the gospel by adding to the Good News an unbiblical view of repentance. Consider his emphasis in his series on Ezekiel 18. In each sermon, he drives home the idea that each person is responsible for their own sins before God. He rejects the idea that any person can or should repent for the sins of a previous generation or the characteristic sins of the culture.

I completely agree with John that each person must give an account to God for the sins they have personally and actually committed in the body. Full stop. See, for example, Romans 14:12 and Hebrews 4:13. This is not in dispute.

However, I think John makes his argument in a way that risks committing errors two and three listed by Cole. He risks spoiling the gospel both by subtracting from it and by a lack of proper balance in theological emphasis where the doctrines of sin and repentance are concerned.

Subtracting from the Gospel

I think John’s way of making his argument risks subtracting from the gospel in two ways. First, by reducing everything to sins actively and knowingly committed and to individual culpability and accountability before God, John risks shrinking what we know about the nature of sin and accountability itself. He puts forth an individualistic understanding of sin that:

• omits consideration of unintentional sin (see Lev. 4, for example),
• fails to give attention to sins unknown to us (Ps. 19:12; 1 Cor. 4:4),
• seems to minimize the ways individuals share the characteristic sins of their forebears (Matt. 23:34-36, for example), and
• seems to overlook the ways people can be held complicit in the actions of their contemporaries even when they were not the immediate perpetrators (Acts 2:22-23, for example).

A good doctrine of sin must include unintentional sin, unknown or unconscious sin, and give attention to complicity in the cultural or characteristic sins of a people. Such complicity should be clearly acknowledged even if we think the solution still comes back to individual repentance–as one of my critics, Doug Wilson, does here. My disagreement with Doug at the time was simply that not every post needs to include a gospel call to repentance and faith. Doug and I were not disagreeing about the biblical reality of culture-wide sins or complicity in them. Nor were we disagreeing about whether personal repentance should somehow be redefined. But John seems to think repentance was being redefined.

To be clear: Repentance should not be redefined.

The disagreement is about what things should prompt us to repentance. John appears to shrink those prompts down to an individual’s acts of personal and conscious sin. Based on Scripture, I also would include the discovery of unintentional sin as well as sharing in the characteristic sins of forebears and contemporaries. If the Lord himself teaches that collapsing towers that kill people or murderous actions of dictators should be prompts to personal repentance as in Luke 13:1-5, one would think that sins closer to home in one’s own cultural and national history would be even stronger prompts to repentance. But reducing everything to the personal and conscious subtracts these inducements to repentance.

Second, I think John risks subtracting from the gospel by taking an approach that minimizes God’s social and ethical demands. John frequently argues “none of us are victims” of injustice, but ultimately all are guilty of injustice against God. But that seems to miss the fact that there are two tables of the Law—the first defining our responsibility to God and the second our responsibility to each other. By collapsing love for God and love for neighbor this way, John effectively minimizes the second table of neighbor love (which is where justice issues arise).

But biblical ethical teaching is integral to the gospel. Those ethical considerations come in two forms: (a) the prior requirements of the Law that make the gospel so necessary in the first place and (b) the holiness that conforms to the gospel subsequent to conversion. So, ethics (or holiness, if you like) condemns us prior to conversion and ethics comes to define us after conversion. When Christians speak of social justice, they mean God’s biblical requirements for holy and righteous living in social relationships.

I’m quite certain John would say that our lack of holiness means we need the gospel and that holiness subsequent to conversion is indeed an “implication” of the gospel, though not the specific propositional content of the gospel message itself. To which I would heartily agree.

However, we need to be careful with “implication” language. Saying something is an “implication of the gospel” does not mean it is unnecessary to the gospel. Some people seem to use the term “implication” that way, almost as a synonym for “optional.” They treat the gospel’s implications the way one might treat an appendix that can be safely removed without damage to the human body.

It’s better to think of implications in the mathematical or logical sense, as something following necessarily from the proposition itself. In that sense, we can distinguish the proposition from the implication, but removing the implication distorts the proposition. So diminishing the gospel’s implications is like removing rays from the sun. Without rays the sun ceases in a meaningful sense to be the sun. Removing rays from the sun diminishes its reach, heat, and power. Or, to switch metaphors, you can tell a tree by the fruit it bears (Luke 6:43-44). The fruit is not the tree, but the tree can only meaningfully be identified by its fruit. Whether it’s rays of the sun or fruit on a tree, take away the implication and you distort the proposition or thing itself.

This is the kind of subtraction I think John risks by driving too wide a separation between the gospel and its entailments and by collapsing the sin of injustice into “we are all rebels against God.” We have received from God an evangel and an ethic. The two should not and cannot be separated without risking harm to the evangel.

Imbalance with the Gospel

John also emphasizes personal culpability and accountability beyond proper balance, committing the third error listed by Cole. Ezekiel 18 focuses pretty clearly on whether “a man is righteous and does what is just” (v. 5), which includes “does not oppress anyone” and “withholds his hands from injustice, executes true justice between man and man” (vv. 7, 8). God does not require a vague individual repentance but repentance that specifically turns to justice.

This truth receives “too little accent” and is “weighted in a way that skews our thinking about God and the gospel” (to use Cole’s phrases). In John’s accounting of both the text of Ezekiel and the gospel-shaped Christian life, he opts for an overly individualistic emphasis, downplaying the complete social rot of Israel into idolatry and every form of sin and injustice. Consider, for example, how “the city” is described in Ezekiel 22:1-12. Or recall the Lord’s assessment in Ezek. 22:29-30:

The people of the land have practiced extortion and committed robbery. They have oppressed the poor and needy, and have extorted from the sojourner without justice. And I sought for a man among them who should build up the wall and stand in the breach before me for the land, that I should not destroy it, but I found none.

The cultural rot was so widespread and deep that God found no one who was righteous!

Ezekiel 18 and 22 must be read together. They are part of the same book. Emphasizing one section (“A man shall die for his own sins”) as if the other does not exist (“The entire city was corrupt in idolatry and injustice”) is to strike an improper balance. Surely each person will give an account for their own life, but just as surely each person must be careful they do not share in the sins of their age. We ought to imagine the entire message of Ezekiel being given to the entire people of Israel in balance rather than exalting one part well beyond the other.

It’s always a temptation in polemics to stress one thing to an excess when we view ourselves as correcting excesses elsewhere. But over-correction tends to do harm as well. We have to prayerfully work against such extremes, or we risk imbalances that harm the gospel.

What’s in Dispute from My Perspective

In my opinion, John gives us a view of the gospel and repentance far too complacent about oppression, injustice, mistreatment, and indifference. In writing this, I am not saying that John or anyone in the discussions would affirm those things as “good” or “acceptable.” I’m suggesting that their conception of the gospel and its requirements are too narrow and subjectively pietistic, too imbalanced toward American individualism, and too sanguine about the differences of our day compared to previous generations. Consequently, their conception of the gospel fails to actually account for the socially and culturally characteristic sins that require repentance.

To put it another way: I think this view of the gospel leaves a significant blind spot. Specifically, the reduction of sin to the individual’s conscious action leaves one blind to (sometimes even opposed to the notion of) cultural sins, systemic sin and injustice, and the possibility of complicity with a generation’s sinful actions (for NT instances, see Matt. 23:34-36; Acts 2:22-23).

What I have been attempting to argue over the last couple of years is that the evangelical and fundamentalist church shares in the sins of the wider American society to such an extent it has sometimes been indistinguishable from the world and has yet to demonstrate any fruit of repentance (Matt. 3:8; Luke 3:8; Act 26:20) worth remarking. There are exceptions. But speaking in general terms, evangelical and fundamentalist churches have been worldly churches committing the sins of the culture and age. This is particularly true regarding matters of racial justice. Indeed, at various points in history evangelical and fundamentalist churches have been leading the world in race-based sin and oppression. (For more on this last point, see, for example: Colin Kidd, The Forging of Races; Mary Beth Swetnam Matthews, Doctrine and Race; Rebecca Anne Goetz, The Baptism of Early Virginia; Richard Bailey, Race and Redemption in Puritan New England; Jemar Tisby, The Color of Compromise; Katharine Gerbner, Christian Slavery: Conversion and Race in the Protestant Atlantic World; Alan Cross, When Heaven and Earth Collide; Kevin Jones and Jarvis J. Williams, Removing the Stain of Racism from the Southern Baptist Convention; or The Report on Slavery and Racism in the History of The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary).

Individual accountability before God and the necessity of repentance for one’s own sin were never in dispute. What’s in dispute is whether one’s claim to repentance and the gospel can be regarded as genuine if one does not break from the characteristic sins of their era and culture, including the besetting sins of their church culture.

The actual debate is about the extent to which the sins of previous generations still mark this generation, and, if so, whether people today will acknowledge and repent of it. What is in dispute is whether a mere claim to not being guilty of certain sins constitutes either repentance or innocence when the sins in view actually require active opposition and when we may be unaware of some sins (Ps. 19:12; 1 Cor. 4:4). The life the gospel produces ought to be actively anti-racist, anti-oppression, anti-family destruction, and so on. At least that’s the view of the Bible (Isa. 1:17; passim).

Conclusion

At the 2016 T4G conference, I listened as John preached powerfully on repentance. In his introduction, he asked the audience of mostly pastors and seminarians:

Have you ever heard of a church that repented? A church, a whole church, that repented? Have you ever been part of a church that repented? Openly, genuinely, collectively, with sadness and brokenness—a church that repented for sins against its Head, the Lord Jesus Christ.

John speculated that the audience probably had not. “We all like calling the nation to repentance,” he said, “but what about the church?”

Over the last couple of years, I’ve wondered why his call to church-wide repentance has been missing when it comes to the racial history and guilt of evangelical churches. I’m sad to say nearly all of John’s comments regarding social justice since his 2016 T4G talk have actually opposed calls for the church as a whole to repent, especially when those calls involve the Church doing justice (Mic. 6:8) on racial matters.

Perhaps I should not have been surprised since John also maintained in 2016:

Churches rarely repent. Rarely are they broken over their collective sin. Rarely do they cry out from the depths of their heart for forgiveness, purity, cleansing, and restoration.

I lament to think how right John’s words were in 2016 and now. I think John was correct in 2016, both in his call for the church qua church to repent as well as his assertion that churches rarely do.

But now he seems to have changed his view. Now it seems he thinks calls to “collective repentance” represent a threat to the gospel. If that’s so, then that’s the nub of any continuing difference we have. I still think the church needs to repent and bring forth fruit in keeping with repentance (Matt. 3:8; Luke 3:8).

I think John would be more consistent with himself and with the Scripture if he applied his 2016 sermon to the church and matters of racial justice. But we all have places of inconsistency and areas where we need to grow. John and I both need the Lord’s grace to be faithful to the whole counsel of Scripture. May the Lord help us both and sanctify his church.

Most people who have been paying attention to these exchanges would likely identify its origin with either the death of Mike Brown in Ferguson or perhaps earlier protests following the killing of Trayvon Martin. Following those events, the debate picked up steam as a long line of video-recorded police-involved shootings took place between 2014 and 2016. With the presidential election of 2016, the conflict reached its peak, and the split between Black and White Christians was felt most sharply.

Something broke in 2016, but it wasn’t theology.

We See Things Differently

Indeed, the current iteration of the “debate” is simply a long-standing difference in political viewpoints between African-Americans and White Americans, both outside and inside the church. It’s the same competing political visions that on the one hand birthed pro-slavery Christianity among many White Americans and, on the other hand, pro-freedom Christianity among nearly all African Americans. It’s the same competing political visions that forced the founding of independent African-American congregations and denominations as White Christians opted for segregated services and memberships. It’s the same competing political visions that faced-off during civil-rights marches and sit-ins. One group with quiet resolve protested for full inclusion as human beings and citizens, while some others in loud and sometimes violent opposition fought to retain the former way of racial hierarchy, exclusion, and Black quiescence or called for gradualism.

It’s a sad historical fact, but the social ethics of Black and White Christians differ dramatically. That difference in social ethics results from differences in social position.

To generalize 350 years of history from slavery to the end of Jim Crow: Too many White Americans, including Christians, defined Black Americans, including Christians, not as neighbors (or, siblings in the case of Christians) but as “others” and sometimes even as “animals.” Too many White Americans once defined Black Americans as “chattel” or “property,” and by that dehumanizing standard justified the most inhumane treatment imaginable, including an inhumane indifference when compassion was needed.

After centuries of such thinking, and following centuries of protest, things have changed remarkably. In many respects, today’s America looks nothing like America from 1619 to 1969. But the country’s ugly thinking still rears its head from time-to-time, especially in Black-White exchanges about racial progress, inclusion, equity, and justice. As an illustration, consider the rise of white supremacist propaganda and violence in the last couple of years. The country has made progress, but we’ve not reached perfection.

Ethical Issue

At the bottom of the competing ethical visions of Black and White Americans is a deceptively simple but radical command from the Lord Jesus: “Love your neighbor” (Lev. 19:18; Matt. 22:39; Mark 12:33; Rom. 13:9-10).

Our practice of neighbor love depends on (1) who we define as neighbors and (2) who we think worthy of our compassion (Luke 10:25-38). If our definition of “neighbor” is small, constricted to only people “like us,” then the reach of our compassion will be short. If our definition of “neighbor” is expansive, crossing cultural and ethnic boundaries to include strangers and “the wrong kind of people” like the good Samaritan, then the reach of our compassion will likewise be expansive.

Our conceptions of “neighbor love” determine our political visions and priorities.

It’s Politics

That’s why the flash point for Black and White differences in social ethics isn’t theology proper. Check the statements of faith for both branches of the faith and you’ll find identical creeds and confessions. After all, both traditions are Christian traditions with overlapping origins in the evangelical revivals of the 18th century. So the flash point, the site of the most flagrant conflicts, is almost always politics. Not theology.

By politics, I simply mean the expression of social ethics in the arena of public policy priorities, debate, and action. Politics is how we decide what constitutes “the good” in American life and culture.

Black and White Christians disagree about politics. We sometimes argue our politics in the language of theology. But, in my opinion, that’s the wrong language, and the choice of that language as a political tool suggests too much confidence about the Christian’s ability to draw a dark, thick line from their theology directly to policy prescriptions. (For more on this, see Robert Benne, Good and Bad Ways to Think About Politics and Religion).

The discussions would be healthier if we simply framed them as competing political visions that grow out of differing emphases in social ethics, both with biblical antecedents, neither sufficient alone to represent total reality.

Or, to put it another way, we tend to emphasize in our social ethics the biblical teachings that most comport with our social location. Those who are advantaged relative to others, tend to think about maintaining their advantages (or “blessings,” if you will). Those who are disadvantaged relative to others, tend to think about relieving their disadvantages (or “oppressions,” if you will).

Because of the country’s racial history, this basic political truism (self-interest) plays itself out along racial lines. That means African Americans tend to advocate for policies that remedy their oppression, grant full inclusion in American society, and redress historical wrongs. The rightness of doing this is self-evident. But since freedom and enfranchisement are very new realities for African Americans (54 years if we date it to the 1965 Voting Rights Act), there’s been very little time for any significant diversification in African-American opinion or rearrangement of political affinities. So we look like a voting block beholden to a certain view of the good life. That can be mistaken for ideological liberalism. But it’s grittier than that, less sophisticated, more existential. We want to be free. So we side with freedom. It’s primarily an ethical vision.

Meanwhile, White Americans tend to advocate for policies that protect individual liberty and property ownership, emphasize personal responsibility for success or failure, and seek to maintain “American” competitive advantage. Since civic freedom and power have always been realities for White Americans, there’s been plenty of time for them to develop diverse political opinions and affinities. But for the same reason (the constancy of participating in civic freedom and power), there’s been a disincentive to re-examine power and resource distribution, or the historical factors that have produced the current state of things. Here’s how Frederick Douglass put it more than 100 years ago:

Slavery is indeed gone, but its shadow still lingers over the country and poisons more or less the moral atmosphere of all sections of the republic. The money motive for assailing the negro which slavery represented is indeed absent, but love of power and dominion, strengthened by two centuries of irresponsible power, still remains.

HT: Brad Mason for the Douglass quote.

So White Americans look like a voting block beholden to a certain view of the good life. That can be mistaken for an ideological conservatism. But it too is grittier than that, less sophisticated, more existential. Since the American Revolution, many White Americans have not wanted to be “enslaved.” So, many side with power. That, too, is primarily an ethical vision.

But if as citizens we imagine that one person’s or group’s freedom challenges or takes away from another person’s or group’s power, then we will be in conflict. If as citizens we imagine that one group’s power can only be maintained at the expense of another group’s freedom, then we will be in conflict. We lock ourselves into a binary from which there can be no escape as long as we construe a non-correspondent outcome. If there must be winners and losers in our most basic political aim, our politics will continue to be a kind of unarmed warfare. We will conquer one another rather than cooperate with one another. As Christian citizens, we will do this in the language and categories of theology because we often feel “politics” to be beneath proper Christian conduct.

The Church

My description of political gridlock is admittedly simple. Yet we’ve grown pretty accustomed to political gridlock. Some people even like to warm themselves by the fire of anger that our political tribalism produces. Consequently, we may not be that distressed when we see these things playing out in the world. But we ought to be distressed any time we see political tribalism, gridlock, or division playing out in the church.

Should we continue practicing our bifurcated social ethics? Can we not muster a fuller ethical vision, more comprehensive and more complex, so that we can witness on the multiple levels and in the multiple ways the Bible requires? How might “you shall not lord it over one another” (Matt. 20:24-26) inform our political advocacy as a Christian people rather than a natural ethnic people? How might “if you can gain your freedom, avail yourself of the opportunity” (1 Cor. 7:21) define our political strategy as a Christian people reconciled in Christ?

In the church, Black, White, Caribbean, Asian, and Hispanic Christians should be grappling with each other in order to arrive at a more mature Christian social ethics that galvanizes us rather than divides us. To do that, we have to stop shoehorning our political differences into theological dress. We distract and disorient ourselves when we do that. We have to recognize that either (a) we simply disagree politically (which Christians of good conscience will sometimes do) and/or (b) we haven’t done the constructive ethical work we need in order to bear faithful witness. Indeed, we have to learn to interrogate our underlying political assumptions and values with a wider reading of Scripture than merely our own.

Where would we be in the cause of Christ if all the energy poured into the “social justice debate” as a theological disagreement instead had been poured into a constructive discussion of our political differences, the ethical visions underpinning those differences, and a way forward together?

We’re missing what actually divides us and thereby missing an opportunity to glorify Christ.

“Just preach the gospel.”

“Only the gospel can change an individual’s heart.”

“The gospel is the answer to problems of injustice.”

We hear these sentiments so often it can feel like heresy to question them. In one sense, the sentiments above are true. The preacher and the Christian should “just preach the gospel” as our main message and the only message that saves. We ought to see the gospel as providing the most fundamental answer to sin problems of every sort, including injustice.

However, these statements alone are entirely insufficient as a complete Christian ministry strategy or program for living. We do not need more than the gospel to save or see the individual heart changed from stone to living flesh. But God has given us more than the gospel in his Word, and all he gives us in the word is necessary to ministry and life. That’s why “just preach the gospel” can become a dangerous distortion of Christianity.

Evangel and Ethic

Theologian Graham A. Cole speaks to this well in his book Engaging with the Holy Spirit. Cole writes:

The evangelistic . . . must not be divorced from the ethical. Again Paul did not divorce the two. He spent three weeks at Thessalonica, and yet he left them not only an evangel (1 Thes. 1:9-10) but also an ethic: “You received from us how you ought to live and to please God. (1 Thes. 4:1-8). (p. 95, italics added)

Any effort to emphasize the evangel (the gospel) that effectively cuts off the ethical (how to live to please God) fails to be properly Christian in the full sense of the term. Separating evangel from ethic becomes proclamation without practice—and that is not our calling in Christ. As Cole puts it: “The ethical can become unhinged from the evangelical and replaced by a ‘gospel’ pragmatism” (p. 97). Or, as I’ve argued elsewhere, replaced by a “gospel escapism” (here and here).

So, the first thing I’d like to contribute to the social justice debate is a statement I don’t suspect will be controversial to most. Specifically: The Christian life is both evangel and ethic, proclamation and practice, inseparably joined. The two must be held together, the ethic flowing from the evangel, the evangel empowering the ethic. We dare not break them apart lest we damage Christianity itself.

That’s my simple overarching thesis.

My overarching problem statement is that historically and at present we have an evangelical Christian church generally failing at the ethical half of the faith. That failure results from little teaching and inadequate understanding of gospel ethics, especially as it relates to the practice of justice on a range of issues.

The conservative and Reformed evangelical church receives a heavy dose of gospel doctrine (appropriately so) but not nearly enough discipleship in gospel duty. Its witness is being hurt by the latter (duty), not the former (doctrine). Or, to use Paul’s words to Timothy, there’s need for the church to “closely watch its life and doctrine.”

The social justice “debate” appears to me as a kind of spiritual and intellectual dissonance caused by some quarters of the church awakening to the ethical demands of God while other quarters resist that awakening or perceived excesses in it. From my vantage point, Christians pursuing justice are attempting to hold together evangel and ethic in renewed ways as they apply biblical texts and appropriate history. (I stress Christians here because I am not defending and am not a part of the large number of non-Christian things traveling beneath the banner of “social justice.”) To put it simply: Some Christians are trying to grow in their understanding and pursuit of Bible- and gospel-informed justice, while some other Christians are invested in protecting the gospel from threats they believe they see. My critique of the latter is that they appear to be severing evangel from ethic.

As I see it, the disagreements are not primarily matters of formal theology; our disagreements are primarily ethical and political.

De-Churching Ourselves?

But there’s a further problem, more difficult to notice at first, but just as deadly to living a life of proclamation and practice. Whenever we sever the ethical from the evangel, we also tend to reduce Christianity to a kind of spiritual individualism. Performing the ethical requires a target “other.” The church’s treatment of others is the empirical data for evaluating its ethical understanding. Christians are called to love others, first other Christians but also the outside world, including our enemies. Our witness is not primarily a matter of individual Christian reputation but a matter of our corporate, congregational reputation.

We see this most clearly when charges of the church’s complicity in racism are met with appeals to personal innocence. They say, “I have never owned a slave.” Or, “I am not a racist.” Implicit in those announcements of personal innocence is a distancing of the individual from the church. Whatever may be true of the church, it’s not true of me is the thinking. By that logic, individuals begin to subtly de-church themselves. They own only their personal ethical performance while disavowing the entire family of God.

This pattern of thinking then further weakens perceptions of the church’s ethical responsibility. If it is indeed the case that someone has not committed a sin, say, made a racist remark or participated in oppression, then it would be entirely appropriate to state, “I have not individually committed said sin.” But if at the same time we are one body in Christ, and we have a plethora of “one another” commands like “restore one another” or “admonish one another,” then our ethical duty is not exhausted by our individual behavior. If we are Christians, then we are part of the church, and if part of the church, then we are both associated with and have responsibility for the church’s ethical practice and witness (at least and primarily our local church’s witness). We could argue that by virtue of our innocence in these matters we actually have even more responsibility for contributing to the church’s correction, growth, and improvement in these areas. Who else will the church learn from except those who have some experience and victory in the areas of concern?

But evangelicalism continues to be weak in its understanding of the centrality of the church in Christian faith and practice. As Mark Noll has observed, “Up to the 1700s, British Protestants preached on God’s plans for the church. From the mid-1700s, however, evangelicals emphasized God’s plans for the individual.” That shift in emphasis from church to individual weakened the Christian’s sense of group identity as well as the sense of ethical responsibility as a covenant community. But as Graham Cole reminds us in a different context, “Our lived ecclesiology is of profound importance.”

We, the Church

We, the church, together as the family of God, have received both an evangel and an ethic. The challenge facing God’s people today is not primarily the challenge of “just preaching the gospel” but of preaching the gospel while living the ethic. We have further need of not distancing ourselves from the church, even unintentionally, lest we further weaken its ethical witness.

There’s a clear biblical priority—“the gospel is of first importance” (1 Cor. 15:1). But it’s not of sole importance. The commands of God governing his church’s lived agenda are critical as well. Without them, we may just falsify the gospel we want so badly to preach. Failing to recognize that such a falsification has and does happen is one major problem in the current debate. We should aim to correct it wherever it exists so that with integrity we may give the whole counsel of God to the whole people of God (Acts 20:26-27) so they may bear witness to God’s whole world.

So, to divert my mind from pending “death by Australia,” I’m reading and blogging. I’ve turned back to an issue that because of what seems like limited upside, I’d just as soon ignore: social justice.

I’ve drafted a few pieces that I hope to post over the coming weeks. But before I post them, I thought it might be good to answer a question my wife put to me: “Why write about it now?”

It’s a fair question and one some readers may have. So let me try to give my “why” answers as succinctly as possible in order to provide context for the posts that hopefully follow in the coming weeks.

First, the “social justice debate” continues to fracture the church. I hoped things would calm down and the dispute would not become a permanent feature of Christian fellowship. I thought that engaging the issue in this forum would only add fuel to a fire that seems to give more heat than light. About a year ago, I drafted a series of articles but decided not to publish them hoping things would get better. That wish has not come to pass, so it seems some comments may be necessary. I hope they will be useful.

Second, truth claims are at stake. I assume everyone involved in the discussion is or ought to be interested in the truth. The truth makes us free (John 8:31-32). That’s supremely true of the gospel and the Scripture, but it’s also true of truth in general. There are claims about the gospel, the Scripture, history and social science that need articulation or defending for the sake of Christ and the church.

Third, misrepresentations continue. From the beginning of the “debate,” it seems to me that representations of proponents of justice were misleading and inaccurate. That hasn’t changed with time. I hope to show, in some cases, where things have been off-kilter.

Fourth, most readers will be unaware of the tremendous private pressure that’s been placed on faithful brothers and sisters in their churches and workplaces. I have been free from that pressure (at least to my knowledge), but I have been grieved to see faithful brethren not only misrepresented publicly but also have their careers, livelihoods, reputations, and relationships assailed in more private settings with their employers and church leadership. As recently as this morning I’ve received a call from someone seeking support and wisdom in dealing with this more covert opposition.

Fifth, the misrepresentations have gone global. Until about three months ago, I thought of the “debate” as largely a U.S.-based disagreement. I think it primarily is. But I’ve also become aware that the misrepresentations of the issues and of some saints have spread to and effected churches abroad. A church-planting pastor from India expressed pain over relationships that have been frayed. Pastors in Quebec were hesitant to attend a planned meeting to think about justice from the Scriptures. Pastors and elders from Zambia talked with me for about an hour trying to figure out what is going on between brothers who formerly labored together in the gospel. Seminarians in Australia sheepishly asked for clarity on what appears confusing to them. An email from a short-term mission team serving in Thailand recounted how a faithful and solid missionary there had taken in false and uncharitable representations. All of these encounters have occurred in the last three to four months. The United States exports so much to the rest of the church world, for good and for ill. Based on what I’m hearing from brothers and sisters elsewhere, I’m concerned the exportation of the social justice debate has been for ill. I’m concerned that not contributing to the discussion only further confuses and hurts the global church.

Sixth, I hope my own heart and conscience are clear enough to now write well. I haven’t always spoken or acted well in the last couple of years. Hence my apology to those I’ve offended. With God’s help, I hope now to say a few things that critique the anti-social justice position and a couple of things that clarify my own view. I hope, by God’s grace, to do that in a redemptive way. Please pray for that.

So, that’s it. That’s the “why now” answer I would give. As I dig into this, I want to renew my commitment from a couple of weeks back:

I hope to reverse [my] errors and sins going forward. I commit to extending as much charity as I’m able in my writing. I do not intend to coddle or mollify, for that sometimes would be sin of another sort—either flattery or dissembling. But I do hope to be clear and perhaps confrontational without being uncharitable. I do hope to be incisive but not judgmental. I do hope to state facts well while not wrongly extrapolating or generalizing. And I do hope to make my meaning, audience, and subjects of critique unmistakable.

For most of the last two years, I’ve been listening to the views of others. While I’ve been active on Twitter, I’ve intentionally not engaged some discussions at blog length. I’ve benefitted from a great deal of my listening. Much has been said. However, much still needs to be said. I hope to be useful to the Lord’s cause, his church, and righteousness as I say my part. I hope you will pray for me as I renew my commitment to pray for you when I write.

I do not intend a long series of posts, perhaps four or five. And I do not intend to engage in a lot of back-and-forth with a lot of people. The wide number of voices have usually added confusion, so I’ll try to limit any responses to those I name or engage in these posts. I think we need smaller conversations where possible.

Lord willing, we begin next week with a general statement of my view on the relationship between justice and the gospel. Until then, grace, mercy and peace to each of you.

As I read the article I felt both saddened for people looking for a substitute for God and the church, as well as alerted to a kind of cautionary tale. After all, some of the people in the article had been consistent churchgoers who left the faith. Like Justina, described in the article as someone whose “faith had long since unraveled, a casualty of overseas travel that made her question how any one religious community could have a monopoly on truth.” If you have been a Christian for any number of years, you’ve met at least one Justina, who could have been a close friend or a member of a church you know. A couple of days after reading this article, I read Josh Harris’s announcement of his leaving the faith. These things hit close to home.

Make God Central and Unavoidable

“Secular church” services attract people by minimizing God and amplifying social relationships. The article reports: “Members gather on Sundays, sing together, listen to speakers, and converse over coffee and donuts. Meetings are meant to be just like church services—but without God. ‘That’s it,’ [Justina] thought. ‘That’s what I want.’”

That description comes alarmingly close to the ministry philosophy of seeker-friendly and emergent churches, movements that have also seen their decline.

But are we really being the church or genuinely worshiping if Sunday becomes a performance where God gets pushed into a role as an extra? I think not. In fact, according to 1 Corinthians 14:24-25, when “an unbeliever or outsider enters” our gatherings, they should be “convicted by all . . . called to account by all,” have “the secrets of his heart disclosed, and so falling on his face . . . worship God and declare that God is really among you.” For that to happen, our gatherings must be relentless and intentional in making a really big deal of God. It’s part of what makes us distinctively Christian, and it’s the only thing that helps the Justinas of the world survive their encounter with rival religious claims.

Pastors and Christians, do not downplay God in order to “win people.” What you win people with is what you win people to. Let that be God in all his majesty and splendor.

Celebrate Christian Tradition and History

The folks attempting to organize these “secular churches” found recruiting and keeping members difficult. They longed for community but didn’t have the necessary “glue”—vision, values, history—to build a lasting congregation of people. The article points out: “Sustaining any kind of new congregation—indeed, any new group activity at all—is hard work. But religious groups have more tradition, history, and institutional support behind them, and these factors can stand as a kind of safety net behind religious start-ups.”

So, caution #2 for me while reading the article was: Do not downplay tradition, history, or even institution; rather, emphasize and celebrate them. No new convert to the faith has a clear sense of the 2,000 years of Christian history and heritage that’s come before them. Their understanding of the church as an institution can range from deep reticence about being involved because of past hurts or stereotypes to blissful ignorance about the warts and weaknesses of organized Christianity. Church leaders often face the temptation to shy away from these areas. We can give the impression that these things are at least boring if not unnecessary.

But any church that takes an ahistorical approach to the faith robs their members of a sense of historical identity and rootedness necessary for shaping Christian faith. We also rob them of apologetic resources helpful for strengthening and defending their faith. After all, this generation of Christians is not the first to think about the claims of atheists, Muslims, Hindus, scientists, and so on. We have a global family that crosses time and geography, and our family has left us immense riches to mine and apply in our own age.

Pastor and fellow Christians, celebrate Christian heritage and tradition. Teach it as a resource for faith and identity. Teach the good, the bad, and the ugly so that people aren’t surprised and unsettled when they hear the worst version of the Church from the unbelieving world. Use an old statement of faith that connects your church with the longer stream of Christian history. From time to time, use a creed from the early church in your services. This history is, after all, the story of God’s mighty works in keeping his promise to build his church. That’s far from boring; that’s promises fulfilled!

Sacrifice and Commitment

One reason the “secular churches” may be dwindling seems counter-intuitive: They don’t (and can’t) require commitment and sacrifice. People who choose these gatherings do so for a variety of reasons—some are anti-religion, some are pro-atheism, some just want to hang out. But few of them wish to be called to sacrifice and commitment. They’d rather come and go as they please. In other words, they don’t want the commitments of membership, just the benefits, and yet it’s those sacral commitments that hold a group together.

As one expert put it in the article: “Meeting in a building with the same group of people every week . . . I don’t think there’s any natural need for that.” Exactly. There’s only a supernatural need for that. The author continued, “you can’t just meet for the sake of community itself. You need a very powerful motivating element to keep people coming, something that attendees have in common.” For the Christian, that powerful motivating element is the lordship of Jesus Christ, sometimes the only thing diverse members of a congregation have in common.

Nevertheless, we’ve seen a significant number of Christian churches choose the low-commitment, limited-sacrifice route to church involvement. Some membership practices hardly require anything at all, simply showing up on Sunday or coming down front after the sermon. Such approaches set people up for frustration, rejection or resignation when the demands of church life—commitment, giving, accountability, and so on—come into view. There’s simply no way to have community without these graces. And even if you could, would it really be safe for the soul to want it?

Pastors and Christians, embrace commitment and sacrifice. Call people to it. Raise the bar to biblical levels. Use a church covenant as part of your membership process, at the Lord’s Supper, during your members’ meeting, and in counseling where appropriate. No church exists long without the sacrificial service of its members. For those who have received Christ’s sacrifice for their salvation, the Christian life now follows that same pattern of self-giving for the glory of God, the blessing of the saints, and the mission of the church.

Churches that Tend to Last

It’s vogue to blame the church for everything that goes wrong. I don’t think that’s a fair or effective thing to do. However, I do wonder to what extent the path to “secular churches” has been smoothed by high “community”/low commitment churches that minimize God and Christian tradition. Apostasy and false religion has always been around and will be until Jesus returns.

But how many Justinas might we actually see converted and kept in the fold were we to magnify God, celebrate tradition, and emphasize commitment and sacrifice? Those are the churches that really are churches, so we shouldn’t be surprised that those are also the churches that tend to last.

It seems to me these are the questions the church now faces and has been facing for a while. In congregations across the United States, leaders and members have been trying to figure this out. Some have confused uniformity for unity and made requirements of members that cannot be substantiated by Scripture (i.e., the sometimes subtle and sometimes explicit notion that one must vote Republican or not vote in order to “be a sound Christian”). Others have opted to not address or address only sparingly those matters where members are not uniform, hoping the matters will die down or thinking that to address them at all would be to create or further disunity (i.e., the strategy of not praying for, lamenting, or saying anything about instances of racial injustice). These options do not work. Tensions involving conscience and freedom, diversity and difference continue to rise.

What should Christian leaders and members do when they are not uniform in some matters, particularly important matters involving things like “race” and racial injustice or politics and voting? For those interested to maintain unity where there may be significant disagreement on important ethical matters, here are 12 things to apply from Romans 14:1–15:7. (I apologize in advance for the length. But, hey, I’m only blogging here once per week!)

1. Know Whether You Are Weak or Strong in the Faith (Rom. 14:1)

“As for the one who is weak in faith, welcome him, but not to quarrel over opinions. One person believes he may eat anything, while the weak person eats only vegetables” (Rom. 14:1–2).

“Weak” and “strong” have nothing to do with how long someone has been a Christian or their theological system itself. It has to do with their conscience and whether their conscience allows them freedom where Christ’s word actually grants freedom or whether their conscience creates rules and restrictions in place of the freedom Christ’s word allows. The person “weak in faith” develops rules and considers breaking those rules a sin, even though it’s not. The person “strong” in faith enjoys the freedom Christ gives with a sense of Christ’s approval. The difference between the two groups show up in their practices—not in their formal theology. One makes rules to restrict legitimate freedom, while the other enjoys the freedom Christ gives.

If we would have unity where we lack uniformity, then the weak and strong in faith must not quarrel with each other. Rather, they must understand each other and themselves. We must stop to ask: “According to the Scripture, am I weak or strong in faith? Am I enjoying the liberty of Christ, or am I making rules and restrictions where there are none biblically?”

Knowing we are “weak in faith” provides opportunity for us to be free in Christ. But the difficulty is that the weak in faith often believe themselves to be strong precisely because they have rules that appear correct to them. The failure of others to obey the rules of the weak only reinforces the sense of rightness in the weak. Until we examine whether we’re weak or strong, and until teachers in the church teach members these categories, we will “quarrel over opinions” and miss opportunities for unity amid difference. Moreover, we’ll miss important opportunities to bear unified witness against the evils of our age. Determining whether we are weak or strong is the first discussion to have on the way to unity. Everything that follows depends on this first issue.

2. Recognize the Difference Between Disputable Opinions and Moral Commands (Rom. 14:1)

Romans 14–15 does not address cardinal issues of Christian theology (i.e., the Trinity, the crucifixion, the deity of Christ, and so on). Nor does it address clear moral teaching of sin and righteousness (i.e., Rom. 1:18–32). In cardinal doctrine and moral imperative there can be no difference of opinion without distorting Christianity itself.

Romans 14–15 addresses “opinions” (Rom. 14:1), or as the NIV renders it “disputable matters.” The particular opinions in Rome involved dietary preferences and observance of special religious days. Church members in Rome were judging and condemning one another over these opinions. But the gospel and Christian morality did not ride on such things, which is what made their judgments so egregious. These were areas of Christian liberty wherein Christians of like precious faith could and did disagree. These areas of disagreement necessarily involved the individual conscience, and no two consciences are exactly alike in these “disputable matters.”

So if the church wants unity where it does not have uniformity, it must distinguish between the indisputable and the disputable. A significant amount  of consternation in the church today is a failure at precisely this point. What really is a non-negotiable of the Christian faith—either in terms of doctrinal teaching or moral imperative—and what is a “disputable matter” or “opinion” (which is not to say such matters are unimportant, just that they are matters that admit difference and sometimes ambiguity)? Once we figure out whether we are strong or weak on any given topic, then distinguishing clear biblical command from personal opinion is the second discussion to have on the way to unity.

3. Refuse to Despise Those Who Differ from You (Rom. 14:3)

“Let not the one who eats despise the one who abstains, and let not the one who abstains pass judgment on the one who eats, for God has welcomed him.” Those who enjoy their liberty to eat are the ones strong in faith. Their conscience allows them more freedom in eating without feeling like they’re sinning. Those who abstain are the “weak in faith.” Their conscience will not allow them to eat meat without feeling guilty of sin.

The Bible does not say, “Let the strong convince the weak to change their mind.” It does not say, “Let the weak convince the strong to give up meat.” I think this text implicitly disallows resolution by an act of power.

Instead, the Bible says, “Stop judging each other critically.” The Bible says, “Do not despise a person whose conscience is different from your own.” But how often do we hear Christians call into question the salvation of other Christians over differences of opinion about topics involving liberty? The Bible confronts our tendency to usurp God’s role in judgment in these matters. The Bible says, “Stop despising each other.”

The reason we should stop judging people over opinions and disputable matters is because God has already welcomed them. How can we condemn those God has already accepted in the gospel of Jesus Christ? If we need a rule in these matters, let it be the rule to never despise those who differ from us on opinions. Let us know whether we are weak or strong, discern the difference between clear biblical command and personal opinion, and then refuse to despise those who differ.

4. Leave Judgment to God (Rom. 14:4–5)

“Who are you to pass judgment on the servant of another? It is before his own master that he stands or falls. And he will be upheld, for the Lord is able to make him stand.”

Our disputes over opinions do not stop with the topics of dispute themselves (i.e., eating or celebration days). Another opinion often follows closely—opinions about whether those we disagree with are truly Christians. It’s a common temptation. We soon hear ourselves wonder or see others say or write, “I’m not sure they’re really Christians.”

But our fellow Christians are not our servants to judge. They do not belong to us. We did not save them. They belong to Another, to God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Our brothers and sisters will each appear to their true Master who alone will decide whether they stand or fall.

Notice the assurance. Our brothers and sisters will be upheld because it is the Lord who makes them stand! We should stop being so quick to wonder whether somebody is saved simply because they differ from us on a disputable matter. We should be far quicker to look at one another as people saved by the blood of Christ who belong to their One Master—Jesus the Lord.

If we are tempted to make a judgment of others in opinions, let it be the judgment that God is able to save them on that great and terrible Day. Let the certainty of God’s salvation be the emphasis, rather than a passing and tepid admission inserted while argument and innuendo suggest the opposite.

5. Be Fully Convinced in Your Own Mind (Rom. 14:5)

“One person esteems one day as better than another, while another esteems all days alike. Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind.”

Again, the Bible does not require one side to change their opinion and join the other side in “disputable matters.” What the Bible requires is that we know what we’re talking about. “Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind.” If we’re going to have an opinion, make sure it’s an informed and sound opinion. Opinions can be and often are wrong; so we need to get things right and settled through sound reason as best we can.

Everyone should be fully convinced in their own mind, but that doesn’t make every opinion equal in validity, accuracy, or helpfulness. In a lot of conversations between Christians about race and racism, the conversations are set up so that there are winners and losers and so that every opinion is seen as equally valid. But, friend, that’s a trap. There are a lot of ignorant opinions out there about race and racism. Some of the loudest people have never read a book on the disputed subject. They haven’t listened to others. The debated topic is not an area of study or expertise for them. They’re simply repeating what they heard their favorite pundit say or, worse, making up a perspective in the midst of a Twitter rant.

There’s a better way, a way that leads to acceptance and welcoming. That’s when we: (a) allow others to have their views, (b) learn from the views of others, (c) do our homework by reading multiple sources from different angles on the issue, (d) test every view by the word of God, and (e) then arrive at fully formed opinions that convince us.

People who are fully convinced in their own minds find they have even more freedom, because they’ve informed their conscience. They don’t feel a need to force uniformity, because they know what they know. And because they’ve done the work to become “strong in faith,” they can usually recognize and help other people on the path to fuller freedom by extending them grace to keep making their way.

Worry about your own thinking. Do the homework and be fully convinced for yourself.

6. Honor the Lord in Your Practice (Rom. 14:6–9)

“The one who observes the day, observes it in honor of the Lord. The one who eats, eats in honor of the Lord, since he gives thanks to God. For no one lives to himself, and none of us dies to himself. For if we live, we live to the Lord, and if we die, we die to the Lord. So then, whether we live or whether we die, we are the Lord’s. For to this end, Christ died and lived again, that He might be Lord both of the dead and of the living.”

Another temptation we face on the way to unity when there is not uniformity is the temptation to judge the motives of others. Their difference in opinion can arouse our flesh. We not only judge whether they are Christians, we add to that an assumption about what motivates them. At least, we can be tempted to tell ourselves “the other side” does not want Christ’s glory. “If they did, they would not hold that opinion, right?” the flesh asks.

As verse 7 says, “None of us live to ourselves.” We all live and die to God and for God. All of life should be lived in respect and reverence for Jesus. So whichever path you take, according to your conscience, do it giving thanks to God, knowing your life and your death belong to him.

Every Christian fully convinced in his or her conscience will do or not do a thing for the same motive—to honor the Lord. We should charitably assume that of our brothers and sisters who differ with us in gray areas. We should be convinced that we ourselves are trying to honor the Lord. And we should be convinced that in these disputable matters our brothers and sisters are trying to honor the Lord.

When we look at our brother or sister who has a different view than our own on racial issues or politics or homeschooling or the country’s history, do you remind yourself that they are taking their view to honor the Lord because they live and die for him?

7. Think of Your Own Judgment (Rom. 14:10–12)

“Why do you pass judgment on your brother? Or you, why do you despise your brother? For we will all stand before the judgment seat of God; for it is written, ‘As I live, says the Lord, every knee shall bow to me, and every tongue shall confess to God.’ So then each of us will give an account of himself to God.”

“So then each of us will give an account of himself to God.” In context, that means we will have to answer to God for the opinions we hold and the actions we take based on them. Sometimes people act as if there’s no accountability for opinions. They act as if they can think anything they wish without consequence. But the God who knows our every thought will lay those thoughts bare before the universe. We will give an account for every idle word (Matt. 12:36–37). There is no free speech before the Lord.

If we really took our own judgment seriously, we wouldn’t be worried about judging others. We would be too concerned about our own appearance before God to get too worked up about disputable matters other people believe. The question becomes: What account will I give for the thoughts and actions I hold?

8. Resolve Not to Be a Stumbling Block (vv. 13–16 and 20–21)

Romans 14:13–16 and 20–21 hold two ideas in tension. On the one hand, they teach that “nothing is unclean in itself.” In other words, all these things that are not sin are permissible to participate in. We have freedom to eat or not eat and to celebrate or not celebrate certain days.

On the other hand, we must recognize that we should use our freedom to express love to others. Or to use the language of verses 15 and 20, we should not use our freedom in a way that “destroys the one for whom Christ died” or “destroys the work of God.” It’s that serious. The unloving use of freedom by the one with a strong conscience actually grieves (v. 15), destroys (vv. 15, 20), and trips up (v. 21) the weaker brother or sister who does not yet understand freedom in Christ. The rules of the “weak in faith” keep them safe from freedoms they’re not strong enough to enjoy. The strong should not harm them by flaunting freedom.

There are times when the loving thing to do is to limit our freedoms so we do not undo the work of Christ in others. Is that an active principle in our conversations with church members with whom we disagree? Are we each resolved not to be a stumbling block?

But we need a qualification here: If you’re the person who would try to use this “weaker brother principle” to control others, a bigger need for you is to go back to strategies 1–7 recognizing yourself as both the weaker in faith and perhaps sinfully manipulative. Why would you want to bind your brother or sister’s conscience to the rules you have made for yourself when they are not your servants but God’s? (See 1 Cor. 10:29b–30.)

9. Embrace the True Nature of the Kingdom (Rom. 14:17–19)

“For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit. Whoever thus serves Christ is acceptable to God and approved by men. So then let us pursue what makes for peace and for mutual upbuilding.”

The kingdom of God is about God the Holy Spirit working genuine righteousness, peace, and joy in a person. This is the secret to peace and edification in the church. Peace doesn’t come by legalistic rules (Col. 2:20ff). Edification doesn’t come by binding other people to our restrictions of conscience. Peace and edification come by living in the freedom-giving Spirit of God and receiving those who do. We will find peace with each other, and we will build each other up when each of us resolves to seek the filling of the Holy Spirit and live lives that bear the fruit of the Spirit. God accepts that kind of life and so do men and women (v. 18).

So when you think of your political and racial positions that lie in gray areas, and when you think of your conversations with others: Are you calling them to obey manmade rules, or are you calling them deeper into life with the Holy Spirit? A life of righteousness, peace, and joy.

10. Keep a Quiet and Clean Conscience (Rom. 14:22–23)

“The faith that you have, keep between yourself and God. Blessed is the one who has no reason to pass judgment on himself for what he approves. But whoever has doubts is condemned if he eats, because the eating is not from faith. For whatever does not proceed from faith is sin.”

Some things should be kept between the individual Christian and God. One of those things is “faith.” Paul does not mean saving faith. Here “faith” refers to matters of personal conscience—what we believe to be right or wrong where the Bible does not give us clear command or teaching. The Bible teaches we should keep those things between us and God.

When we obey the faith we have, we have no reason to blame or judge ourselves for wrongdoing. By contrast, if we do things against our conscience, against our personal “faith,” then we sin. So, if your conscience won’t allow you to vote a certain way in a disputable matter, don’t vote that way. If your conscience won’t allow you to take a particular policy position in a disputable matter, then don’t take that position.

Obey your conscience until your conscience is shaped more by the Word of God and the freedom Christ gives. This is important, because no person’s conscience perfectly overlays God’s Word. We always have need of informing and reforming our conscience according to God’s Word. So we must be committed to keeping a clean conscience, and that is work that only the individual Christian can do for him or herself.

11. Build Up Your Neighbor (Rom. 15:1–3)

“We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, to build him up. For Christ did not please himself, but as it is written, ‘The reproaches of those who reproached you fell on me.’”

Paul comes back to the “strong” in faith, those who don’t have a lot of rules but enjoy their freedom in matters of opinion. The strong have a unique obligation. They must be patient and accepting of the “failings of the weak.” It would be easy to say, “I’m the one that’s free; you need to get free too!” But freedom is not to be used for selfishness. Freedom is to be used to please or bless our neighbor for their good. We want to build up our neighbor in the faith—that means bearing with the weak who often don’t even know they’re weak.

Our pattern for that is Jesus. On the cross, they insulted Jesus, spat on him and mocked him—not because of his own sin but because of ours. What was Jesus doing as they reviled him? He took our reproach and judgment so we could be free through his sacrifice. That same pattern should be at work when it comes to the “strong” accepting the “weak” in the body of Christ. If we judge ourselves to be “strong,” then we should lovingly and sacrificially—like Jesus—endure and bear with the weak.

What would it look like for you to do this with someone you understand to have a weaker conscience than you do?

12. Make the Church’s Harmony and God’s Glory Your Explicit Goals (Rom. 15:4–6)

Unity does not last by chance. Harmonious relationships do not come with a snap of the finger. Unity and harmony require that we actively and prayerfully work for them.

In my opinion, there’s only one reason worthy enough of all the hard work it takes for weak and strong to live in unity where there is not uniformity: When we work together for unity and harmony it results in our glorifying God the Father. The greatness of God is seen, in part, through the harmony of the church. God’s glory is the ultimate goal of the Christian life. God has attached his glory to weak and strong welcoming or accepting one another despite their differences in matters of opinion.

If Honor Is My Motive

In my flesh, I care too much about my opinions and too often believe them to be correct to sacrifice them for the “lesser” views of others. And there are times when the disagreements are so sharp and the issues too important to keep me unified with those who differ.

Only when my view is dominated by the praise of the One who saved me at great cost to himself am I willing to enter into his suffering for the sake of accepting or welcoming “the other.” I need Jesus before me if I’m going to live this way. If his honor is my motive, and he is honored in the church’s harmony, then I need to apply these 12 things (and more!) to my part in maintaining unity when there is not uniformity.

How about you?

As providence would have it, a long litany of police-involved shootings took place over the coming months. I began writing about my fear and the state of things as I saw them. In the process, I believe at various points I sinned against some of my brothers and sisters in the body of Christ. I know that not everyone took offense, and a good many either appreciated or agreed with what I’ve written. I’m grateful for the many who have shared with me that some of my writing over the last five years has helped them or challenged them in various ways. Straight licks and crooked sticks.

Without discounting those who have been helped, I want to address those who have been hurt. To those genuinely offended and sinned against, I want to offer a sincere apology for several things.

First, I ask your forgiveness for writing out of fear and anger at times. God has not given us a spirit of fear. The anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God. Yet, there have been times when either or both of those emotions have shaped my heart and my subsequent words.

Second, I ask your forgiveness for writing in ways that were sometimes indiscriminate. It’s the responsibility of the writer to write in such a way that the meaning is unmistakable. There’s a corollary, I think. The writer should write in such a way that the persons he/she critiques, rebukes, or admonishes should be unmistakable as well. One of the most painful things for me over the last few years is the realization that a lack of carefulness and specificity has sometimes injured people I had no intention of injuring. That’s included members and leaders in my local church, persons in other churches that are dear to me, and people I’ve never met and never sought to attack. My generalizations and lack of specificity have caused harm along with understandable frustration, discouragement, sadness, and other reactions for which I ask forgiveness.

Third, I ask your forgiveness for sometimes writing before I had sufficient details to comment effectively. I do not believe having “all the facts” is a possible goal for leaders. But we should have sufficient facts before speaking or writing, or we should considerably qualify our comments if we must speak before we know enough. I should have been more circumspect at times. Failing to do so did not help matters and did not demonstrate the kind of grace or self-control incumbent upon Christians and Christian leaders. In some matters, the facts did not verify my view, so my comments also misled at points. I ask anyone effected by this to please forgive me.

Fourth, I apologize for my sometimes dismissive, disregarding, rude, impatient and harsh tone on social media. The Scripture is clear: Christians should not return reviling for reviling. I failed to keep my Lord’s example who when mistreated “never said a mumbling word.” Though the Scripture enjoins us to answer opponents gently and patiently (2 Tim. 2:24), I have done the opposite. For that, I do sincerely apologize and ask forgiveness.

Fifth, I apologize for any ways I have misrepresented anyone’s motives, comments, or positions. I hate to be misrepresented, and I hate failing to accurately portray others. Where I’ve been made aware of any misrepresentation, I have sought to respond accordingly. But if any out there without access to me believe I’ve distorted their views or maligned their motives, I do ask you to forgive me. If you would be willing to identify when and how I’ve misrepresented you, I would be eager to offer a retraction or restatement as the circumstance requires and allows.

Sixth, I want to ask your forgiveness for acting out of hopelessness. Frankly, hopelessness about the state of reconciliation and the pursuit of justice in the church has been my toughest spiritual battle until about a year ago when the Lord graciously convicted me of it. Prior to that, I had little hope of seeing some evangelicals support the cause of justice. I have had little to no hope for genuine, honest discussion. That despairing attitude has been sinful. It’s been a diminishment of the grace of God that I trust is at work in his people. Please forgive me.

Finally, I ask your forgiveness for offering this apology and seeking your forgiveness in so tardy a fashion. Truthfully, I’ve known conviction and grief for a long time. I’ve justified not apologizing by thinking of the misrepresentation and mistreatment I have received. Then I rationalized not apologizing by saying to myself that scoffers and the like would misuse even my apology. However true or false those things may be, I know full well that I owed a confession and apology long ago and I refused to offer it. That delay lacked integrity. So, I ask that you might forgive me for withholding a confession when I knew it was owed to all I’ve offended.

I offer this apology freely and genuinely. It is not offered in hopes of any return other than the forgiveness I seek with those I’ve offended. Nor does it come as the result of any pressure, coercion, or force other than that graciously applied by the Holy Spirit.

I understand if some are unable to forgive me. I accept that this may be the consequence of my own actions. Where trust has been lost and not easily restored, I accept that too. I do not feel entitled to either your trust or your attention. In repentance, I accept the consequences of my actions.

I hope to reverse these errors and sins going forward. I commit to extending as much charity as I’m able in my writing. I do not intend to coddle or mollify, for that sometimes would be sin of another sort—either flattery or dissembling. But I do hope to be clear and perhaps confrontational without being uncharitable. I do hope to be incisive but not judgmental. I do hope to state facts well while not wrongly extrapolating or generalizing. And I do hope to make my meaning, audience, and subjects of critique unmistakable.

For most of the last two years, I’ve been listening to the views of others. While I’ve been active on Twitter, I’ve intentionally not engaged some discussions at blog length. I’ve benefitted from a great deal of my listening. Much has been said. However, much still needs to be said. I hope to be useful to the Lord’s cause, his church, and righteousness as I say my part. I hope you will pray for me as I renew my commitment to pray for you when I write.

All for Jesus,

Thabiti

• It’s clearly not an exhaustive list. Think of it as some places to start and feel free to add others in the comment section if you like.
• Also, since the brother on Twitter specifically asked about things to read, I’ve not included a ton of preachers who would be good to consult but limited the list to folks who have written for the church.
• I did not include people that are likely to be well-known already by TGC readers.
• While I don’t know everyone listed here or their body of work, I’ve tried to list folks I believe to be orthodox.
• Finally, I didn’t do all the work for you. I’ve given you names, you’ll have to chase down some of their excellent work yourself

If you’re interested in a longer list of resources including some works outside of orthodoxy, you can try lists here and here.

1. Pray about how the Lord might use you and your church to meet the employment needs of your neighbors.
2. Connect with a couple of like-minded churches and interest non-profits about partnering together. Don’t go it alone.
3. Call up Better Together about the possibility of partnering with them to learn how to bring a job fair to your community.
4. Organize a team of volunteers to both pull off the job fair and to follow up with attendees.
5. Pray some more!

Go ahead . . . take a moment to read both.

Okay . . . you’re back. There are three kinds of people in his article: flawed men, straw men, and idolatrous men. Here’s what I’d like to say in reaction to Mr. Deace’s piece.

Flawed Men

Mr. Deace contends that all men are flawed—sometimes tragically so—but God can and does use them.

I entirely agree with him on this point. My op-ed is not about whether God can and is using President Trump (or any other flawed leader). I believe God can and, in fact, is using President Trump. But saying that isn’t saying much. We have to move on to ask some more difficult questions about how and where God might be at work in this or any presidency. Is God judging the country as some Christians proclaim? Is God saving the country as other Christians maintain?

The truth is probably in the middle. If righteous rulers are a blessing to a nation, and we conclude that President Trump is not all that righteous, then it seems there’s reason to be concerned at least about God withholding his blessing in some way and perhaps reason to be concerned for God’s judgment. After all, if I understand Romans 1:18-32, which comes well before Romans 13:1-7, God is right now revealing his wrath against all the ungodliness of men. Bible Christians would do well to ask how that may be happening and how we might intercede for righteousness and for “all who are destitute” (Prov. 31:8)—not just the group of destitute persons we care most about.

On the other hand, we also have to stop to consider how God may be using an unrighteous ruler to advance righteousness in other quarters. After all, the Lord used a pagan king to grant permission for the rebuilding of Jerusalem (see Ezra and Nehemiah). He turns the hearts of rulers as if turning the course of water (Prov. 21:1). So, it’s right to have some prayerful hope that a pro-life or anti-abortion judge might be nominated and that such a nomination might be confirmed and lead to overturning Roe v. Wade, or at least extending greater latitude to the states for militating against abortion. That would be a tremendous blessing from God. One that Christians (the entire country really!) should celebrate.

In either case, Deace is certainly correct that the Lord uses flawed men to do his will. The question before us isn’t whether that’s the case but what is God’s will and where should we join it.

Straw Men

Overall, I think Mr. Deace fills his piece with straw men. It begins with the title of his piece, “Pastor: Keep Killing Babies Because I Hate Trump.” That’s certainly click-bait worthy of our hot-take age. But it’s not at all a representation of what I wrote in my op-ed. If the first duty of debate is to represent your opponent in a fashion that he could recognize himself, then Mr. Deace fails at job one.

In the second line of the piece, I include myself in the judgment I think awaits a morally complicit church and country and include myself among the pro-life evangelicals I largely have in view with the op-ed. Characterizing the piece as “pro-abortion as long as we oppose Trump” is hardly an accurate representation.

So my point isn’t lost, here are a few more lines from my second paragraph:

many evangelical Christians explained that their vote was not a vote for Trump as such but was the best option they had in light of the potential for appointing pro-life Supreme Court justices in the hope of overturning Roe v. Wade. If one cares about protecting the lives of unborn children aborted by the hundreds of thousands each year, one can understand the logic. Clearly a President Hillary Clinton would have done nothing to curtail abortion and would very likely have done a great deal to expand policies protecting the practice.

Near the end of the op-ed, I add these lines:

In sheer numbers, more lives are ended by legalized abortion [in comparison to other injustices I list]. Christians are correct to focus energy and concern on ending the practice.

There’s zero sense in the piece that we should do anything but end abortion.

However, the piece does contend that there are other things to end as well. It seems to me the angst in Mr. Deace’s post is caused by those other things, not by my imagined opposition to abortion or a Supreme Court nominee that might bring us closer to ending it. In that way, his entire piece jousts a straw man. Burn the straw man if you like, but that will do nothing for helping the church get more vocal about a wider range of issues that the Bible calls us to address.

Idolatrous Men

Mr. Deace chose idolatry to frame his piece. It’s always correct for us to be wary of idolatry. Calvin told us, rightly, I think, that the human heart is an idol factory. I think Mr. Deace is correct and perceptive to say there’s idolatry on the “NeverTrump” and the “AlwaysTrump” side of the spectrum. Each side, in their own way, can have a fixation bordering on fanatical worship of something or someone that is not God.

I believe Pres. Trump to be ruinous for the country, but idolatrous opposition of Trump does not drive me. Opposing Trump does not get me up in the morning.

What does get me up in the morning is another day of fresh mercy with which I hope to serve God with all my heart, mind, and strength (Lam. 3:22-23; Matt. 22:37). What does awaken me is the unfathomable grace that allows me to call Jesus “Lord” and to endeavor to obey everything He has commanded (Matt. 28:18-20).

Truthfully, that’s where the biggest disagreement lies between Mr. Deace and me. Mr. Deace thinks that defeating Roe v. Wade and abortion is “the pre-eminent moral concern of the Word of God.” No. It’s not. I am not aware of any text anywhere in the Bible that specifies abortion as the “pre-eminent moral concern of the word of God.” If we’re talking God’s moral law, there still remain ten. At the top of the list is love for God above all else. Such love is not mere sentiment; such love is a moral responsibility for which we give an account.

Mr. Deace seems to apply the wisdom instruction to “rescue those being taken away to death and hold back those being led away to slaughter” (Prov. 24:11) solely to abortion. But that text is not a narrow reference to abortion. It certainly does apply to abortion. But as my op-ed argues, that same text and others like it apply to mass incarceration, sex trafficking, exploitation of minors in drug trafficking, and a host of other injustices the Bible calls God’s people to condemn.

If there is idolatry at work, it’s the idol some Christians have made of ending abortion and the tendency, as Mr. Deace demonstrates, of making abortion not the greatest moral concern of our day but the only moral concern of our day.

Mr. Deace and I appear to have widely divergent visions of the Christian life and of the God we worship.

Here’s the truth about God from the Bible as it relates to this topic: “The LORD works righteousness and justice for all who are oppressed” (Ps. 103:6). Or as the prophet Zephaniah put it: “The LORD within her is righteous; he does no injustice; every morning he shows forth his justice; each dawn he does not fail; but the unjust knows no shame” (Zeph. 3:5).

That’s the Lord I serve, and he does all things well. We need to join him in doing righteousness and justice in our day, and we need to attempt it on every front where he is working. That means applauding a righteous thing that a flawed President might do, but also opposing an unrighteous thing that same President might do elsewhere. Failing to do so is at best inconsistency and sometimes hypocrisy, but it’s never godly.

The God-Man

In the end, dear reader, you don’t really care what I think or what Mr. Deace thinks. At least you shouldn’t. What really matters is what Jesus thinks. He is Lord of all, and if we love him, then we will keep his commands (John 14:15, 23).

What does our Lord command of us?

He has told you, O man, what is good; and what does the LORD require of you but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God? (Micah 6:8)

And we would do well, brothers and sisters, to hear the Lord’s warning given to another group of religious people who seem to think they were always in good standing with God:

Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! For you tithe mint and dill and cumin, and have neglected the weightier matters of the law: justice and mercy and faithfulness. These you ought to have done, without neglecting the others. (Matt. 23:23)

Let us, by grace and with faith, be about the weightier matters of the law—justice, mercy and faithfulness—for all who are oppressed.

But, assuming the best of Phil Johnson the tweeter and blogger, I have arrived at a few assessments. He strikes me as a person who cares deeply about his family. I imagine he’s a good husband and a decent father, struggling like all mortals but doing a good job. I suppose he’s industrious at work. His behind-the-scenes ministry to John MacArthur has helped to make “John MacArthur” a household name in many Christian circles around the world. He is an elder at his church, so I infer that godly men and an entire congregation regard him as an example-setting, faithful servant of Christ and one who loves the sheep. It’s no stretch of the imagination for me to envision lots of people praising God for this man. And I assume they have a better perch than I do to make judgments about his character, confession, and calling.

I have zero interest in disparaging Mr. Johnson as a person—especially not based on the shards of information I have about him and his thinking from his online footprint. Despite the volume of blogging and tweeting he’s done over the years, I still don’t know the man. I don’t know what things he keeps to himself that make him who he is. I don’t know what tributaries to his personality carry clear water and which muddy. I don’t know the man, and I’m unwilling to judge him unrighteously, rashly, or in any other fleshy way.

Further, I pray the Lord shows Mr. Johnson and all his kith and kin the greatest blessings of grace, mercy, and love. I really do.

Though I don’t know Mr. Johnson personally, he does see fit to communicate with me on Twitter. Since he’s taken the time to address me directly in a couple of recent tweets, and since it’s generally my habit to respond when I can, I want to say a couple of things here.

First, for context, Mr. Johnson’s recent comments take issue with an op-ed I authored at The Washington Post (see here).

For a little added context, Mr. Johnson’s comments take issue with a Twitter exchange I had with someone who has always been both charitable and forthright with me:

Of course I disagree with @ThabitiAnyabwil here, too. No one but a racist schlub would blame all black evangelicals for the evils of Obama’s presidency. To single out & castigate an entire ethnic group for sins of which many of them are innocent is the quintessence of racism. pic.twitter.com/g4fliNUrMD

— Phil Johnson (@Phil_Johnson_) June 29, 2018

Mr. Johnson continues:

Furthermore, @ThabitiAnyabwil, I suspect you yourself don’t REALLY believe that (at least not with any kind of passion), judging from your silence on the issue during eight years of the Obama administration—and the lack of any such balance in the things you are writing now.

— Phil Johnson (@Phil_Johnson_) June 29, 2018

So, that’s the totality of what’s been said so far. What seems evident to me is that Mr. Johnson either willfully or mistakenly confuses issues in his responses to me. In either case, he demonstrates a growing list of things he apparently does not understand. Here are a few:

1. The “quintessence of racism” is not demonstrated by statements of statistical fact or consistent moral reasoning but by assigning superiority or inferiority status on an entire group of people. Apparently, Mr. Johnson does not understand that saying a group of Christians—black or white—are morally responsible for supporting immoral policies is not “racism” by any definition.

2. Further, apparently Mr. Johnson does not understand that neither “white evangelicals” or “black evangelicals” are a “race.” These are religious subgroups of larger ethnic groups or “races” if you prefer. A comment about a subgroup’s voting behavior or citizenship responsibility is therefore not “racism.” We’re not even talking about a “race” as such. Not all white people are Christians, and not all white people voted for Trump. The same is true of black people. Mr. Johnson apparently does not understand that he’s the one generalizing here and that generalization obscures communication, understanding, and progress.

3. Apparently Mr. Johnson does not understand James 3:5-12. In all our interactions, he’s the one tossing around slurs and labels rather than intelligently discussing or rebutting a point. In his tweets, a man who does not know me, but should know that whatever else I am I am someone made in God’s image, manages to insult me in two languages. As James puts it, these things ought not be so.

4. Apparently Mr. Johnson does not understand where we are in history. News flash: Barack Hussein Obama is no longer president of the United States. Hasn’t been for 18 months now. The policies with which we have to contend as citizens and Christians are not Mr. Obama’s, but President Trump’s. No amount of Obama-bashing, and no calls for “balance” in criticizing Obama is relevant to what is actually happening today. Mr. Johnson accuses me of being silent for eight years on President Obama. Here are a few receipts for the interested, I just chose a couple quick things from Obama’s candidacy in 2007 down to the Freddie Gray issues near the end of his second term in 2015:

Sen. Obama, Race, Faith and Elections

During the rash of police shooting videos, especially during the Freddie Gray debacle, here are a couple of tweets:

Strong words vs rioters from Pres. Obama; soft words vs police brutality.

Riots are “senseless” but police brutality raises “troubling ?s”

— Thabiti Anyabwile (@ThabitiAnyabwil) April 28, 2015

We don’t need another lecture from the President blaming victims; we need to see real courage from a man elected by these very victims.

— Thabiti Anyabwile (@ThabitiAnyabwil) April 28, 2015

Mr. Obama your presidency may well represent the single biggest heist of the Black vote in American history. Get it together, Mr. President.

— Thabiti Anyabwile (@ThabitiAnyabwil) April 28, 2015

I do not hate Barack Obama. I love him. I do not agree with Barack Obama about abortion, homosexuality or drone warfare. But I love him.

— Thabiti Anyabwile (@ThabitiAnyabwil) July 22, 2013

Because I love Barack Obama, I will not speak of him in hateful ways, slander him, refuse to give him credit where it’s due, or vilify him.

— Thabiti Anyabwile (@ThabitiAnyabwil) July 22, 2013

That’s a sampling gathered with just a quick search on this site and Twitter. Perhaps it’s the case Mr. Johnson just missed these comments and many, many others. Or, perhaps there’s a confirmation bias at work. It doesn’t fit his narrative of me, so these things get omitted. In either case, it seems clear to me that Mr. Johnson does not understand my political commentary over the years and especially during the period since I’ve moved back to the States. I am aimed at the current president, not the previous guy or the rivals he beat in the election. It’s the current president who wields the power of the highest office in the land and the current president we have a responsibility to address.

5. Apparently Mr. Johnson doesn’t understand or respect moral consistency. If I answer differently for whites and blacks then I’m sure to be called a “racist” and morally inconsistent. If I answer honestly and consistently, I’m still a “racist schlub,” and my passion openly questioned based on his perception of what I have or have not said online. All the while Mr. Johnson finds it easy to identify “racists” who are black-skinned but can’t seem to spot a white-skinned racist even when the conversation was about 1950-’60s America. It appears that Mr. Johnson’s true problem with moral consistency is not whether I am passionate or earnest in my comment. His true problem with moral consistency lies in his inability to examine his own tribe by the standard he holds for others.

6. I suspect what Mr. Johnson truly fails to realize is that the moral compromise of the evangelical church is deep and devastating. I suspect he fails to realize how his online behavior and “arguments” aid that compromise by giving it the patina of biblical orthodoxy garnered largely by his association with Dr. MacArthur. Mr. Johnson seems to not understand that pretending the compromise (say, with President Trump’s policies) isn’t there or that it lies in another direction (say, with “social justice warriors” focusing too much on racism) isn’t a solution to the problem. Nor are uncharitable tweets toward someone with whom you disagree. A solution requires we actually focus on the merits or weaknesses of an argument in order to advance understanding and action. A solution requires we address the problematic behaviors of specific people and groups, not act as if any reference to a group is “racist,” even if the same is said about other groups in other situations. Mr. Johnson’s reaction is an example of what I think the kids nowadays call “fragility,” not an example of what he likely believes to be defense of theological orthodoxy and truth.

In conclusion, Phil, I wish you the very best. I pray the Lord gives you grace to complete every labor prompted by faith, hope, and love. I am sorry you think your disagreement with me is occasion for personal name-calling and venom. I am sorry you think that’s even worthy of a Christian, much less a Christian leader. I do not feel the same for you, and I won’t return the same to you. But from this point on, I’ll leave you to sort with the Lord what things are so abundantly in your heart that they spill out in this kind of rhetoric and what things are in your eyes that they block your vision. Grace to you.

The apostle Paul tucks those words into his letter to a young pastor named Timothy just after telling Timothy to be careful with making others leaders in the church. Long, hard experience speaks these words. You have to have lived a little while, paying attention over time, to know this truth. My mama used to say, “It’ll all come out in the wash.” I’ve heard other older saints say, “Your sin will find you out.” Paul, my mama, those old saints—they were all correct.

Ask Bill Cosby. The now-convicted comedian isn’t laughing and joking about sexual assault allegations brought against him by dozens of women. What was done in darkness sometimes decades ago has now come to the light.

Ask Larry Nasser. The serial pedophile and sexual predator isn’t hiding behind medical expertise and doctor-patient confidentiality. The heart-breaking, mile-long parade of courageous women have brought his years of sin into the light of day.

Other examples abound. Consider the pastors whose sins have crawled out of dark secrecy recently to speak against them on spotlit stages. Praise God most of these pastors have not been as heinous as Cosby or Nasser, but that doesn’t mean their failings aren’t serious.

This morning the trustees at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary issued a statement announcing that Paige Patterson will no longer be president of that institution. Though the statement doesn’t mention the swirling controversy over Patterson’s comments about a young girl’s body or unbiblical counsel to women in abusive situations, the decision is at least linked by timing. Patterson’s comments were flat-out wrong and a pretty serious misrepresentation of the Bible he defended. This marks the sad end to a long and at times valiant career in service to the church and the gospel.

I suspect the reaction to the news will be mixed. Some may be of the opinion that a good man was unjustly pressured out of service. Some will cheer the decision with a furrowed brow, wondering why Patterson’s comments regarding women was not stated as partial basis for the action. Others will see the move as essentially continuing the same culture of disregarding women that led to Patterson’s comments in the first place.

No matter our reaction to the trustees’ announcement, it seems wise to ask, “What might we learn as we think about these things in our culture and in the church?”

Luke 13 provides one-word guidance: repent. When we see tragedies and sin around us, it’s at least an invitation for us to do some appropriate self-examination. Regarding the exposure of sin and folly, nothing has happened to others that cannot happen to us.

No matter the examples we bring to mind, we can be sure that the God who is publicly just, holy, and righteous will deal publicly with sin. It may appear for a time that we’ve gotten away with things. We may learn to breathe easier and even come to forget details and incidents as we “safely” try to “put things behind us.” But our sin is a pretty good tracker. It observes the footprints we leave, and it follows. It will follow us all the way to judgment—whether the judgment rendered in the court of public opinion or the judgment rendered at the bar of Christ. The record of our sin will appear.

The public revelation of our sin causes not just scandal but profound shock to our system. It’s not easy to recover—if recover is even the right response. This means we’re better off dealing with our sins before they “appear later.” We all are. And perhaps we all have things to deal with.

It’s also better to deal with these things while we are young. Older people fall harder and get up slower. We can spend our youth attempting to avoid these things, hoping they won’t shipwreck a ministry or a career. We can then spend our ministry ignoring these things, justifying them by pointing to our apparent “success.” Then when we’ve passed through middle age into retirement, we can justify continuing silence by saying, “Why ruin a good reputation?” Consequently, the weight of long life, perhaps the added weight of some success, gain crushing force when our sins come to light later and our good reputations are harmed.

Of course, depending on what we’re hiding or ignoring, it’s not really a good reputation, is it? It’s a fabrication, an image, a curated personal persona. But it’s not a reputation, hard-earned and deserved. We may convince ourselves the illusion is true and treat the truth as illusion. Believing the lie we protect ourselves rather than the truth. We imprison ourselves since the truth makes us free.

Finishing well means, in part, finishing without scandal. Every pastor I know (myself included) wants to finish well. But I wonder if we haven’t sometimes defined “finishing without scandal” as covering the scandal so no one knows rather than actually addressing the scandal like a Christian because God already knows. The only One who can rightly cover our scandal is Christ, who covers it with his blood. But a blood-covered scandal ought to make us free to confess it and deal with it. If we continue to hide it, it’s evidence we haven’t yet understood how great a covering his blood is. Then our sin will find us out, and we’ll doubly mourn—for the sin itself and for the failure to claim the blood so much sooner.

Don’t think that because sin sometimes shows up on CP time that it won’t show up at all. Instead, let us “confess our sins to one another and pray for one another, that we may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person has great power as it is working” (James 5:16).

That question gets posed a lot. It’s a good question even though sometimes it’s offered in exasperation and as a reflexive defense against what some view as incessant and ambiguous demands.

But whether the question gets posed honestly or disingenuously, it needs answering. A number of book-length treatments of ethnic or “racial” reconciliation exist and repay careful reading. But for the sake of a communication culture that increasingly prefers snippets, sound bites, and short things, here’s a very rudimentary answer to a very important question.

I think the practical experience of reconciliation (as opposed to the spiritual achievement of reconciliation through faith in Christ) entails six experiences together in our local congregations and our personal friendships. They are:

Common truth telling. About history. About our forbears. About the effects of injustice and sin against others. About the asymmetrical participation of individuals and groups in that common history. About Jesus, the Bible, and sanctification. Truth—both capital “T” and little “t” truth—is absolutely foundational to any effort at putting back together any estranged or frayed relationship. Without truth we build on sand and delusion. Unless we inhabit the same true stories we will find it nearly impossible to emerge with a common sense of reconciliation.

Judicial forgiveness. The wonderful folks at CCEF in one of their booklets on forgiveness helpfully distinguish between judicial and relational forgiveness. Judicial forgiveness is the heart work we do to ready ourselves to forgive even when folks aren’t asking. It’s what the Lord has in mind when he says we are to forgive seventy times seven times. Judicial forgiveness is a posture, an attitude, a readiness to remove another’s guilt for wrongs done to you. Judicial forgiveness falls more heavily on the shoulders of the offended, the wronged. Thus it often feels like an unfair burden. But it’s actually the path to freedom and the best way to live since our Lord requires it of us. In American conversations about ethnic reconciliation it falls to Black folks especially.

Judicial contrition. Alongside judicial forgiveness there must also be a judicial contrition. That is, we must do the heart work to ready ourselves to confess sins and wrong even when folks won’t receive our confession. We must remember that a broken and contrite heart God will never despise (Ps. 51:17). In contrition, we seek to live at peace with all men as much as it depends upon us (Rom. 12:18). The “as much as” includes doing everything to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace (Eph. 4:3), where “everything” includes weeping with those who weep (Rom. 12:15), confessing our sins to one another (Jam. 5:16), performing deeds in keeping with repentance (Acts 26:20) and the like. In the matter of ethnic reconciliation in America, judicial contrition is the cross to be carried by White brothers and sisters. Judicial contrition readies our white brothers and sisters to admit or confess the sins of their forebears and where necessary confess and repent of any present iteration of those sins. Like judicial forgiveness, it often feels like an unfair burden, but it’s the path to freedom and restoration. Repentance always is.

Relational forgiveness. With parties committed to truth telling and readied to forgive and to confess, relationships can be restored and breaches in fellowship closed. Often we try to skip to this step without having done the prerequisite work of documenting the truth and readying the heart to confess and forgive. So when we attempt relational forgiveness it feels fragile, temporary and even fake. Often it’s a peace-faking rather than a peace-making exercise. But genuine relational forgiveness built on truth and readied hearts possesses durability, integrity and permanence. This is loving each other deeply from the heart (1 Tim. 1:5; 1 Pet. 1:22) and that imitation of God in Christ that we’re called to (Eph. 4:32-5:2). Relational forgiveness is what we most often think of when we think of reconciliation between parties. But there’s more to the reconciliation we hope to see in the church.

Solidarity. Once truth is admitted, hearts readied, and relationships are restored, then we must continue in all of that hard work of getting to know and understand one another. We must stand together in genuine Christian friendship. In a word, there must be solidarity. Solidarity is friendship’s “greater love” that “lays down its life for others” (John 15:13). Solidarity is the kind of friendship that comes from more fully knowing one another and taking up each other’s godly agenda (John 15:15). We sometimes envision reconciliation as merely “kiss and make up,” after which each party goes back to their corner. But in deep reconciliation there’s a newfound camaraderie that faces the world together. The reconciled in Christ stand together wherever possible and biblically wise for redress of sins past and present. The reconciled stand together to defend one another against recrimination and blame from the unforgiving or further injustice and attack from the unrepentant. We’re not deeply reconciled if we “make up” then abandon one another to the same assaults that broke our bonds in the first place.

Practical pursuit of righteousness and justice. The final point is implied in the above paragraph on solidarity. I simply wish to draw it out in clearer fashion. If we are practically reconciled, we have to put our shoulders to the plow to change the church and, by God’s blessing, some part of the world. Do we merely want a society where “those bad things don’t happen as much any more,” or do we want a society positively aimed at the full flourishing of all its citizens? Which kind of church do we want? Everyone will not agree on all the entailments of “the good life.” But discussion and disagreement about the good life is precisely the debate we should have and the work we should then pursue. We serve a God who calls us to “correct oppression; seek justice” (Isa. 1:17) and who requires us “to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly” with him (Micah 6:8). We worship a Lord who demands we keep the lighter matters of the law while emphasizing the weightier matters of justice, mercy, and faithfulness (Matt. 23:23). If we fail to do our duty in these things, then even if we experience greater reconciliation in our era we will set up future generations for injustices that harm reconciliation in their era. The reconciled stand together for righteousness and justice. Yes, we become “social justice warriors,” because the Word of God bids us to love and do justice just as our Savior God loves and does justice every morning (Zeph. 3:5).

Not Magic

So, that’s a rough sketch of “what it would look like” for the church to experience deeper levels of reconciliation. All of this, of course, grows out of the prior reconciliation we have through the cross of Christ. These six things are the practical outworking of that spiritual in-working. We are not to think experiential reconciliation comes without the disciplines, duties and graces of truth, confession, forgiveness, solidarity and the pursuit of righteousness. We put skin in the game (pun intended) when we commit to these Christian responsibilities. We grow in sanctification.

Christianity, after all, is not magic. We don’t grow by chanting mantras. We grow by the grace of God as the Spirit of God uses the means of God to perfect the people of God. There’s a lot of relational sweat equity in the practical experience of this thing we call “reconciliation.”

In other words, sometimes “color blindness” is a spiritually and psychologically unhealthy way to cope with the world as it is. “Color blind” ought not mean truth blind.

Of course, people cope in various ways. Some cope by running. That’s the flight response, and there are all kinds of ways to flee. Some cope by slugging. That’s the fight response. And like flight, there are many ways to fight in response to things.

But there exist coping strategies in between fight and flight, like peacemaking. Peacemaking involves two or more parties in conflict actually finding a way to resolve the conflict and return to peace. Peacemaking can include mediation, negotiation, arbitration, and restorative church discipline to name a few. Of course, the peacemakers are blessed people; they are genuine children of God (Matt. 5:9).

In the evangelical landscape, we find the entire range of coping strategies when it comes to matters of ethnic reconciliation. Some run away afraid of injury or just weary with experience. Some throw fists and elbows ready to fight for their view. A great many are in the middle trying to figure out a peacemaking approach.

What we cannot miss, however, is that there is something called peace-faking too. The good folks at Peacemaker Ministries first taught me this point. Peace-faking is an escape response. It’s running away while acting as if you’re not. It’s saying “Peace, peace” when there is no peace. Peace-faking smears the situation with whitewash (Ezek. 13:10). Peace faking sounds a lot like peacemaking and even tries to walk and talk like peacemaking. But not everything that quacks like a duck is a duck; sometimes it’s a hunter sitting in a blind taking aim at any duck lured by the sound!

Which brings me back to well-intentioned but disastrously ill-conceived notions of “color blindness.” Sometimes people assert they are “color blind” or that the Bible is “color blind” as a way of peace-faking and fleeing conflict. Worse still, sometimes people assert “color blind” approaches as a way of peace-breaking. They attempt to weaponize their coping approach in a way that delegitimizes other approaches or effectively demonize people who “see color.”

The “color blind” approach proceeds on a misdiagnosis of the problem. Seeing color in the physical sense of seeing is not the problem. Unless one is actually blind, we all see color. Admitting that people have skin pigments of varying hues and that sometimes those hues cluster into what the Bible calls families, clans, kinsmen, and nations is not the problem. Again, that’s self-evident. Anyone denying these things (and I’m not aware of any who does) is simply being delusional or dishonest.

The problem occurs at two points. First, people sometimes use “color blindness” to deny any and all meaning associated with skin color (here used as an imperfect proxy for ethnicity). If by “color blind” we mean that a person’s ethnicity has no meaning or legitimacy inside the church, in redemptive history, or in the practice of the church’s ordinances, then we have effectively defined away that person. Rather than associate positive value with ethnicity or skin color, and rather than grant the dignity of allowing that person to tell us what it means to them to be Black or White or Brown or Yellow, the “color blind” erases all of that and insists the person become something other than what God made them to be. After all, it is God who designed a universe with color and painted every aspect of the universe in vibrant hue, including humanity. It was God who separated the human family into tribes and clans and nations (Gen. 10). And it’s God who reconstitutes for himself a new people made of every tribe, clan, and language (Acts 2; Rev. 7). It must also be God who rightly defines what color means and doesn’t mean if we want a healthy identity. That he intends it so cannot and should not be subverted or denied. At the very least it should be affirmed that color communicates beauty and creativity. God doesn’t make mistakes; he’s never painted with an errant stroke. “Color blindness” does not really acknowledge the human world and its beauty the way God has actually made it.

There’s a second problem with the peace-faking approach of “color blindness.” Sometimes “color blindness” gets used to deny any responsibility for addressing problems that occur along the lines of skin color. “Color blind” becomes pretext for an ideological worldview that excuses the holder from taking biblical action to redress wrong. If you don’t see it, you don’t have to acknowledge it or do anything about it. This is why a bad form of “color blind” coping becomes a real disaster. It leaves real problems unaddressed when the Lord calls his people to do justice and live righteously.

It’s ironic. “Color blindness” ends up at the same dead end as overt racism. Overt racism makes too much of and associates the wrong meanings with skin color. Where “color blindness” is a flight response, overt racism is a fight response. But they both end up saying to people of color, “I don’t see you and I don’t value you.” They both fail to accept the Christian responsibility to love neighbor. They both perpetuate injustice either by actively committing it in the case of overt racism or by actively denying it in the case of “color blindness.”

The only way to live responsibly in the world is to commit ourselves to the kind of peacemaking that begins with things as they really are. We must learn to cope with the tools of the gospel and the Scripture, and that’s going to require a bunch of humility and faith.

Who’s right?

Well, like so many things, the truth is in the middle, or at least combines both positions when they’re rightly understood.

In one sense, the Christian church is already unified through our spiritual union with Christ. By his death, Jesus Christ was “killing the hostility” (Eph. 2:16) that existed between God and humanity since the fall of Adam and Eve into sin (Rom. 8:7). Through his crucifixion and resurrection, the Lord Jesus makes all Christians “one new man” (Eph. 2:15). You might think of the Christian family as one new ethnicity made up of people from all natural ethnicities who have been “reconciled to God through one body in the cross” (Eph. 2:16). In this reconciliation is union with Christ and union with one another (Rom. 6:3-4, 11; 12:5; 1 Cor. 12:27; etc) and a new identity that eclipses and relativizes the old (1 Cor. 9:19-23). In that spiritual union, regarding our equality before God and with one another, “there is neither Jew nor Greek” (Gal. 3:28; Col. 3:11). Jesus accomplishes our unity in his redemptive work on the cross. 

In another sense, our experience of unity is not yet perfected. We see that our unity, like all of our redemption, belongs to an already-not yet tension. We are already unified in Christ through faith in him, but we have yet to experience the fullness of that unity inside the Church militant. So the Christian church must “do everything to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace” (Eph. 4:3). We must help feuding sisters agree (Phil. 4:2-3). We must remind one another that our favorite teachers did not die for us and we were not baptized into them, but must “have the same mind and judgement” (1 Cor. 1:10-12). We must address the complaints of widows from differing linguistic backgrounds (Acts 6). We must, like the church of the apostolic era, wrestle with how and on what basis and to what extent unity between Jew and Gentile (or Gentile and Gentile for that matter) can be practically realized in the one body of Christ our Lord (Acts 15). Christ has begun the work, and in the end Christ will complete the work. But here in the in-between-time the Lord has left us the ministry of reconciliation—a ministry that involves proclaiming the gospel to sinners (2 Cor. 5:16-21) but also practicing reconciliation among saints as an act of worship (Matt. 5:23-24). By all these inclusive practices of love, we are meant to tie ourselves together into an unbreakable knot with Christ as the main cord.

But carrying on the conversation as if only one side is true is a fool’s errand. Trying to “rig” the conversation so that the force of the “other side’s” argument gets blunted is disingenuous. Let God be true and every man a liar. Let the whole counsel of God give us balance and integrity in an already-not-yet tension that gives us a foretaste of glory while calling us to the sweat of sanctification.

If there is to be a fuller experience of unity the cost will include humbling ourselves beneath God’s entire Word, humbling ourselves to fellowship with brethren on all “sides” of the issue, humbling ourselves to accept history and social science that both affirms and condemns everyone involved in different ways, humbling ourselves to tell the truth without varnish, humbling ourselves long enough to listen and consider before responding, humbling ourselves to say “I was wrong” or “you were right” or “please forgive me” or “I didn’t know that,” and humbling ourselves to forgive. Let’s insert the entire book of James here, because without humility there will be too much pride for true practical unity.

Humility. That’s the cost of unity. Is it too high a cost? Time will tell.

I read it with a broken heart. Not merely because I was moved by what she described of her treatment and because I recognize some of what she described among some Christian brothers and leaders. I am broken-hearted because I recognize something of the attitude in me, and I recognize that I have had that attitude in years past toward Beth, though I didn’t know her and hadn’t spent any time reading her materials.

Dear Beth, if you read this, I need to confess and ask your forgiveness.

I first became aware of your ministry when I was a young Christian in the late-1990s. Christian women around me were often expressing how blessed they were by your ministry, how much they learned from you, and how they felt seen as a consequence of your ministry. I was happy for them but not at all aware of how much they were really telling me about what it meant to be a Christian woman—how invisible and underfed that experience could be.

Some years later, I thought I had learned a few things. By then, I had become a “complementarian,” though my understanding of that view wasn’t deep. I had picked up the attitude—the patronizing and chauvinistic attitude—of some professing “complementarians.” My heart met nearly every mention of a woman in ministry with a scoff and the suspicion that that woman did not understand or accept the Bible’s teaching on gender roles.

That scoffing attitude and that instinctive suspicion grew stronger in me. Here’s where I need to ask your forgiveness most. Not knowing you personally and having not read or watched you teach, I passed along that suspicion and doubt to others in my pastoral care. I didn’t say much about you with words. I can’t recall saying anything about you as a person. But with a raised eye brow, a shrugged shoulder, a “hmmm” before a redirecting sentence, I passed along what was in my heart, the sinful attitude rooted in the very misogyny and chauvinism you describe in your post. If we communicate most in non-verbal ways, then I’m afraid I’ve “said” a lot about you, and I have slandered you.

And I have let others slander you. I’ve been in rooms where your name was mentioned with disparaging tone. And rather than ask a few basic questions (how do you know this about her, do you have any evidence you can point us to, and so on), I said and did nothing. I wasn’t any different from Saul standing by holding clothes while Stephen was stoned.

I know your open letter isn’t about you alone. It’s about you along with the scores of women who have suffered the same with less notoriety and resources than you have. And while I know your post doesn’t pretend to describe the universal experience of women, I also know that my attitudes and actions (or lack thereof) have affected more women than I know.

Over the last 18 months, my heart has grown even sicker with grief as I’ve watched you valiantly stand with African Americans in our complaints and concern about treatment in the world and sometimes in the church. I’ve been astounded at how the Lord has used you and how much you have courageously risked to stand with us and to join the conversation. You did it all with no promise of an “up side” or reward but because convinced by Scripture you thought it was right. As we’ve interacted online, you’ve been used of the Lord to heal a good number of things in my heart that you’re not even aware of. I’m still set free by an interaction between you and Ray Ortlund, an interaction that’s allowed me to return to blogging and lean into some things I was pretty hopeless about. For that, you’ve earned my deepest respect and admiration and profound gratitude. You have been far kinder to me than I deserve. Your kindness has heaped coals on this poor sinner’s head.

So, I want very much to ask your forgiveness.

I want to admit my sin publicly, because my sins have affected a wider public than I know. I don’t want to pass under the radar hoping others might afford me the benefit of the doubt or because they might appreciate something else about me might put me in the category of men you so graciously say you’re not addressing.

I want to accept responsibility for my action and inaction without qualification. There are no “if,” “and,” or “but” statements to justify or excuse my wrong. I only wish I could describe my wrongs more fully and forcefully, because it is displeasing before the Lord. I do not wish to be the Pharisee thanking God that I am not like some brothers I imagine to be worse than I am. There’s no relativizing my sin; I accept responsibility for my wrong here.

I want to acknowledge the hurt I’ve caused. I cannot imagine what it’s like to share an elevator or a car with men who would not even acknowledge you. I didn’t do that to you, but I’ve certainly contributed to that kind of treatment by failing to advocate for my sisters and to challenge such things among men. I am grieved that I have damaged your reputation among others.

If this means we cannot have a relationship, I accept the consequences. I will have been the one who broke trust and failed to love and protect my sisters and you specifically.

I do now commit to being a more outspoken champion for my sisters and for you personally. Not that you need me to be but because it is right. I hope, with God’s help, to grow in sanctification, especially with regards to any sexism, misogyny, chauvinism, and the like that has used biblical teaching as a cover for its growth.

Dear Beth, and all my sisters, I hope you will forgive me.

1. That those African-Americans are no longer evangelicals and may be in danger of leaving the faith altogether; and,
2. That evangelicalism as a movement belongs to white evangelical Christians.

The first assumption need not be feared merely because folks are leaving predominantly white churches. “Evangelicalism,” despite the assumption of some, is not a synonym for true Christianity. The Lord has a people—a vast innumerable people—who are not and who do not belong to white evangelical churches. Praise his holy name!

The second assumption bears some reflection. If we think well about who “owns” evangelicalism, we may find a way to caulk the cracks in our fellowships and keep people from slipping through.

If “evangelicalism” gets defined sociologically, even implicitly or tacitly, we would think “evangelical” equals “white.” We might even hear “white evangelicals” as redundant. We get a hint about whether we’re thinking sociologically by asking ourselves who we mean when we say “our church.” If we say something along the lines of, “We would like more diversity at our church” and the antecedent to “our” is our ethnic group, then we may be thinking of our ethnic selves as the owners of the local church. It may not be a self-conscious thing. We may not ever want people to feel excluded because of our ethnic identity. In fact, we are expressing the opposite desire. But the unexamined assumption that this is “our” church—by which we center our culture, our habits, our preferences, and so on—can be felt by every person not a part of our group. In this way, a sociologically defined evangelicalism, with its centering of one group’s identity, perhaps hidden from conscious intention, tends toward the division of the church along ethnic, cultural, ritual, and preferential lines.

If we defined “evangelicalism” politically we might think it belongs to politically conservative and Republican types. This is certainly a media understanding, but is also the self-understanding of many evangelicals. Nowadays, some people are tempted to think Trump voters “own” evangelicalism. But an essentially political definition may be there even if a person rejects Trump. Many consider conservative politics an expression of a “biblical worldview.” So conservative political philosophy (which is in actuality, like all secular political philosophies, a form of worldliness) becomes in their view normative for all Christians. Those who aren’t conservative are then not “good Christians” or deemed “immature.” To be fair, this happens with any political philosophy that becomes rather synonymous with the term “evangelical.” It just happens that “evangelical” is most often associated with varieties of political conservatism. When that happens we create a political litmus test by which potential members are vetted. The church belongs to a political group in that case.

If defined theologically, evangelicalism belongs to all who hold genuine evangelical theological commitments. What are those? For shorthand, I would commend Bebbington’s quadrilateral. In light of recent squabbles, specifically note Bebbington’s fourth category in the quadrilateral: activism. Historic evangelicals were activists in all kinds of good causes. Sadly, nowadays it’s common to hear some professing “evangelicals” calling such activism the “social gospel,” “Marxism,” and the like. Effectively, then, some evangelicals hold a trilateral understanding of the movement. In cutting off activism they become “evangelical gnostics,” retreat to an isolationist fundamentalism, fear any venture into public witness leads only to liberalism, or simply hold a view inconsistent with evangelical heritage. But whether quad- or trilateral, these self-conscious evangelicals tend to distinguish themselves from the first two groups and claim to be the true “owners” of the movement.

As you might have guessed already, these categories are not mutually exclusive. If we put these things together we get a pretty powerful cocktail for exclusion calling itself “evangelical” when it’s really a narrow sociological, political, partly ahistorical, and socially withdrawn expression of faith. That such a view exists is demonstrable and plain all over the place. It’s been most startlingly and uncomfortably revealed in social and political events across the country these last four to five years.

What might be surprising to some inside this kind of evangelical subculture is that people who do not fit in the subculture can feel excluded in these environments. And sometimes this evangelical subculture makes the subjective feeling quite explicit and objective with boundary-maintaining shibboleths. Elements of the subculture become the price of admission and “discipleship” becomes a form of assimilation. Ironically, a people meant to be gatherers fulfilling the Great Commission become scatterers instead (Matt. 12:30).

If we want a greater experience of Christian unity in local churches we must become aware of when “our” centers one group and when “our” tacitly or explicitly imposes extra-biblical cultural requirements on others. We must be alert to our extra-biblical shibboleths, and we must tear them apart so others may easily move in. Whoever occupies the “our” in the local evangelical church must radically embrace and include the people on the margins if they want to diversify the center.

Which brings me back to the issue of the quiet exodus. Should people leave? Or, should others be forced to change?

If “evangelical” is meant to be a nickname for something like “biblical Christian community,” then evangelicalism belongs to all Christians who hold the quadrilateral (or some other suitable definition for the movement). Evangelicalism is mine as much as it’s anyone else’s. If I feel alien and unwelcome, I should not acquiesce to those feelings and should not concede evangelicalism to people who have no greater claim to the movement than I do. But I should also avoid the impulse to find a church “for us” that returns the exclusionary favor. Unity is worth fighting for even if we fight against ourselves and our tendency to want to be comfortably at the center.

True Evangelicalism belongs to Jesus. I belong to Jesus. You belong to Jesus. The church belongs to Jesus. So we must “do” evangelicalism the way Jesus would have us do it. We get our cue from the first “T4G” where the apostles in Jerusalem faced the question of whether and how Gentile believers were to be included in the church. They wrote a letter to churches with Gentiles documenting their decision. We read it in Acts 15:22-29.

22 Then it seemed good to the apostles and the elders, with the whole church, to choose men from among them and send them to Antioch with Paul and Barnabas. They sent Judas called Barsabbas, and Silas, leading men among the brothers, 23 with the following letter: “The brothers, both the apostles and the elders, to the brothers who are of the Gentiles in Antioch and Syria and Cilicia, greetings. 24 Since we have heard that some persons have gone out from us and troubled you with words, unsettling your minds, although we gave them no instructions, 25 it has seemed good to us, having come to one accord, to choose men and send them to you with our beloved Barnabas and Paul, 26 men who have risked their lives for the name of our Lord Jesus Christ. 27 We have therefore sent Judas and Silas, who themselves will tell you the same things by word of mouth. 28 For it has seemed good to the Holy Spirit and to us to lay on you no greater burden than these requirements: 29 that you abstain from what has been sacrificed to idols, and from blood, and from what has been strangled, and from sexual immorality. If you keep yourselves from these, you will do well. Farewell.”

The majority who could have centered the church on their Jewishness, instead used their position of privilege to include the Gentiles on the margins “to lay no other burden” on them other than avoiding idolatry and sexual immorality. In this way they simultaneously made Jesus the main thing, affirmed biblical morality and worship, and welcomed the “other” just as they were as Gentiles. May the same Holy Spirit who moved the apostles and elders to do this 2,000 years ago move their supposed evangelical heirs to do the same today.

Perhaps the ready mind jumps to Paul’s words of introduction to his short summary of the gospel in 1 Corinthians 15:3, “For I delivered to you as of first importance what I also received. . . .” Many people read “of first importance” and seem to conclude “of only importance.”

Or maybe another Pauline passage springs to mind: “For I decided to know nothing among you except Jesus Christ and him crucified” (1 Cor. 2:2). There Paul contrasts his plain preaching of the gospel against the “lofty speech” or sophistry he steadfastly avoided. Some who read “I decided to know nothing . . . except Jesus Christ and him crucified” go on to conclude that we should only preach the gospel.

Without question the gospel is of first importance. Nothing should come before it. Without question the preacher should make the gospel plain. I would go so far as to say every sermon preached should include a proclamation of the gospel and a call to repent and believe in Christ.

However, if we take this to mean that only the gospel should be preached, or if we selectively shy away from other subjects the Bible addresses, we do something neither Jesus nor Paul ever does. We contract the scope of God’s concerns to the nucleus while ignoring the rest of the nucleus-informed cell. We reduce our vision to sun’s central place in the solar system but neglect its effect on the remaining planets and stars that orbit it. Isolate the sun in this way and you soon fail to see how the sun’s gravitational pull holds the rest of the solar system together, how it affects the temperatures of planets, how it gives light to other bodies, and how all of that creates life.

We should understand the gospel in that way. It’s the nucleus that provides mass and weight to the cell of the church. It’s the sun around which everything orbits, is held together, and derives its light and life.

But the gospel is not the only thing in the Christian solar system. There’s marriage and parenting and public worship and responsibility to government and leadership and ethics and . . . you get the point.

So the preacher’s job is to “declare the whole counsel of God,” as Paul said of his ministry to the Ephesians. This is the same Paul who decided to know nothing among the Corinthians except Jesus Christ and him crucified. That declaration of the whole counsel was how the apostle could consider himself innocent of the blood of all his hearers (Acts 20:26-27). He told them everything God required, so he was innocent regarding the course of their subsequent lives.

Or, take the Lord Jesus Christ. His concluding charge to the nascent church is “go into the world and make disciples . . . teaching them to obey everything I have commanded” (Matt. 28:19). He does not say, “Go into the world and only preach the gospel.” No one can be a disciple unless they hear, believe, and obey the gospel (Rom. 10). In that way, too, gospel preaching is of first importance. But no one can keep the Great Commission unless they also go on to obey everything Jesus commands. What would that be? For starters, that would include the new commandment to love one another (John 13:34-35). But it would also include “the weightier matters of the law: mercy and justice and steadfastness” (Matt. 23:23).

A “gospel-centered” evangelicalism that becomes a “gospel-only” evangelicalism ceases to be properly evangelical. “Gospel-only” Christianity stands staring into the sun until it’s blinded to the solar system. It carves away the rest of the cell with its membrane, ribosomes, vesicles, and organelles. For such a “gospel-centered” evangelical, the cell loses its function. The solar system ceases to operate as a system. In the end, we fail to keep the Great Commission, because we failed to declare the whole counsel of God and to teach disciples to obey everything the Lord demands.

“Gospel-only” Christianity even creates a hearing impairment. When well-intentioned Christians discipled to be “gospel-only” hear parts of the Bible outside their “only” grid, they actually respond as if it’s something foreign to the Bible and faith. Obedience becomes legalism. Ethics become liberalism. Suspicion poisons belief in and practice of the whole counsel of God.

“Gospel-centered” and “gospel-only” are not the same thing. The former gives life to our spiritual universe. The latter blinds itself to the world and the gospel’s effect on it. When that happens, little wonder that the only real “heroes” of the Christian are preachers, and the greatest focus ultimately becomes “preach the gospel to yourself.” However wonderful a blessing a preacher is (Eph. 4:11ff) and however necessary it is to remind ourselves of the gospel, the Bible clearly teaches there’s more to the Christian life. Many may be living well beneath their calling as Christians because they’ve been taught the faith is only to preach the gospel when it’s not. Spend a little prayerful time in a pastoral epistle like Titus and you’ll see that God has more for us to do in addition to preaching the gospel.

The first show in the queue was their MLK50 episode. Since we had discussed related things on the show, I thought I’d give it a listen. Good a place as any to start.

I found the conversation engaging. There was a lot to digest. What caught my attention and continued to stick with me was a phrase I think “Chocolate Knox” used a couple of times: “hijacking repentance.” I like the phrase, though I’m not sure who he was referring to specifically or what he meant. Like all preachers who steal other people’s phrases, I’m about to now hijack the phrase “hijacking repentance.” I’d like to list a few ways the biblical idea of repentance can indeed be stolen.

Unhitch Method

One way to hijack something would be to unhitch the word from the meaning the way a hijacker might disconnect the cab of an 18-wheeler from the cargo carrying trailer behind. In this approach, “repentance” gets disconnected from the fruit of repentance. Think Matthew 3:8 and Acts 26:20. Genuine repentance produces fruit, new behaviors that match the turning toward God that is true repentance.

Without such works of repentance we have reason to doubt that someone has changed their minds and direction toward a new way. The deeds are unhitched from the claim.

Diversion Method

Diverting a driver from their path is another way something may be hijacked. The unsuspecting driver motors along their chosen route when a band of robbers force them from the road, perhaps to a side street, and into a waiting ambush where the entire vehicle may be stolen.

It happens with repentance too. People show up to bewitch the “repenter” and lead them into sin’s trap. Think Galatians 3:1; 5:7-9 and the arrogant acceptance of immorality in 1 Corinthians 5:1-2. The man in Corinth likely claimed to be repentant; he was certainly part of the church there. The Galatians were seduced from the gospel itself–not only was repentance hijacked but the entire faith.

Heist Method

By now you can tell I watch too many Fast & Furious movies and enjoy a good whodunit too much. With a heist you simply empty the vault or the container of its valuables while leaving the vault or container intact. You dangle from suspension wires, avoiding motion sensors to gently remove the crown jewel from its perch in the museum. Then you quietly retrace your stealthy steps to flee the property.

Think the false brethren in Jude’s day who “crept in unnoticed” to turn grace of our Lord into license or sensuality (Jude 4). They stole grace and along with it repentance right from the church’s pedestal while no one noticed.

Switch Method

With this method a would-be hijacker not only performs a heist but also leaves behind a worthless replica in place of the original. The goal is to make it look like the real jewel continues to be in place and there’s no reason for alarm.

Sometimes repentance gets switched with a counterfeit. Think 2 Corinthians 7:10 where godly sorrow that leads to repentance gets replaced with worldly sorrow that produces death. Of course 2 Corinthians teaches us that genuine repentance has its roots not merely in behavior or intellectual change, but in the affections or emotions. Repentance arises from seeing God in his holiness, seeing our sin as a personal affront to him, and really grieving the grievousness of sin such that we change in the power of the Holy Spirit. “Repentance” gets hijacked when people produce sugary substitutes and we settle for it.

Extortion Method

Okay, last one. Perhaps this is what “Chocolate Knox” had in mind. I’m not sure. But extortioners steal one thing by holding you hostage to another. They perhaps bilk small business owners for “protection money” by holding a serious threat over the business owners’ heads. It’s coercion not repentance. It’s lording it over the faith of others (Matt. 20:25) rather than demonstrating that kindness that’s meant to lead to repentance.

The apostles did not practice such tactics but worked together with the saints for their joy. Think 2 Corinthians 1:24. Or think 1 Thessalonians 2:6-7 where the apostles refused to make demands of the churches but were gentle like parents.

These are all ways I suppose someone could “hijack repentance.” Of course, “Chocolate Knox” asserted that a hijacking of repentance occurred at the MLK50 Conference by conference speakers. In context, I think he was referring to the notion that anything might be required of white brethren in Christ before reconciliation could occur with black brethren in Christ. He seemed to suggest that the addition of those requirements nullified the reconciliation we have in Christ and the repentance that brought us to faith in Christ. I hope I have not misunderstood him. If so, I’m sure he’ll correct me.

But if I have understood his response, then I would offer a couple of quick thoughts. There are many ways repentance can be hijacked. But before we can recognize those methods we first have to be clear on repentance itself.

First, as can be seen by many texts of Scripture, repentance toward God requires subsequent repentance toward any we have wronged. We don’t get to say, “I’m repentant and have placed my faith in Christ” and thereby absolve ourselves of any responsibility for any needed repentance in relationships with neighbor. Zacchaeus demonstrates that point marvelously. He proves his repentance toward God by returning fourfold anything he’s taken unrighteously from others (Luke 19:8). He was, of course, repenting in precisely the way the law required in such cases. These were his “deeds in keeping with repentance.” So “hijacking repentance” would mean defining repentance in such that repentance leaves off restitution for wrongs. I can’t speak for the MLK50 speakers (I’ve only heard two talks), but if they called for restitution for wrongs then they were not the hijackers. Those who unhitched such deeds from claims of repentance are the hijackers.

Second, some people seem to be making a category mistake in the discussion of repentance. Some (I don’t lay this accusation at “Chocolate Knox’s” feet) seem to be suggesting that the position of reconciliation we have in Christ somehow dissolves the practice of reconciliation in Christ. The claim seems to run along these lines: “Since we have been reconciled in Christ (Eph. 2, for example) then there are no longer any problems requiring reconciliation and not even any distinctions between people groups in the body of Christ. So, calls for repentance of racism and the like essentially rebuild the dividing wall of hostility.”

That’s a pretty significant category mistake. It is true that we are positionally reconciled in Christ, joined together in a spiritual union in him. It is true that the law and commandments that formed a dividing wall and produced hostility in sinful men have been torn down. Praise God. But those spiritual and positional truths have to be worked out in relational and practical ways. That’s why the apostles held the Jerusalem Counsel in Acts 15, why Paul rebuked Peter to his face for the ethnic favoritism that had him out of step with the gospel in Galatians, and why we get so much instruction about reconciling and reconciliation itself in the pages of the New Testament. The practice must follow the position, otherwise we’re not living out what has been achieved for us in Christ. Insisting on the practice (in this case repentance and relational reconciliation where necessary) is not hijacking repentance but proving it. Those who conflate positional and practical categories attempt a heist or a switch we should avoid.

Finally, it’s important to note that the citation of both tragedy and kindness are meant to lead us to repentance. The Lord Jesus called his disciples to repent at the tragic news of a collapsing tower and a madman murdering worshipers (Luke 13). Though they had nothing to do with those events, the lesson was made painfully clear: Unless you repent, the same could befall you. The apostle Paul tells us that the goodness of the Lord is meant to lead to repentance (Rom. 2:4). There’s a sense in which all our observations between the tragic and the beautifully good are designed by God to turn us back to him.

Some think that pointing to the sins of other generations and calling this generation to suspect problems of their own amounts to hijacking repentance. But it’s not. Naming sins and calling onlookers to tragedy to repent is entirely consistent with biblical strategy. In the face of tragedy or goodness, we’re not supposed to “keep calm and carry on,” getting to the next thing on the agenda. The announcement of the tragedy should excite us to turn to God. So should reminders of this country’s sinful past. That’s not hijacking repentance.

Anyway, thanks again “Chocolate Knox” for the phrase. Now that I have cited you, the next time I use it I will preface it with “As I always say . . .”!

In my experience, the application question often takes two forms. Some people ask, “So what can I do?” Others ask, “So what do you want?”

There’s a world of difference between those two questions. The word choice often reveals a heart choice.

“What can I do?” often signals a heart that’s moved of its own accord toward engagement, commitment, and action, however feeble and novice. The question assumes personal responsibility and investment. It’s not about you but me. The person who asks this question often feels ownership of the issue and its resolution.

The second question, “What do you want?” often reveals a heart choosing to dig in. It shifts responsibility (or blame) from the questioner to the other. It’s not about me but you. It’s still playing defense. The question doesn’t come from willingness as much as a kind of defiant resignation or exasperation or grudging tacit admission of defeat. It often hopes there’s no answer to the question and finds relief in silence and glee in seemingly insignificant or impractical responses.

For those who ask, “What do you want?” I would simply say: It’s not what I want but what Jesus wants. Until you’re asking yourself what your Lord wants from you, you’re asking the wrong question and no answer will suffice. The good news is that the Lord tells us all exactly what he wants from us. We see it in the Great Commission, with its emphasis on making disciples who “observe everything he has commanded.” By “everything he has commanded,” Jesus means everything. For example, the Lord means the “new commandment” he preached in John 13, that we love one another as he has loved us (John 13:34). And I think the Lord has in mind a right application of old commandments too. Like the “weightier matters of the law: mercy and justice and faithfulness” (Matt. 23:23). The Lord means for true followers to be as scrupulous about these weightier matters as they are about the comparatively lighter issue of tithing and giving. All I want from brethren in the Lord is what Jesus demands of them. As long as you think those demands come from me and not from Jesus, your heart will remain resistant to the truth and the calling the Lord has on your life. It saddens me for you, because there’s more to Jesus than you know, and he has more for you to do as you follow him than you’re recognizing.

For those who ask, “What can I do?” I would say, “It depends.” It depends on who you are, where you are, and what providentially the Lord has given you to work with. Let me flesh that out with a series of application questions I shared with my church family a couple of weeks ago. I hope they help. The questions provide general guidance on finding your particular lane and running in it with freedom and confidence.

1. Identify your attitude. What attitudes and feelings are at work in my heart when it comes to pursuing biblical justice? How are those attitudes affecting my perception of people, situations, and most importantly God?
2. Identify your topics and learn. What are the issues that affect my family, my neighbor, my neighborhood, my church, my country, and my world? Which things hit close to home and therefore are close to me and those I love and serve? Which things are so important in the world at large that as a “world Christian” I should study?
3. Identify your “local lanes.” Of the things that hit close to home (my family, my neighbor, my neighborhood, my church), which ones will I get involved in? What are the opportunities for involvement and service?
4. Identify your responsibilities, authorities, and influence. How has God uniquely situated me to play a part in addressing this issue(s)? In my callings as Christian, spouse, parent, neighbor, vocation, what obligations, decision-making ability, and influence fall upon me, and how should I steward them?
5. Identify your strategies. What will I actually do given my topic, my local lanes, and my callings? Not everyone is called to do everything. If you don’t head a national organization with access to major media, you’re not likely the one who needs to be the national spokesperson. If you’re not a legislator you’re not likely the one to introduce a major bill. But you might be a father with a child on the autism spectrum and fighting to be sure she and other students have resources in their local school is right in your lane. Or you may be a freelance writer and lending your services to a worthy local cause is a perfect fit for who you are. What will be your strategy given who you are?
6. Identify your allies. The pursuit of biblical justice has always been a team sport. It’s always been a project God’s people are to join together to work on. But it need not be limited only to your tribe of Christianity or even necessarily to Christians. Who are the people and organizations of good will who image forth God’s likeness in the pursuit of justice in a way that isn’t repugnant to the Scriptures and the Lord? Which of them might join you or might you join in the pursuit of righteousness?

I know this isn’t a laundry list of “easy steps” to begin a life of doing the weightier matters of the law: mercy and justice and faithfulness. But hopefully it’s a little bit of principled help to those who are asking, “What can I do?” And hopefully a few others might consider what they’re saying when they ask, “What do you want?” Hopefully.

What was the state of racial reconciliation in 1888? If you google “United States in 1888” and check out many of the pages chronicling events that year, you won’t find much (if anything) mentioned about African Americans. Grover Cleveland was president. The “Schoolhouse Blizzard” killed 235 in the Dakota territories. Another blizzard hit the East Coast. National Geographic was founded. John Reed of Scotland brought golf to Yonkers, New York. The Washington Monument officially opened to the public.

You can find a lot of facts and trivia for 1888 and the Gilded Age of which it’s a part. But you won’t find a lot of descriptions about the state of things between African Americans and White Americans. Not with a general search like that—which looks a lot like the general history taught in our schools. If you believe that Google search and most text books, African Americans were hardly visible, hardly real, and hardly worth thinking about.

But for African Americans, that’s hardly the case.

Type in “African Americans in 1888” and you get more American history than is typically told. In that same Gilded Age (1870-1900), a period named for its rapid economic growth and industrial expansion, African Americans were having all their hard-earned rights following emancipation and Reconstruction systematically dismantled by counter-Reconstruction. African Americans were stripped of voting rights, political power, and economic opportunity. The U.S. Supreme Court voided the Ku Klux Klan Act of 1871, opening the gates for a later rise in white supremacy and the terrorizing of African Americans by hate groups. The U.S. Supreme Court also invalidated the Civil Rights Act of 1875, which forbid individuals and businesses from discriminating on the basis of race. Major League Baseball prohibited African American players from joining the league in 1887. By 1888-89, states passed segregation and Jim Crow laws on trains and public transit. It would take African Americans nearly 100 years to regain rights that were once protected in 1875.

At least two things should be obvious by this simple recounting of differing realities in America 150 years ago:

1. Folks who think a blog post sets back racial reconciliation 50 years are not sufficiently acquainted with history and reconciliation to be taken seriously. The real threats happen in legislatures, where signed bills do far more than blog posts.
2. Folks who think a blog post set back racial reconciliation 50 years are not really clear on how our current level of reconciliation has been achieved.

On that second point, just think of the contrast between what was happening in America at large (read, white America) with its rapid economic expansion and what was happening in African America with the roll back of nearly every freedom and right gained after the Civil War. Mark Twain’s use of “Gilded Age” could not be more fitting, because the country was thinly gilded with the gold of material prosperity covering the puss of racial apartheid.

We must understand that every single gain in equal rights, civil rights, and basic freedom and dignity has come through the courage, conviction, risk, and sacrifice of African Americans and their few allies pointing out and protesting injustices. Not one single right has ever been given to African Americans out of the kindness of people’s hearts. Not one. Every right we have has come after long years of protest and pressure and appeal to conscience.

So, when my interlocutors argue that by pointing out problems in society and the church I am setting things back, they prove themselves not only ignorant of the history but also prove themselves ignorant of how change has come. It is quite likely that if African Americans never protested but waited for “good folks” to do the right thing we would still be living in Jim Crow segregation at least. And “good folks” would still be saying, “Just wait; now is not the time.” And “good Christian folks” would still be mouthing “pious irrelevancies and sanctimonious trivialities” as Dr. King put it in “Letter from a Birmingham Jail.”

A good number of folks who think they are protecting the unity of the church with exhortations to quietude and denial of injustice do little more than echo the voices of people 50 years ago who opposed progress and equality. Perhaps that’s the very reason it sounds to them like I’m setting things back. They call for quietude while claiming to celebrate a reconciliation their accommodationist position never contributed to.

Let me make this plain: It is not pointing out injustice that creates injustice. It is not pointing out racial insensitivity, animosity, or racism that creates racial insensitivity, animosity, or racism. It is not pointing out disunity that creates disunity. The long track record of history demonstrates that by pointing out those things we give ourselves opportunity for real justice, opportunity for a real redress of racism, and opportunity for a true unity.

Pointing out these things is not an act of cynicism or pessimism (at least for me). Our history (by which I mean American history, of which African American history is a part) and the progress it shows encourages me. I think we’ve come a long, long way. Let me illustrate how far with a simple sentence:

“Yesterday I sat on a plane next to a white woman, and we had a wonderful conversation.”

You probably think nothing of that sentence. The fact that it doesn’t even register curiosity is evidence of how far we’ve come. Just 50 years ago, it was highly unlikely that I could afford a plane ticket. That’s economic progress. Certainly 50 years ago I’m unlikely to be able to take public transportation with integrated seating sections. That’s legal progress. Fifty years ago talking to a white woman in an intimate way could excite mob violence and get me killed. That’s social progress. We can take all that  progress for granted either by acting as if the country just changed its mind one day or by failing to realize countless lives engaged in unimaginable sacrifice made possible that simple sentence with its profound achievements. We honor those people and their sacrifices better if we keep our shoulders to the plow in the cause of even more equality and justice.

So the next time you hear someone say or read someone write that someone has set racial reconciliation back 50 years, you might just ask yourself, Is the person saying that representing the views of those who earned the 50 years of progress or the view of those who 50 years ago were opposed to it? Dig a little deeper, know the history, and be careful about whom you charge with setting things back.

A lot depends on the state of our hearts when we first read a piece. Are we tired? Grumpy? Fearful? Angry? Sad? Discouraged? Weak? Gullible? We may not always be aware of our emotional and spiritual state as we read. Morever, we may not be aware of how the opinions, attitudes, and views of others might be affecting our reading. Did the tweet or post that first brought the issue to our attention also pass along an attitude or perspective that we took into our reading?

It seems to me that happened a lot over this last two weeks. I wrote in an admittedly confrontational way about a touchy (to put it mildly) topic, and quite a number of people came to the post not on its own terms but carrying the angst, anger, attitude, and bias of the persons who alerted them to the post. I happily spent a lot of time in email and online trying to help people distinguish what I actually wrote from what they had heard elsewhere. People almost always responded in those discussions with some variety of, “Oh, I would say that too.” Or perhaps they still objected to my style in the post or insisted I must mean x or y, but the temperature went way down and real exchange was possible.

All of that to say, as with all things, we should be careful to read others fairly (even if critically) and should avoid as best as possible allowing our reading to be prejudiced by others. The more heated the topic the more important this is.

The warnings of Proverbs regarding strife applies to both the writer and the reader:

“Hatred stirs up strife, but love covers all offenses.” (Prov. 10:12)

“By insolence comes nothing but strife, but with those who take advice is wisdom.” (Prov. 13:10)

“A hot-tempered man stirs up strife, but he who is slow to anger quiets contention.” (Prov. 15:18)

“A dishonest man spreads strife, and a whisperer separates close friends.” (Prov. 16:28)

“The beginning of strife is like letting out water, so quit before the quarrel breaks out.” (Prov. 17:14)

“Whoever loves transgression loves strife; he who makes his door high seeks destruction.” (Prov. 17:19)

“It is an honor for a man to keep aloof from strife, but every fool will be quarreling.” (Prov. 20:3)

“Drive out a scoffer, and strife will go out, and quarreling and abuse will cease.” (Prov. 22:10)

“As charcoal to hot embers and wood to fire, so is a quarrelsome man for kindling strife.” (Prov. 26:21)

“A greedy man stirs up strife, but the one who trusts in the Lord will be enriched.” (Prov. 28:25)

“A man of wrath stirs up strife, and one given to anger causes much transgression.” (Prov. 29:22)

“For pressing milk produces curds, pressing the nose produces blood, and pressing anger produces strife.” (Prov. 30:33)

Note the various emotions, passions, and sins that give rise to strife: hatred, insolence, anger, dishonesty, love for transgression, foolishness, scoffing, quarrelsomeness, greed, and wrath. It’s helpful to remember that along with the strife often comes these emotions, passions, and sins. It’s all rather contagious. And, sadly, those really given to these sins do not seem capable of stopping. It’s a character rather than an incident.

Well does the New Testament put such strife in the category of reprobate behavior (Rom. 1:29) and sins of the flesh (1 Cor. 3:3; Gal. 5:20). For that reason we ought to be careful of causing strife (say, with my writing) or of furthering strife (say, by carrying the tales and attitudes of others in comments). According to some of these Proverbs, we should: lovingly cover offense, take advice, be slow to anger, avoid whispering, quit before quarreling, remain aloof to strife, drive out scoffers, and trust the Lord.

I suspect tale-bearing and strife-kindling are bigger problems than the church realizes. I suspect it’s a blind spot for many of us. The reason I suspect that is because the false brethren of Jude’s letter—mockers, grumblers, complainers and scoffers (Jude 16-19)—were able to make their way into the church without the church noticing them (Jude 4). For a time, they appeared to be Christians. Over time, their true natures were revealed—but not before they had carried some off with them and had left others doubting and endangered (Jude 22-23).

How could such people have been unnoticed in the church? Two possibilities: Either they were extremely deceptive and effective at pretending to be Christians, or the church was too comfortable with these sins and shared in them. Perhaps a combination of the two is possible. But in either case, Jude warns against such false brethren and at the very least we should be aware of any tendency in us toward mockery, scoffing, strife, and the host of motivations that might lead us to strife. We should be careful of how others may encourage these things in us as we read them online. May the Lord give us grace to do it!

Sin is irrational in its break away from God. If God is the source of supreme pleasure, beauty, love, and goodness—and He is—then turning away from God makes no sense. It’s irrational.

Sin is irrational in its short-sightedness. If there’s a way that seems right to man but the end is death and we choose that sinful way, then we think, feel, and act irrationally. It’s irrational to refuse eternal life in order to make a mess of this mortal life. That’s sin.

Sin is irrational in its undervaluing of the soul. What will a man give in exchange for his soul? If you could gain the entire world and lose your soul what profit would you have? Sin says there’s something worth losing your soul for. That’s irrational.

Sin is irrational in its choice of the temporary and fleeting over the permanent and immovable. We all face the allure of the “temporary pleasures of sin.” However, those pleasures seek to distract us from an inheritance kept by the power of God through faith and a city whose foundations will never be shaken or destroyed. To choose what only lasts for a moment over what lasts forever is to act without rationality.

Sin is irrational in its tendency to distort our view of the world from the view God establishes. Sin crafts a worldview. It’s a false worldview wherein things act or ought to act in keeping with the desires of the sinner. The sinner feels a kind of invincibility even though his/her plans come to nothing and all around them people perish. We are meant to see the world as God sees it, to call black “black” and white “white,” to call up “up” and down “down,” in agreement with God. Sin flips the world upside down and inside out as we break ourselves into a million irrational pieces.

In all of this, sin deceives and destroys.

Every opting for sin reduces us below the beasts of the field. Though they do not have the faculties of thought and reason, the beasts do what they were made to do. But man, God’s apex creation, made in his image and likeness, uses all the wonder and grace of being human to defile and distort that image and his purpose. In this way sin is not only irrational, it’s a tremendous violence committed toward our very being.

Perhaps the most rational thing we can do, then, is quit our love affair with sin, turn back to God in repentance, and trust in Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior. In Christ the image so disfigured by sin is being renewed in true holiness and righteousness and in the knowledge of its Creator. Though the cross is foolishness to the world, to those of us being saved it is sanity, power, and love from God. Faith in Jesus and the life that conforms to the sound doctrine of the gospel returns us to God, fixes our nearsightedness, rightly values the soul, opts for the permanent and immovable, and helps us see the world the way God does. Nothing else could be so rational. Christ Jesus clothes us in our right mind, the mind of Christ.

Darryll B. Harrison is certainly correct to cast Hammon as an evangelical with a thoroughly biblical understanding of human depravity and a relentless focus on the gospel of Jesus Christ as the remedy (see his post here). Mr. Harrison also correctly notes that many people today would view Hammon as a sell-out for not stridently and radically opposing slavery in his extant works. Certain folks do not appreciate what they see as his “accommodationist” strategy.

I thought Harrison’s post was helpful on a lot of fronts, especially in insisting that the root problem with racism is enmity rather than “race” itself. About which I largely agree.

But there are a couple of things that should be balanced in Harrison’s writing.

Jupiter Hammon in Context

First, it seems to me Harrison fails to put Hammon inside the restrictive rhetorical parameters he would have faced as a slave in the late 1700 and early 1800s. This is a mistake Hammon’s more “progressive” critics make too. If we do not read him in his own context, imagining the strictures and consequences he faced making any public statements, we’ll read too much at some points and too little at others depending on our own biases rather than Hammon’s. We must begin by asking ourselves, What was possible for Hammon to say as a slave whose life and career were overseen by white owners and  white society in the late 1700s and early 1800s? And what strategy might Hammon use to say what he wished while also avoiding the disapproval and consequences of owners and society? If we don’t put him in his context, or if we judge him by our own, we won’t get to know the real Hammon.

That’s what I think happens with Harrison’s piece. Harrison zooms in on the evangelical anthropology so richly there in Hammon and then seems to suggest by this singular focus that Hammon was only concerned about gospel preaching. But if we skim Hammon’s Address I think we’ll see head nods, innuendos, and comments that are more complex and that exploited the restrictive rhetorical parameters of his day perhaps as best as anyone could.

For example, consider how Hammon opens by lamenting the condition of slaves: “I can with truth and sincerity join with the apostle Paul, when speaking of his own nation the Jews, and say, ‘That I have great heaviness and continual sorrow in my heart for my brethren, my kinsmen according to the flesh.’ Yes my dear brethren, when I think of you, which is very often, and of the poor, despised, and miserable state you are in, as to the things of this world, and when I think of your ignorance and stupidity, and the great wickedness of the most of you, I am pained to the heart.” It should be obvious that Hammon uses Paul’s solidarity and empathy for the Jews as basis for his own solidarity and empathy with enslaved Africans. Moreover, there’s something both slave and owner could likely appreciate in Hammon’s stated concern. The reference to the state of the slaves identifies with and acknowledges their suffering. The reference to the “wickedness” of slaves would have approval from any slave owners overhearing the address. But from the start, Hammon gently acknowledges his sorrow about the slave’s state in this world. There’s no doubt where his empathy lies.

Then Hammon goes on to use a strategy that most evangelical conservatives would hate today. He evokes and uses his own privilege as a comparatively well-to-do slave who spent most of his life working as something of a bookkeeper for his owners. He actually uses the word. Hammon writes:

I have great reason to be thankful that my lot has been so much better than most slaves have had. I suppose I have had more advantages and privileges than most of you, who are slaves have ever known, and I believe more than many white people have enjoyed, for which I desire to bless God, and pray that he may bless those who have given them to me.

At this point, Hammon looks pretty in step with what gets denounced in evangelical circles today. He first identifies with the slave, then considers his privilege, gives thanks to God, and concludes by intimating how he might use it to help the oppressed. Folks who speak against acknowledgement and use of privilege do so ahistorically.

Hammon continues with his first major point exhorting slaves to obey their masters. Why start there? Well, it’s a shibboleth for Black speakers of Hammon’s period. Unless this message is taught—the only message ever really sanctioned by slaveholding society—then Hammon would likely be shut down and endangered. However, please note that Hammon doesn’t expound this theme without subtly raising the question of whether slavery itself was right. The first words in the section begin, “Now whether it is right, and lawful, in the Sight of God, for them to make slaves of us or not . . .” He’s cheeky. He’s not Frederick Douglass, a free abolitionist blasting slave owners and the slave institution; he’s doing what he can within the confines of being owned by another.

The second point in the Address is like the first—it addresses a concern slave masters would have followed by one Hammon has: stealing and profaneness, respectively. The entire section along with the first is God-centered, orienting the slave toward the expectations of God above their owners. I am convinced Hammon believes what he says and writes through these first two sections. I also believe he’s doing the work of an evangelist as he writes:

Pray my dear friends, believe and realize, that there is a God—that he is great and terrible beyond what you can think—that he keeps you in life every moment—and that he can send you to that awful Hell, that you laugh at, in an instant, and confine you there for ever, and that he will certainly do it, if you do not repent.

Hammon structures the sermon so that he front loads the over-watching concerns of white audiences. But he builds the address in a way that centers God and paves the way for gospel appeal. Notice how he puts freedom on the table for younger enslaved Blacks, alludes to natural law in support of that freedom, points to how whites prove the value of freedom when they fought for their liberty just a decade or so earlier, and then makes the gospel paramount:

Now I acknowledge that liberty is a great thing, and worth seeking for, if we can get it honestly, and by our good conduct, prevail on our masters to set us free: Though for my own part I do not wish to be free, yet I should be glad, if others, especially the young negroes were to be free, for many of us, who are grown up slaves, and have always had masters to take care of us, should hardly know how to take care of ourselves; and it may be more for our own comfort to remain as we are. That liberty is a great thing we may know from our own feelings, and we may likewise Judge so from the conduct of the white-people, in the late war. How much money has been spent, and how many lives has been lost, to defend their liberty. I must say that I have hoped that God would open their eyes, when they were so much engaged for liberty, to think of the state of the poor blacks, and to pity us. He has done it in some measure, and has raised us up many friends, for which we have reason to be thankful, and to hope in his mercy. What may be done further, he only knows, for known unto God are all his ways from the beginning. But this my dear brethren IS by no means, the greatest thing we have to be concerned about. Getting our liberty in this world, is nothing to our having the liberty of the children of God. Now the Bible tells us that we are all by nature, sinners, that we are slaves to sin and Satan, and that unless we are converted, or born again, we must be miserable forever. Christ says, except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God, and all that do not see the kingdom of God, must be in the kingdom of darkness. (italics added for emphasis)

The order here is important. Hammon argues from the lesser to the greater. But in reaching the greater—salvation in Christ—Hammon by no means erases the lesser—freedom in this life. Hammon, an evangelical, would certainly say it profits man nothing to gain the whole world and lose his soul. But with as much latitude as allowed him in that time, he also makes it clear that freedom should be had by all, including slave. He even seems to shame white people—notice, as a group—for the hypocrisy of investing money and lives to win their freedom while denying slaves the same.

Harrison leaves these kinds of comments out of his post when he appropriates Hammon against “social justice warriors” and those who see justice in the biblical agenda. Harrison only cites the concluding paragraph, ignoring the comments made beforehand. But a fair reading of Hammon in historical and literary context actually situates him closer to those who support justice and call on white people to turn from any ways they may have denied justice to others. This is not “sin by proxy” as Harrison put it; it’s simply noting that some sin metastasizes into the entire culture. When that happens, the entire culture needs to be addressed with prophetic force and gospel hope.

Enmity and Ethnicity

Now, as for the thesis of Mr. Harrison’s post, I agree that “the problem is enmity, not ethnicity.” Hammon would agree. But we do violence to the issue if we fail to recognize that a fuller statement of the problem would be something like: “the problem is that enmity that expresses itself against ethnicities.”

By leaving off how the enmity gets expressed, we essentially make the issue abstract and ambiguous. It’s like saying, “the problem is cancer” but not specifying what kind of cancer and where it’s located. It’s like saying “the problem is sex, not adultery” when you’re trying to get a husband to stop cheating. That makes little sense. It may help the adulterer feel better about himself but it does not address the actual sin committed against the wife and family. The adultery, like the racism, occurs in a particular historical and social context without which we’re left grasping for understanding, let alone remedy.

Conclusion

I appreciate Mr. Harrison’s post. As I said, where it deals with enmity exegetically and theologically, I entirely agree. But I think it misses the point where it fails to identify how such enmity gets expressed in particular historical and social contexts. And I think it’s unfortunate that a luminary like Jupiter Hammon gets misappropriated in service to an argument I do not think he would make.

I would highly commend reading Jupiter Hammon’s collected work. It will bless careful reading. Oh, and for the curious, there’s some manuscript evidence discovered in recent years that later Hammon poetry struck a more strident tone against slavery. See here.

I’m not sure this adds much to the discussion, but it’s the gist of my answer yesterday.

Woke: A Lineage

First, being “woke” isn’t at all new. I know Carl Ellis has been trying to help people understand that in some of his public talks. But it seems a lot of younger people think they’re experiencing something new. Solomon taught a long, long time ago, “there’s nothing new under the sun.”

What we call “woke” today is pretty close to the Afrocentricism of the 1980s. Afrocentricism, a word coined by Dr. Molefi Asante, professor of African-American studies at Temple University at the time, was about centering Africa and Africa-descended peoples in their worldview much the way Europe has always been at the center of the worldview of European peoples. Afrocentrism taught that Black people should see the world as Black people.

Of course, before Afrocentrism in the 1980s there was the Black Arts Movement and Black consciousness movement of the 1960s—a movement that both inspired and also drew strength from Pan-Africanism and its connections with independence movements in Africa and the Caribbean. That period gave us “Black” as an ethnic identifier. People don’t realize it today, but calling ourselves “Black” was not so much motivated by describing skin color as much as it was a political statement about what is beautiful and valiant, re-appropriating what had been a slur in the mouth of others and refusing to be erased in the world. The discovery of this “consciousness” was the discovery of a certain pleasure. “The pleasure of being black was a core part of the cultural revolution staged during the Black Power movement” (Margo Natalie Crawford, “What Was Is“: The Time and Space of Entanglement Erased by Post-Blackness, in Houston A. Baker and K. Merinda Simmons, The Trouble with Post-Blackness, p. 36). To be “woke,” then, builds on this discovery: that being “Black” is something to take pleasure in.

But we can go back even further. Before the Black Arts, Black Power, and Black Consciousness movements there was in the 1920s the New Negro movement of the Harlem Renaissance and the Négritude Movement in Africa. Alain Locke in Harlem with Aimé Césaire in Martinique and Leopold Senghor in West Africa were among the leading thinkers of these movements. Following the defeats of counter-Reconstruction and Plessy v. Ferguson, Negro artists and intellectuals began to give a more strident voice to the complaints, complexity, and beauty of Negro life and thought. This phase of the identity project featured an international awareness and exchange, and gave rise to a number of publications and outlets. The movement, like all historical iterations of what we call “woke,” sought to forge an identity both independent of white determinants and accepted by the wider world. In a 1923 essay entitled “The New Negro Faces America,” West Indian writer Eric D. Walrond described the New Negro thus:

He does not want . . . to be like the white man. He is coming to realize the great possibilities within himself. The New Negro, who does not want to go back to Africa, is fondly cherishing an ideal—and that is, that the time will come when America will look upon the Negro not as a savage with an inferior mentality, but as a civilized man.

Before the New Negro movement, there was Ethiopianism (1880s-1920s). On the African continent, African Christians broke away from the control of white Anglican and Methodist churches who would not share leadership of the church even on African soil. That church movement took place at the same time as a wider literary and political movement in British colonies and territories sprouted. The wider movement reclaimed Ethiopia as one of the oldest continuous great civilizations in the world. From the Bible, they drew inspiration from Psalm 68:31, “Princes shall come of Egypt; Ethiopia shall soon stretch out her hands unto God.” You would find allusions to this text in everything from slave narratives to sermons to political speeches.

We could perhaps go further back. I think an essential thing to note is this: to be Ethiopian, Negro, Black, or African-American (choose your descriptor and time period) has always involved a massive project in self-definition, self-determination and self-affirmation in a national and world context characterized by anti-Black racism and oppression. That’s the one thing these periods have in common. That’s why some version of “woke” appears in nearly every generation. Each generation has to forge and reclaim a sense of self that’s healthy, affirming, and productive in order to withstand and resist the identity-twisting and person-debasing ideologies launched against us.

Woke Church?

This has massive implications for local church ministries in communities of color. Churches must understand the need to reconstitute the whole person with biblical teaching responsive to the lived realities of those communities. In simpler words, our approach to discipleship must simultaneously repair the psychic and social destruction done to the identities/personhood of Black people while recognizing and equipping them to counter the social and political realities that contribute to that destruction in the first place. We have to teach people how to be their ethnic selves in a way that’s consistent with the Bible and how to live fruitfully in contexts that don’t affirm their ethnic selves. Hence, we need a “woke church.”

But it’s not just African Americans who need a “woke church.” All people need it. Even the cursory history sketched above reveals that we “are tied together in a single garment of destiny,” as Dr. King put it. There’s a mutuality to our existence. The only way for us to lower the necessity for a “woke church” is for the people and forces making “wokeness” necessary to wake up to their part in the dynamic. As long as there are racist forces at work in the world, the sufferers of that racism are right to find ways to express and affirm their identity and will need tools (spiritual, cultural, economic, and so on) to fight back against those forces.

We may need to find biblically richer and more careful ways of doing the work, but that the work needs to be done seems evident to me. Keep on Dr. Mason! There’s a world of difference between people who want you to be better and people who want you to quit.

From where I sit, “woke church” continues in the tradition of Martin Delaney, Edward W. Blyden, Henry McNeal Turner, Alexander Crummell, and a great cloud of other witnesses who in the Spirit of God sought a more faithful way to live the faith as African Americans when the rest of the world despised them. The mockers mock. The haters hate. That’s what they’ve been doing for the entire sojourn of Black people in contact with the West. By their mockery, scoffing, and hatred they make some form of being “woke” necessary. So may the church get woke and stay woke.

He humbly posed a question I realize I should answer more publicly. I thought I had done this before, but apparently I have not. Here’s how my friend and brother put the question:

You have said you have not moved from your 2008 T4G talk on “race.” When I think of your recent writing it seems to me you have. Can you help me understand how it could be the case that you haven’t moved?

I wish I could convey his humble and honest tone in a blog post, because it’s a model for how you ask a question about a controversy.

Here’s my answer in a nutshell: The 2008 talk was a biblical theology on “race” arguing that there is only one “race” descended from Adam and Eve (Gen. 3:21; Acts 17:26). I absolutely believe that today. It’s what the Bible teaches.

But the talk was not a biblical treatment of racism. That would be an entirely different sermon, because unlike “race,” racism is real. I would have rooted racism in sins like pride, hatred, partiality, and a failure to love all expressed along the lines of “race.”

Chicken or Egg Question

Now, many people think that by dispelling the notion of “race” we thereby dispel (or at least make more difficult) any claims to racism. For them racism is what happens when we do bad things with “race.” They assume “race” comes first and racism perverts it. So if we could only get rid of “race” then we can be done with racism.

I actually don’t agree with this line of thinking. I think the opposite relation exists between “race” and racism.

First comes racism, then comes “race.” The idea of “race” is not the root of racism but the fruit of racism. “Race” is the debunked pseudo-scientific theory that racist philosophers and “scientists” made up to give racism legitimacy. Then racist thinking, covered in a patina of scientific credibility, worked its way into the bloodstream of white society and eventually nearly all societies. It became so dominant a way of thinking that both those who benefited and also those who suffered from racism adopted the theory and worldview. I am indebted to Fields and Fields in Racecraft: The Soul of Inequality in American Life for helping me see things in the opposite direction.

So, I do not write or speak about racism because I assume the reality of “race.” I write about racism because I see the reality of racism and want to pluck up that poisonous root. When you hear or read me decrying racism, do not think, Why must he bring up “race.” I hope you will think, How does he see racism—fear, prejudice, partiality, hatred, favoritism, and so on—at work?

“Race” is a distraction, an illusion created by charlatans hiding their sin. Today many people, like audiences at a magic show, wittingly and unwittingly, participate in the racists’ parlor trick. But progress can only truly be made if we simultaneously reject unbiblical anthropology while calling out a real biblical sin. I am trusting that as intelligent readers and listeners you will hold together two complementary strategies simultaneously: the rejection of “race” as a biological reality, on the one hand, and on the other the identification and rejection of the real sins at the root of “race.”

The chicken racists of bygone centuries laid the egg of “race.” If we wring the chicken’s neck with confrontation and confession we won’t have to worry about their rotten eggs.

I realize there’s the risk of everything turning into an unending game of “he said, she said,” and ain’t nobody got time for that, but we should keep things as clear as possible as we go forward. It’s in that spirit that I want to provide a list of restatements and clarifications.

Who Should Repent of What?

Some people have erroneously said, and some quite intentionally so, that I have charged all white people today with the sins of all white people yesterday, simultaneously committing a racist act by lumping all white people together and making innocent people guilty of the sins of others. And they reject the idea that they should have to repent for something they did not do.

For the record, I reject that idea too. Here’s what I actually wrote:

“I don’t need all white people to feel guilty about the 1950s and ’60s—especially those who weren’t even alive. But I do need all of us to suspect that sin isn’t done working its way through society. I do need all my neighbors—especially my brothers and sisters in Christ—to recognize that no sin has ever been eliminated from the world and certainly not eliminated simply with the passage of time and a willingness of some people to act as if it was never there. If this country will make any significant stride toward freedom, it must have enough courage to at least make it clear that Dr. King didn’t just “die” but was “assassinated,” “murdered,” “violently killed” and with the approval of far too many in this country. Until and unless there is repentance of this animus and murderous hatred, the country will remain imprisoned to a seared conscience. Until this country and the church learns to confess its particular sins particularly, we will not overcome the Adamic hostility that infects the human soul and distorts human potential.” (emphasis added)

The paragraph begins by saying in so many words, “It’s not about feeling guilty for the bygone era.” Then it continues by saying in so many words, “Don’t think things have changed so much we don’t need to worry about those sins still being with us.” It ends by pointing specifically to the sins of hatred and animus that we do need to be repentant of in our generation as in any other. I think that’s entirely reasonable and stand by that argument.

Earlier in the post I wrote, “The Civil Rights leaders standing on the balcony on that dark day pointed not only to Ray and the area where the shot was fired, but figuratively pointed to the entire country in its sinister hatred and racism.”

In the concluding paragraph of the original post I write: “My white neighbors and Christian brethren can start by at least saying their parents and grandparents and this country are complicit in murdering a man who only preached love and justice” (emphasis in the original).

Any good reader who knows to carry an argument through the entire post might reasonably conclude that the concluding reference to “parents and grandparents and this country” holds the same figurative or generalized meaning. It’s not about every single white person’s mother, father, grandmother, and grandfather being a rabid racist.

Any call for repentance in this generation is about observing and turning from any sin that has continued into our generation.

So what do I ask white brethren and neighbors to do? Do I ask them to repent of the previous generation’s sins? No.

Read it again. I call for a rather small thing, in my opinion. I ask them to admit, to say, that the generation of the 1950s-’60s was complicit (in context, by their racism) in the murder of Dr. King. I did not say so-and-so’s grandmother or grandfather actually held the gun and pulled the trigger. I did not say every white American at the time was a racist. I said we should admit what is obviously true: America was openly and virulently racist in the period in question.

Based on all the historical evidence so readily available, that should be easy to say or admit. It doesn’t require anyone today to “repent of the sins of others.” It simply requires people to be honest.

Corporate Solidarity

Of course, my post does include a healthy dose of corporate solidarity. I do not, as some slanderously contend, make James Earl Ray the federal head of white people. I explicitly tether this whole argument to Adam and the legacy of sin he ushered into the world. Here’s the sentence: “Until this country and the Church learns to confess its particular sins particularly, we will not overcome the Adamic hostility that infects the human soul and distorts human potential” (emphasis added).

What some people really decried was any sense that they had any solidarity with the previous generation when it comes to their sin. Now, that’s just bad theology. Everyone with that objection would or should admit we fall into sin in Adam. That’s solidarity on a universal level. But the Bible goes further. In several places in the Bible we find God’s people being called to recognize their solidarity as a people with the sins of previous generations.

One of my favorite theologians, who shall remain nameless to protect them from the online scurrilous, wrote this to me in a text:

Regarding conservatives who reject the notion of “corporate solidarity” with respect to guilt, I’d be sincerely curious to know how they explain Moses’s consistent rhetorical strategy in Deuteronomy. He’s addressing the next generation as if they were the ones who saw YHWH’s mighty works and heard his voice at Sinai and then who rebelled against him at Kadesh. His strategy isn’t implicit, it’s explicit (cf. 5:3). Why? Well he knows them and sees the same problem (9:24). They may not have been the ones who refused to take the promised land, but their present actions and present character is such that Moses knows they must come to grips with the same reality of their rebellious heart (and find the same solution).

I imagine there may have been some Israelites on the plains of Moab who heard Moses’s final words who might have thought, Why is he saying “you,” as if it were my fault? It was my father and grandfather who rejected YHWH at Kadesh!” And, in that case, it would have been an internal mechanism to avoid staring in the face the reality of their desperate need for God’s mercy. So they would have missed the spectacular goodness and mercy of God’s grace to offer them the promised land again and to promise to circumcise their hearts in the latter days (30:1-10). In other words, ironically, that internal mechanism to wiggle out of the rhetoric of corporate solidarity would have led them to harden their heart . . . just like their father and grandfather . . . and forfeit the grace of God. 

I imagine that it’s possible for us to speak about corporate solidarity in a way that is unhelpful or that doesn’t edify, but it’s good to see that Moses’s pastoral strategy deliberately collapsed generational distinctions because (1) the generations faced the same problem and solution and (2) he sincerely, passionately, desperately wanted these people before him to hold fast to God and take hold of the promise of rest. Love drove his rhetorical strategy, including his insistence on corporate solidarity (with respect both to receiving certain privileges and the guilt of rejecting those privileges).

That says it well, in my opinion. As even Doug Wilson pointed out in one of his posts, we see the same dynamic reasoning at work with Israel in the days of our Lord’s earthly ministry and in the immediate aftermath when Peter blazes with Holy Spirit unction at Pentecost.

To be plain: Rejecting corporate solidarity with appeals to individualism leaves us vulnerable to the same sins of our forebears. That’s why we need to admit their errors and sins and why refusing to do so can be dangerous. Sometimes those sins can be particular to our clans, tribes, and families we call “race” but better known as ethnic groups. That’s the pastoral point of the post, and it should not be lost in all the noise based on things I did not say.

Conclusion

So to review, dear reader:

1. I do not think and did not say “all white people today are guilty of the murder of Dr. King yesteryear.” I did not say “all white people in King’s generation were guilty of murdering King” as if they themselves pulled the trigger. Based upon the white Americans who joined the Civil Rights struggle on the streets and in government, I would not even dare to think or say all white people of the era were racists.

2. I do contend the general character of the country and that of most white people at the time was racist, and a great many who were not expressively racists were bystanders who did not seek justice and correct oppression. I do think that makes them complicit in the state of affairs at the at time in the same way that our silence to any widespread and known injustice today makes us complicit in our day.

3. I do think we need to (a) admit the sins and errors of the previous generation (which is not the same as repenting of them as if they were our sins), and (b) we need to repent of any similar sins we see in ourselves today.

Don’t let all the noise distract from these points. Debate the points if you like. But keep in mind that it’s easy to get lost in all the “he said, she said.”

I think it’s a discipleship and preaching problem. If your entire spiritual life you’ve essentially been taught to view the word “justice” as intimating “justification,” you’re actually going to misunderstand large sections of the Bible. You won’t have categories for an ethical and practical righteousness without “hearing” legalism and works-righteousness. Consequently, you’ll spiritualize those texts, remove them from their context, blunt their ethical force, and feel like you’re doing good “biblical theology” or “Christ-centered preaching” when in fact you’re just not hearing what thus saith the Lord.

Evangelical discipleship can be overly intellectual and overly pietistic. It’s understandable. Evangelicalism from its start with German Pietist influences, renewal movements in British Anglicanism (think the Wesleys and Whitefield), and the revivalist theology of Edwards all coalesce to make evangelicalism a “heart religion.” What matters most is the “personal relationship with God” and the inward piety of close communion with God.

To be fair, all those movements that form historic evangelicalism were necessary. Formality and coldness had crept into Anglicanism and other denominations. Revival was needed in the developing Americas. But the correction became the norm. What should have been a vital improvement added to the spiritual life of the church became the almost exclusive concern of the church. So we get a “heart religion” with no heart when it comes to the embodied lives it touches. This is how evangelicalism could so long allow and even actively commend and support the contradiction of slaveholding and gospel preaching and later the contradiction of Jim Crow and gospel preaching. Evangelicalism has been compromised in this way since the Wesleys and Whitefield and Edwards. Since their ministries, evangelicalism has had centuries of learning to hear poorly. Learning to spiritualize God’s Word such that Christianity has become an almost disembodied faith.

So we end up with a vision of Christianity that lacks any sufficient theology of the body. We end up with an evangelical outlook that includes almost zero systematic and biblical theological reflection on identity, “race,” racism, and so on. We end up with an escapist religion that seldom prepares people to stare the world in the face and to do real good in the world while we make our way home to glory.

What we have in some quarters of Christianity is an “evangelical gnosticism.” Gnostics have been around a long, long time, y’all. We hear so much about “ethnic gnosticism.” We’re told some people, usually African Americans, have hidden knowledge about what it means to be members of that ethnic group, knowledge that outsiders can’t access or comment on. For what it’s worth, though I wouldn’t call it “ethnic gnosticism,” there are some people who act like that. And not just a handful of people either. Update: The reason I would not use the term is because I think other people throw it around to gain permission to speak about things and people they haven’t done the homework on. So, yeah, comment on issues you see in other people’s history, culture and the like, but be well read and at least a little experienced on the things you’re commenting on. Otherwise, “ethnic gnosticism” becomes a cute excuse for displaying ethnic chauvinism, ethnic ignorance, ethnic intolerance, and the like.

But right alongside this “ethnic gnosticism,” and in battle with it for supremacy, is “evangelical gnosticism.” The evangelical gnostic replies to the supposed ethnic gnostic, “All of this body stuff (race, racism, and so on) is evil. What really matters is the spiritual. Be more spiritual, because it very nearly doesn’t matter what you do with the body or to the body—especially if it’s history.” And therein is the heresy. Therein is the blinder that keeps the evangelical gnostic from considering rightly all the biblical instruction about gritty, sweaty, earthly toil in the cause of Christ. It’s evangelical gnosticism that attempts to give “justice” a bad name though the word/idea is all over the Bible. It’s evangelical gnosticism that attempts to rule out Christian ethical duty in favor of “just preaching”—which should not be confused with preaching that is just. By emphasizing this gnostic division evangelical gnostics sever the root of gospel grace from the shoot of gospel sanctification and the fruit of the good gospel works (like doing justice) that glorify God. They bury beneath the soil the entire gospel plant so that bud and flower are hardly ever seen.

But the good life comes from divine wisdom. That wisdom literally comes to us to give “instruction in wise dealing, in righteousness, justice, and equity” (Prov. 1:3). Here’s one test to know whether you might be an evangelical gnostic: Did you even realize the Book of Proverbs was divinely inspired in part to teach us how to do justice? From the opening verses to Proverbs 31:8-9, Proverbs’ vision of the good life consistently includes justice among the God-fearing. If you haven’t seen that before or seen the theme of justice throughout the Bible, you may have a hearing impairment caused by evangelical gnostic preaching. In other words, not necessarily nefariously, you have been discipled into understanding only part of everything Jesus commanded. It’s time to begin learning a lot of other things our Lord commanded, too (say, Matt. 23:23). That’s going to require learning to hear better from the Book.

A little while ago I had the privilege of delivering lectures on preaching at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. In one lecture we did an overview of Proverbs on justice. If this all sounds new to you, give it a listen. I pray it helps us to hear better and without the gnostic influence.

It’s a lengthy post, as is the reaction in some quarters online. I haven’t set myself the goal of responding to every post offered anywhere or every thought in a particular post. But there are a few things I want to respond to in Dr. White’s offering. We both “have lives” and “day jobs,” so I’ll try to be succinct.

Let’s Start at the Beginning

By which I mean our respective understandings of the 1950-’60s, the period of time I explicitly address in my original post and the generation of Americans (white Americans, specifically) I charge with creating the context of animus and hatred that made the assassination of Dr. King a possibility. You see, I didn’t think describing Jim Crow America as “racist” was a controversial or controvertible fact. I also didn’t think pointing out the obvious complicity of anyone not opposed to that racial caste system would be controversial, even if folks objected to the finger-in-your eye style of writing.

But, alas, I was wrong about the acceptability of those facts. Not opinions, but facts. Dr. White illustrates how different our readings of that history is when in the opening paragraphs he inserts this parenthetical thought, “since, of course, many in the country were only tangentially aware of, or concerned about, MLK and related matters.”

Now, dear reader, I’ll simply leave you to decide if such a claim can be substantiated by a preponderance of the evidence. De jure segregation was the law of the land. Discrimination in housing, employment, and education were sacrosanct. Then there were all the informal customs and expectations enforced by mob violence, proving as a Supreme Court justice famously remarked, “the Black man has no rights that a white man is bound to respect.” American churches were as segregated and complicit as American society—to its shame.

The advent of television put Dr. King and the Civil Rights Movement on national news all over the country and world. Hardly anyone was “tangentially aware of, or concerned about, MLK and related matters.” Friends, that’s hardly an informed opinion much less a summary of the historical facts. I say this as kindly as I can: it’s ignorance. It’s willful and dangerous ignorance that gets us off on two different feet in a conversation that desperately needs to begin with interlocking arms regarding the facts about our past and present. For that reason alone, I hesitate to go further.

But, with this statement, Dr. White actually illustrates the gist of my first post. Until white Americans and white Christians can tell the truth about that period, we’re stuck. And every time some cultural moment places weight and stress on our “racial” fault lines, we will feel inside and outside the church the tremors and quakes of being unprepared to deal because we’ve been unpracticed and unskilled at admitting the truth.

A little later he inserts another parenthetical in the midst of his explanation for a Christian unity based exclusively on the work of Christ: “Individuals who once hated every member of another ethnic group (and the history of this in the world is long, and nowhere limited to any particular spectrum of human skin color) can come to the Lord’s table with those they once hated without hesitation because all of those hatreds and hurts are in the past and are rendered irrelevant by the “new man” (italics are in the original).

What we’re getting here is a “both sides” view of history that suggests all parties are equally guilty of racism. Now, I agree that something like racism, ethnic bigotry, and other species of alienation and animus and idolatry of self exists among all people. But I was talking about 1950-’60s America. I was making a comment about a particular setting in which it cannot be said that both sides were equally guilty in the animus. African Americans have never carried out lynchings. African Americans have never passed “Jim Brown laws” to retaliate for Jim Crow laws. We have never systematically ostracized and oppressed white people as a group. The sin of the period was unilaterally and systematically directed from whites toward blacks.

One of the amazing things about African Americans is that we have survived for so long without giving fully into the racial animosity that could exist given how we’ve been treated. It’s a wonderful providence and humanly speaking we have millions of mothers and fathers and the likes of the Dr. Kings of the world to thank for teaching us not to give in to hate.

Until we get these basic points of history correct we’re not having the same conversation. And when we appear to equivocate about where the guilt and responsibility actually lie, we make it far too easy for strains of that former behavior, attitude, and complicity to continue unchecked.

Restating the Point

It is perhaps the case that I started replying to critics of my first post too slowly. Before you knew it, a good number of false claims and hasty interpretations were added to the already-provocative things I had written. A few examples:

• I make James Earl Ray the “federal head” of all white people.
• I accuse all white people of murdering Dr. King.
• I claim that all white people are racist.
• I pull a reverse-racist move by lumping all white people together.

Before you know it, with “interpretations” like this floating around, people are responding to everything except what I did say. They’re responding to their inferences and their angst but not to what I regard is a plain fact. To illustrate how plain, let’s leave 1950-’60s America and take a trip a couple of decades earlier to Nazi Germany.

Hitler’s Third Reich marched through Europe with hopes to establish his “super race.” Along the way he and his generals killed millions of Jewish people in concentration camps and ovens. He did it in the name of Germany, and by-and-large German people went along with the program. There were the Dietrich Bonhoeffers (who, incidentally, was killed in a concentration camp on this day in Flossenburg) who actively opposed Hitler. But they were in the minuscule minority. The bulk of Germany “followed orders” as soldiers, turned in Jews to authorities, and generally went along with the program.

Nowadays, when we talk about the guilt associated with that period of history, we understand Germany as a whole to be guilty of killing millions of Jews. We would even understand the German people to be complicit in murdering Bonhoeffer. The Germans recognize it too. Today, Germans grieve, confess, remember, and continue in their repentance of that horrific history.

I suspect no fair reader of this post would disagree about German complicity in the Holocaust. Well, in a post reflecting on the 50th anniversary of Dr. King’s assassination, no fair reader should have difficulty admitting the racism of the Civil Rights period and the complicity of white America in Jim Crow segregation and the murder of Dr. King. This was the point of the post and what I said. It should be admitted.

As I concluded in the post, we’re stuck until we can get at least that much honesty about at least that generation that pretty immediately proceeds our own.

On Talking Publicly

Before he gets to the substance of his critique, Dr. White takes a moment to lament the state of things in the Christian blogosphere and to review some of his conflicts with others. He’s attempting to explain how he even came to be involved in this exchange.

Dr. White says, “I learned a while ago, of course, that this is an explosive area, and you simply must enter into it fully prepared to be misread, de-contextualized, and otherwise pilloried, especially in social media.” He takes issue with others using terms like “hypocrisy” and the like.

I don’t have anything to do with any of that, and I’ll try to keep my comments here on things relevant to Dr. White and I. So, I’d just like to point out that Dr. White essentially does the very things he laments in others in this exchange with me. Tossing about charges of leftist European schools, Marxism, and the like is entirely beside the point. It’s a slander in its own right. It’s the kind of misreading, de-contextualizing, and attempts at pillorying that Dr. White decries if it’s aimed at him but in the next breath feels comfortable to do with others.

Yes, talking publicly about these things is difficult. Yes, there are trolls out there. Yes, there are those who willfully misrepresent you. But to fully learn the lesson Dr. White claims to have “learned a long time ago,” we have to not only learn them for ourselves when recipients of mistreatment but also learn not to do them to others.

Now on to the Issues Raised

Dr. White charges me with not “being overly careful in representing Wilson’s words, nor in evaluating, fairly and properly, Johnson’s citing of the article.” I understand the charge if all you have is that tweet and you’re jumping into an A + B conversation instead of C’ing your way out. I’d been tagged in a number of misrepresenting and further inflammatory statements from Mr. Johnson. So I replied in an admittedly snarky way, knowing full well that Mr. Johnson speaks snark fluently. The tweet is hyperbole. I have shared a conference platform with Mr. Johnson in Ocean City, New Jersey, about a decade ago. I know perfectly well that he’s capable of articulating the gospel of our Lord. I’m going to assume Dr. White’s press here results from jumping in mid-stream and perhaps not carefully observing the tone of things up to that point.

But for the sake of argument, let’s let Dr. White’s concern stand. So Mr. Wilson says racial reconciliation must start with forgiveness. I referred in error to “the gospel.” That’s my bad. I own that.

But it doesn’t change the point. Racial reconciliation does not start with forgiveness either. There’s no form of reconciliation that starts with forgiveness. All reconciliation—if it’s informed and true—begins with either the injured party declaring someone’s offense or with the confession and repentance by the guilty party. Try to get to forgiveness without admission the next time you offend or injure your spouse—especially when it’s the same offense they’ve been talking to you about for years! It doesn’t work. More importantly, Jesus teaches us this clearly in Matthew 5:23-26. The guy claiming to worship can’t go on worshiping at the altar when he remembers there’s a rift with a brother. He needs to leave his gift—the very gift that was being offered to God for forgiveness. He needs to reconcile. Agree to terms. Get things patched up by dealing with the facts of the offense, and so on, and then come back to the altar where forgiveness with God and man might be enjoyed in a clean conscience during worship.

Mr. Wilson’s post, Mr. Johnson’s commendation of it, and now Dr. White’s defense of it all make the same fatal flaw. They put forgiveness before reconciliation, which itself comes only after there’s admission. It’s cheap grace. It’s easy believism. And it’s a light healing of the wound of God’s people. It’s glory without suffering. It’s a crown without a cross. It is not the way of the cross and not the biblical teaching on how we get things fixed in any broken relationship.

Life Outside of ‘Race’ and Ethnicity

Dr. White adamantly asserts throughout the post that the recognition of “racial” or ethnic differences is essentially antithetical to the work of Christ on the cross in achieving a new humanity. He wants to maintain a priority on Christian unity by minimizing natural distinctions.

Dr. White claims I want to primarily maintain these distinctions. He describes my position and contrasts it with his own thus: “it is vital to his stance that we be very much aware, primarily aware, in fact, of the race of others, and, it seems, this is just as true in the church.  I have often noted that I do not see color when I look upon fellow believers.  I am not physically blind, but my sincere Christian experience is that I invoke (nor allow) any racial lens when interacting with my fellow believers.”

Yea, that’s rubbish. Both the claim that “race” is primary in my thinking about people as well as the claim that he does not see color. Yes, I push back against “color blindness” because the God who made us is not blind to color even though he doesn’t make the sinful associations we’ve made with it. I push back because as a trained psychologist I can tell you that’s just not how the mind works. But forget about psychology, the Bible tells us that’s just not how the mind works. That’s why it warns us repeatedly against judging others on improper bases. The mind is a ruthless stereotyper. And while it can and must be renewed, Dr. White claims for himself something that’s quite incredulous. It’s not surprising he has to admit that he misses things. Makes sense that attempting to view the world in ways other than it actually is leads you to miss things—like the way that paragraph slides from a denial of seeing color to not recognizing the ethnicity and culture of American Indians, Chinese, Africans, Asians, and so on because he “simply does not care.”

I think he admits here more than he means. He simply does not care. He simply does not care. That’s what I’ve been trying to point out. Your not caring about who people are as God made them may result in your not caring about how people are sometimes treated. Your blind spot is bigger than you can see.

I’m not interested in anyone making “race” a primary identifier for themselves and others. I quite agree with Dr. White about the supremacy and centrality of Christ in Christian self-understanding. However, I am maintaining that the unity in the church that Dr. White loves requires truth-telling at the precise places the unity is threatened. In this instance, truth-telling requires we remember we are embodied beings who have made sinful associations with that embodiment (skin color) that continue to harm and disrupt fellowship. That’s not making “race” primary; it’s inhabiting the world as it is and believing the deeds in the body matter as the Bible teaches. Dr. White participates in a delusion if he thinks ipso facto belief in the gospel magically causes all these things to essentially disappear. If that were true we wouldn’t be having this discussion.

And if that were true, Dr. White and others wouldn’t be arguing so vociferously to protect white people as such. The irony not to be missed is that Dr. White is insisting on all this color blindness and denial of ethnicity while being offended to the point of public debate on behalf of a racial group. He wants to maintain the integrity of white people as a people while denying the claims of black people to a real redress. That won’t do.

On Exegesis

This is getting too long. Let me simply say I think Dr. White, a very capable scholar, makes a hash of Colossians 4. That the national or ethnic distinctions are in the text is plain. To say someone is “one of you,” meaning a Colossian, is to identify that person with that group in a way that distinguishes him from other groups. To say someone is “of the circumcision” can only be understood to refer to the religio-ethnic-cultural identity of Jews. It’s the distinguishing mark of the covenant that separated them from all Gentiles for crying out loud. The class distinction with Onesimus simply requires a little analogy of faith. Here, I think Dr. White simply wants to maintain an a priori interpretive commitment that requires zero distinctions in the body of Christ contrary to the evidence for such distinctions available since at least Acts 6 where Hellenist and Hebrew widows posed the first question of inclusion for the early church.

As far as Titus 1 goes, I think Dr. White simply misunderstands what I’m attempting to do there. He characterizes it as me trying to use that text “to bring ethnicity into the church.” To be fair, God brings ethnicity into the church. But I cite the text as biblical evidence for someone speaking of an entire people’s sins and doing so sharply. One of the chief complaints against my original post is that I’ve spoken of an entire “racial group” in a way that’s contrary to the gospel and scripture. In citing Titus  1, I simply wished to note that if I’m wrong, I’m the same kind of wrong as the apostle Paul when he speaks of Cretans—a national and ethnic people group—in collective terms in relationship to their characteristic sins. About this, for other examples, I would actually commend Doug Wilson’s post to Dr. White for consideration.

Finally . . . Something That’s Implicit That Should Be Made Explicit

Dr. White and I have omitted an important step in public discourse, at least discourse among professing brothers. We have not agreed upon the terms of the debate. What are we arguing, how are we arguing, who will set and enforce the rules?

His post is filled with things he insists on. Things that must be this way or that. And conveniently, he always insists in directions consistent with his opinion. In other words, he’s trying to rig the conversation in his favor. I simply reject that—not as a matter of pride and inflexibility, but as a matter of righteousness and justice. I’m sure Dr. White won’t like this, and many who take his view of things won’t like this. But you simply do not get to unilaterally set the terms of the discussion when you’ve chosen to represent the “side” of those who have committed the historical wrong over against the “side” of those who have suffered the wrong. It’s doubling the infraction. It’s like allowing (forgive the analogy) an abusive husband to set the terms of counseling and reconciliation with his battered wife. No good pastor would do that because he knows that’s simply to extend the abuse. I do apologize for using what will certainly feel like an emotionally loaded analogy to some people. I’m simply illustrating the dynamic in this that I reject.

If we want to talk further and to give the “sides” an opportunity to be heard justly, we’re going to need to parlay about how we talk before we get around to the talking, especially if we feel ourselves so convinced of our view that we tend to write and speak as if no other opinion can be “biblical” or “true.” Perhaps readers can blame us both for writing that way. All the more reason to set the terms of discussion before the discussion.

Thus ends my response. Thank you, Dr. White, for your contribution. The Lord bless you and keep you.

Thabiti Anyabwile is a council member of The Gospel Coalition (TGC) and the pastor of Anacostia River Church in Washington, D.C. Over the years we have spoken occasionally at the same conferences, often because of my ministry relating to Islam, and his brief foray into Islam and subsequent exit from that religion. I recall speaking at a conference with him nearly a decade ago, I believe, in Toronto.

Concurrently with the MLK50 Conference, primarily (but not solely) put on by TGC, Pastor Anyabwile posted an article on his blog on the TGC website titled, “We Await Repentance for Assassinating Dr. King” (April 4, 2018) (found here: https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/thabiti-anyabwile/await-repentance-assassinating-dr-king/). In the article, Thabiti reminded us that MLK was “assassinated, murdered, violently killed,” and that he did not just “die.” As he wrote, “The Civil Rights leaders standing on the balcony on that dark day pointed not only to Ray and the area where the shot was fired, but figuratively pointed to the entire country in its sinister hatred and racism.” He then made the case that the country as a whole is guilty, for he writes, “Until and unless there is repentance of this animus and murderous hatred, the country will remain imprisoned to a seared conscience.” He then adds “the Church” to the list, though he does not chart the path as to exactly how all of this can be processed consistently (since, of course, many in the country were only tangentially aware of, or concerned about, MLK and related matters). But then he added this short paragraph, which garnered a great deal of attention:

My white neighbors and Christian brethren can start by at least saying their parents and grandparents and this country are complicit in murdering a man who only preached love and justice.

I am not the only one to point out that the complex knot of associations, groups, and individuals, thrown into this single sentence is next to impossible to disentangle. When you say someone was complicit in murder, you should have a very clear and identifiable mechanism of establishing said guilt, and given the broad net he throws, the assertion itself provides more than sufficient self-refutation. But the paragraph brought a great deal of response, which may well provide the background to Pastor Anyabwile’s comment that sparked my own reply.

The Background

Before addressing that, let me note some of my own context as to why I took a few moments to respond to Thabiti’s tweet to Phil Johnson of Grace To You. While this “field” of discussion is not anywhere near my central focus at this point in my life (I am currently very deeply involved in New Testament textual critical studies, specifically on the interface of the new CBGM methodology and the early papyri), I have commented on matters more than once in the past as issues in culture and the church brought opportunity to do so, always with the hope of edification. I learned a while ago, of course, that this is an explosive area, and you simply must enter into it fully prepared to be misread, de-contextualized, and otherwise pilloried, especially in social media. Over the past couple of weeks on my webcast, The Dividing Line, I have taken time to address a few issues related to the unity of the Church and the topic of racialism. I have walked through Colossians 3 and argued that within the fellowship of faith the singular lens by which we are to view each other is found in our common redemption, our common faith, our common indwelling Spirit, and the common renewal that is being worked out in us whereby we are being conformed to the image of Christ. I argue that the Apostle specifically and clearly denies that there are any distinctions in this renewal based upon one’s history, one’s ethnicity, or social standing. The unity of the body is found not in the noting and prioritizing of such things, but in recognizing that in light of the redemptive work of Christ, those distinctions are no more. “In this renewing work there is no Greek and no Jew, circumcision and uncircumcision, barbarian, Scythian, slave, freeman, but Christ is all, and in all” (v. 11). The phrase “but Christ is all” should not be overlooked. There is something utterly unique in the Christian faith found in the uniqueness of the God-man, in the Incarnate One, Jesus. The reason “every tribe, tongue, people and nation” can be one is that they are focused not upon themselves but upon another, Jesus. I assert that this means that my relationship with each and every true believer in Christ must, by nature of who Jesus is and what He did, transcend and eclipse any other human relationship, and that includes ethnicity, history or skin color. Individuals who once hated every member of another ethnic group (and the history of this in the world is long, and nowhere limited to any particular spectrum of human skin color) can come to the Lord’s table with those they once hated without hesitation because all of those hatreds and hurts are in the past and are rendered irrelevant by the “new man.” Both are being renewed and made that “new man,” so everything that has come before must be buried at the foot of the cross. When this reality is ignored the peace-making capacity of Christian fellowship worldwide is sacrificed.

I likewise had to deal with the blatant attempt to slander and delegitimize me launched by one of the participants at the MLK50 Conference, Kyle J. Howard. In a Facebook comment Mr. Howard had indicated that he, as a black man, would not feel “safe” with me alone in a room. This kind of rhetoric has no place in the Christian church, but given the inroads that have been made in many sectors of the church by ideologies born not in the Scriptures but in the leftist schools of Europe and in the writings of Marx, many “resonated” with Howard’s unfounded accusation and came to his defense. So, if you are slandered in this fashion without foundation and without evidence, you are still “guilty” of having “micro-aggressed” someone. This kind of activity comes straight out of the play book of the political left, and is experiencing sad, but real, success within the confessing faith.

It seemed, in fact, that a switch had been thrown over the weekend with the MLK50 event, for many of its participants and advocates came out of the event firing on all cylinders. Pastor Dwight McKissic used terms such as “hypocrisy” “inconsistency” and asserted a lack of “integrity and honesty” on my part as well, all within a very short exchange on social media. A number commented that they were “done” having anything to do with what I guess would be called the “non-woke church.”

So in the midst of all of this I saw a comment from Thabiti Anyabwile directed to Phil Johnson, President of Grace To You. Phil had dared (and in the current context, admitting you have ever met, conversed with, or done anything other than thrown a shoe at, Doug Wilson takes daring) to link to Wilson’s blog article addressing many of these issues, posted on April 2^nd, titled “Evangeliguilt.” It can be found here: https://dougwils.com/books-and-culture/s7-engaging-the-culture/evangeliguilt.html. Thabiti responded to Phil in these words:

“Oh, now I see the problem. You don’t understand the gospel. This post says the gospel begins with “no condemnation.” Actually, the first command of the gospel is “repent.” But that’s precisely what you have difficulty with so I see why you’d like this post.”

I am uncertain if Thabiti has spoken at a conference with Phil Johnson, but I simply have to point out how bold this kind of rhetoric is. It is one thing to say, “I do not believe you are applying gospel principles consistently here” or the like, but to directly assert that Pastor Johnson does not understand the gospel? And what is more, the assertion is factually incorrect as it stands: the post by Wilson does not, in fact, say the gospel begins with “no condemnation.” Here is the only relevant portion:

If you want racial reconciliation, you have to start with forgiveness. Forgiveness is not the pinnacle we appointed to climb. Forgiveness has to be the foundation we build from. If you want men and women to reconcile their long grievances with each other, you have to begin with forgiveness, you have to start with pardon. The very first step is the no condemnation stage.

So it does not seem Thabiti was being overly careful either in representing Wilson’s words, nor in evaluating, fairly and properly, Johnson’s citing of the article. In any case, I chose to respond to Thabiti’s statement. Here are the tweets, as Thabiti reposted them:

First, the post nowhere says “the gospel begins with no condemnation.” It says the first step in reconciling men and women is “the no condemnation stage.” In context, then, obviously, the issue is inside the church, between Christians, not about conversion.

I would agree with you at every point were my post a sermon. But it was not. So I felt no obligation to “get to the cross” in those posts as I do in preaching.

Indeed, contrary to what many have falsely exclaimed, I make it a discipline as best I’m able to preach the gospel of our Lord in every sermon. This is a requirement in the pulpit I have the privilege of leading. It’s what I do at public events—like Prison Fellowship’s event this past Saturday in support of people returning to the community from prison. Even at pastors’ conferences where the overwhelming majority of attendees are thought to be Christians, I not only typically preach the facts of the gospel but try also to articulate the blessed benefits of the gospel and call people to repentance and faith as if there might just be one person in the room not yet a believer or one person there deceiving themselves.

I am, and hope to be until I die or Christ returns, a gospel preacher.

The Gospel in Every Post, Though?

But the posts you cite are not as you point out gospel preachments. I don’t feel obligated to include a discussion of the gospel in every blog post. I’m sure you can appreciate that, since including the gospel in every post or assuaging the consciences of readers with the gospel is not your practice either. I’ve read quite a number of rhetorical thrusts from your keyboard that lacked the gospel grace you so beautifully describe in your post. In fact, I’ve read quite a few things from your pen that seemed to me to lack any grace at all. You’ve defended having a “serrated edge” to your writing as a necessary thing when dealing with certain groups of people you find recalcitrant.

So, I wonder why you’ve taken such offense when I have spoken plainly and perhaps without grace about the sins of a time past and a people obdurate in the face of the Scripture and sound rebuke. It seems rather inconsistent of you. Moreover, in those posts where you too do not expound the gospel, you fail to show the very gospel urgency you insist on here. Must we only get to forgiveness now and tonight when the charge is racism but we’re fine to leave it off when blasting other sins?

Cheap Grace?

Perhaps you and I disagree about what should be front-loaded in racial reconciliation exchanges. You have called for the pronouncement of “no condemnation” and here call for a swift move to that only solution to man’s sins—the Person and work of Jesus Christ.

What I think you fail to comprehend is that the debate isn’t really about the gospel. It’s about whether truth is necessary for reconciliation and whether that truth-telling must come first. I think it is and it must.

You seem to envision a gospel that produces freedom without first requiring we tell the truth about our sins and repent of them. You seem to envision a Christian life unlike Luther’s wherein the Reformer understands that when Christ called us to repent he meant that we should keep on repenting.

It’s curious that you should hasten to the freedom the gospel gives after admitting in both biblical and historical example the complicity of which I spoke. If we agree about such complicity, how can it be wrong to point it out and to call for acknowledgement of it? If we agree about such complicity, how can we move so rapidly to the benefits of atonement while so many people around us at this very moment are decrying any charge of complicity itself?

You see, good gospel preaching still does what the ancients called “a good Law work.” Unless the thunders of Sinai frighten and awaken, men will not see the beauty of Calvary. The gospel first condemns us—you are guilty and need to repent—before it heals us. The effect of your post is to heal the wound lightly and to offer what I fear is a cheap grace rather than that grace that teaches us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions and to pursue godliness, self-control, and uprightness (Titus 2:11ff). I asked people to say “No” to the ungodliness so well documented and you seem to want to say, “Yeah, but don’t worry about it very much.”

If any of what I say here is true, that, Douglas, is cheap grace.

Insinuations and White People

Now about the insinuation that I am somehow profiting off “white guilt,” it might be helpful if you substantiated your charge or perhaps clarify what you mean. As far as I can tell, I’ve faced a range of reactions from disagreement to open hostility for pointing out what I think was the characteristic sin of white Americans, including Christians, in the 1950-’60s and calling people today to admit it was true. I’m unaware of any profit of any sort. I certainly don’t write these things for popularity, just as I don’t think you write about hard things (say, homosexuality) expecting the universal applause of man or to exploit some guilt somewhere. I’m no martyr, and I don’t feel particularly courageous. But as best I know my own heart, I’m not after the light plaudits of people you describe as suffering from “evangeliguilt.”

Speaking of which, how is it that you can speak in such sweeping terms about a whole class of currently living people (white people, at that) to charge them with a weakness largely debatable and it be okay, but I cannot speak of a class of mostly deceased people whose records of sin are public and available to all without people being offended? Or, why can you (in my opinion, rightly) point to the cultural sins of African Americans or Americans in general and it be an exercise in truth-telling without prejudice, but my doing that is tantamount to abandoning the gospel, Marxism, and a host of other things? That’s at least inconsistent and quite possibly hypocrisy.

But in all of it, I think your opinions of white people are lower than mine. I believe the Spirit and grace of God can lead to genuine repentance and the conscience mercifully pricked can lead to tremendous fruit and grace. However, you seem to cast it all as white pandering. I think that’s beneath the people you criticize who, for the most part, are not “around me” but largely unknown to me. They’re onlookers on social media who have no reason to lie and no reward to gain by admitting their own faults and failures. If you knew me and the white people around me with whom I have these conversations you would not for a moment reach the unrighteous judgment you doled out in that post.

Conclusion

I don’t intend to have a back-and-forth with you at the length of our exchange on Black and Tan. This post will pretty much be my only response.

But let me sign off with this: It is not the mere articulation of the gospel in blog posts or the mere proclamation of the gospel in sermons that works the kind of new covenant and coming kingdom realities we hope to see in the world. Gospel preaching and writing are necessary, but they are not sufficient. We’ve had centuries of that “gospel preaching” that makes much of the cross and Christ while making light of sins the apostle defines as “contrary to the sound doctrine that conforms to the gospel” (1 Tim. 1). That “gospel preaching” has left us segregated churches with hardly a conscience bothered. That “gospel preaching” has been comfortable with the ownership of slaves while risking life and liberty against the British. That “gospel preaching” has made a fuss about seeing Jesus in heaven while allowing people to live like the Devil. And the heirs of that “gospel preaching” call on everyone to “just preach the gospel” perhaps because they instinctively know that kind of “gospel preaching” won’t cost them anything and they can go right on enjoying the complicity (whether abortion, Jim Crow, whatever).

We have had enough of that “gospel preaching” that will not confront a person or a people in their sin. It’s the “gospel preaching” of false prophets and the unrepentant religious. That kind of preaching is what prompted our holy God, who begins his judgment with his own household, to say long ago:

For a long time I’ve just let the phrase and its variants go. But it seems like it’s not dying, and no one seems to be producing any actual writing or research to substantiate the term. If it’s going to be around we should at least put things in their proper order: first came the ideas of “race” and the reality of racism and much, much later comes Karl Marx and any of his heirs.

Marx was born in 1818. That means the earliest possible date on which we could refer to someone as a “Marxist” would be May 5 of that year. Of course, that would mean Marxism began in the delivery room of his birth. But I’m being generous here. Let’s use that earliest possible date to get our timelines right and agree that “neo-Marxism” would be later (the 20th century actually).

Now, when do we get the false construct of biological “races,” and when does racism appear on the scene of world history?

Johann Friedrich Blumenbach (1752-1840) divided the single human family (biblically speaking; see Gen. 3:21, for example) into five “races” in 1779. His categorization of the five “races” roughly corresponds to how people think of racial groups today.

We could go back a century prior to Blumenbach to German scientist Bernhard Varen (1622-1650) and English scientist John Ray (1627-1705). Where Blumenbach used human skulls to classify the “races,” Varen and Ray used stature, shape, food habits, and skin color.

Of course, we could go back further in time to Italian philosopher Giardano Bruno (1548-1600) and French philosopher Jean Bodin (1530-1596). They tried to classify humanity into “races” using skin color and geography.

We could go back further still for “race” and racist ideas. The Babylonian Talmud gives us the old curse of Ham myth.

So with little more than a Wikipedia entry, we can trace ideas of “race” and racism back to the Middle Ages—well before Karl Marx, Marxism, neo-Marxism, or Gramscian Marxism that come along in the 1800 and 1900s.

Of course, we can do better than a Wikipedia search. We can look to books like The Forging of Races: Race and Scripture in the Protestant Atlantic World, 1600-2000 by Colin Kidd for a wonderful and readable piece of research. Or, for the adventurous type with more time on hand, we could pick up American University professor Ibram X. Kendi’s Stamped from the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America— a National Book Award winner.

It’s not that Marxist thought isn’t anywhere to be found in racial discourse. I think it is. Of course, some people are self-consciously Marxist. But most people writing blogs and engaging the subject either are unaware of Marxist influence or are quite aware of having very different influences on their thought. Tossing about the label does nothing for understanding the person you’re engaging or improving the discourse. And, in a good many instances, tossing about the labels is simply anachronistic.

Let me say one final thing about all this Marxist stuff. Hardly anyone is without some Marxist influence in their lives. The next time you talk about economic classes (say, the “middle class” being under attack) be sure to tip your hat toward good ol’ Mr. Marx. Or the next time you’re tempted to accuse others of being emotional when it comes to “race” and racism, you might suspect that something of Marx’s dialectical method is at work in your appeal to objectivity and reasoned discourse. If we’re feeling cheeky, we might say, “It takes a Marxist to know a Marxist.” Or we might just talk to each other on our own terms. I’m for the second, especially since our problems with “race” and racism were around a long, long time before Mr. Marx and his heirs.

First, the post nowhere says “the gospel begins with no condemnation.” It says the first step in reconciling men and women is “the no condemnation stage.” In context, then, obviously, the issue is inside the church, between Christians, not about conversion.

— James White (@DrOakley1689) April 8, 2018

Secondly, the biblical teaching on Christian unity, laid out in Colossians 3, says we as believers experience a renewal “in which there is no Greek and Jew, circumcision and uncircumcision, barbarian, Scythian, slave, freeman…. Instead, “Christ is all, and in all.” (10-11).

— James White (@DrOakley1689) April 8, 2018

Very specifically the Apostle denies the the renewal that makes for the unity of the body of Christ allows distinctions—historical, genetic, ritual, ETHNIC, or cultural. To force a lens that places such distinctions in the forefront of our interactions in the body is error.

— James White (@DrOakley1689) April 8, 2018

The willingness to speak of any skin tone, whether white, brown, black or blue, so that you can create a generic bucket of humanity that makes no proper distinctions and attempts to divide and assign guilt along such lines is not only foolish, it is dangerous.

— James White (@DrOakley1689) April 8, 2018

But for the Christian, assigning such distinctions in the body is straight up *opposed to Apostolic teaching and practice.* The reason the church can exist amongst all tribes, tongues, peoples and nations is that the gospel puts us all in the SAME bucket: the redeemed.

— James White (@DrOakley1689) April 8, 2018

So please, Thabiti, consider well the path your recent articles charts, and consider as well telling someone such as PJ that he does not understand the gospel. Argue application if you wish—but what I am seeing after MLK50 finds its origins much more in Marx than Mark.

— James White (@DrOakley1689) April 8, 2018

I want to offer a brief treatment of how New Testament authors do, in fact, talk about “race,” ethnicity, skin color, and even the cultural sins of entire groups of people.

Eschatalogically

First, and easiest to demonstrate, about which I don’t think Dr. White and I would disagree, the New Testament talks about ethnicity in terms of the eschatological reality the church is headed toward. Around the eternal throne of the Lamb will be people representing every tribe, nation, language and so on (Rev. 7:9). Heaven will forever praise God not only for his redemptive work in the people groups of the world, it will in that way acknowledge human diversity for all eternity.

Missiologically

Second, the New Testament speaks of the church’s missions in terms of ethnicity-specific strategy. Again, I don’t think Dr. White and I would disagree about this. When the apostle says he was “an apostle to the Gentiles” while Peter was “an apostle to the Jews” he teaches us about “race” or ethnicity driving their gospel missions (Rom. 11:13). In one of the most remarkable passages in the NT, Paul uses his freedom in Christ to intentionally put on and take off aspects of his identity so that he might by all means win some to Christ (1 Cor. 9:19-23). Whatever we say about the apostle, we cannot say he is “blind” to ethnic or “racial” differences as some say.

Ecclesiologically

Third, the New Testament speaks of diversity within the body. Dr. White points out the egalitarian unity of Col. 3:11 in which Paul says there’s neither “Jew nor Gentile,” and so on. Of course, Paul cannot mean these things cease to exist. For in the parallel passage the apostle says there’s “neither male nor female” (Gal. 3:28) and Dr. White would be the first to point to the enduring reality of sex or gender and the need to maintain those realities in our present culture. But, of course, these egalitarian passages that describe our essential unity in Christ and equality through our union with him are not the only passages in which the apostle specifically identifies “race” or ethnicity. Let’s just stick with Colossians since that’s the text Dr. White chose. Read on into Colossians 4 and you will see Paul noting the ethnic or racial backgrounds of a good number of people he greets. He points out who among them are Colossians, laments that he only has three Jewish laborers with him, and even points out who is a slave (Onesimus) on his team (Colossians 4:7-17). So whatever Paul means by Col. 3:11 and Gal. 3:28, he does not mean we end up in a color-blind and race-blind and class-blind status in the Church. Indeed, when it serves his apostolic aims for equity, inclusion, affirmation, and so on, Paul intentionally mentions those things.

Harmatiological

Finally, and this is where our disagreement is sharpest, the New Testament does indeed sweepingly speak of ethnic, national, or “racial” groups and their shared guilt and need due to sin. Again, we’re keeping with the New Testament, which is good because the Old Testament examples are legion. Consider Titus 1. The same apostle Dr. White evokes in support of his color-blind/race-blind ethic, speaks pretty bitingly about the Cretans. Hear the apostle in his own divinely-inspired words:

One of the Cretans, a prophet of their own, said, “Cretans are always liars, evil beasts, lazy gluttons.” 13 This testimony is true. Therefore rebuke them sharply, that they may be sound in the faith, 14 not devoting themselves to Jewish myths and the commands of people who turn away from the truth.

Whoa! That’s strong language by any measure! The Spirit of God gave Paul those words—carried the apostle along to write what God wanted written. Now, I make no such claims for my words—in any respect! But if the NT is our pattern, if we’re meant to conform to the pattern of sound words, then my critics who often speak sweepingly and harshly themselves (as Dr. White once did about a young African-American man passing in front of his car) are not just vexed with me but must also be vexed with the apostle. He speaks of “Cretans” generally. He uses a secular source—”one of their own prophets”—to establish his claim. He affirms what was generally or culturally true of them regarding their sins: liars, lazy gluttons. He even characterizes them as “evil beasts”! His remedy was to call Titus to “rebuke them sharply,” not find cozy words that leave them in their sin, but sharp rebuke so “they may be sound in the faith.” Which is another important point: sound faith sometimes comes from sharp rebuke. It’s what kept the Cretans from devoting themselves to myths and legalism and is what should be used to keep people enamored with the myths of the American past from continuing in their error.

Conclusion

So, you see, the New Testament is actually a pretty ethnicity- or race-conscious collection of writings. From the eschatological vision of consummated unity down to the harmatiological rebuke of sin, the Bible pays careful attention to who God made us to be, how that’s gone wrong, how it should be considered in spreading the gospel, and how pastoral ministry must address it.

I’m inclined to think the biggest harm to reconciliation and unity isn’t saying something wrong about “race.” That happens all the time, and we must all be big enough to work our way through it when it happens. The biggest wrong is minimizing or denying that racism exists or assigning meaning and emphasis to “race” where the Bible does not. I contend that’s what Dr. White has done, not me. I contend that evangelical churches have failed to call out these things with sharp enough rebuke for far too long.

To put a fine point on it as a closing: When it comes to racism, especially during the original period I was addressing in my first post (1950-’60s), white America is Cretan in its understanding and actions. That does not mean every single white American was a racist—”as some people slanderously charge us with saying.” Reasonable people know better, and they’ve shown so by other tweets not mentioned here. I praise God for those white Americans who had their consciences awakened, marched for equality, stood against injustice, and even gave their lives in the cause. So far from being guilty, such persons are among the righteous who will be rewarded at the resurrection of the just. But by any estimation they were vastly in the minority among white Americans of the period who were either racist or complicit in their silence and inaction. To what should be white America’s shame, it took the force of secular law rather than Christian preaching, and the force of military presence rather than friendly solidarity, to curtail the wickedness of that era. Paul would instruct pastors today to rebuke Cretans en masse for continuing in the myth of an America where racism is minimized and to rebuke the Cretans en masse for sin so widespread it’s cultural. So I do.

On Easter Sunday 2015, 60 persons set out to form a family with a mission in the Anacostia/Southeast D.C. neighborhood. We set up the gym of a neighborhood elementary school, plastered some makeshift signs on the door of the building, and commenced to praising Jesus together. It was simple—rustic even. It was joyful and hopeful. We didn’t know what we were doing, but we were having a good time.

Three years later we’re still having a good time being a family and trying to spread the gospel and mercy in our community. In the three years we’ve changed a lot. Our family has grown to about 140 saints. That means lots more people to love and to be loved by. It also means more people for the work of the ministry. We’ve moved to the neighborhood high school, where we’re forging a mutually supportive partnership with administrators and staff to invest in the students. We’ve formed other partnerships with neighborhood groups like The House D.C. and D.C. 127. And for three years now, the Lord has allowed us to preach the gospel every Lord’s Day and to take the gospel door-to-door on many Saturdays. He’s even allowed us to plant another church in our first two years–Mercy of Christ in northeast D.C. Hallelujah!

Hard things have happened, too. Heartbreak is a part of Christian living and ministry. We’ve had our share but, by God’s grace, they’ve not caused us to lose hope or to shrink back from one another or the work.

Along the way, the Father has sent us partner churches and individual donors who have invested in our mission and our family. With them, we’ve been made stronger, and we believe the gospel has taken firmer root in our neighborhood. We still have the profound sense that people pray for us.

We have not seen revival. We long for more conversions. We are not yet a fixture in the neighborhood. We need to become more visible. And we haven’t solved the community problems that simultaneously break our hearts and excite our love. But we’re still here, and we’re still learning, and we’re still at it, and God is still being gracious to us!

It’s easy to forget that we’re a baby of a church—just three years old. A toddler not long out of diapers. I think we forget we’re so young because the Father has given us genuine knowledge of one another and because we see so many other evidences of grace. It’s interesting how God’s blessings can make you think you’re more than you are! I’m happy we’re still new and hope we never lose the sense of freshness, possibility, and excited energy that comes with newness.

We’re not slick or fancy. We don’t take ourselves seriously. But we do take the gospel of Jesus Christ seriously, and on this third anniversary I have the sense that he has honored our hope and our prayers. May he graciously grant us decades upon decades more grace until the earth is won or he sends his Son!

Happy anniversary ARC!

But there seem to be some who go a step further. They regard any mention of skin color, especially in a charge of racism, as tantamount to racism itself. They argue that we don’t need to confess “racism” but to confess the heart problem, confess “sin.” Again, I get the sentiment. “Race” (a fiction) and racism (a very real sin) are quagmires or mazes that once entered are terribly difficult to escape and often result in compounded sins. I think we all want a way out. I know I do. For some people opting for a theological and biblical term (“sin”) seems like a way forward.

However, if we intentionally or unintentionally come to the conclusion that what must be confessed is “sin” abstractly rather than racism specifically, then I’m afraid our doctrines of sin and confession become a hindrance to repentance, sanctification, and reconciliation rather than a help. We can’t overcome something we won’t admit.

Further, if we were to confess “sin” rather than racism specifically because confessing racism is “divisive,” oddly racism would be the only sin we treat that way.

We do not say to spouses trying to deal with a broken marriage covenant, “Do not confess ‘adultery,’ because the real problem is sin, and calling it ‘adultery’ divides the marriage.”

We do not say to roommates dealing with broken promises, “You really should confess sin rather than confessing that you lied, because calling it a ‘lie’ is divisive.”

We do not say to the prodigal child, “What is really happening is sin rather than disobedience. Don’t call it ‘disobedience to your parents,’ because that separates you from your parents.”

Until the spouse’s adultery is confessed and repented, the roommate’s lying confessed and repented, or the child’s disobedience confessed and repented, there can be no firm foundation for repairing the breach in relationship. Calling the breach what it is and identifying the specific source is not the problem; it’s actually the first step in a solution.

That’s what makes avoiding the admission of racism a mind-numbing affair. I cannot think of a single particular sin people would encourage someone to avoid confessing except for the sin of racism. I can’t think of a single instance of bystanding, partiality, or indifference in the face of sin and injustice Christians would excuse except racism. Some treat racism as the one sin that must not be confessed forthrightly, identified specifically, and repented of with fruit particular to it.

Though some insist that this specificity regarding racism is the problem, I cannot think of a single passage of scripture that would commend an abstract way of handling our sin. John the Baptist did not counsel the sinners of his day to confess “sin” and avoid the particular nature of their transgressions. He preached in Luke 3:

⁷ He said therefore to the crowds that came out to be baptized by him, “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? ⁸ Bear fruits in keeping with repentance. And do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father.’ For I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children for Abraham. ⁹ Even now the axe is laid to the root of the trees. Every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”

¹⁰ And the crowds asked him, “What then shall we do?” ¹¹ And he answered them, “Whoever has two tunics^[b] is to share with him who has none, and whoever has food is to do likewise.” ¹² Tax collectors also came to be baptized and said to him, “Teacher, what shall we do?” ¹³ And he said to them, “Collect no more than you are authorized to do.” ¹⁴ Soldiers also asked him, “And we, what shall we do?” And he said to them, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or by false accusation, and be content with your wages.”

John was clear that appeals to the innocence of their forefather (Abraham) was no absolution for them, no get-out-of-repenting-free card (v. 8). Each of them and all of them in their affiliations had business to do with God. To particular groups of people known for sins particular to them, John called them to repent of those particular transgressions. He did not worry that tax collectors would feel picked on. He did not allow soldiers to remain anonymous for fear of social stigma. He addressed them according to their station in life and according to the sins related to their station. That specificity was the path to their freedom from sin and integrity with God. We should address specific sins of groups the way John the Baptist did, including the sin of racism.

There’s another reason we should be specific: the Bible is specific. Consider the places where the Bible gives us a catalogue of particular sins (Rom. 1:28-32; 1 Cor. 6:9-11; Gal. 5:19-21; and 1 Tim. 1:8-11). Why does the divinely inspired Word of God give us so many lists with such specificity? It’s not solely that we might conclude we are sinners in general but that we might also know what sins threaten our souls or our sanctification and repent of them specifically.

Friends, someone is selling you a bag of nothing when they wax poetic about racism being a sin problem rather than a specific manifestation of sin for which we need to specifically repent where we’re guilty—either by commission or omission. They show they actually misunderstand the nature of this sin, because the sin itself intentionally attaches to skin color. And they do a disservice to the entire church and world when they use that approach to define away real problems that continue and seem in some quarters to be growing today. Or, worse, use that strategy to try and paint those pointing out the problem as the “true racists.”

Do not be taken in by this often well-intended (sometimes self-serving) but always deficient way of dealing with sin. Let us repent of specific sins specifically.

There’s a logic to the notion. One individual cannot legitimately be held responsible for the actions of others as if the other’s actions were their own. If my next-door neighbor mistreats small animals, I should not be charged with animal cruelty as if I had done it. By any sane standard that is an injustice.

But individualism won’t suffice as a full accounting for the injustices of the world. There are times when simply claiming “I did not do that myself” does not exonerate us. If my next-door neighbor mistreats small animals and I witness it but do nothing, I am culpable as a bystander to that injustice. I did not commit it, but I am complicit in my inaction and silence.

At least that’s the way God thinks about things. Consider Isaiah 1:

That should not be a controversial statement to anyone familiar with the facts of the country’s history or anyone who has viewed even an introductory documentary on the Civil Rights Movement. What is racial segregation but a society-wide commitment to racism and white supremacy? What is the willful assassination of a Christian preacher because he is African American and opposed to segregation but the forces of hate unleashing itself against the preacher of love and justice? What are the many professing Christians marching and protesting in opposition to other professing Christians seeking basic civil rights but a sneering, shouting, sometimes violent demonstration that the sin of the country was also the sin of the Church?

Admitting the racism and white supremacy of the 1950-60s should not be difficult.

But some people were “angered” by my writing that post. The now customary dismissals and Twitter outrage followed.

But stop for a moment and ask, “Why is this hard to admit?” Why is something so well documented and demonstrable such a difficult thing to acknowledge by some people? Why would a straight-faced denunciation of something so evil be considered unkind and unloving? Why might specifying that white citizens and Christians are particularly responsible to examine these things and admit them be problematic when this particular sin was the almost exclusive province of white people in the 1950s and 1960s? And how might an inability to admit even the historical obvious be causing us trouble in the living present or the coming future?

Might it be the case that the inability to admit the obvious about our past shows itself in fresh aggravation and consternation when we see Neo-Nazis marching today? Could it be that the simple act of failing to admit the historically true turns into complex construals that keep us from forthrightly naming present manifestations around us? I mean, how do Tennessee legislators today fail twice to pass a resolution condemning blatant racism?

A resolution condemning neo-Nazis and white nationalists has died a second time in the Tennessee legislature this week https://t.co/kPPpo3u7SS pic.twitter.com/7Z3dk8JfBc

— CNN (@CNN) April 5, 2018

But you see, the “denialists” and the “idealists” want to tuck these things safely away in the vault of history. Every instance contrary to their revisionism they either define as an extreme exception or the fault of those race-crazed people who just can’t get over it. There are race-crazed people in the world. Some of them, beloved, are white. The first of them, beloved, are white. The ones who organized the social fabric and laws of entire countries based on racial color caste, from the United States to South Africa, are white. Saying so should not be a hard pill to swallow for honest people who are repentant and who do not on some level protectively idolize their skin color.

We’re not done with racial animus, indifference, and the like. It’s a living reality and will be as long as Adam’s sin haunts humanity’s steps.

As much as a handful of critics don’t want to admit it, our failure at simply admitting compromises our ability to successfully deal with sin. The gospel begins with “Repent….” All the good of the gospel follows that action of admitting and turning. We wonder why “gospel-preaching churches” aren’t seeing more progress in racial reconciliation. Might I simply suggest that progress–of all sorts–begins with admitting.

On the one hand, I’ve been battling my unbelief and discouragement to maintain at least a slender hope that the commemorations would be one step—even one step—in the long journey toward reconciliation, peace, and justice.

On the other hand, it’s struck me as perversely curious to “celebrate the fiftieth anniversary” as some put it. In quite a number of such “celebrations,” one can barely find in the conference themes and slogans a mention that the fiftieth anniversary does not commemorate Dr. King’s birth or life but his murder. Dr. King was assassinated. He did not die peacefully in his sleep. He died violently and cruelly from the bullet fired from the .30-06 Remington Model 760, a bullet tearing through his cheek, breaking his jaw and vertebrae as it rifled through his spine.

James Earl Ray initially confessed to assassinating Dr. King. But he did not act alone. Many have long believed there was a literal conspiracy of Government actors, the mafia, and Memphis police. Whether or not you believe Ray acted as a patsy for these conspirators, he did not act alone. He acted with the tacit and sometimes explicit approval of white supremacists. He acted with the encouragement of a white society dedicated to the advantage of whites above all others and simultaneously the segregation, oppression, and exploitation of black people. Ray acted with the assistance of whites who suppressed their consciences. He acted with the assistance of anti-Civil Rights propagandists and white-collar country club segregationists. He acted with the assistance of a FBI COINTELPRO campaign charged with discrediting, maligning, and silencing voices of Black dissent. These parties acted in concert, in the same direction, against Dr. King and by extension the millions of African Americans hoping for some larger piece of freedom’s promise.

I’m saying the entire society killed Dr. King. This society had been slowly killing him all along. Taylor Branch, King scholar and award-winning biographer, pointed out that Dr. King at the time of his death, though only 39, had the heart of a 60-year old. He suggests, I think legitimately, that the stresses of the Civil Rights Movement and of pervasive Jim Crow hostility showed itself in the 20-year aging of Dr. King’s heart. Dr. King himself knew the slow death of white supremacy would give way to a sudden violent end. Following the assassination of President Kennedy, Dr. King commented to his wife, Coretta, “This is what is going to happen to me also. I keep telling you, this is a sick society.”

This is a sick society. And we kid ourselves if we think all the sickness gets healed just by time and rest. Racism, prejudice, hatred and bigotry is not a cold. It’s a cancer. It mutates. It metastasizes. And despite our protest and insistence otherwise, this sickness gets passed on in a kind of social hereditary action, sometimes unconsciously and unsuspected, sometimes systemically, and sometimes intentionally and virulently. The Civil Rights leaders standing on the balcony on that dark day pointed not only to Ray and the area where the shot was fired, but figuratively pointed to the entire country in its sinister hatred and racism.

I don’t need all white people to feel guilty about the 1950s and 60s—especially those who weren’t even alive. But I do need all of us to suspect that sin isn’t done working its way through society. I do need all my neighbors—especially my brothers and sisters in Christ—to recognize that no sin has ever been eliminated from the world and certainly not eliminated simply with the passage of time and a willingness of some people to act as if it was never there. If this country will make any significant stride toward freedom, it must have enough courage to at least make it clear that Dr. King didn’t just “die” but was “assassinated,” “murdered,” “violently killed” and with the approval of far too many in this country. Until and unless there is repentance of this animus and murderous hatred, the country will remain imprisoned to a seared conscience. Until this country and the Church learns to confess its particular sins particularly, we will not overcome the Adamic hostility that infects the human soul and distorts human potential.

Don’t get me wrong. I know Dr. King’s life was much greater than his death. I understand that his death gives us opportunity to reflect on his legacy. But it also gives opportunity to reflect on that twist in our soul that rose up and killed him. It gives opportunity to repent of the things some have with too much pride too often refused to admit is there.

My white neighbors and Christian brethren can start by at least saying their parents and grandparents and this country are complicit in murdering a man who only preached love and justice.

If we’re serious, then we can go on to commit ourselves to laying down our lives for others as Dr. King did. After all, the King of Kings said, “Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends” (John 15:13).

We followed the baptism with a report from our first short-term mission team, sent to minister to the largely Muslim population of Mombasa, Kenya. They shared with us the transformative work of the gospel in their lives and in the lives of Kenyans literally living in smoking, fly-infested trash heaps.

As I think about the faces I saw in the room last night, I’m transported around the world. There’s the regal older Nigerian couple sitting directly in front of me. He immigrated to the States first and for more than a decade they lived apart, keeping covenant with one another, until they could be together in their new home building a new life. They are older representatives of a growing part of our church family with connections to Nigeria.

There’s the young Hispanic man, Mexican, I think, who loves the Chicago of his birth as fiercely as any American loves any city. He sits with his wife and their precocious 4-year-old daughter.

Behind them is an African-American woman. She’s married to a Zimbabwean man, a Rhodes scholar, whose intelligence is far surpassed by his humility, gentleness, and genuine affection for people. They have three sons learning to embrace the two heritages their parents represent.

At one point we attempted a presentation on our new church membership software. A young Nigerian man partnered with a young Ethiopian woman to make the presentation.

I’m reminded of our deacon of budget, an accomplished educator and “policy guy” whose parents are Japanese and Hispanic immigrants. His parents worked hard to send him to Stanford, then graduate school at Oxford or Cambridge, where he heard the gospel and believed. He’s married to a second-generation Haitian woman, and together they have two sons younger than 5. Her mother, a first-generation Haitian immigrant, also belongs to our family.

A Guyanese man leans into his African-American wife as they listen to the reports and updates. His mother, also a member, is away celebrating her birthday but would normally be right there with us. She’s growing like a weed and has become a real mother to the entire church.

A young mother sits near the rear taking care of her infant son. They’ve come to brave the long meeting, ruining sleep routines I’m sure. She comes from a Jewish family. She loves the nations.

One member of our short-term mission team to Kenya hails from Cameroon. She’s 28 and thinking of leaving her career to serve the Lord full-time on the mission field.

We prayed for one of our former elders. I asked the wife of another elder to lead in prayer. Soft-spoken, spiritual, zealous yet soothing, she is Hmong. Her people have no country to call their own.

During the meeting we welcomed some new members. In addition to the Rwandan woman was another woman, an attorney, whose family immigrated from Dominica when she was young. There was also the young aspiring politician completing a graduate program at Georgetown University whose family is from an African country that escapes me right now. Weber must be a German name; he joins the membership too.

This is my immigrant family, my true brothers and sisters in Christ Jesus. We have been a diverse family from the start, from the time we were sent from a larger diverse congregation of brothers and sisters. I look out on embodied, relational evidence of the reconciling power and reality of Jesus Christ.

On the drive home from our family meeting last night, I learned that in the Oval Office, that hallowed ground of American political power and aspiration, President Trump reportedly made racist and troublesome comments regarding immigrants and their countries of origin. My family.

I’m a pastor, not a politician. But I am a pastor of particular people with diverse and rich backgrounds. They contribute to our church family in indescribable ways. They are our church family. My job is to shepherd them, which means I am to feed them, lead them, and protect them.

As a shepherd, I cannot abide the comments our President makes regarding immigrant peoples and their countries of origin. I cannot leave them alone to hear racist barbs, evil speech, incendiary comment, and blasphemous slander against the image and likeness of God in which they are made.

I am at a loss for how much I can tangibly do to change the situation. But at least I can speak up to say, “This is unacceptable. It is wrong. It is evil. It denigrates our citizens and our country. It does not make us great. It cannot be tolerated in our church and should not be tolerated in our society.” It is a leader’s responsibility to:

Open your mouth for the mute,

for the rights of all who are destitute.

Open your mouth, judge righteously,

defend the rights of the poor and needy. (Prov. 31:8-9)

I find it not only irresponsible but dangerous to leave the President’s comments unchallenged and to pretend the resulting policy direction is free from racist bias. I find it unconscionable and unloving to carry on the important immigration debate of our country as if the decisions made at the policy level will not have dramatic life-altering and, in some cases, life-destroying consequences for those affected. It is necessary that we heed our God’s command to never wrong or oppress but to protect the aliens and sojourners in our midst—in the midst of our families called “churches.”

Sometimes one person directly transfers their feeling to another. A happy first-time mom infects another woman with her joy. A middle-school-aged boy at the school dance passes along his fear of dancing to his friends.

But sometimes feelings mutate as they pass from one person to another. The happy mom’s joy becomes bitterness in a young woman who hasn’t had children. A widow’s grief elicits sympathy from her friends.

Emotion may be the most contagious “substance” in creation. We pass it along with as little as a look. Touch may spread it even faster. Words evoke multiple emotions all at once. Feelings may lie dormant for long periods only to emerge at unexpected and inconvenient times. Attempts to stop the contagion sometimes aggravate the pandemic all the more.

We cannot avoid emotion. God gave us this good gift. It defines us as creatures made in our Maker’s image and likeness. The question becomes: What emotion(s) are we passing along to others? When people are with us, do they “catch” a toxic virus, or do we pass along good the emotional equivalent of a healthy body flora? Do we sicken, or do we make strong?

We cannot avoid emotion, but we do not have to be overrun by our feelings. By God’s grace and the power of the Holy Spirit, we can exercise self-control, bring every thought captive, and obey the commands to be thankful, joyful, or even weep in a godly way. If our emotions are a contagion, Lord, please let people “catch” godliness from us!

We’ve been feeling the effects of evangelical realignment at least since the emergence of affinity networks that broke the boundaries of longer-standing denominational lines. That realignment quickened as older evangelicals steeped in culture wars lost the respect of younger evangelicals hungering for a new way to be faithful in this riotous culture. Add the cultural and political turmoil of the last three years—police shootings of African Americans, sexual-assault allegations, child sex-abuse scandals—and it’s as if someone flipped the tables of easy alliance.

Then came the 2016 election, which seemed to feature every deep anxiety suffered by diverse members of the fragile evangelical alliance. The morning following the election, suspicion, accusation and recrimination sauntered right into the sanctuary, shouldering their way between worshipers who previously delighted in God’s grace together. For some, all that’s wrong with evangelicalism at large became a property of their particular local assembly. What could be leveled at the broader movement became the criticism of local churches with names and faces.

I didn’t know what was happening the first time I encountered strong reactions from members who read something I wrote about evangelicalism and assumed I “was talking about them.” They were and continue the be the furthest thing from my mind when writing about evangelicalism, the way my wife is not in view when I write or speak about marriage. I listened. I tried to understand. I puzzled over it all. Then I realized some Christians make no distinction between the larger evangelical movement with all its warts and their own local churches with all their brothers and sisters.

But “evangelicalism” is not every church and every church is not “evangelicalism.” The ability to distinguish between the two may be the one thing that preserves the fraying unity of many local congregations.

When I think of evangelicalism, I do not think of Anacostia River Church (ARC), my family, with individuals I love and serve. Their stories I know. Their burdens I help to carry. Their needs inform my prayers. Their celebrations prompt my own. The members of ARC are too particular to be subsumed in a nondescript evangelicalism.

“Evangelicalism” is an amorphous, anonymous, faceless movement. Like all coalitions, it combines disparate parts around a limited agenda. Like all coalitions, the parts may have identities quite distinct from the whole. Like all coalitions, the competing parts threaten the cohesive whole. Like all coalitions, evangelicalism may not last—at least not in its pre-2017 iteration. So a critique of evangelicalism is no critique of any particular local church.

So I’m learning to make this distinction clear. I’m learning not to assume everyone has this distinction in mind. I’m hoping everyone will be able to distinguish their church from the movement as whole. I’m hoping that not because I want to discourage local churches from reflecting deeply on what the flaws of the broader movement mean for them, but because I want individual Christians to see the very real grace of God at work in their church families. What may be true of evangelicalism may not at all be true of the man, woman, boy or girl singing next to you on Sunday. Distinguishing the two may help us to love.

Every flower that dares bloom
Should hide in shame
Compared to your beauty.

Or if it dared to speak
Should asked to be named
“Kristie.” Truly.

Every ray sparkling from the sun
Ought seek cover of night
Next to your radiance.

Or if it could indeed run
Should immediately take flight
To avoid embarrassment.

Birds that sing
Might wish to be silent
For fear of losing tune.

Or suffer the sting
Of singing beside one
Whose voice makes angels swoon.

If a muse could have a muse
I’m sure it would choose
Inspiration from you.

Just as if I could choose
27 years later to again use
My choice of spouse, I’d choose you.

Donald Trump’s race to the White House defied every prediction and expectation. From his controversial speech announcing his candidacy, to the large crowds filling stadiums, through scandalous comments of one variety or another, down to last night’s election returns, Mr. Trump repeatedly did what everyone said he couldn’t or shouldn’t do. His campaign energized sections of the country who were either fed up with or checked out of the usual political cycle. Along the way, Mr. Trump defeated two political dynasties—the Bush and Clinton families—and broke nearly every “rule” on presidential elections. As a result, Mr. Trump will become our 45th President in about three months.

The next several days will certainly be filled with punditry, analysis, and reflection. All kinds of viewpoints will fill our airwaves, some celebratory and some dismayed. We’ll learn more about campaign strategies, demographic trends, and exit polls. An overarching story will take shape, and perhaps a new conventional wisdom will develop.

But as a Christian and leader of some sort, I’m most interested in what took place with evangelicals during this election. Exit polls tell us that white evangelicals voted overwhelmingly for Mr. Trump, coming in at 81 percent. For historical perspective, that surpasses the 78 percent of evangelicals who voted for fellow evangelical candidate George W. Bush in 2004.

Pulling the lever at 8 out of 10 times for Trump, however, should not be confused with unqualified, widespread support. Many “held their noses” as they did so, if we are to believe the “unfavorable” numbers for Mr. Trump. Many simply believed Trump was “less bad” than Mrs. Clinton. Still others, keeping an eye on Supreme Court nominations, sided with Mr. Trump with the hopes of a more conservative court and possibly putting a dent in Roe v. Wade. It’s been said all along that “evangelical” is difficult to define.

But that’s what makes the turnout in favor of Mr. Trump so interesting to me. If there is one way to define evangelical, it’s by voting behavior, the very metric that journalists and sociologists have been using for years. I know many who would prefer a theological definition and find the journalistic approach troublesome. But with 80 percent of professing evangelicals selecting the GOP nominee, we can no longer act as if all the journalists misunderstand the movement. In the polling booth, “evangelical” does amount to very nearly one thing, or at least one voting behavior.

Now, it should also be said that there were a number of #NeverTrump evangelicals. Twenty percent did not vote for him. But what’s fairly clear by that percentage is those white evangelicals are the minority in this election and quite possibly in the movement itself. All election I heard #NeverTrump evangelicals saying they didn’t know of any evangelicals who were voting for Trump. As it turns out, they did. Eight out of ten persons in their churches, small groups, and conference gatherings voted for Trump, even if they said they weren’t. Either their friends were swayed at the last minute or downright dishonest. But in either case, the number of evangelicals who put gospel and character before politics and party are small.

I’m pondering this today. Admittedly, my thoughts are not very developed, and in a week or two I may have learned more and changed positions. But at this point, I think the evangelical turnout for Mr. Trump signals several fatal weaknesses in the movement.

First, the movement has surrendered any claims to the moral high ground in electoral politics. Even though many evangelicals chose Trump while having significant reservations about his character, they nevertheless chose Trump. They did not choose character. To be clear, Mrs. Clinton was not an objectively better moral option. But not voting, voting third party, or writing in, as many said they would, were also options. The lion’s share of evangelicals put character concerns aside and pulled the lever for a man whose character is every bit as “flawed” as President Clinton’s, whose impeachment evangelicals supported. For that choice, as many have already observed, the moral high ground is lost.

Second, the movement has abandoned public solidarity with groups who considered Mr. Trump an existential threat to them. I’m speaking here of the many groups who expressed reservation regarding Mr. Trump’s racism, religious bigotry, misogyny, isolationism, and nativism. People with those concerns came from a lot of groups in the country, including African-American Christians, many themselves evangelicals. At 80 percent, white evangelicalism en masse sided with Mr. Trump over and against the concerns of fellow evangelicals weary of his alienating and divisive rhetoric and campaign promises. Based on correspondence during the campaign and following the election, it seems clear to me that that voting decision will likely put a deep chill on efforts at reconciliation and co-belligerence in the culture. For many, evangelicals expressed solidarity (again) with some of the worst aspects of American history and culture while abandoning brothers and sisters of like precious faith. Coming back from that may be difficult.

Third, the movement failed to escape its partisan bias in favor of more principled and biblical stands. A good number of evangelicals took #NeverTrump positions because they did not recognize Mr. Trump as a bona fide conservative. They felt conservative principles had been abandoned by party leadership. They felt a charlatan had hijacked their political home. But not enough of them sought out a new home, one of their own making based on more sure biblical grounds. Instead, some evangelicals offered “biblical” justification for voting Trump and minimized his character flaws. Others endorsed and vigorously campaigned for him. With last night’s election result, the GOP stranglehold on evangelical conscience and voting may have tightened to unbreakable strength. It may be we’ve reached the point that the only thing that would move evangelicals in more constructive directions would be outright persecution from the GOP itself. Short of that, it’s difficult to imagine evangelicals going elsewhere. This, for me, is all the more discouraging because I’ve long endured evangelicals questioning African-American allegiance to the Democratic Party. “Why do nearly all African Americans vote for Democrats?” they ask. “Isn’t it better if African Americans refuse allegiance to that party?” I resonate with the sentiment; but I wonder if it’s not born in some sense of hypocrisy. If the movement doesn’t escape its partisan pull, its usefulness will be seriously compromised.

Finally, the movement has made its evangelistic mission more difficult with many it wants to reach. A good number of people outside the faith look at the exit polls aghast and angry. Aghast because they themselves cannot imagine supporting a candidate with the personal moral flaws of Mr. Trump. Angry because they’ve watched evangelicals moralize in public for a long time, often shaming people for their sins and moral weaknesses. The vote for Trump creates or amplifies a credibility problem for evangelicals. Why should the unrepentant listen to their gospel when it seems so evident they’ve not applied that gospel to their political choices? “Shouldn’t we view evangelicals as basically concerned with politics over all things?” they ask. Convincing answers will be difficult to find. For many, Christ and the gospel are now bound up—rightly or wrongly—with evangelicals choosing a man with little resemblance to either.

And all of this was wrought by the bulk of evangelicalism itself. No one forced this on the movement. An 81 percent return will not allow us to discard these voters as “not truly evangelical.” At the moment, that’s exactly who evangelicalism is.

This is why I tweeted, to the confusion or chagrin of a few, “Congratulations white evangelicalism on your candidate’s win. I don’t understand you and I think you just sealed some awful fate.” A few took offense. But a couple hundred retweeted it without comment. Not all retweets are endorsements. And perhaps those retweets came from the 20 percent who did not support Trump. But in either case, I’m not alone in seeing serious problems with evangelicalism’s witness at the moment. I fear the fate of the movement may have been in some measure sealed with this vote.

My sister-in-Christ, Gaye Clark, offered a reflection on what it was like for her to be surprised when her daughter courted and later married a Black man. Clark’s piece is not the first of its kind, even at The Gospel Coalition. Trip Lee wrote about his marriage to a white sister in the Lord. And it’s no secretive conversation among African Americans, as this piece by Phillip Holmes indicates. The promise and peril of inter-ethnic dating and marriage has been a long-standing conversation in African-American communities, once because it was dangerous and illegal, then because it was socially frowned upon, and now because we’re slowly crawling toward some vision of ethnic conciliation.

But many people felt that Clark’s piece gave evidence to a massive blind spot—her failing to fully confess what appears to be deeper racial prejudice and her depiction of her son-in-law in a way that suggested he became “less Black” to her as she grew to love and accept him. Add to that the rather “teach-y” tone of the piece and many felt it was condescending as well as blind. The requisite internet furor resulted. Clark received the withering criticism so easily thrown at people online, but proved herself better than most of her detractors by listening, replying kindly, and eventually removing the piece.

I have asked TGC to remove my article from their website. I am profoundly grieved over the hurt and harm it has caused. Would covet prayers.

— Gaye Clark (@ClarkGaye) August 10, 2016

When I learned she’d decided to remove the piece (a move I respect but wish hadn’t happened), I decided someone should say something in praise of this woman and what happened. Having never met or spoken with her, here’s my feeble attempt. I hope it encourages her, her family, and the Church as we work through these things.

Taking the Risk

First, I want to express appreciation for Mrs. Clark for even writing the post. Let’s all be honest. There’s not much upside to writing something like this and there’s a whole lot of pitfalls along the way. Mrs. Clark stepped into one of those pitfalls, but her effort was commendable. In an age when so many African Americans rightly call on white brothers and sisters to enter the fray, Clark took the risk. She should be appreciated for doing so.

Being Redemptive

The other thing to note is her spirit in the post. Yes, it was “teach-y” in a problematic way. But that’s only at one or two points in the piece. The overwhelming bulk of the post sought to be God-centered, redemptive, and even helpful to those who might face the same challenge. Now, we could ask, “But why should it be a challenge in the first place?” In God’s kingdom it won’t be. But on earth, in the Church, among the fallen, it is. And Clark sought to be redemptive amidst all the ugliness we know still exists on this issue. I praise God for her.

Opening Up

Third, Clark didn’t have to write a post that excavated her own life. She could have written a post that took the detached, “objective,” professorial approach. She could have simply exegeted a few texts and “remained above the fray.” So I think it’s important to note that she actually laid bare a part of her own soul and life that no one is likely to give her any credit for. Who gets points for describing their latent or active prejudice? We tend to act as if no one should ever have believed those things ever, as if we’re not all works in progress. So when someone unearths the ugly of their lives for public consumption, it is not only courageous; it’s deeply honest. And while some of us would have loved a deeper reflection and confession, we all have to start somewhere. Clark started with her heart and in the process modeled for us why we should start with ours too. I thank her for that.

Taking the Heat

I truly admire Mrs. Clark for weathering the blowback she received. She set out to do good but pretty quickly folks began to speak evil of it. More often than not, social media types then double down. Rather than listen, we try to explain our intentions or offer hasty apologetics. Rarely do folks listen. And rarer still are apologies that communicate genuine understanding of the hurt caused. Ms. Clark did both. That’ll never satisfy the never-satisfied crowd, but it ought to be appreciated by all of us who know we too have flopped with our tongues. Mrs. Clark did all of this with Christ-like poise, grace and charity—thus proving the spirit behind the original post.

Advancing the Conversation

The reason I’d hoped TGC would not remove the post is the post actually triggered much-needed conversation. It wasn’t the conversation the author anticipated. But it was a meaningful one about how we describe our experiences and how we see each other. It was a much-needed conversation about affirming people as made in God’s image, and not having that image shrouded by either our own prejudices, ignorance, or expectations. The post, with its flaws, was probably doing more for the conversation than if it would have simply affirmed everyone in their presuppositions and left our weaknesses unchecked. I’m genuinely happy for any way anybody advances these conversations with the kind of grace Mrs. Clark did.

Appreciating the Church

Very few people are likely to have known much about Mrs. Clark’s Christian witness and discipleship. Many of us would have rushed to assumptions based upon this one post. We would have been tempted to place her in the box we have for “such people,” slapped the lid on, and slid her in the attic with all those “others” we don’t want to hear from. While I don’t know Gaye Clark personally, I do know her pastor and her church. And I know the kind of courageous leadership her pastor shows on these very issues on the regular in his church. He has African-American pastors and preachers in regularly—exposing his congregation to the gifts and perspectives these leaders bring. Leaders like K. Edward Copeland, who works on justice issues on the ground in partnership with local law enforcement, the community, his church and many others, and who speaks prophetically and unapologetically on the “platforms” the Lord gives. In other words, Mrs. Clark’s willingness to speak to these issues must surely come in part because she’s being discipled by white gospel leaders who willingly have the conversation as a matter of pro-active care for their members and for people affected by injustice. When we throw Mrs. Clark away, we risk throwing away a good church and good men trying to do good work in the name of our good Lord. I’m learning to speak a little less critically at first and more carefully at length.

CONCLUSION

There’s more that could be said about the various strengths and weaknesses of the post. But it’s perhaps best to simply say not one of us has “arrived” on these issues such that we speak without flaws. If that were true, we’d be the perfect persons that bridle our tongues that James seems to think doesn’t exist. I don’t want my sister to be vilified for doing what we’ve all done and what we’ll all likely do in the future. I hope we can remember her for making an honest attempt and giving a humble response when challenged.

A final thing for those who see the reaction to Mrs. Clark’s post and think, If that’s how I’m likely to be treated, why bother? Well, you bother not because you anticipate good treatment. You bother because it’s the right thing to do and it honors your Lord. And you bother because you know that if that’s how they treated Jesus for doing good, then that’s how they’ll treat you. And you bother out of love for your fellow human beings and your brethren in Christ. Let love constrain you even when there’s no praise to maintain you. After all, your ethnic brethren who dare speak of these things are quite accustomed to receiving a lot of vitriol, “push back,” condemnation, accusation and the like when we speak. And there was a time we even would have been killed for speaking. We’ve made progress, but for further progress you’ve got to put some skin in the game and not quit. Man up. We trust in Christ that it’s worth it.

Doug Wilson has paid me a double kindness. First, he’s taken the time to interact substantively with this post where I posit a vote for Clinton appears to me to be the only way I can incrementally restrain the progress of evil in this election. Second, he’s taken the time to state fairly that I am not in any way “endorsing” or “supporting” Clinton in that post, as some have consistently and erroneously repeated. I’m grateful, Doug, on both counts.

But I must confess I’m not persuaded by your post, as thoughtful as it was. I think I was most helpfully challenged when you contended that having not voted for several elections it would have been wiser for me to continue that course. That’s something I’ve gone back and forth on and it was good to have someone push me in that direction once again. Thank you.

But as I said earlier, I wasn’t persuaded by Doug’s post. Here’s why:

In My Estimation . . . 

Central to Doug’s critique of my post is the notion that making estimates about probable outcomes is a faulty way to engage the political process.

Huh . . .

But estimating outcomes is what we all do all the time in voting behavior. Take a candidate who shares our deepest values and acts on them. We effectively estimate their future actions. We think past behavior indicates future performance, all those mutual fund warnings to the contrary be damned.

This stubborn, intractable habit of making estimates takes place even when we abstain from voting for candidates with undeniably bad character and deeds to match. In those cases, too, our abstention relies on estimating the likelihood that they will keep up their bad behavior and continue in bad character. So even when we abstain, we’re not solely considering character. We cast an eye toward an imagined future. We conclude, “I cannot comply with this evil person or position because,” well, “…‘estimated future evil.’”

So everyone makes estimates. But wait . . . there’s more.

When Doug injects slavery into the discussion with an odd paragraph or two—and to borrow from Mrs. Clinton, “they were odd”—guess what he does? He argues that gradual manumission of slaves would have been better than a violent Civil War claiming hundreds of thousands of lives. (I presume he means white lives matter because apparently black lives could continue being slaughtered in the evil of slavery until white folks decided slaves were obsolete farm equipment.) But on what basis does Mr. Wilson think this? Surprise, surprise: His estimate that the grand ol’ South was gonna get ‘round to freeing the slaves anyway . . . good Christian slaveholders they were and all. Mr. Wilson’s reasoning rests on fantastically shoddy estimates more rosy about slavery than I am about Mrs. Clinton!

So you see, there’s a whole lot of lumber and sawdust clouding eyes in this entire line of reasoning.

Since Doug has his estimates, I’ll go on rejecting gradual anti-slavery proposals bizarrely offered 150 years after the War. And I’ll reject those proposals in part because I estimate that such curious ideas put us back on the path of saying “slavery was okay” when every Christian ought to be praising God for providentially ending this nation’s original birth defect. The Lord not only ended the institution, He also banished a host of social ills and fallen thoughts that undergirded it. Christians should shout aloud with gladness that these things have ceased, not trot them out for reconsideration. If I can’t beg off of debates about the election, Doug surely can’t silence dissent to his ideas about slavery’s end by pointing to my estimations while ignoring his own.

Now Back to the Election at Hand

We live—and always have—in a house with a busted roof and rotten flooring. We are taking on water from daily torrential rains and trying to keep our favorite fuzzy slippers dry while walking on mud floors. Doug wants us to pretend we can live in this condemned building unstained and inactive while the mold grows up on everything sitting still. He suggests we ready ourselves for bigger battles—which he’s correct, surely will come—and sit this current skirmish out, enjoying the rain reflected in the moonlight through that gaping roof and the mud squishing between our earthen toes. Well, in the south Doug loves so much, we commend folks “with sense enough to come in out of the rain.” To all others we offer our rather southern, “God bless your heart.”

You see, in the south, we know something about common sense, horse trading and all. And we know that if you live in a house with a busted roof, you can’t sit out enough pots and buckets to catch all the rain while you wait it out for a few years. You gotta hire a contractor and fix the roof, honey. Now, we also know that it’s better not to hire the fast talking, fancy dressed, over-promising, never licensed or bonded, pay me with cash before you see my work “contractor.” That fella is from New York City and it doesn’t matter if he claims, “Only I can fix it.” We know to keep our hands and our money in our pockets while we spit a rather sticky brown glob of tobacco juice on those pretty Gucci wing tips. We will fix our decaying house with a pinch of homespun wisdom and grit, thank you.

Now to be sure, this rotten electoral house of ours includes the stench of death. It’s a wonder we can live in this odor. Buried in our cellars and locked in our attics are the slaughtered-while-still-developing bodies of our babies. They were killed in the womb, before light could ever warm their wondrous faces. Their blood cries out against our house and our land—and the Lord God Almighty hears them!

But if we genuinely care about all of that, and I take it that every genuine Christian and person of awakened conscience does, then there are some hard questions us pro-lifers and those single-issue voters must face. There are some estimates to make in addition to the estimated number of children likely to be aborted.

First, we must ask, “Is there a meaningful difference between the candidates on abortion?” From where I sit, there’s none. Trump, who financially supported the murderous Clinton in her earlier campaigns, is no pro-life champion. Ending abortion is not even a meaningful part of his campaign, and, consequently, as head of the party, it’s no longer a meaningful part of the GOP platform.

So we move on to ask ourselves a second question: “But what about SCOTUS appointments? Won’t that help?” I get why some people hold a flicker of hope that he just might appoint some judges that just might do something to reverse Roe. And I’m not in the habit of blowing out a man’s candle when it’s his desperate cling to light in a dark world. But, shoot. I just don’t see it. You’d have to estimate that Trump would keep his word and stay the course. Okay. That’s not really an estimate, is it? That’s more like blind wishful thinking when the man changes his mind more times than Beyonce changes concert outfits. And like Beyonce, this emperor isn’t wearing any clothes! But let’s say you did estimate some constancy from the man on SCOTUS appointments. Then you’d have to assume Trump would appoint judges who respect the Constitution. But why would we assume that when he doesn’t appear to even have read the dang on document or to respect it himself, when he doesn’t respect competent sitting judges if they have Mexican heritage, and doesn’t respect former POWs like John McCain or fallen soldiers like Mr. Khan who risk and give their lives protecting the U.S. and the Constitution? Friends, don’t buy your picante sauce from New York City!

Then there’s a third question: “So what is a pro-lifer or single-issue voter to do when they have no candidate and they take the present evil seriously?” Mr. Wilson thinks I should have remained in the quiet, detached position of abstaining as I did in previous elections. But I can’t help making estimates, otherwise known as calculated judgments, or to use a biblical phrase, “counting the costs.” Now it seems to me a great many of those who say #NeverTrumpNeverHillary are, in a sense, making worried estimates about preserving their own “innocence” in all of this. And it seems to me that they’re not only estimating the evil consequences that may come from voting, but also estimating their own righteousness for not voting. It’s that latter estimation that I find particularly problematic in this election—if we take seriously the notion that either vote ends in a set of evil outcomes. For we can’t wash our hands of the election and decree our own righteousness while standing by doing nothing as admitted evil makes its progress. I don’t think Jesus will be very impressed with any of the ways His people stand by while identifiable wrong advances. It wasn’t praised in the Pharisees and scribes, and I highly doubt it’ll be praised among evanjellyfish either. Doug mentioned “other strategies” we have. I think he’d better serve the church writing about those strategies, because they seem preciously few nowadays.

But if this is “a battle enjoined” as Wilson put it, then there aren’t going to be any “innocents,” beloved. Who can lift up clean hands if they see murder practiced apace and don’t at least try to slow it? You see, the estimates of this war include the lives of babies unborn—nearly 3 million in the next four years. But it also includes other costs we’re bound to face: further erosion of constitutional authority, deeper divisions along ethnic lines, a return to Neanderthal attitudes toward women, restrictions of religious liberties, curtailing of civil rights, and a host of others. Count all the costs. You’ll likely conclude you’re warring against a king’s army several times larger than your own. Offensive strikes will look silly and ill-conceived. You’re down to defense. So put out your best defenses. Do what you must to hold the line as best you can. Clearly we aren’t going to win the war with either candidate in the next four years. But can we limit or slow the damage? Is there a candidate against whom we have a stronger defense? I know that’s gradualist thinking, but Doug is a gradualist with slavery so he ought to be one with abortion, too.

It’s all really very simple. The oft cited “All that’s needed for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing” is spot on. Doing nothing is not an option. So estimating becomes necessary. We must read the prospectus and decide, despite the fine print, whether we think past performance tells us anything about future results. And for my part, I’ve taken the rather pedestrian position that we know how to play defense with a conventional politician (Clinton), but we’ve never seen the likes of candidate Trump who blows hard where he wills and changes directions before his breath has stilled.

I think we can at least restrain evil in this election, even if we can’t positively foster the good. Those who would rather not dirty their hands and feign a position of innocence have to give an account for how they are trying to do at least that much—restraining what should be restrained even if they can’t altogether defeat it. If a person can’t do that, then they should probably ask the Lord to search their heart for ethical sinkholes.

As I’ve written elsewhere (see here, skip to the bottom if you like), knowing GOP and evangelical antipathy toward all things Clinton, and considering her utterly unoriginal, predictable, and conventional career, I estimate we can better oppose a “President Clinton” than a “President Trump,” who is impervious to counsel or correction, has the emotional stability of a 2-year-old, and eviscerates any claims to moral high ground for anyone who actively supports or endorses him.

And Then There’s Chicago

Now I really should end this post here, but there’s so much in Wilson’s critique that needs answering. And I shouldn’t end before making a brief comment on his use of Chicago and all the troubles there.

Doug, you really should consider going to Chicago and working on issues there. You seem to love evoking the carnage and suffering there, but I can’t find a place where you demonstrate much compassion and investment. The shame game you seem to be running is tired. The more you talk about it the more you seem to politicize it rather than offer anything. I know good people there who live and work in the community you so easily use as the poster community for Black dysfunction. Like the woman who just picked me up from the airport. Her family moved to Chicago when she was 10, probably on the tail end of the Great Migration. They’ve been in Christian ministry in that city for 30 years. They live, work, worship, and serve there with great concern for the community. I don’t think your comments help people like this sister and her husband one bit.

Of course, do as you wish. But my counsel would be leave it alone until you get over some tone deafness and can communicate some Christian empathy in the proper conversations.

Now I’ll Hush Up

So to conclude, we can no more live without making estimates than a fish can live without water. Indeed we swim in estimates—from how long our morning commute is likely to be, to how faithful a potential spouse is apt to behave, to whether it’s worth anyone’s time to read a blog. Indeed, walking by faith may just be the biggest estimate of all, and yet the Lord requires we do so, contra the assertion that lacking crystal balls means we should have none at all.

Note: The views and opinions expressed here do not necessarily represent TGC or any of its council members, staff or supporters. They are the views of the author alone. This is a personal blog that happens to be hosted at TGC. Such hosting should not be construed as an endorsement from TGC for anything written here.

A couple of weeks ago I had the privilege of joining a conference of Acts 29 pastors and wives at their retreat. The theme of the conference was revival. Honestly, I can’t think of anything more important to seek as Christians than a fresh outpouring of God the Holy Spirit on the Church and on our communities. No single act of God short of the Second Coming of Jesus Christ could do more for our souls and our world than a visitation of God’s Spirit in power!

In the early 1800s, a revival broke out among Baptist churches in Vermont (among other places). Pastor Silvanus Haynes wrote an account of a nine year old girl who attended a meeting to relay her conversion experience. Here’s the back-and-forth between Haynes, working to be careful with the girl’s soul, and the young girl.

Haynes: You tell us about being so great a sinner; what have you done that is so bad?

Girl [after a short pause]: I do not know as my outward conduct has been worse than many others, but my heart is so wicked!

Haynes: You tell about God’s law being so good and just, but do you know the nature of that law?

Girl: That law is so severe that it will curse and condemn a person for ever for only committing one sin, unless he repents of it, and applies to Christ for pardon.

Haynes [in a serious tone]: Would it not be better to have that law altered a little, and not have it so severe?

Girl: No, Sir, not at all, it is not too strict.

Haynes: But you tell us that you love God; and this God can thunder when he pleases, and dash the world to atoms in a moment, and are you not afraid of him?

Girl: I used to be afraid of him, but now I love him.

Haynes: But do you know the nature of this God?

Girl: He is so holy that he does not allow people to commit one sin, and if they sin but once, he will send them to hell if they do not repent and apply to Christ.

Haynes: Would it not be really better if God were altered a little, so as not to be quite so strict with us?

Girl: No, Sir, he is just right, he is none too strict.

Haynes: But there must be some alteration somewhere or else such as we are can never enjoy the favour of God.

Girl: I need all the altering.

Haynes: Why do you love God?

Girl: Because he is so holy and so just.

Haynes: But you tell about going to heaven, and what do you wish to go there for?

Girl: To praise God.

Haynes: But what do you want to praise him for?

Girl: Because he is so holy, and so just.

Haynes: Well, and what if you should go to heaven, and God should tell you that you might forever enjoy those pearly walls, and golden streets, and have the company of saints and angels, and join and sing with them to all eternity; but I must go away to another heaven a great many million miles off; now, would not heaven be just as good without God, as with him?

Girl [pausing a moment]: It would be no heaven at all!

Haynes tells us that this nine-year-old girl joined the church not long after and remained in good standing ever since. Oh, how I wish the Spirit would give such holy knowledge of the Lord to children and adults in our neighborhood today!

I’ve continued to meditate on revival and I’m hoping to begin leading our church family in regular prayer for it. What about you?

———

Quoted in Tom J. Nettles, “Baptist Revivals in America in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries,” in Robert Davis Smart, Michael A.G. Haykin, and Ian Hugh Clary (eds), Pentecostal Outpourings: Revival and the Reformed Tradition (Grand Rapids, MI: Reformation Heritage Books, 2016), pp. 209-210.

Note: The views and opinions expressed here do not necessarily represent TGC or any of its council members, staff or supporters. They are the views of the author alone. This is a personal blog that happens to be hosted at TGC. Such hosting should not be construed as an endorsement from TGC for anything written here.

I have a friend who loves to say, “God is good.” Sometimes he tweets it. He often ends emails with it. And it’s a fitting reminder. God is good.

But what do we mean when we say “God is good”? Are we referring to the Lord’s actions in the world and toward us? Are we referring to some aspect of His character? Do we have some sense that his goodness is like the warmth we feel when we visit our grandmother’s home?

John Frame in The Doctrine of God, reflecting on the limits of Thomist philosophy in the doctrine of God, writes:

What is God’s “goodness”? Is it something in him? It would be more accurate, I think, to say that “divine goodness,” though it sounds like an abstract property, is really just a way of referring to everything God is. For everything God does is good, and everything he is is good. All his attributes are good. All his decrees are good. All his actions are good. There is nothing in God that is not good.

To praise God’s goodness is not to praise something other than God himself. It is not to praise something less than him, or a part of him, so to speak. It is to praise him. God’s goodness is not something that is intelligible in itself, apart from everything else that God is.

God’s goodness is the standard for our goodness. We are to image his goodness. Does that mean that we are to image some abstract property that is somehow attached to God or present in him somewhere? No, it means that we are to image God himself. Our moral standard is not an impersonal, abstract property. It is a person, the living God. The center of biblical morality is that we should be like him. … God’s personal goodness defines any legitimate abstract concept of goodness.

John Frame, The Doctrine of God, pp. 229-230.

Note: The views and opinions expressed here do not represent TGC or any of its council members, staff or supporters. They are the views of the author alone. This is a personal blog that happens to be hosted at TGC. Such hosting should not be construed as an endorsement from TGC for anything written here.

The Uneasy Evangelical Ethnic Alliance

It’s been more difficult to be an African-American and an “Evangelical” or “Reformed” these last few years. It was never an easily negotiated identity or space. But a certain quietude about matters of “race” and racism made it possible to enjoy a measure of unity in theological matters and some seeming trust as spiritual family. A degree of political affinity, defined largely by the obvious wrongs we opposed, created a co-belligerence that kept our eyes off our differing political needs and emphases along ethnic lines. Suspicion and mistrust were kept at bay by a tacit sense that some things were more important.

For many, all of that is over, like childhood summers remembered fondly but blurring in the fading distance of time. Things are more difficult in the aftermath of Trayvon Martin, Mya Hall, Mike Brown, Alexia Christian, Tamir Rice, Meagan Hockaday, John Crawford, Sandra Bland, the Charleston Nine, Rekia Boyd, Eric Garner, Natasha McKenna, Freddie Gray. Things are less quiet following the various grand jury decisions that seemed once again to betray African-American pleas for a recognized humanity. Not that all those cases were the same or deserved the same outcome. They weren’t and didn’t. What was the same in each instance was the dreadful sense that African-American lives were nothing to be respected, protected or celebrated. What was largely the same in those instances was an encounter with what generally felt like white American and Christian indifference, antipathy and resentment. It didn’t matter if the life belonged to a 12-year old boy playing in a park or saints of various ages welcoming a stranger into their prayer meeting. The “respectable” and “dignified” were assaulted and the “unrespectable” and “undignified” further vilified and thuggerized. Many Christians felt that once again our best theology was failing to produce our best behavior—across the board, black and white, male and female.

The Trump Card Played at the Worst Time

Then came Trump.

We laughed at first. We thought it good theater. Then our laughter turned to unbelief. How could this man even be in the Republican primary, much less leading? Disbelief gave way to disdain toward those who filled stadiums supporting Trump. Who were they? Where were they coming from? Do they have an education—or teeth? So we questioned in our disdain and superiority. But they were there in the millions and—shockingly for some—they not only identified as Republicans but also “Evangelicals.” A lot of them.

Somewhere along the way some began to say #NeverTrump. But it was all too late. He’d bested every professional contender in the primary and was poised to receive the GOP nomination. He didn’t win on a technicality or through some bizarre trick with the rules. He won it outright and by a landslide. And the inevitable began to happen. GOP opponents, insiders, and king makers began to fall in line. They offered tail-tucked whimpers about problems with tone and not appearing “presidential.” But they fell in line nonetheless.

All of this happened, of course, while most of us were still catching our collective breath from the string of shootings, video playbacks, and debates about how to understand it all. When inter-ethnic tolerance and understanding were perhaps most stressed and frayed, along came a presidential candidate terrifyingly adept at strumming the chords of racial unrest, animosity, and resentment. And as one person put it: He didn’t use the silent dog whistle of racial resentment so common in politics; he simply whistled outright and out loud to gather the disaffected.

I try to be very judicious in calling anyone a “racist.” I recognize that label sticks, paralyzes and banishes. And I recognize that some overuse it. If you review this site, you’ll find that I’ve almost never used it of specific people. But, I don’t see another term to use for Mr. Trump. And I’m not alone.

Wish more Rs had the courage of @GrahamBlog. The damage Trump’s doing won’t easily be undone #NeverTrump pic.twitter.com/mXq2Vp6QdP

— Kathryn Freeman (@KathrynAnnette) June 7, 2016

Public Service Announcement:
Saying someone can’t do a specific job because of his or her race is the literal definition of “racism.”

— Ben Sasse (@BenSasse) June 6, 2016

Paul Ryan called Donald Trump’s criticism of a Hispanic judge “racist.” But he reiterated his support for him. https://t.co/YhE8IMNHHz

— The New York Times (@nytimes) June 7, 2016

The Growing Chorus Who Seems to Follow Suit

As Speaker Paul Ryan illustrates, despite identifying “textbook racist” comments in Trump, the GOP will line up to support him. Even some Evangelicals who were #NeverTrump sound a lot more like #ProbablyTrump these days. Some of them offer a soft apologetic: “Clinton is just as bad;” “At least he’d appoint conservative SCOTUS justices;” “He’s not a career politician.”

Some of these retorts are offered to African Americans whenever we point out the racism endemic to the man’s candidacy and behavior. I’ve even been asked, “Which is worse? Abortion or racism?” Though they quickly add, “This is no defense of Trump,” it’s difficult to escape the conclusion that racism rests lightly on the oft-cited conscience of some Evangelicals.

Here’s the problem with living 50 years after the American Civil Rights Movement and the de jure segregation of the land that produced it: Too many people now have no idea how every-day-horrendous-and-perilous life was under that system. And if you can’t imagine the daily stresses and sudden endangerment faced by African Americans in that system, then chances are you can’t quite fathom the alarm that survivors or students of that period have when we look at a Mr. Trump. Chances are you don’t quite appreciate the consternation felt when a brother or sister in the Lord appears to make light of racism’s evil and effects. And failing to recognize these things, you may be vulnerable to sliding over to the Trump column without due consideration of the ugliness of racism.

You also might be vulnerable to lobbing charges of racism toward African Americans and others who oppose Trump. Just the other day, I received a kind note reporting to me the concerns that some Evangelicals have expressed about my writing regarding the election. I’ve heard all the concerns before. They go something like this, with variants of emphasis:

1. It’s un-Christian to vote for a Democrat.
2. Any consideration of a Democrat makes you a baby killer, a supporter of abortion.
3. Any positive mention of a Democrat means you’re endorsing them and all they stand for, especially the worse parts of their beliefs and platforms.
4. Abortion is the single greatest evil of our time, by which is usually meant, “Do not talk about any other issue as if it has importance.”
5. If you talk about any issue other than abortion, especially a “racial issue,” then you’re idolizing “race” and betraying the unborn.

You get the picture. The uneasy coalition of inter-ethnic Evangelical concern comes collapsing down. The problem, we are told, is the injection of “race” into “everything.” The problem, we are lead to believe, is that some people would dare break ranks with evangelicalism’s political orthodoxy—GOP loyalty and single-issue voting. The problem, we are told, is that African Americans need to quit bellyaching about racism and the mirage of systemic injustice and just get on with it. We are told these things by people who seem to steadily ignore or downplay the racial elements of this election. So the chorus grows.

Setting Back Reconciliation?

Then the African American is told that he or she has “set racial reconciliation back 10 years” or more. They’ve managed with a blog post to undo all the hard work good white folks and good black folks have done to achieve peace between the people groups.

My friend, if your “reconciliation” can be undone with a blog post then you were never reconciled in the first place. If a different, more inclusive set of issues or priorities pushes you from the table, you were never truly at the table in commitment. If the simple matter of voting differently and daring to speak of it publicly causes you “to lose all respect for someone,” then you never respected them in the first place. You respected the ways you thought they were like you and you “respected” them only insofar as they were like you. You didn’t respect the right of a person to have their own mind, think their own thoughts, or act in accord with their own conscience. They must act according to your conscience. You were not reconciled across that difference.

While an outward peace existed between the groups, you patted yourself on the back and took credit for being enlightened and gracious and loving. But such virtue made wings and flew away the moment you discovered—gasp!—that that person didn’t think like you at every point. While there was no cost or inconvenience to you, you could tell yourself that progress was being made and you were a part of it. As long as uncomfortable differences along ethnic lines were muted, you sang “Kumbaya.” But when an African American began to speak about how they really felt and thought, then the old man of white supremacy—the old man that insisted he never be questioned or accused in matters of “race” and the treatment of African Americans—that man came out of hiding to demand what he’d always felt entitled to: even the mental submission of Black people to his view of the world.

Friend, wherever the preceding paragraphs above are true or accurate, then reconciliation has not been set back. Rather, reconciliation has not really been achieved. There’s a massive difference between detente and peace.

But I’m so grateful to God that the above paragraphs do not apply to a great number of Evangelicals. I’m so thankful for the many, many Evangelicals who prove themselves brethren in the Lord precisely when disagreement and distrust emerge. Those are the Evangelicals who are friends to freedom, friends to life, and friends to the gospel of Jesus Christ. Those Evangelicals who say, “I disagree and I love you and I protect your right to say whatever” are the true inheritors of Christ’s love. And for them, I give God praise and continue to write in the hope that reasonable men will once again agree, disagree, concede, argue and debate with charity and mutual affirmation of one another’s dignity and humanity. And I write with the hope that a true, deep and lasting reconciliation might be achieved on a firmer basis, on the basis of Jesus Christ’s completed work on the cross and in the resurrection.

Racism’s Trump

Now, on to Trump and this question of abortion and racism. For those who can still listen and who will allow me the dignity of my own thoughts (and it should be clear that I’m not asking for that dignity but asserting it), here’s how I’m thinking about the charge that I am making more of “race” and racism than I am of abortion. In general, the charge is false. But, specifically, here’s the two-point outline of my thinking.

Single Issue Voters Have No Champion for Their Single Issue

Without doubt Mrs. Clinton proves herself to be an enemy of millions of lives in the womb. Without doubt she would do nothing to curb or eliminate the abominable practice. We know that.

However, I don’t see Mr. Trump doing a thing to limit abortion or roll it back either. Not a thing. He hasn’t even made it a campaign issue. And when he’s spoken about it he’s changed his position several times IN ONE DAY. He’s not a champion I would trust.

You see, the choice is not between Hilary’s zeal for abortion and Trump’s bigotry—as if Trump were better on abortion and Clinton better on racism. There’s no tradeoff here. The two, in my opinion, are a push on abortion.

There’s At Least One Other Issue to Add to the Single Issue Nobody Champions

Now, if neither Mrs. Clinton nor Mr. Trump will change or challenge our laws making abortion legal, then the question for me is: “What are the other set of issues these guys bring to the table?

That’s where racism gains more prominence and Trump’s open statements of bigotry and his intent to put some of it into policy becomes unbearable. When we recognize that Clinton and Trump are a push on abortion, then the message becomes, “Voter, you’re going to have abortion for the next four years either way you go. Do you want abortion and a 1950s America where racism and sexism abounded’?” That’s the question for me. And I think that’s exactly what you’d get in a “President Trump”: abortion + racism.

Again, Mr. Trump’s comments are not merely individual sentiment and personal animosity. His comments go directly to policy: register Muslims, walls against Mexicans because “they’re rapists,” questioning a judge’s competence because of his ethnicity, and so on. He’s suggesting clear religious and civil liberty violations become the law of the land. Nevermind setting reconciliation back ten years; this is setting law back sixty! This is not making America great again; it’s making America racist again.

And, oh by the way, a “President Trump” would have the help of a GOP that itself has been a refuge for far too long for racist sentiment. When neo-con architects like Karl Rove feel comfortable telling Black women they should be more thankful because he “freed them” and gave them the right to vote (see here), we shouldn’t be surprised that there are millions of minions frothing with even worse diatribe. For too long the GOP has been home to this kind of thing and I wouldn’t want the party invested with Presidential power to act on it.

Now, my suggesting I’d vote for Mrs. Clinton in order to stop the twin evils that Mr. Trump represents is no more an endorsement of Mrs. Clinton or the Democratic party than our Lord Jesus Christ telling His audience to pay taxes to Caesar was an endorsement of Caesar or of emperor worship. Most every reader who earns a wage pays their taxes without the slightest qualms about their money being an “endorsement” of this government’s every action or policy. I don’t endorse Clinton or her views on abortion, sexuality and a host of other things. Claims to the contrary are simply a disingenuous effort to skip the discussion by sullying the writer. That won’t do. There’s a greater evil afoot than my particular leaning when it comes to voting in this election. The real evils abroad are murder, racism and sexism. And I feel I must do something, however marginal, to hold the line as best as possible. I trust you do, too, even if you choose a different “something” to do.

American Idols

Now if my including racism in my thinking is “idolatry,” well, so be it. But, frankly, I don’t think it is. And if it is, then we’d best recognize it’s a kind of shadow idol, the dark negative of much of white America’s idolization of its own whiteness. Racial idolatry comes in twin packs at least. It’s been that way from the moment some founders and denizens decided that whiteness would be privileged among all the so-called “races” and advantages would be given to “whites” over all others, at the expense of all others. They built their shrine to themselves and their skin color while effectively guaranteeing others would do likewise if for no other reason than survival. Logs and specks need to be checked at our own eyes.

Further, I think the folks who can only talk about abortion and can’t factor anything else into their decisions are guilty of another form of idolatry. Some make a tremendously important moral issue a “god” of sorts. Further, some make their conscience an idol by obeying their conscience instead of the whole counsel of God. For surely the Bible condemns hatred, partiality and the failure to love as much as murder. Wherever we set one part of God’s word aside with claims of conscience, then we make conscience “god.”

And we shouldn’t lose sight of this fact either: This idolizing of abortion has come at the teaching, preaching and advocacy of pastors and leaders. Some are offended that I’ve dare say these things “as a pastor.” But the church has been political for a long time and telling people how to vote for a long time. Sure, most avoided naming any candidate. But strong insistence that we only consider one issue and refuse voting for anyone who isn’t anti-abortion is, in fact, an attempt at binding the conscience in a political way in political elections. Insofar as one party has officially stood against abortion, then it’s also been a partisan binding of the conscience. That’s why so many today can’t even imagine a pro-life Democrat and can’t imagine participation in the party with the goal of changing its platform. Though the cause is just, wherever we pastors have gone too far in insisting that people’s consciences conform to our own, we’ve fostered idolatry and weakened the ability of many to consider and negotiate more complex realities.

None of this is to minimize abortion; it’s to say some have over-reached if they can’t negotiate a world where other things are on the table alongside this issue.

So, there are a lot of idols to avoid and to smash. Political parties, racial identities, moral issues and even the conscience can usurp the place of God in our lives.

CONCLUSION

Let me conclude by asking, “So what if I did ‘care more about race issues than abortion’?” What if I did think a situation or system of constant racial antagonism or outright oppression were a daily existential problem for African Americans that needed redress? Why would caring about something that affects your entire life and daily living be idolatry? And why would the white evangelical who cares about abortions that in many cases touch conscience but not their actual lives not be idolatry? Who decides that?

I’m doing my imperfect best to respond to the world as I see it unfolding. It’s an election where I take seriously the term “evil” and it’s application to the actions and policies of both candidates. If I could stop it all, I would. I can’t. I respect those who will choose to sit out the election and I wouldn’t want them to violate their conscience where God’s word is silent (see here). But my conscience finds no safe refuge in sitting out the election. I feel compelled to oppose as much as I can as effectively as I can. That means working to stop Trump in a field where there are no other viable options other than Clinton. Here I stand; so help me God.

I’ve made a mental start to this post more times than I can count. But each time I wad it into a ball of imaginary paper to shoot hoops into a mirage wastebasket. The problem isn’t so much writer’s block or not knowing what I want to say. The problem is attending to the easily predictable “outrage” and “disgust” and attempts at shaming for “even thinking such a thing.”

How do you write for an audience that really wants to ban any thinking other than its own? How do you make a case for something different with people who seem to accept their political orthodoxy as equivalent to gospel faithfulness? Is it possible to effectively engage people who think their Christian bona fides are shored up by assaulting yours?

Well, I’ve decided I can’t. So if those questions describe you, this post isn’t for you. You are, of course, welcome here. And I hope something here changes your mind about how to talk with others even if it does nothing to change your position. In fact, I’m really quite happy if my muddled thought experiment drives you deeper into your prior position with more reasons for it. That’s a win. That’s what public discourse has sometimes done. But if you feel like you need to drop the partisan equivalent of a rhetorical dirty bomb or denounce me as some kind of heretic, then I’m afraid you may live beyond the city limits of reason and this post isn’t for you. This would be a good time to write me off and head elsewhere.

This post is for that larger percentage of the Christian public that actually feels little threat from differing opinion, even benefits from it. This post is for folks who can affirm a brother as a brother while pushing back—even pushing back hard. What follows are ramblings for people who can keep the plot when it’s messy and think there’s virtue in civic disagreement. I don’t blog as regularly as I used to. I don’t have time and I don’t generally have interest. But for the entirety of my blogging life I’ve tried to talk with people, not at them or about them. If you’ve benefitted from that and want to share in that, then by all means join the conversation.

So on to what I want to say. I recently published a post from a Christian brother, friend and church mate who argued that the candidacy of Mr. Trump is so potentially catastrophic that Christian leaders should try influencing people toward Clinton. What’s remarkable about that post—besides the obvious “anti-Evangelical heresy” of voting for Clinton—is that the post comes from someone discipled out of the Democratic party precisely because he was taught and challenged about abortion. In other words, his story is the kind of story we conservative Evangelicals actually wish was more common. Don’t we?

Gauging Our Reactions

But the reaction to Nick’s post demonstrates at least three things for me:

1. We actually have so little tolerance for political disagreement (not theological, which might be more understandable) that we eliminate room and patience for the kinds of conversion and growth we hope to see.

Our political vitriol becomes a barrier to our sanctification and that of others. From a Christian perspective, voting is above all a discipleship issue. But to disciple well, people have to be able to think out loud, risk enough honesty to reveal their weaknesses, and receive patience from others so they can grow. See 2 Timothy 2:24ff. Apparently Evangelicals ain’t there yet. There was zero rejoicing that a young man who all his life had been a pro-choice Democrat, actually grew in his knowledge of the scripture and conviction to the point that he became a pro-life independent. Surely angels in heaven were rejoicing, but not all of us on earth were. We’ve got to get better at engaging political difference so we can actually have wins in sanctification.

2. Sometimes the way Christians represent others can be more abhorrent than the bad positions we rightly reject.

Some people call uncharitable (mis)representations “faithfulness” and “courage.” It’s not. It’s sinful. It fails the tests of Eph. 4:29; Col. 4:6; Matt. 12:36 and a host of other texts. And many times it’s bearing false witness about someone (Ex. 20:16; 23:1; Prov. 12:17; 25:18; passim). Personally, I have to repent of the ways I’ve done this—even unintentionally (Lev. 4). Part of my repentance includes writing more charitably about others while challenging uncharitable (mis)representations. It cannot be the case that Christians deal with difference by attempting to shut down, shout down, or make others stand down through libel, slander, vitriol, etc. And it cannot be the case that we stand by while others do it.

3. It may be the case we’ve used hyperbole and fiery rhetoric so much that we no longer take ourselves seriously.

Maybe we need to re-read the story about the boy who cried wolf. For example, when we say someone or their position is “evil,” do we believe it? Do we believe it to the extent that we feel our duty to act against it? Biblically speaking, it’s not enough to call something evil and then merely abstain from participating in it; we must also oppose it. We are to resist the Devil (James 4:7; 1 Pet. 5:8-9) and resist sin knowing that we’ve not yet struggled to the point of shedding blood (Heb. 12:4). There’s more for us to do than fire off tweets, bang out blog posts, and join in Evangelical gossip about the people “we can’t believe said that.” We ought not be sophists and mere rhetoricians. If we use words—especially serious words like “evil”—we should mean it and then act accordingly. In a sense, that’s the entirety of my position and at times it seems a quiet but major factor creating controversy with some who use the most flaming rhetoric.

Taking Evil Seriously

But what if we were to take evil seriously?

I tremble each time I apply “evil” to Clinton and Trump. And I do apply it to them both. Something in me draws back, alarmed. But I do so, I believe, with reason. While I do not believe they are the personification of evil (that’s the hyperbole of point 2 above), I do think their positions at numerous points are wicked when viewed biblically.

Hilary Clinton’s position on abortion, along with the official position of the Democratic Party, is an unquestionably evil policy. Her 80s-era comments calling young African American boys and men “super predators” was an ugly example of race-baiting in support of an utterly destructive criminalization of my people and my community. Her back-pedaling in recent months is hardly sufficient. Clinton’s penchant for bending the truth beyond recognition is more than standard fare in political races; it’s repeated breaking of God’s command not to lie or bear false witness.

Donald Trump is not a career politician. So we don’t have twenty years of history in political office to scrutinize. But, boy, he sure seems to be trying to make up time with several times daily displays of his sin. He’s no pro-life champion and has even been a contributor to the Clintons. He’s argued for Japan and Saudi Arabia to have nuclear weapons. That’s not only bizarre, it’s also potentially genocidal. Mr. Trump talks freely about registering Muslims, encroaching on a basic civil and religious liberty. His explicitly racist comments about Mexicans and others is no small sin. His comments about women are not only impolite but are themselves an evil affront to the image of God in our sisters. I don’t want my country to become again a place where open hatred is championed at the highest levels as I fear they are with Mr. Trump. They’re both guilty of pride (who of us isn’t?), but Mr. Trump’s campaign seems inordinately centered on him, his greatness and little else in the way of responsible public service ideas.

We could go on with regard to them both, couldn’t we? For every category of sin, it seems we could list flagrant instances for each candidate. And if we did, then we’d likely conclude along with many, many reasonable persons that this is an impossible choice. I have great sympathy for that view since for the last three presidential elections I’ve not been able to bring myself to vote for that very reason. I get that view.

But what if we use the word “evil” seriously and not as hyperbole? I know many of us are only being hyperbolical. If that’s you, I hope you’ll stop. I hope you’ll tone down the rhetoric lest we continue to be guilty of creating the very environment where flame-throwing politics thrive. But if you do think it’s actual evil, then keep using the word. Use it with meaning and use it with the godly force evil deserves.

But then we have to ask, “What is our biblical responsibility if we think their positions are truly evil?”

The thoughts below are for those who honestly think we are facing evil choices on both hands. If that’s not you, this won’t make sense or be compelling. But if it is you, I do hope it provokes further thought about pursuing active resistance in this election.

1. We cannot simply palliate our conscience.

I’ve said this before, but a quiet conscience is not always a biblical conscience. Choosing a path that leaves us content by not voting doesn’t strike me as a biblical path if we believe we’re facing evil. Bystanders to evil are never given a pass for their inaction; they’re judged for it. And telling ourselves “we had nothing to do with the evil because we didn’t vote” is like slapping ourselves on the back because we managed to walk away instead of joining the crowd in bullying the weak kid. If your conscience has been awakened to the evil before you, you’re meant to actively oppose the evil the best way you can. We can arrive at different views of “the best way you can,” but that we must be active in resistance seems self-evident to me. There are always at least two ways to “quiet our conscience.” We may lull it back to sleep or we may take biblical action to inform and satisfy it. Only one will receive the Lord’s “Well done.”

2. We cannot opt for the merely symbolic.

Symbols are great, necessary and sometimes powerful. But symbol is an inadequate response to substantive evil. So, while I think third party options are possibilities, I tend to think they’re viable as a response to evil only if you have a chance of winning. They’re great for fighting battles on or over principle; they’re lousy for stopping megalomaniacs and petite dictators who could care less about principle. Mr. Trump is not a principled conservative, so standing on principle is ineffective. Mrs. Clinton’s principles include slaughtering the unborn among other things, so her hand must be stopped with something more than the symbolic. We need a way of winning that’s more subversive of both agendas than either candidate could imagine. If a third party candidate with potential for defeating both Trump and Clinton emerges, they will have my most enthusiastic and happy support. But, for me, it’s got to be more than symbol because I’m convinced the evil is real.

3. We cannot continue in blind party loyalty.

If your party—whatever party you choose—only gives you an evil option to support, then you cannot remain loyal to that party. Right now there are a lot of people putting party over principle, holding their noses, as the saying goes, and standing with someone most readers of this post will find unconscionable at least. Clinging to the party for party’s sake or even because you “don’t like the other guy” doesn’t seem to me to be an adequate redress of the evil that concerns us. It’s a tribal wink at such evil. It’s merely a preference for the sin we find least objectionable or most acceptable, depending on where you stand. So, it seems to me, it’s past time Christians with minds bound by the word of God forsake party politics for party politics sake. And if this election proves anything, it proves there remains among Christian people a lot of uncritical allegiance to the parties of men and even some idolizing of them.

4. If we cannot make progress on cherished issues, we should not regress on other fronts.

We do not have a dedicated pro-life option in this election. Appeals to the nomination of Supreme Court justices, while hopeful, don’t strike me as realistic. If someone says we shouldn’t reject Mr. Trump because of the evil we imagine he might do were he elected, they shouldn’t then say support Mr. Trump because of the good they imagine he might do with Supreme Court nominees. We can’t or shouldn’t try to have it both ways. I think I see plenty of evidence for not trusting a thing Mr. Trump promises. But more than that, I think I see plentiful evidence that Mr. Trump represents a Dr. Who-styled transport back to a time when overt racist speech, physical brutality, mistreatment of women, and inter-ethnic mistrust were at an all-time high. And I’m genuinely concerned with the ways I see people already suggesting or stating, “racism isn’t as bad as abortion.” Where I sit, they’re both heinous evils and racism insidiously warps a lot more things than individual prejudice. Perhaps it’s a lack of faith, but I don’t think we’re going to gain ground on abortion with either candidate. So I’m asking myself how to hold the line on racism, sexism and other isms that seem so plentiful in this election. I don’t want to regress toward the 1950s even a little bit. And while many people would want to argue that Mrs. Clinton is as racist as Donald Trump, only one of the candidates is actually making policy suggestions that would enshrine that racism.

5. If we can, we have to put forward our best defense.

If we think the evil is real and if we feel a unable to thwart both sides, then I think we have to field our best defense. I think that means putting the party with the best defense on the losing end of the general election. In other words, if we vote for the evil marked “GOP,” then we leave our weakest defensive players (Dems) on the field for a goal line stance. Democrats are lousy at defense and more than that wouldn’t be inclined to hold the lines I’d want to hold anyway. Republicans, like it or lump it, know how to shut a government down, hold up a SCOTUS nominee, and just plain dig in against a president. They don’t always win, but they’re the best defense out there. And they’re the only ones even pretending to care about what an Evangelical thinks. They would need Evangelicals more if they lose than if they win. And Evangelicals would gain more influence if the party’s dependence upon their vote couldn’t be taken for granted.

But put the GOP in the White House with a “President Trump” and not only are they no longer on defense but they’re being quarterbacked by a guy running plays from some playbook only he knows. You’d win the White House but probably lose down ticket elections and almost any credibility with a diversifying electorate (this year about 30% of voters will be from ethnic groups Mr. Trump routinely insults and angers). Electing Mr. Trump would be bad in the short and long term for the sides of me that values social conservatism and cultural pluralism.

CONCLUSION

Tomorrow, Lord willing, I want to offer another post. I’ve received quite a few comments alleging that “race” is an idol for me in this election and that I’m endorsing a baby killer and so on. Once again, I don’t expect everybody or even anybody to agree with me. But I want to address that misrepresentation and lay bare my own logic on such things. Until then, the Lord bless you and keep you.

———————

Last week, Donald Trump officially secured the number of delegates needed to win the Republican nomination for president. And while it’s not quite over on the Democratic side of the race, Hillary Clinton is overwhelmingly likely to be that party’s nominee.

Trump’s nomination has presented evangelical Christians with a difficult choice: support Trump, support Hillary Clinton, vote for a third alternative who is unlikely to win, or don’t vote at all. To their credit, many evangelical leaders have ruled out that first option – they recognize just what an unacceptable candidate Trump is and what harm he would do to our country as president.

But these same leaders are divided on what the alternative should be. Some believe that while Trump would be bad, Hillary would be just as bad (or close enough that it doesn’t really matter). So they counsel no vote, or a vote for a third party. Others are undecided. But a very small minority, including my host on this blog, have decided (at least for now) to vote for Hillary.

I’m writing this post in Thabiti’s space both to add my voice to his and to make a claim that goes a little further: I think that evangelical leaders – in particular, conservative evangelical leaders – need to use all the influence God has given them to encourage thinking Christians to vote for Hillary Clinton. No dithering; no qualifications. The stakes are simply too high.

Let me back up for a moment and share a little bit about where I’m coming from. I’m a member of Thabiti’s church and a person of color. I’m also a lifelong Democrat. I became a believer just over 10 years ago, and while my views on life and marriage changed, most of the rest of my political beliefs – which align with those of the Democratic party – did not. So my voting behavior stayed the same, even after my conversion.

That was about to change with this election. Over the course of years and conversations with Christian friends who are active in politics, I became convicted that, for all my alignment with Democrats on other issues, a single issue – a Democrat’s endorsement of the right to kill unborn children – outweighed all the others. So I was getting ready to (reluctantly) pull the lever for Ted Cruz, or Marco Rubio, or Scott Walker, or whoever won the Republican nomination, this November. Then Donald Trump interrupted my plans.

You might be thinking that it’s easy for me to say this – after all, I’ve voted for Democrats all my life. Maybe Trump is just an excuse for me to keep doing the same? This is precisely the reason why conservative evangelical leaders need to be the ones making this case. And I’m here to try to convince you. So here are 6 reasons why you should encourage all of us to vote for Hillary this Fall.

1. Every election is a choice between different evils.

This point has been made before, but I just want to make it again, in case any of us are laboring under the illusion that past endorsements of “traditional” candidates were morally uncomplicated choices. Exhibit A is the 2012 election: four years ago, most of you had no problem telling Christians to vote for an avowed leader of a false religion – a person who had dedicated a substantial portion of his life shepherding souls down a path that leads to hell. When you endorsed him, I know you weren’t endorsing that; you just had a common cause that was more important. The same is true with endorsing Hillary. You’re not endorsing her views on abortion (and you can make that clear); rather, you have a common cause with her that’s more important. Which brings me to…

2. Trump may be an existential threat to the Republic.

Plenty of observers have noted Trump’s authoritarian rhetoric, his megalomania and narcissism, and the literal cult of personality he has built. And they have painted a picture of just how real the threat of Trump could be. Andrew Sullivan captures the image well in a recent essay in New York Magazine:

“Trump is not just a wacky politician of the far right, or a riveting television spectacle, or a Twitter phenom and bizarre working-class hero. He is not just another candidate to be parsed and analyzed by TV pundits in the same breath as all the others. In terms of our liberal democracy and constitutional order, Trump is an extinction-level event. It’s long past time we started treating him as such.”

Note that I didn’t say that Trump definitely is an existential threat. I don’t know that; nobody does. Hitler only rose to power because enough people believed that he wasn’t such a threat. There is no way of predicting in advance just how bad a President Trump would be. But if you’re an evangelical leader, this sets up a version of Pascal’s wager for you. If Trump turns out to be embarrassing but not all that bad, then your pride will suffer a bit, and you’ll have to say you were wrong to support Hillary. You’ll try to be wiser in the next election.

But if Trump turns out to be the “extinction-level event” that Sullivan predicts, and you fail to do everything in your power to stop him, then you will join a long line of evangelical leaders who have been on the wrong side of history – and judged harshly for it – at critical moments ranging from slavery to Jim Crow to abortion (in the early days of that debate). Your witness for Christ – our witness – will be diluted because we didn’t do everything we could to prevent this catastrophe. And there won’t be a next election to get it right.

3. Trump is a threat to the unity of the church.

All of this is to say nothing of Trump’s racism and misogyny. As a person of color, I have to tell you that Trump gives me reason to fear for life and safety – for myself, for my mixed-race family, and for our immigrant parents – in a way that no political candidate ever has before. I hope that our conservative evangelical leaders, particularly those who are white, understand this: your stand against Trump, in solidarity with the people he hopes to marginalize, is critical to preventing that marginalization. If the movement against Trump is seen to be mostly a movement of people of color, then it will feed into the very narrative of white grievance that he thrives on.

I cannot speak for all believers of color, but I believe that many of us are remembering the evangelical church’s history on matters of race, looking to our leaders today, and hoping that this disappointing history does not repeat itself. Your actions to stop Trump should be so clear, so unequivocal, that you guarantee yourself a spot on Trump’s “enemies” list if he were to be elected president. Otherwise, the temptation to accommodate or to reconcile with a President Trump will be too strong for some of you in the aftermath of his election, and the church’s unity will suffer as a result.

4. You may think she’s terrible, but Hillary Clinton is a conventional Democrat.

All right, you might be thinking: Trump is bad, but isn’t Hillary just as bad? Isn’t her support for abortion alone equal to all of the terrible things I’ve just described?

Perhaps – and you might spend all of a Hillary Clinton presidency opposing everything she’s doing at the top of your lungs. But I’m pretty sure you’ll still be able to oppose her in the context of the democratic republic we live in, and that you’ll be able to work to unseat her in the next election if that’s what you want. I cannot say the same of Trump. Fighting to protect life is important – but, with a candidate like Trump in the mix, it’s more important to protect your ability to fight for life over the long term. Due to his marriage of convenience with the Republican party, you might get a Supreme Court justice or two out of a Trump presidency. But it’s a Faustian bargain – eventually, Trump will do whatever is best for him, including appointing judges who help him overturn rather than protect the current constitutional order.

Hillary Clinton may do bad things as president – but as Thabiti said, they will be predictable bad things, and things that you’ll be able to oppose vigorously and with a clear conscience after the threat of Trump is past.

5. Yes, you should vote strategically.

The next objection is obvious: Can’t I keep my powder dry by not voting or by voting for a third party candidate? Do I really have to vote for Hillary? Can’t I just not vote for Trump?

I recently had a conversation with a dear brother of mine who had read the Andrew Sullivan piece and was contemplating its warning of an “extinction-level event.” I asked him if that meant he would vote for Hillary. “I’d rather not,” he said. “Maybe if the polls tighten, and it looks like Trump might win, I’ll vote for Hillary.”

The problem is that it’s exactly this kind of thinking, applied en masse, that could result in a Trump presidency. The primaries were conducted sequentially; over time, we came to accept that Trump was commanding plurality (and eventually majority) support from Republican voters as the results came in. But we didn’t believe it before the first votes were cast, and lots of pundits have egg on their face from having predicted that Trump would fizzle out.

The general election opens us up to an even worse version of this error. It’s a one-shot deal, without opportunities to learn lessons from prior elections. If the polls get it wrong and we’re complacent, we don’t get to correct the mistake. And in any case, why gamble with something so important? Suppose that Trump only has a 20% chance of winning. If we knew there was a 20% chance that our loved ones would die in November, would we spend the next six months comforting ourselves with the 80% chance that they won’t? No: we’d do whatever we could to change the odds. So, too, with voting for Hillary: the best way to use your vote against Trump is to vote for the next most likely person to win.

6. It has to come from you.

I said at the beginning that I’m not a credible messenger for this argument. I’ve voted for Democrats all my life. It seems obvious that someone like me would take advantage of an opportunity to declare my support for the candidate I’m more culturally comfortable with.

This is why it has to come from you – particularly those of you who have vocally supported Republicans in the past and are likely to continue to do so in the future. Conservative evangelical voters have to hear that it’s OK to vote for Hillary – just this once – from a source that they trust. This is your Nixon to China moment: a chance to take an unlikely stand that will get people’s attention and have an impact on the outcome.

More generally, I’d encourage you to look inside your own heart and ask why it is that you’re reluctant to support Hillary. I understand that there are good reasons for that reluctance. But are some of the wrong reasons sprinkled in there as well? Have you, like me, voted for the same party for so long that it seems reflexively wrong to vote for someone from the other party? Do you fear how you might be judged by politically conservative colleagues and friends? Have you spent enough time in their company that you’ve been convinced that she’s not just wrong on an issue you care about, but a cartoon villain of a politician? For the last generation, political tribalism has placed most evangelical Christians on the red team. Is that fact clouding your view of what you need to do?

These barriers mirror the ones I had to overcome in deciding to change my vote this year (until Trump came along, that is). And they are the same barriers that many evangelical voters – your congregants – are struggling with right now as they consider whether to vote for Hillary. By taking a public stand, you can help them to overcome those barriers.

My hope is that I’ll be able to vote for a candidate who unambiguously protects life in 2020. But until then, I hope that Christians throughout this country will work together to protect us from the threat Trump represents. Our leaders can play a big role in giving us permission and guidance within the law to do this in a way that preserves our witness and honors Christ. And though we strive for a particular result, I pray that we would ultimately trust God with the outcome, and that we would glorify Him with our actions both before and after the coming election.

As I’ve been asked this question it’s seemed to me that many people think their conscience is the final arbiter of what’s right and wrong. They’ve suggested an implicit trust in their conscience, that internal witness to right and wrong that God has placed in every human heart. But we ought to be careful of implicitly trusting our conscience because the conscience can be weak, defiled, uninformed, overly sensitive, dull or even cut. There’s a lot of work that needs to be done in our spiritual lives for our consciences to function properly.

To be clear, no one is arguing that anyone should “vote against their conscience.” What I’m suggesting here is that we have to have a biblical view of the conscience, inform it by the Bible, before we can act in ways that properly satisfy it.

In that spirit, here are ten summary statements about the conscience from the Bible:

1. We should seek to live in good conscience before God all of our lives (Acts 23:1; 2 Cor. 1:12; 2 Tim. 1:3);
2. We should seek to live with a clear conscience before men (Acts 24:16; 2 Cor. 4:2; 1 Pet. 3:16);
3. Our conscience bears witness for/against us (Rom. 2:15; 9:1);
4. We should submit to government as a matter of conscience (Rom. 13:5);
5. But the conscience can be weak, defiled, and even seared (1 Cor. 8:7, 10, 12; 1 Tim. 4:12; Titus 1:5);
6. We have a responsibility to consider the consciences of others in matters of worship (1 Cor. 10:27-29);
7. God’s word is meant to produce in us godly love that comes, in part, from a good conscience (1 Tim. 1:5);
8. One part of our spiritual warfare and faithfulness is defined by keeping a good conscience (1 Tim. 1:19);
9. The conscience is not perfected by religious acts of worship like sacrifices (Heb. 9:9) but only by the blood of Christ (Heb. 9:14; 10:22; 1 Pet. 3:21);
10. Christians should pray for one another, that our acts lead to a clean conscience (Heb. 13:18).

What is evident in all of this is that the conscience should be a guide, an alarm system of sorts, but shouldn’t be trusted as the final arbiter. The word of God has that place because the conscience needs to be instructed, informed and sometimes reformed. So, in the context of clear and present evil, it’s not enough to simply say, “My conscience won’t let me.” We actually have to ask our conscience some questions about the whole counsel of God in our situation. We may still end up saying, “My conscience won’t let me based upon the word of God,” but that’s a better position than an implicit trust in one’s conscience–which can be wrong and often is for many.

Mahatma Gandhi once said, “There is a higher court than courts of justice and that is the court of conscience. It supersedes all other courts.” Ghandhi was wrong. There is the court of heaven whose laws are written in the scripture. There’s no higher court than God’s; it supersedes the conscience. If we trust our conscience without inspecting it by the light of God’s word, then we’re closer to Gandhi in our view of the conscience than we are the Lord Jesus.

So those asking questions of conscience have a correct concern. We all just need to keep pressing into the scripture for the answers rather than the conscience alone.

I’m interested in thinking out loud about a dilemma most Christians feel they’re in with this election: who to vote for or whether to vote at all. I’m going to write passionately. How can I not? But you take responsibility for thinking actively about this and making your own decision. I’m trying to share how I land where I do today (might be different tomorrow).

For personal context, you have to consider my argument over the past several years. I’ve argued on principled grounds that I could not vote for anyone in the last couple of presidential elections because I found their moral positions on vital issues unconscionable. In addition to my own principle, I found historical support in the likes of W.E.B. DuBois and others. The key question then, as now, is: “Why are you voting the way you are?”

For some people it’s a simple matter of disgust or repulsion with one candidate or the other. You sometimes hear that phrased as “the lesser of two evils.” This election more than any other that I can remember has many Christians seeing with perhaps equal clarity the evil of both options. Many, as I would have for the past decade or more, are opting to sit this one out.

So what’s changed for me? Or, to ask again the key question, “Why am I voting the way I am?” I’ll answer this question by considering three either/or statements attending this election.

Stalin or Hitler?

A good number of people liken the choice between Clinton and Trump to a choice between Stalin or Hitler. Some argue there is no lesser evil–only evil. For some, it’s the first time an election season has brought them to that conclusion. Again, for context, I’ve been there for some time. I’m no party loyalist. I think the Dem’s and the Rep’s both have been selling their constituencies a mess of porridge for a long time. But now, the slick marketing and colorful wrappers have fallen off. We’re staring directly at the contents of a rather ugly soup–whichever you choose.

But here’s what we know about both Stalin and Hitler. They both stampeded through their countries and neighboring countries destroying lives. If we’re not just being hyperbolic with the comparison, but we truly believe ours is a choice tantamount in our context to Stalin or Hitler, then the question is, How do you defeat them both? Both. Neither should rule. Either is bad for everyone.

Honestly, I don’t know how you defeat them both. If there were a viable third party candidate, I’d quickly vote for them. I’m stressing “viable” not as a means of simply lapsing into some party loyalty. Remember: I have none. I’m stressing “viable” because I think the threat of either candidate is real. I’m not using the Stalin or Hitler comparison to simply be provocative. I’m taking it seriously (if rhetorically) and taking it seriously means I can’t sit on the fence this time. For me, compelled by the brutal realities, I now have to act, play my part as an individual citizen. I have to vote. And, regrettably, unless there’s a third party tsunami, which I’d happily ride, I have to vote for either Clinton or Trump because one of them will win. While writing in and third party has the appeal of offering some protest, some symbolic demonstration, it doesn’t mean jack when it comes to who will be Commander-in-Chief for the next four years. It has little value for at least limiting the evil that will result.

I feel the need to cast a vote–a vote against someone. I respect others who differ.

A Troubled or Quiet Conscience?

Some have written to ask, “Doesn’t this cause you problems of conscience?” Or, they put it affirmatively, “You’re going against your conscience.”

I appreciate the concern. The honest reply is, “Yes. I have matters of conscience to attend. And I am.”

But let me hasten to add a couple of things. I don’t think the goal right now is merely a quiet conscience. I don’t see how such a goal can be met without abdicating a significant moral responsibility to oppose evil. It’s not enough to say, “I had no part in the evil.” We must actually resist the evil as best we can. We’re in that Bonhoeffer-like moment where we can choose peaceful exile in some Evangelical enclave or enter the fray bearing our cross. If we choose exile, like Bonhoeffer, we’ll have no right to participate in our Germany after Hitler. If we choose to bear our cross, we’ll have the right now and later to testify to what’s right in the sight of God.

Which brings me to a second point. If a person can sit by peaceably while evil progresses, then they have a conscience problem of a different sort. It’s not the problem of seeming to actively support some evil by a vote, it’s the problem of a dull conscience that ignores evil. To seek a quiet conscience by not voting seems to me an abdication of moral responsibility. Better is voting third party or writing in. But they’re better in a marginal sense with little potential for abating the present evils. I’m choosing the troubled conscience that engages over the quiet conscience that abdicates.

We must enter the fight with the tools we have, with our consciences either afflicted or comforted by the word of God. Personally, I feel more trouble of conscience in acquiescing to a political quietism given the choices than I do in voting against someone.

Status Quo or Revolution?

To summarize: I think the evil is real. Consequently, my conscience is aroused and I feel obligated to act in a way that attenuates the evil–in this case, vote. That leaves one question: Who to vote for?

At this point, assuming Trump and Clinton are my only options, I’d vote for Clinton. Okay… take a deep breath. Count to ten. Pray.

Here’s why: I prefer the predictable over the unpredictable. Whatever we might call Clinton, however we might evaluate her as a leader or her platform as a vision for America, we could say more or less the exact same things about Trump–with one glaring exception. We have no way of predicting Trump’s behavior from one hour to the next. None. Except to predict that the behavior will be vile and repulsive for any person who cares about civility, truth, and the dignity of the office.

Neither candidate represents any of my values. That’s just not on offer to any Christian of serious biblical intent. But Clinton represents the status quo, a steady state of affairs in that regard. Trump is the revolutionary, the rebel it seems without a clear cause. His prescriptions are not only draconian but also erratic. When I add the loathsome race-baiting, the misogynistic views of women, the isolationist foreign policy notions, the equivocating on abortion, the advocating of war crimes and escalation of conflict even with allies, I’m left looking at a revolutionary that would cast us in sentiment and law back to the 1940s at least. Or, to put it in the terms often used (which I don’t personally prefer), I regard a President Trump the worse of the two evils before us–and worse in a way that I cannot predict and on issues that there’s been so much blood shed over already (i.e., the rights of minorities, women, and the religious). I’d vote for the incrementalist over the revolutionary. For revolutions almost never lead to progress.

To be clear: Voting against Trump by checking Clinton does nothing to advance any of the issues I care about. So this is not a vote for Clinton or her platform. This is not an endorsement as some so ardently want to suggest. It’s one man’s vote for the status quo rather than the self-styled “outsider” whose first step in potentially destroying the country is destroying his party.

What About a Third Party?

Finally, let me think out loud about our present predicament with having no third-party candidate. Why is that?

Well, it’s at least due to our allegiance to the two-party system. Americans are sold real hard on the notion that there are only two parties in this democracy; everyone else shouldn’t be taken seriously.

But for Christians, I think there’s another reason. We’ve not taken seriously enough the dignity and necessity of public service as a vocation. And we’ve not discipled people for public service with nearly the kind of prayer and effectiveness the country needs. Why don’t we have a slew of serious Christians available for the highest office in the land? Why is principle in so short supply? Perhaps it’s because the Christian Church–especially the Evangelical Church–has sought to cozy up with Caesar in the hopes of currying his favor rather than oust Caesar in hopes of replacing him in selfless and sacrificial service.

I don’t mean that pastors should leave their pulpits for this demotion. But I suspect more individual Christians need to be discipled to follow Christ into this sphere instead of left to be discipled by the two-party system. It strikes me that an awful lot of the professing Christians in politics wear their faith as a selling point for their constituencies while they really tout Dem or Rep party lines. Few are the servants who tout Christ and have the scriptures shape their platforms. Consequently, we have Christians on both sides of the aisle blindly and uncritically equating their party’s platforms and ethics with Jesus himself. Meanwhile, many others tremble before the world, yelling, “We don’t want a pastor-in-chief but a commander-in-chief” (you see how that worked for Israel in 1 Sam. 8). All the while we risk betraying our Lord, ourselves, and our country.

Conclusion

To be clear about one more thing: I’m in no way putting hope in any candidate, in our election process, or any other election. My hope is firmly in Jesus Christ my Lord. He is my Master and I am His servant. I don’t judge His other servants in this matter and I don’t even judge myself. To Him will I stand or fall–and I’m trusting Him to make me stand. I know Who I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep me in this present evil age and keep me until that Day.

Again, none of this is written to aggravate anyone’s flesh or to create dissension between brethren. If that’s you, then please go elsewhere. And don’t act wounded if your comment gets deleted or you get blocked. Ain’t nobody got time for trolls. Otherwise, feel free to think out loud with me and others that we might help one another arrive at faithful conclusions for our time, this politically desperate time.

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Note: The views expressed here are my own. They do not express or intend to represent the views of Anacostia River Church or any of its members.

My honest truth? When it comes to so-called “racial reconciliation” or just plain living out the faith in its intra-ethnic dimensions, these days I’m quite exhausted and usually thinking about ways to check out. That’s been the case for the last two years. It’s not hard to imagine why.

And just when I’m thinking of folding up the tent and moving on to some other more isolated, less diverse spot to camp, the Lord sends encouragement. Not encouragement to go, but encouragement to endure. A gentle reminder that He is there, doing His work all along, achieving reconciliation in far flung places. And that’s the thing: I (we?) tend to think it’s not happening if it’s not happening with me (us?) right where we are. I’m seldom actively thinking it’s happening somewhere else, where I’m not, with people I can’t see. Then the encouragement comes.

Today I received the following letter from Peter in, of all places, Alaska. I don’t receive letters like this often–just often enough to keep praying and pushing. They don’t arrive weekly or even monthly. But they do come in time, on time. And I’m reminded that God works things out where we’re not looking, behind our backs, for His glory.

So, with his permission in the P.S., I’m posting this (a) because Peter specifically mentions a number of people we should appreciate, (b) because perhaps you need encouragement too, and (c) perhaps his example might help others own their own stories, diversify their friendships, and confess to the glory of God. While I’m hopeful, this is what I pray. Tomorrow I might be less hopeful and I’ll have this here to read again.

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Thabiti,

Allow me to introduce myself and hopefully give you a little bit of context for the rest of this note:

My name is Pete Doner. I’ll be thirty years old this summer, and my wife and I will celebrate six years of marriage. We are expecting our third child any day now, which is part of why I’m at home writing instead of at work. I’m a self-employed carpenter, with the most of my time spent framing houses. My family lives in Wasilla, Alaska. We are members of Wasilla Bible Church–a congregation that was briefly made famous by Sarah Palin’s occasional attendance. 

If every fact I’ve given you and my manner itself hasn’t already made this obvious: my wife and I are white. We also both belong very much to Jesus, and we love his Church. 

I first heard your talk “The Decline of African American Theology” via a TGC podcast in the spring of 2012. I was impressed with your courage, and I was fascinated by the history of African-American theology–something I knew nothing about. But more than anything I felt a flood of relief as I heard you speak. Deep down inside me was the inarticulated fear that the reformation truths that grip me and have shaped my life were only part of my white cultural heritage. Its embarrassing to confess that I used to feel that way- I know its an ignorant view. But hearing you, with your obviously black name, express love for biblical theology in your obviously black voice, encouraged me deeply. In pointing to a rich heritage of black theologians who submitted joyfully to the authority of scripture you silenced a lot of my fears.

That was the first in a chain of events that led me to think about black/white/Jesus issues more than before. Next, John Piper posted something online about Lecrae, who I had barely heard of. I might be the only person on the planet who became a hip-hop listener because of John Piper. But over the last few years Lecrae, Propaganda, Shai Linne, Jackie Hill Perry and others have become some of my very favorite artists, and voices that God has used to convict and encourage me.

I hope I can describe some of the irony here. I don’t know if its possible to look racist, but I might. I’m tall and skinny, with short blond hair and blue eyes, and my clothes reflect my occupation (I wear a beard, flannel, plaid and boots in a non-hiptser way). Whenever I encounter someone who is brown or black I feel obligated to smile extra and hope they take a second look at my tattoos and see that they are inspired by Jesus and my wife, not Adolf Hitler. I am an avid hunter and skier. The Johnny Cash in my iTunes library isn’t going to surprise anyone, but the growing library of hip-hop made by Christians would probably surprise an observer trying to figure me out. 

Having all these black voices in my thought life has been disruptive to my accustomed habits of speech and thought. After saying something racially charged around my white friends (and I only have white friends because I live in Wasilla, Alaska) I have found myself wondering how that would make Thabiti or Propaganda feel if either of you had been in the room. A couple of times I’ve heard white guys say offensive stuff about black people, and I felt compelled to speak up (really clumsily as it turns out) on behalf of these black believers I’ve come to love and respect.

Along with this shift in my thinking the Holy Spirit has convicted me that I’m guilty of racial partiality, and while its a dirty and complicated word, I’ll just call it racism. It’s not a racism that makes me Donald-Trump-offensive, but for a long time it allowed me to be more angry about black/white conflict than I was grieved. I was angrier about Michael Brown apparently roughing up a convenience store clerk more than I was grieved for his family and community. I was angrier about riots in Baltimore more that I was grieved about the poverty and pitiable condition  of the rioters. I don’t think it is wrong to be angry about violent or rude behavior from people of any color, but I’ve felt convicted that my anger should be dwarfed by real Christian grief and desire for reconciliation. Along with that, I’m looking for ways that I can take part in reconciliation with my words and my work.

Thabiti, God is using you and other black Christians to prod me out of sin and pull me into better obedience. Thank you for that! I’ve been writing this rambling note in the back of my mind for a few months now, since I saw some crazy white dude accuse you on social media of being some sort of secret abortion supporter. I think I felt the Holy Spirit nudge me that maybe I should try and reach out, that maybe a word of thanks, confession and support from a culturally distant brother in Christ like myself might be of value.

God bless!

Pete Doner

PS: I’m sending this to you privately, but its also an open letter. Here’s what I mean: If I’m rambling, or this is the sixth letter like this this month that you have received, or if I’ve accidentally  been offensive I am content with privacy. But I don’t want you to feel for a second like my appreciation for you or my repentance from sin is something I’m embarrassed to say publicly. This letter is yours to share anyway you want. If you think I should, I’ll post it on my blog where all eleven of my readers can see it. (Mostly, my blog is read by my extended family, I’m not exactly Tim Challies.)

Many of us writers struggle to write beautifully about beautiful things. Our words fall lifeless like stones. Our imaginations mist and evaporate. We look drop-jawed at stunning wonders, feeling the ineffable sense of the thing. But when we speak or write, by comparison, we’re crude and clumsy.

That’s how I feel about most evangelical grappling with complementarity. To be clear, I can’t do much better. I’m as clumsy and skill-less as the next guy. And it is usually guys with this problem. We talk about “muscular”-this and “testosterone”-that. We write as if we’re in a musty males-only weight room surrounded by wannabe body builders who grunt, yell, and throw the weight around as if volume and recklessness create muscle. But when complementarian women celebrate gender and roles, they manage the beautiful much more thoroughly.

Perhaps we men should be quiet for a while. I know we’re to lead, and here’s an area to lead in, too. But we shouldn’t lead if we don’t know what we’re talking about or how to talk about an area. Then we should learn and then learn to speak or write in a manner that’s worthy of the calling. We want to learn to talk about complementarity (which is to say, people) in ways that portray the subject as beautifully as it (they) must exist in God’s mind. Seems that should be our goal.

Splashing Too Far Down Stream

Here’s where I think we go wrong: We begin in the wrong place. Often the conversations begin with questions about “what a woman can do” or defenses of “male headship.” Those are appropriate and necessary and beautiful conversations in their place. But getting them in their place seems to be a thorny problem. These subjects are necessary but they’re downstream. And if we broach these subjects downstream with all the tranquility-disrupting water-displacing splash of used tires illegally tossed in, then we can’t be surprised that we find ourselves unsettled and seemingly always embattled.

As I survey recent offerings across the spectrum, it seems to me that much of the discussion turns institutional too quickly. And when the conversation turns institutional–whether home or family–we’re quickly into power-related questions and struggles. There’s nothing beautiful about scrapes over power, even if we use more palatable terms like “authority.” Our favorite and biblical terms can themselves be freighted with worldly and sub-Christian meanings, with ugly images that defy the beautiful ideal we see.

A related problem is that the conversation turns pragmatic too quickly. We’re trying to have “walk it out” conversations before we first enjoy the thing itself. I am a man. It’s an indicative that proceeds the imperative to “act like men.” So it is for our sisters, too. I suspect a deeper embrace of simply being male or female–enjoying the being with less self-consciousness–might change the conversations about doing it. And I suspect there are no shortage of persons in our congregations who are struggling at the level of being long before they come to the doing, for whom narrowly rigid instruction about the doing only adds anxiety about being. This is not an issue where you can “fake it until you make it.”

I know, of course, that a lot of writing is aimed at defining what it is to be male or female. But when we’re done writing and reading those pieces, how often are we left enjoying being male and female? That, I think, is a useful litmus test for how we write and speak about this beautiful reality.

Or, are we left feeling as if we’re trying on pants two sizes too small: hopping, pulling and shimmying our thighs through increasingly narrow pant legs, losing balance, catching ourselves on dressing room walls, taking deep hold-it-in breaths to stuff our mid-sections behind a wall of denim not shaped for us, and wrestling the top button into a little recalcitrant slit with strenuously trembling arms? (Men: stop wearing skinny jeans!) If putting on complementarity feels that way, it may be an indication that we need an understanding of complementarity–at least its practice–that comes in different sizes for different shapes. For there is no one way to be a faithful man or woman, or no one way to faithfully play out the roles of husband and wife, or no one way to involve women in the service of the church. There is in all of this a particularity, a considering of the specific wife or husband, man or woman, local church, that must not be lost.

Swimming Back Up Stream

Perhaps some of our difficulties with writing beautifully stem from an imbalance in emphasis. As we root our understanding of gender and roles in the creation account, perhaps we might be wise to revisit there a missional purpose for gender. First comes the imago Dei–in His image and likeness He made them (Gen. 1:26a). Second comes dominion–to rule over all creation as stewards (Gen. 1:26b). Third comes the explanation–male and female He created them (Gen. 1:27). If there’s any significance to the order here, it must mean something along the lines of:

1. Woman is not an after-thought in the mind of God, but she bears her Creator’s image and likeness from the start and as fully as man.

2. Woman is not warming the bench in God’s mission, but has an appropriate role to play in exercising dominion as a woman who was not an after-thought in the mind of God.

3. Woman is not the same thing or interchangeable with man, but equal and different, complementary yet unique in both displaying God’s image and likeness and in dominion over creation.

If we spend all our time on some version of the third point, we’ll be in danger of not fully embracing and working out the first two. The so-called creation mandate falls on male and female differently, but also together. It works itself out in one way in the home, but another among persons not married. So our view of gender and roles has to adequately conceive of and celebrate being men and women apart from marriage. For there’s something beautiful about each gender that needs plumbing, exploring, discovering and celebrating over and over again in each generation. Perhaps if we begin where the texts begin we’ll find more shining, glimmering, overflowing trunks of treasure through which we can run our fingers as we laugh with delight in the discovery.

Conclusion

Anyway, I’m not so much concerned in this post about finer points of doctrine here. I’m concerned about how we speak of this beautiful reality. And I suspect how we speak has a lot to do with what drives us to the discussion in the first place. If it’s power that drives us, then we’ll be essentially brutal in our discourse. If it’s flourishing, we’ll find elegant and alluring ways of depicting this ineffable and wonderful reality. We might also find ways of looking at other complementarians who differ in practice without speaking of them harshly, roughly or suspiciously.

Last night I tuned in to the Democratic primary debate between Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton and Senator Bernie Sanders. It’s the first Democratic debate I’ve watched during this election season. After watching a couple of big tent circus acts called the Republican debate, it was refreshing to actually see two accomplished leaders in our country spar over ideas.

Granted, Clinton and Sanders share the same basic world and life view. Consequently, their debate was within a shared framework. But the exchange included very direct questions from the moderator and panel of questioners as well as some substantive policy discussion. It was far more than I’ve seen elsewhere.

Among the things that stood out to me were the direct questions about religious faith. An audience member asked Senator Sanders whether God was relevant in his view. The same questioner asked Secretary Clinton if she prayed and to whom she prayed. Frankly, the answers were lackluster.

This morning I’m more concerned about what such questions suggest about those of us who ask them and the place of such questions in our political discourse. Here are three such concerns:

1. The questions encourage hypocrisy.

As I think about it, Sanders and Clinton (any candidate) asked about their religious faith are tempted to hypocrisy. How do you answer that question in a way that presents yourself honestly and avoid offending significant swaths of the American voting public? The politician feels a responsibility for not offending people. They are, after all, seeking to be public servants.

But we live in such a polarized time—including religious polarization—that a non-offending reply is nearly impossible. Even evasions of the sort we saw last night will no doubt leave some a little chafed. I felt for Clinton and Sanders. Neither candidate ran on a “religious platform” or openly offered themselves as exemplars of some religious tradition. Yet they were giving an account for questions and realities they may have thought very little about or may have not resolved with any conviction. In the country’s largest “fear of man festival” the allure of hypocrisy must be tremendous. The worst thing they could do is answer well, save the answer as a talking point if asked later, and go on feeling like a debate success but having none of the power of godliness that saves. And, we religious folks then receive precisely what we’ve fomented with our questions: hypocrisy in the highest office.

2. The questions politicize the faith.

I believe people of faith belong in the public square. I believe they must bring their faith with them if they’re going to be people of integrity. And I believe religion—not just spirituality, but good old-fashioned religion—has a lot to offer in the way of public goods. Sanders said as much when he attributed Christianity’s neighbor love ethic to all religions. Forgetting for a moment that the ethic is really only found in a pronounced way in Christianity, Sanders was laying claim to a public good—a religious public good.

But when a candidate is asked about their faith or the “relevance of God,” they’re being asked a political question. At that point, Christianity (or any religion) becomes a weapon, a tribal spear designed to pierce the body politic. The very asking tears asunder. Candidates either speak the shibboleth and enter the tribe (so it seems; remember the hypocrisy), or they fail the test and are denied entry. And what have we done to our religion? We’ve sullied it with the smut of “political tricks” and “sound bites.” We’ve reduced what’s big, glorious, weighty and transcendent to the small, petty and sometimes ridiculous. Christianity shouldn’t be politicized even though it teaches principles necessary to godly political behavior.

3. It suggests a religious test for public office.

My good brother Kevin Smith tweeted this to me following the religious questions posed last night:

@ThabitiAnyabwil "but no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under the United States."Hmm

— Kevin Smith (@smithbaptist) March 7, 2016

Of course Kevin is correct. We have no religious test for public office in this country and that’s a good thing. The framers understood what tyranny could result in a country that politicized religion to the point of litmus testing. They also understood that being a person of religious faith does not ipso facto make you a worthy public servant. Perhaps it would be no surprise at all to the framers that the people who seem to have forgotten this lesson are religious folks themselves. In an election season where at least one primary candidate promises to “extend” the rules on torture and another is being dubbed “God’s choice” for the presidency, we’re probably wise not to give them added religious zeal and approval.

Now, I know simply asking the question doesn’t establish a formal religious test. But I also know that informal practices, cultural ways of being, have a sneaky way of becoming de facto law before they become formal law.

So, all this to say: Let those of us who love the Lord and the faith be careful about how we engage candidates about their personal faith. If we hope to reach them, we probably don’t want them thinking we only care about these questions as political points or religious tests. And we probably don’t want them skilled at being hypocrites when and if we do get to talk with them.

But mention “justice” and that wall of evangelical troops splits like the Red Sea and turns against itself. Men who worked as fellow combatants in the traditional “culture war” begin to suspect and even attack one another when “justice” becomes the topic.

Case in point: My brother in Christ, Phil Johnson, had this to say of me recently on his Facebook feed:

So, according to Phil, I’m now “an agitator for the radical left #BlackLivesMatter movement.” And, apparently, I’m no longing “arguing for a more biblical, gospel-centered approach to ministry.” If I understand this correctly, I’m the one now suffering “mission drift,” one swept so powerfully to the left that the Bible and gospel have lost its center in my ministry.

So much could be said here. But I don’t want to risk saying more than I ought to say. I want to say only what needs to be said. The lines that follow are meant to be crisp so that I don’t sin in saying too much. They’re not meant to be curt or clipped as if to communicate anger or personal animus. Until this, I’ve never had anything but pleasant interactions with Phil. I hope such pleasantry continues, but his Facebook post needs reply. Here goes:

1. “Justice” and justice in its “social” implications are biblical terms and ideas. To the extent that Phil (or anyone) rejects “social justice,” then they’re rejecting the Bible. Not me. From the OT prophets, to provisions in the Law, to the ethical teaching of our Lord, the Bible is replete with calls to justice socially concerned and God regularly chastises His people for failing to establish it. Some of my evangelical friends have a curious way of ignoring those texts and any application of them to things other than homosexuality, gay “marriage,” religious freedom, or abortion. All of those are justice issues with social implications requiring a biblical address. But they simply are not all the issues the Bible would have us address in the pursuit of justice. So, I’m eager that we not give “justice” or “social justice” over to the “left.” Those are Bible words and ideas that Bible believers ought and need to consider deeply.

2. Everyone should know that the “agitator” language Phil uses here has an ugly history that Phil probably does not mean. Dr. King was called an “agitator.” Frederick Douglass was called an “agitator.” In fact, nearly every African American that’s ever stood up for African Americans has been called, usually by white racists–and sometimes scared African Americans, an “agitator.” It’s not a good look on professing Christians who should disavow the racist past and work harder to use terms free from that taint. To be clear: I am most decidedly NOT suggesting that Phil Johnson is a racist. I am saying he’s using a term here that in the historical context of struggle between Blacks and Whites was used regularly by White racists. In doing so, Phil, you’re provoking some things you may not be aware of and conjuring a history many people find problematic. Now, when we’re talking about justice, “agitator” should never be a dirty word. It’s what people of conscience should do–whether the issue is abortion and gay marriage (see all those agitators using their constitutional rights to carry signs and protest) or the issue is police mistreatment of unarmed civilians. If you want to talk, let’s talk about the issue and drop the coded and freighted language associated by many with a racist past and not used today of others similarly using their right to speak out and protest about justice issues they care about. We can talk without the name calling, especially the names that some of us hear in association with racists. We’re better than that.

3. I support #BlackLivesMatter as a matter of principle and I support people’s rights to say so. For nearly two years now, some evangelical friends have acted as if to say my life, my son’s life, the lives of all Black people matter is tantamount to saying that the lives of others don’t matter and is racist towards whites. Interestingly, many of those people can’t seem to bring themselves to even utter the phrase. They can’t bring themselves to say publicly, in principle, “Black lives matter.” And, beloved, there is a world of difference between affirming that principle and offering anything that looks like institutional support for some website or some particular organization. I support the principle. I think it’s incontrovertible. I don’t think it should be difficult for any reasonable person to utter or hashtag. If Genesis 1 is true (and it is), then “Black lives matter” is also true because God made us in His image and likeness. People who cannot or, better, refuse to distinguish between fellow Christians who hold the principle and people who are not yet Christians who may tout a variety of things Christians never would fail to extend Christian charity or the benefit of the doubt. They carry on a political and polemical conversation when many of their Christian brothers are having a principled one. I should point out, a biblical and gospel-centered principled conversation. Which is what makes Johnson’s assertion to the contrary so problematic for Johnson and many white evangelicals who perhaps assume his view. They don’t hear the Bible or a foundational doctrinal aspect of the gospel when they hear their fellow Christians say, “Black lives matter.” Brothers, the imago Dei is bound up with that statement for your brothers and sisters of darker hue.

4. Finally, the Thabiti of 2010 is the same Thabiti in 2016. Johnson links to my T4G sermon wherein I was asked to give a biblical theology of “race.” I stand behind that talk and wouldn’t change much of anything in it–except to add more strongly some words that prevent people from doing precisely what Phil seems to do with it here. If you watch the panel discussion in follow up to this talk, I think I state again and more clearly that nothing in the talk should be understood as denying the reality of racism. So while “race” is a pseudo-scientific, theological, historical and social fiction, racism is very real. Some conservatives want to make the former a denial of the latter. I never did that, said that, or believed that. Then or now. Really what should happen is Phil should take a listen to the sermon and the panel and read a host of things I’ve blogged since and understand there’s no contradiction. In fact, I think it’s imperative that everyone understand what’s argued so powerfully in Racecraft: It is racism that gave us the false doctrine of “race.” We only talk about “race” because of the racist past that erected it as a theory for the supremacy or inferiority of “races.” But evangelicals have done so little theology and reflection on race and racism that they’re unable and at points unwilling to work through this truth. There’s so much “white guilt” and “white denial” that some seize upon “race doesn’t exist” as an assertion that racism and it’s concomitant problems doesn’t exist either. That’s a dangerous mistake that imperils good will between whites and blacks and even threatens unity among white and black Christians.

So, Phil, I got nothing but love for you, your ministry, and your consistent fight for theological truths that I share and cherish. Keep fighting the good fight, brother. But I’m not your enemy. Even if we disagree about some of the current cultural skirmishes and problems, I’m not your enemy. If you ever want to talk/write (privately or publicly) like brothers through our differences, I think over the years I’ve proven I’m open to that. You even have close friends who have done that with me from time to time on these very topics. We’re capable of better representing each other–even in disagreement–than you did with your Facebook post. In fact, I think your Facebook post demonstrates that you need to talk to someone about some things you’re clearly not understanding–both about others and perhaps about your own rhetoric and position. Not to get too far ahead in the calendar, but next year, Lord willing, The Front Porch hopes to host a conference themed “Just Gospel” on these very issues. More to come later. You’d be welcome and I think you’d be helped.

The Lord bless you and keep you, brother.

But I’m okay with being older. I enjoy it. I’ve aged out of most trends. I’m settled in life and career, so I don’t have to muscle my way through the ever-changing contexts and challenges many younger people face. And every once in a while I can just do what I want without explaining it to anybody. They look at me and think, “Well, he’s old. Leave him alone.”

It’s not so bad getting older. One other benefit is you’ve hopefully learned one or two things that might be valuable to those coming behind you. Not earth-shaking, new and novel things. But, well, “old” things that have enduring value. From time to time, someone younger asks you for those nuggets they call “wisdom” but you call “life.” Like the other day. A very enthusiastic young man emailed to ask me questions about how to balance life and ministry and how to fit in things like rest and reading. I’m old enough to get emails like that fairly often. So, on the off chance it might be helpful to others, here’s an email I sent to a young pastor trying to find balance to do it all in his family and ministry. This old man hopes it helps.

————————–

Dear Young Minister,

I pray you’re well, brother. CONGRATULATIONS on the new role there at the church! I pray the Lord gives you grace and favor in all of your callings: Christian disciple, husband, and now pastor.

Thank you for the great questions and for the opportunity to speak into your ministry there. I’m not sure I have profound wisdom for you, but perhaps these basic thoughts might be helpful. Feel free to write back with follow-up questions.

1. Don’t Build a Culture of Discipleship

Instead, build relationships with as many people as you can in the church. You’re not engaged in a project. You’re called to simply encourage people in their walk toward heaven with Christ. If you task yourself with building a “culture of discipleship,” which sounds really huge and vague at the same time, you put a lot of pressure on yourself and the church. Remember, a church is a family. What’s critical is relationship. As a new, young pastor, build relationships. That will give you context for delivering meaningful encouragement to folks.

2. Don’t Balance Your Life

“Balance” is a real trap and myth. I’m not saying you should commit to a life of overwork. I’m saying that priorities is a better principle for ordering your life than balance. Plus, the priorities are set for you in the scripture. Put things in order:

* God first

* Your wife second

* Your children third

* Your ministry fourth

Keep that order and you’ll also find that the priorities have a way of pushing blessings down through each level. If you keep a close walk with the Lord, that tends to bless your relationship with your wife. If you love your wife well, that will spill over into the entire family. If you care for your family well, then you will be both qualified for and a blessing in your ministry.

This, of course, means you have to say “no” to many very good things in order to say “yes” to the best things. Which, by the way, is one of the things pastors need to model for their people. Live this set of priorities as graciously and consistently as you can and I think you’ll achieve what most people mean when they say “balance.”

3. Rest Before You Get Tired

Burnout rates in ministry are very high because not only is caring for people demanding but also because many people make the mistake of thinking they’re “on” 24-7. Don’t let yourself begin to live and act as if you cannot or should not limit the amount of time and energy that you give to your fourth priority (ministry). Here are some thoughts on resting before you get tired:

* Every Monday morning, or maybe Sunday evening, spend an hour or two with your wife planning and reviewing the weeks ahead. Plan the nights you’ll have people over and the nights you’ll keep for just your family. Coordinate the drop off of kids (if you have any) at school or kids’ programs. Use this time to really partner and plan your life together.

* Keep your work days to 8-9 hours. There will be plenty of days when you will have a late evening or an early start. Flex your time if your pastors will allow you. You’re helped to do this if you implement the first bullet above. And don’t feel guilty if on Tuesday you’re going to have to work 12 hours and on Wednesday you work 4. You’re not cheating the ministry. You’re honoring your family and pacing yourself for the long haul.

* Plan and take your vacations. Americans are terrible at this. We don’t vacate until we’re nearly dead. It’s better to take your vacations across the year, perhaps piggy-backing some holidays to get a bit more bang for your vacation buck.

* As much as possible, rest when the rest of the world rests. If you can take Saturdays off, take them off so you can be with your family and rest when others do. Work Monday-Friday if you can. There are holidays when you have to work while others are off (Christmas, Easter, etc). But on other holidays, get out of town, turn off your social media, and rest like everyone else.

So, plan your rest and rest as planned. Rest before you get tired. You won’t regret it—neither will your people since you’ll have energy and life to serve them.

4. Making Disciples

As for discipling others, my approach is built on a few simple things:

* Books—I read them and I give them out. Think about the books that have blessed you most and read them with other people. You’ve already read it, so it doesn’t require a great deal of prep from you. Plus you get to give a part of yourself to your people, which helps strengthen the relationship with them. A couple good books read with a handful of people each year will bless the congregation greatly. Over time it’ll change people’s reading habits and preferences as you put good titles in their hands. Of course, use your Bible at every turn.

* Meals—breakfast, lunch and dinner are wonderful times to get with people in a meaningful, loving context. Practice table fellowship. Don’t over plan the time.  Go with a couple meaningful questions you want to ask, but leave space to just talk about both spiritual and everyday things. Lots of life happens over a meal.

* Listening—Most of the ministry you do in people’s lives happens as a consequence of asking a few good questions and listening a great deal. Learn to listen. Refuse the pressure to have all the answers. Be Socratic in your method and people will feel heard and will often talk themselves into the solutions they need. As you listen to more and more people in your congregation, you’ll get to know your church very well. That’ll help in everything from knowing how to apply the word in preaching to your people, to knowing how to pray for the growth of the church, to standing in the gap as an intercessor against the besetting sins of the saints. 

I hope something here is helpful. Feel free to follow up. But one last thing: I’m happy to encourage you and share a word from time to time. But it’s most important that you have these conversations with your pastors there. They may not have all the answers, but part of the joy of ministry is discovering some answers together in your own context.

5. On Reading:

My current reading habits are all over the place. I’m finding life as a planter a bit different than life in an established church. When I was in Cayman in an established church, my schedule looked like this:

Mondays — planning for the week, administrative tasks, meetings, counseling.

Tuesdays — reading and writing

Wednesdays — 9-12: preparation for Wednesday night Bible study; 1-5: meetings, counseling, etc.

Thursdays and Fridays — sermon prep

Saturdays and Sundays — days off

As for what to read, I tend to read things in about three categories:

1. Enjoyment—just things I’m interested to read in any given time. Could be fiction, history, theology, whatever.

2. Ministry—things that I need to understand or know in order to do the work. Could be something on a counseling issue, a theological issue the elders are thinking through, or a practical thing that helps with the work.

3. Discipleship—mine and others. I read things that help me grow in a specific area or that I’m reading with others to help them grow.

How much do I read in a given week? I really don’t know. It varies. I’ve never tried to tally it. There’s a general sense of always reading, but no quota I’m trying to hit. I guess reading is just a part of my and my family’s life.

Influential titles:

1. Knowing God by J.I. Packer

2. The Christian Ministry by Charles Bridges

3. Sensing Jesus by Zack Eswine

4. The Trellis and the Vine by Colin Marshall and Tony Payne

5. Between Two Worlds by John Stott

Right now, Sensing Jesus is having the greatest impact on me. I highly recommend it—especially for a young man just beginning in ministry.

Much love and the Lord bless and keep you,

Thabiti

I’ve only felt a sense of calling this clearly and strongly on one other occasion. That’s when I first saw my wife and knew in an instant that I would marry her. A certainty something like that attends this call to be a part of the Anacostia River Church mission.

Two weeks ago, on Easter Sunday, the spiritual family of God called Anacostia River Church (ARC) launched its first public service. The service came with the swiftness of a flooded river. Before we knew it, we were busy about ordering supplies, organizing ministry teams, and “launching” a church. I don’t know who first coined the term “launch” when it comes to church “plants” (an interesting mixed metaphor), but they were onto something for we were jumping and flinging ourselves fully into the work! And what a joy it’s been!

People frequently ask me, “How’s the church plant going?” I’m grateful for the love and interest that prompts that query. But I’ve yet to find an adequate way of describing the great privilege I have of shepherding along with two incredibly gifted and godly elders, or the slight staggering I feel when I think of the amazing people the Lord has sent on this mission, or the awe at seeing how the Lord has provided for us at every turn, or the quickening happening in my soul as we work to evangelize the neighborhood. Starting a new church produces a lot of good fruit when the Lord blesses it!

But one thing amazes me more than any other. I don’t know why it amazes me so, but it does. It’s this: the number of people who pray for our efforts in southeast DC.

Now, I know Christians pray all the time and pray for all kinds of things. And I know a lot people who say, “I’m praying for you,” really mean “I wish you well” instead of actually praying. But that’s not what we’re encountering. God’s people are interceding for us and I’m convinced that’s why we’ve seen so much early blessing from the Lord.

Like the sister who approached me following a panel at TGC’s conference this week. She used to work in Anacostia. She feels passionately about the people there and she’s been praying for a gospel preaching church to start in the community for over five years. She wasn’t praying for me or Anacostia River Church by name, but her prayers called us into being.

She’s not alone. There’s Stephanie and Jayme and Jodi and Chelsea, who all work and live in the neighborhood and have for years prayed that the Lord might send the reign of the gospel. There are the many churches already serving the Lord in the neighborhood who in spiritual maturity and utter unselfishness have prayed that the Lord would send laborers into the harvest. The Lord collects all these prayers and we have been seeing His answers.

Then there is the legion of people who began to pray for the plant when they first heard public announcements about it. Over a hundred people receive one staff person’s prayer letter and they faithful pray. On Twitter, via email, in blog comments and bumping into them, they tell us they’re praying. Beau Hughes and the saints at The Village flooded us with notes as they prayed for us during their morning service. That’s one congregation among many who tell us they’re praying for us.

The outpouring of prayer simply amazes me. We walk in the wake of these pleas with God.

And can I be completely honest? It comes during a season when personally I’m finding it difficult to pray. There’s no struggle with sin, no major family problems to distract, no overscheduled diary squeezing out time—just old fashioned difficulty in prayer. I do pray. I like to pray. But it’s a fight right now.

How kind of the Lord to show me that His blessings are not limited to my petitions. And His work will have intercessors even as He uses people who need intercession. Reminds me of something the apostle Paul once wrote: “You also must help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many” (2 Cor. 10:11). That’s what’s happening with us.

I guess when people ask, “How’s the church plant going?” I should reply, “God’s people are praying for us!”

Thank you very much for your love expressed in prayer! Reminds me of a little song we sang in my mama’s church and in Black churches everywhere:

Somebody prayed for me | Had me on their mind | Took the time and prayed for me

I’m so glad they prayed | I’m so glad they prayed | I’m so glad they prayed for me

When my wife and I purchased our first home, I determined our lawn would be at least comparable to that lovely lush landscape of the guy two doors down. Our street took a lot of pride in curbside appeal. I joined them in the weekly ritual of weeding, seeding, planting, mowing, watering, raking, trimming and brimming with pride.

I spent a lot of time rooting shrubs and flowers, and sometimes digging up the roots of things that needed to go. I learned something valuable while bent over my spade, turning mulch, and worming my fingers into loam to find the extent of root balls: Only well-rooted plants survive, and sometimes that means roots must run deep.

That came home in a powerful way when someone gave me a cactus to plant. Actually, it wasn’t even a complete cactus, just a leaf. They told me it would grow anywhere and wouldn’t need much attention. So I stuck it in the dirt at the mailbox, the pretty white mailbox perched atop a white post with colorful tulips painted on its side. The cactus was meant to be the backdrop to the dancing colors of real tulips surrounding the post. Soon the cactus grew. The one leaf became two, then doubled again. Before I knew it the cactus had taken over the mailbox area, drinking up all the moisture and nutrients. My tulips drooped, faded and died.

Finally I decided to remove the cactus and replant the small bed around the mailbox. That’s when I discovered how deep and wide cactus roots run! That sprawling system of tentacles forced me to dig up a sizable section of the front yard curb area! After a couple weekends of toilsome digging and searching—and a couple of weekends of hard looks from neighbors—I dug up the cactus, roots and all, and started anew.

In the last couple of weeks we’ve gotten a good glimpse into the root system of racism. We thought we could stick the racists into the country’s past, next to a post marked “obsolete,” and gladly forget about it. But the roots of racism run deep. That’s why an entire police department and many others appear shot through with indications of that insidious root system. That’s why we’re now inundated with reports of municipal governments and court systems complying with police to raise revenue on the backs of African Americans. And that’s why we’re watching youtube videos of students on college campuses—both secular and Christian—engaging in acts that are at least stupid and insensitive and in some cases plainly racist.

The roots run deep, deeper than the natural eye can see, beneath the soil of our hearts, our cultures and our institutions.

We need to do some digging—especially Christians and Christian leaders. It’s necessary we take the shovels from our garages, put on our gardening gloves, and get to weeding.

Seems to me a few things need to be recognized perhaps more fully and even gladly than they have been.

1. Racism Is Alive and Well.

Greatly exaggerated were any reports of racism’s demise. That should be obvious now. But just a few short months ago a lot of people pressed back against claims of racism. They told us we could not know for certain if any racist motivation were a part of incidents like Ferguson or Staten Island or Cleveland. These were sad events, some said. But perhaps these were isolated incidents, not connected, almost random. Why cry “racism”?

Well, now we have a look at the roots, sprawling beneath the soil of assumed respectability and authority. Ferguson, Staten Island, Cleveland and an untold number of other places all share the same root system. They all manifest human depravity, and that depravity sometimes takes the form of racial animus.

For my part, the DOJ report on the Ferguson Police Department tells us quite plainly that the vital signs of racism are quite strong. The old man lives. And more than that, the DOJ report decisively proves the prevailing reality of institutional racism and systemic injustice. Those numbers do not lie and they cannot be explained away as chance. And when the statistics say African Americans were less likely to be guilty of the crimes for which they were stopped than white drivers, then appeals to black criminality won’t do either. Still further, Ferguson isn’t alone among Missouri towns in these practices. And Missouri isn’t alone among the states. There’s a piling mound of research evidence that shows the same thing in other places as well.

Sad to say, but racism is alive and well.

2. Racism Cavorts with Power.

Rarely does racism walk alone. She dances with power. Not just the raw, unlettered, erratic power of stereotypical toothless hillbillies who sometimes “have a few too many” and cause trouble for brown-skinned people while embarrassing the good white-skinned town folks.

No. Racism acts far more seductively than that. She prefers men in robes or suits or uniform. She rathers young people wearing the letters of fraternities, with power over who can and cannot join their organizations. Racism makes her deals in country clubs, once segregated by club rules, now segregated by club fees and culture. Racism likes smoky rooms with dark cherry paneling, where the makers of futures and cities like to laugh, back slap, and cut deals. She would marry power, but that’s too public and people would talk. So she continues as power’s mistress, the unseen influence that poisons his heart toward his wife, Justice.

We cannot have any discussion of power without suspecting that fallen human alienation along racial lines is at least a possibility.

3. Racist Contexts Cast Clouds Over Us.

The root system of racism spreads beneath all our feet. There are a lot of people in Ferguson who had no clue about what was going on in its police department. They were sympathetic toward police and trusting of authority. They couldn’t see the cactus draining water and nutrient from their community.

But the DOJ describes a pervasive corruption along racial lines. That corrupt context informed the attitudes and actions of some officers and it created racially misinformed impressions about African Americans (i.e., more likely transporting or selling drugs, less respectful of law, more criminal). The shooting of Mike Brown, the police reactions to protests, the kangaroo grand jury and the aftermath all occur in this context, under this burgeoning cloud of racist stereotype, mistreatment, frustration and anger. That cloud bust and everyone got wet.

If we don’t let the winds of justice blow then we cannot be surprised if cumulus clouds of racial hostility form overhead. And we shouldn’t be surprised when the rain comes and it’s toxic. We can’t let racism go unchallenged or it’ll come back to hurt everyone.

4. Frat Boys and Judges Have A Lot in Common.

Here’s another kindness from the Lord: On the heels of reading the DOJ report and perhaps beginning to think to ourselves, Those racists in Ferguson are terrible, the Lord shows us that our children and our brightest students can be just as terrible.

Judges go to college. They make good grades. They lead student organizations. Then they graduate and begin legal careers. Some of them run for office and make public policy. The students in Oklahoma University’s SAE grow up to be prosecutors and judges and city officials. And guess what: Sometimes such students attend Christian colleges and universities.

Perhaps the Lord is telling us that this racist root system gives rise to that Ivy and Kudzu crawling up academic towers. If any of us think we’re immune by virtue of education and class, we ought to be careful lest we fall. Education doesn’t eradicate racism any more than it eradicates any other sin. We need something more profound, that reaches farther down in the human soul.

5. Racism Destroys Lives.

This point isn’t to be forgotten. When we talk about Ferguson’s criminal justice system or systemic injustice generally, we’re talking about the weight of the State crushing citizens. We’re talking about everyday people being harassed, imprisoned, and further impoverished by a government that’s supposed to be “of the People by the People for the People.”

To put it plainly: These things kill Black people. Sometimes slowly. Sometimes suddenly. But it’s always deadly. It could be the death of long sentences or the death of bullets. It could be the lingering death of poverty and resource restriction or the infectious death of disease and few health options. But it’s death.

Things are better compared to, say, 1960—which is to say the overreaching hand of deadly oppression has been beaten back through long years of protest. But the owners of the hand are not happy about being pushed back. So the snarled hand of racism continues to overreach. And it kills what it touches. That’s why none of this is a game and none of this should be left to our favorite talking heads, whoever they are.

6. This Is a Christian Discipleship Issue as Much as a Social Justice Issue.

Tell me what you think, but I’ve come to the conclusion that the Christian Church desperately needs to be discipled regarding “race,” racism and justice. I once thought the most significant deficiency in Christian theology (at least in the West) was a deficiency in the theology of suffering. But I think there’s more ink used to help people with suffering than there is to help people think of themselves primarily as Christians and radically apply their new identity in Christ to fallen categories like “race” and insidious sins like racism.

It’s tragic that the country’s biggest sin is racism and the Church’s biggest omission is racial justice. The tragedy gets compounded when one remembers that some quarters of the Church were once the strongest supporters of this sin. That means we’re working our way out of a deficit. The roots of racism are tangled with our faith. And this means we can’t assume some neutral stance, being formally against this sin but practically uninvolved. The root keeps creeping. We had better be weeding the garden of our faith and growing one another up into the fullness of Christ with attention to this anti-Christ called “racism.”

Over and over the question I get from genuine and well-meaning Christians is, “How can I think about…?” Or, “What should I do about…?” Those are discipleship questions that desperately need answering in every local church—assuming we don’t want the roots of racism to find any soil in the body of Christ.

Conclusion

The roots of racism run deep and wide. They’re deeper than the outward actions of a self-professed racist. That’s surface mulch.

They’re deeper than the actions of an officer in a corrupt police force. That’s only the potted soil.

They’re deeper than police policy and institutional practices. They’re deeper than education. That’s the surrounding soil.

The roots of racism are as deep as the fallen soul. That’s bedrock.

We’re going to have to dig that deep to eradicate this poisonous root.

What’s good? It’s been a while since I’ve written. I’m sorry about that. I trust school and life are good on your end?

I came across video footage of another young man gunned down by officers on February 11th. He apparently threw a stone at an officer, for which he should have been subdued and arrested. But instead, the officers fired at him in a busy intersection, pursued him, and when he turned to surrender gunned him down. We learned from the Mike Brown incident that police are only justified in pursuing and using lethal force when their lives are in danger or the fleeing suspect is thought to pose significant harm to the public. Neither appears to be the case here. It’s an emotional scene.

Keep in mind this is not a dramatization; it’s real life. We live in an indescribable age–one where some officers of the law are caught on cell phone cameras slaying citizens they’re sworn to protect. Even citizens with disabilities who make no aggressive motion–as in this incident from a couple years back. Eight officers with a police dog fire 41 times at this young man, hitting him 14 times and killing him. Is there no officer among us wise enough to talk down a man like this or find a way to subdue him? It’s insane!

But whenever you raise the issue of ending police brutality or ending the mass incarceration of African Americans, you’re bound to run into a lot of people who quickly stress “black crime” as the main problem. They come armed with 2-3 statistics that they think buttress the legitimacy and efficacy of the criminal justice system.

Don’t be exhausted by these folks. Most are well meaning and they at least intend to base their position on some evidence. If they’re honest, they’re the folks you can have a good conversation with and the evidence gives you a good starting place free from a lot of the “noise” that comes with these discussions. Have those conversations as winsomely as you can and add some research that helps color in the picture with more details.

On that note, I came across something I thought you’d find helpful the inclosed pages from Michelle Alexander’s wonderful book, The New Jim Crow, might be helpful. Excuse all my highlights! I’m devouring this book. It’s so smoothly written and filled with a blend of true incidents, research and legal  perspectives that I find it difficult to put down! Read it if you haven’t. Give it to those who seem willing to consider another point of view. They will in turns be appalled at what’s going on in the name of “justice” and ashamed (as I have been) that their positions could have been so ill-informed.

I’m also including a little spending money. You shouldn’t be poor just because you’re a student! I know you agree

Much love,

Your uncle

“If the foundations are destroyed, what can the righteous do?” (Ps. 11:3)

That’s the haunting question the psalmist asks in light of Israel’s social deterioration. The psalmist lives in a time when the wicked under the cover of dark fire their arrows at the hearts of the righteous (11:2). It’s open season on the just.

The psalmist appears befuddled, overwhelmed with the extensive decay of society. So he asks poignantly, “what can the righteous do?” But as a person of faith, the psalmist places his hopes of righteousness beyond the reach of the wicked. He resolves:

⁴ The Lord is in his holy temple;
the Lord’s throne is in heaven;
his eyes see, his eyelids test the children of man.
⁵ The Lord tests the righteous,
but his soul hates the wicked and the one who loves violence.
⁶ Let him rain coals on the wicked;
fire and sulfur and a scorching wind shall be the portion of their cup.
⁷ For the Lord is righteous;
he loves righteous deeds;
the upright shall behold his face.

The Lord reigns from heaven. Righteousness provides the foundation of His throne. From His throne, the Lord sees and He proves the righteous. The Judge of all the earth “hates the wicked and the one who loves violence” (v. 5) and will “rain coals on the wicked” (v. 6).

To that dual vision of upholding the righteous and casting down the wicked, the faithful shout a loud “Amen!” We rejoice that righteousness will finally triumph—even if it appears it may not happen in our lifetimes.

Yet though He looks to the Lord, the psalmist refuses to retreat into escapist faith claims. The Lord’s heavenly reign does not absolve us of tangible action when injustice threatens the foundations. So the writer concludes, “For the Lord is righteous; He loves righteous deeds; the upright shall behold His face” (v. 7). God remains righteous (“For the Lord is righteous”); God regards righteousness (“loves righteous deeds”); and God rewards righteousness (“the upright shall behold his face”).

It is in this way that the psalmist finally answers the question that forces itself forward: “what can the righteous do?” Those who believe in God cannot forgo the righteous deeds our God loves. Especially when the foundations of justice, righteousness and truth are under assault.

#IStandWithTheProtestors

I stand with the protestors because they better demonstrate what genuine faith looks like.

They take action in the wake of the long list of women, men and children killed during interactions with law enforcement officers under uncertain, suspicious or unjust circumstances. They say to us with each step that, “Faith without works is dead.” They disprove the easy-to-believe lie that we can regard ourselves faithful Christians while remaining unmoved when we see a man left for dead in the street, on a sidewalk, shopping at Wal-Mart or playing in a park. They make us to see whether or not we’re the Priest and Levite who passes by on the other side of the Jericho road or like the Good Samaritan who felt compassion and acted.

I believe God requires we find ways of standing for justice—even if it’s a way different than marching. I believe God requires it of His people because it reflects God’s own goodness and love for justice. To protest injustice is a righteous thing to do—even a gospel thing to do (Titus 3:8, 14).

The Bible is filled with godly persons taking their place in protest against government-sanctioned injustice. Sometimes they secretly collaborate to do good, like the two Hebrew midwives, Shiphrah and Puah, who risked their lives to save children doomed to slaughter (Exodus 1). Among those saved was a deliverer appointed by God, Moses, who would stand before Pharaoh and demand release of his enslaved countrymen. Sometimes the faithful act alone in great courage, like Esther appearing before a pagan King on behalf of her people when doing so could cost her life. Or, like Daniel or the three Hebrew boys who refuse to bow to idols and choose rather to suffer the unjust punishment of pagan power in order to keep covenant with God, that is, in order to live righteously. Or consider Paul’s appeal to Roman citizenship in protest against his mistreatment.

We are not left without biblical examples of men and women who resist injustice from governments ordained by God in order that lives might be saved. Such protest is faith in God, for none of these put their hopes in earthly officials unsympathetic to their cause. They took their stand because they believed, like the psalmist, “the Lord is righteous; He loves righteous deeds; the upright shall behold His face.”

What Are We Doing When We Protest the Protests?

I stand with the marchers because they are the ones protecting the foundations.

Some Christians oppose the marches and the activists. They have argued and continue to think that Christians should not be involved in protest. They tell us that Christians should only focus on “the gospel” and “spiritual themes.” This, they say, is most true of pastors. They are quick to say, “Ferguson is not the right case to use for justice.” But even when a plain case appears on the screen—like John Crawford shot in Wal-Mart, or Eric Garner choked to death, or Tamir Rice shot while playing—they can’t find it in themselves to say “Here’s the case!” Their failure proves their insincerity. They act as if the gospel has nothing to say to the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized and the mistreated—and that’s why their “gospel” remains a cruel delusion to those who need it in such trying times.

Some who tell us Christians have no responsibility in protest come dangerously close to assuming that because God ordains a government that the government must be right in what it does. At the very least, forgetting the indwelling sin that affects all without regard to uniform, they think God’s ordination of government ought to tip us toward believing the word of government officials. Of course, they don’t make that assumption when the things threatened are the people and things they cherish. Then government is too big, a senate hearing needs to be held, a call to arms is right, and even the formation of separatist militias makes sense to them. Such persons have lost the plot in more ways than one.

Here’s the thing: the ability to protest is among the rights guaranteed to U.S. citizens. It is framed in the U.S. Constitution by those who themselves protested against their government and came to see such protest as necessary to the resistance of tyranny. The First Amendment reads in part, “Congress shall make no law… abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”

If you love the country, you should not miss this: the right to freely assemble and to protest lies at the foundation of our constitutional democracy. Assembling to protest is the legal way the righteous leverage change in our country. That’s why when we protest against lawful protests we are actually committing a second transgression of civil rights. Those who protest lawful protests are, in fact, the ones destroying the foundations of a democracy God has ordained and we have cherished. Lawful protestors don’t threaten us; those who silence and censor do. Every law-abiding citizen–including every law-upholding officer–should protect this right.

The unwillingness of some people to distinguish persons who riot and burn property from those who peacefully demonstrate threatens the freedoms we cherish. If we cannot honestly recognize the difference between criminal activity (looting, etc.) on the one hand and democratic appeal (legal marches) on the other, then we create a civic culture where police brutality against lawful citizens is not only possible but such brutality is also unidentifiable as injustice. If we can’t or refuse to tell the difference when we view marchers on television how do we expect law enforcement officers to do any better when they’re in the trenches? And, consequently, how do we hope to hold them accountable when they fail?

We’re kidding ourselves if we think we can remain willfully blind about injustice and hope that our law enforcement officers will see what we refuse. For they are us.

A Gift from African-American Christians

I stand with the marchers because they are the ones pursuing a just goal with a just means.

The ends do not always justify the means. A just cause can be undermined by unjust methods. For righteousness to prevail, we need both a righteous method and a righteous result.

When I watch these young people across the country lie prostrate or march energetically in protest, I’m reminded that this gift of non-violent civil disobedience is, in fact, a gift from African-American Christians to the country. The constitutional freedoms that guaranteed the right of assembly were not always guaranteed to African Americans. Slave codes and other laws restricted the assembly of African Americans to numbers you could count on one hand. When those codes were violated, all the power of law enforcement could be brought against African Americans who gathered—even to the point of whippings and killings.

The genius of the Civil Rights Movement was that it peacefully used a right once denied some citizens to prick the conscience of other citizens until justice was won. It was non-violent civil protest that changed the country without destroying the country. That method did more to change the hearts and minds of the country than any other method used in any other protest before it and has defined protests since. Civic protest succeeded so wonderfully because a preacher understood that suffering and love could be redemptive where violence could not.

Dr. King’s strategy and the courage of the many thousands who joined him gave to this country a redemptive language and method for addressing grievances. If Dr. King were alive, I feel confident we’d find him marching, proclaiming, “Hands up! Don’t shoot!” To the extent that any protestor embraces this approach, I stand with that protestor.