Entry #6
This series was originally published on my socials in 2021. My beliefs and opinions have changed in some ways since then, but these words are still meaningful and relevant to who I am and what I believe today.
I grew up in a denomination obsessed with being right.
It was never explicitly stated (like my parents’ generation) but at least implied that heaven was only guaranteed for those of us in THE Church: the Church of Christ.
Mine was of the more progressive variety. We flew through the debate of hymnal book versus projector screen and spent most of my middle school years trudging through whether women could serve communion and pray from the pulpit. (The answer was yes and many left.)
I was convinced most of my youth that worshiping with instruments was a sure ticket to Hell, as was alcohol (all types) and prom and dying in a car wreck on the way to your baptism.
Now let me pause to emphasize: my mentors and teachers throughout my entire church life were (and are) some of the most wonderful, Christ-following human beings. I harbor no ill-will towards any of them and believe them to be much better humans than me.
They served and taught faithfully in the way they believed was right, based on their upbringing and scripture. That church remains one of my favorite places in the world to this day and continues to think humbly and welcome discussion and questions. They are my family (literally and spiritually).
But maybe some of that explains why I grew up obsessed with rightness—not to be confused with righteousness.
I grew up determined to figure out the precise way to Heaven, because it clearly wasn’t JUST through Jesus. There were so many more hoops to jump through. Church showed me that.
When I was in high school, I remember being asked by a friend how sure I was I would go to heaven, and the girl next to me answered first: “100% sure.”
I remember looking at her quizzically, knowing she was NOT Church of Christ, and thinking... “How is she so sure? I’m not even 100% sure, and I’m in the RIGHT denomination. She does a lot of things my church tells me is wrong, and yet, she’s positive.”
She said, “I believe in Jesus, and so I’m promised eternal life.”
Hmm... I don’t think it’s that simple, I thought.
In my world, there seemed to be a lot of things that could veer you off the “narrow way,” and I was terrified that somewhere along the way, I’d accidentally done something veer-y.
Heaven didn’t seem like a sure thing, and I was sure I needed to be baptized at least three more times for good measure.
And this, my friends, is why I’m finding TRUTH so hard to grip tightly. Because for me, truth has changed and evolved so much throughout my church life, not to mention church history.
In the name of biblical truth, the Pharisees questioned Jesus’s disciples eating grain on the Sabbath. Jesus told them the story of David eating holy bread while running from Saul.
Interpretation changed.
In the name of biblical truth, the religious elite drug an adulteress into the streets, armed with scripture, readied to stone her to death. Jesus rescued her. He reminded them of their own sin.
Interpretation changed.
In the name of biblical truth, the Pharisees ridiculed Jesus for healing a man on the Sabbath. Jesus called them hypocrites.
Interpretation changed.
In the name of biblical truth, Jesus was crucified by those who labeled him a heretic, because he continued to defy what they knew to be fact.
Interpretation changed.
In the name of biblical truth, slavery was defended by American churches for decades. Nearly half of the letters written to justify the South’s pro-slavery position were written by pastors, each one peppered with “proof” via scripture.
Interpretation changed.
In the name of biblical truth, women and men who come to the church to escape emotionally abusive marriages are met with scripture and the definition of a “biblical divorce.” Wives are told their husbands lose their tempers because they lack submissiveness.
Interpretation is slowly changing.
In the name of biblical truth, we relegate women to the fringes of church leadership in spite of their giftings and God-breathed abilities. Church remains one of the very last places left in our culture where women are told to, “Go home.”
Interpretation is slowly changing.
Instead of using the Bible’s story of radical love and offensive redemption to inspire hope in every human, we have boiled it down to a series of legal proof texts, a bullet point of to-dos and to-don’ts, of who-gets-in and who-stays-out.
But can’t we look at history, the way interpretation has continually changed, and say TRUTH is something we should always pair with humility? With a foundational understanding that even if the Word of God isn’t fallible, humans are?
Shouldn’t we hold every word up against the whole story, Jesus’ life and teachings and say, “Does this align with what HE did, who HE loved, what HE said?”
And I know. “Then what’s to stop us from just picking and choosing Willy-Nilly what’s TRUTH?”
Well, haven’t we always done that?
There are over 2,000 verses in the Bible about finances, greed, riches, and the love of money.
There are seven, depending on translation and interpretation, that may or may not address homosexuality.
The love of money is one of the only sins of which Jesus explicitly says, “It’s gonna be hard for these guys to make it into my kingdom.”
Yet I have never been in a church who says to the wealthy, “We are going to walk alongside you and disciple you and guide you as you steward your money because we think it matters in regards to your eternity.”
And I’ve definitely never heard of anyone kicked out of a church for greed or exorbitant wealth. (To be clear, we are all incredibly wealthy compared to the rest of the world, so when I say wealthy, I’m talking about me and mine too.)
Why does that one not matter? When it mattered to Jesus?
In my search for “truth,” I’m not trying to make scripture more palatable or easier to swallow. I’m not trying to ignore the hard parts of the bible. This isn’t me “creating my own truth” or becoming a victim to cultural pressures. This isn’t me changing God’s character into a Care Bear.
This is me not wanting the church to twist and manipulate the message of the Bible only to have to apologize over and over and over again for getting it wrong.
I know this: I believe in the Bible. I believe it’s God’s Word. I believe in Jesus. I believe in the Holy Spirit.
And I also believe in a God whose mystery and plan and ways are far beyond me. That I will never fully grasp or theologize that mystery.
Without that sense of “certainty”, the lack of control feels scary. I get it. I like concrete rules and boundaries, too.
But with a decrease in “certainty” comes a decrease in my own pride and self-righteousness.
With my decrease in “absolutes” comes an increase of trust, an increased awe of a relational God.
With a walking away from black and white comes an opening to the millions of other ways God reveals himself.
