PSA: God Doesn’t Kill People in Bushfires

Okay. My least favourite athlete is back in the news – perhaps because he and Margaret Court like to compete for titles (like Australia’s biggest homophobe). I joke. I joke. But he claimed this weekend that the bushfires in Queensland are God’s judgement for abortion and marriage equality laws. When lives are lost in natural disasters and an accusation like this comes out, it’s no joke. But sadly, it’s not even new. Daniel Naliah made the same claim about abortion law and bushfires back in 2009. 

It was outrageous and unbiblical then, and it’s outrageous and unbiblical now. But with lives lost, Imma drop a microblog on it to drop a few Biblical truthbombs.

Here they are. I’m sure there is more, but here’s the start:

• Isaiah 51:6 describes some pretty heavy weather but promises his salvation shall endure. (I.e. He doesn’t kill people via extreme weather)

•  Luke 9:56 says Jesus came to save our lives not destroy them.

•  Matt 18:4 says it’s not God’s will that even one should perish.

• Noah’s flood, and the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah occurred before the Old Testament/New Testament split whereby Jesus took the judgement of Mankind.

• Even if this wasn’t the case, Abraham negotiated with God in Genesis 18:16ff and God said that if there were even 10 good men in Sodom and Gomorrah, he wouldn’t destroy it. I know there are more than 10 good men in Australia.

This is a long way of say that Izzy Folau’s statements are unbiblical, unfounded fear-mongering that does nothing but tarnish the name and perceived-nature of God. God doesn’t kill people because of law changes. But maybe we should pay some attention to climate change (which, believe it or not is not a religious issue! You can be a Christian and reject single use plastic because it’s bad for the environment).

Anyway. Hi! It’s Monday. Hope your’s is good. It’s going to be a huge week on the blog here, and I’m working really hard on some kicking’ content for you. If you haven’t subscribed yet, get on it friends. You won’t want to miss Thursday’s piece.

Have a great week, safe in the knowledge that God isn’t  burning Australia down or causing crippling drought. Comforting, yeah?

Kit K.

The Good Christian Persecution Complex

Hey there bloggerati! It’s been a while. I’m afraid this months blogging effort has lapsed far behind others but I’m telling myself there’s a good reason for that. I’ve finished the first major redraft of a book I’m ghostwriting. I got a short-notice request for a coffee-table book of layman-friendly research articles that ate through a week, and in between, there has been man-flu, 2-year old molars and various kinds of growth spurts to hit Casa-Kennedy. In amongst this, something has been burning in my mind: the good Christian Persecution Complex. I want to take a moment to talk about it.

The truth is, it has been on my mind because we’ve been covering my least favourite book of the Bible at church recently: The Book of Revelation.

I hate it. I think I was put off it when I viewed a Kirk Douglas rapture film of some description when I was a touch too young, and thus my yearning for writings regarding apocalyptic prophecy died then and there. But there’s no denying it. Revelation exists. The powers that be saw fit to put it in the final cut of the Bible. So we’ve got to look at it, right? Nestled in Revelation chapter 2 is a reference to the church of Smyrna: the persecuted church. In his letter to the Smyrnaans, John encourages them not to fear prison, tribulation, poverty, or blasphemy, and promises they will overcome “the second death” and be given the crown of life. (Rev 2:12ff). Now, this is a beautiful note of encouragement to the persecuted church. But here is my strong feeling on it: we can’t call any opposition we might experience ‘persecution’. And perhaps not for the reasons you think.

Discomfort and bullying vs. persecution proper

Persecution is defined as “hostility and ill-treatment, especially because of race or political or religious beliefs; oppression.”  Among its synonyms are victimization, maltreatment, abuse, tyrannisation, torture, torment, discrimination and other such terms. Over the course of the last five or so years, I’ve observed a lot of good Christians cry “persecution” when someone challenges their ideals on Facebook (which, oddly, seems to be where ‘real-life’ plays out these days. Weird.). While I do concede that cyberbullying is very real and also agree that for some, it takes real guts and incites real anxiety when they put their faith out there for the world to judge, I do have to offer up a caution: we can’t claim the martyrs crown because someone disagreed with our belief system.

Society is becoming increasingly pluralistic if you ask me. We don’t have one faith that everyone needs to subscribe to anymore and thus we can expect a bit more pushback when we say things like “Because the Bible says so.” Even if we look at Christianity alone, there are increasingly diverse ways of looking at our individual and collective efforts at following Christ. Two people who are well-educated, well-read and genuinely searching for the best way to live a Christian life can arrive at two very different conclusions. This means a lot of people can disagree with us, and even within the Christian faith alone, a lot of us can disagree with each other.

The results can often mean conflict, even nasty conflict. But here in this complicated and uncomfortable zone lies a truth we need to acknowledge: Discomfort, bullying and persecution aren’t the same things.

For clarity, I’ll offer up a qualification here: bullying is bad! I’m not a fan of bullying! Don’t do it. Don’t take part it in. Don’t stay silent if you witness it and can safely speak up and help the target. But don’t equate it with persecution. There may be overlap, but it is not the same thing. Persecution is often systematic and wide-spread. Bullying is more often one on one. Persecution involves large groups or power structures bearing down on minorities or marginalised people. Bullying is more targetted and nuanced. Persecution may involve bullying, but the reverse isn’t necessarily true.

And then there is discomfort. Discomfort is good sometimes. I’ve heard countless motivational speakers remind us that no growth happens inside our comfort zone, and I have to agree! We shouldn’t fear discomfort. It is part of life and sometimes good things come out of it! Persecution, however, is crushing, life-altering, and in so many cases, life-threatening. Open Doors USA, an organisation that exists for persecuted Christians, has this to say on the matter:  “While Christian persecution takes many forms, it is defined as any hostility experienced as a result of identification with Jesus Christ. From Sudan to Russia, from Nigeria to North Korea, from Colombia to India, followers of Christianity are targeted for their faith. They are attacked; they are discriminated against at work and at school; they risk sexual violence, torture, arrest and much more.

In just the last year*, there have been:

• Over 245 million Christians living in places where they experience high levels of persecution

• 4,305 Christians killed for their faith

• 1,847 churches and other Christian buildings attacked.

• 3,150 believers detained without trial, arrested, sentenced or imprisoned.”

These numbers are mind-boggling. But a further look into them (which came from the 2019 World Watch List) is this: Saudi Arabia didn’t even crack the top ten in terms of persecution against Christians. China didn’t crack the top twenty.  The  United Arab Emirates sat at number 45. Open Doors only carried the top 50 countries in terms of persecution on their list: The United States of America, Australia, and Great Britain did not make the list. Yet, at least from my observation, there is a growing idea that Evangelical Christians are being persecuted, and we seem to buy into this rhetoric all too easily.

The idea that we, in our privilege as some of the richest nations on earth, with our human rights advancements, our employment anti-discrimination laws, and our religious freedom acts, might be persecuted ignores the very real systematic targeting of our Christian brothers and sisters in other countries like North Korea, Somalia and Afghanistan – places where confessing Jesus as your saviour may cost you your life or your safety and livelihood.

The worst I will face here, in my white Judeo-Christian privilege, is someone calling me names on the internet. Bullying or harassment, but not high-level stuff that makes me legitimately fear for my safety. Not systematic torture, displacement and even murder of my people. I feel for those who face bullying because of the effects it has on them. I pray for them because that hurt is real. But it isn’t necessarily persecution and its unhelpful to confuse the two.

I have to make another distinction here: there may be many of us who have faced a bit of harassment, especially online, because of a “Christian” argument. This could be taken as a lesser form of persecution, and perhaps it is, but if you don’t have to worry that someone will even find out that you are a Christian (regardless of your thoughts on certain doctrines or current events), the odds are you aren’t being persecuted. I used to get called a “churchy” at work. I learned to take it in good humour. Later on, there was a swear jar at work put up for people who swore around me (because their assumption was that I would be offended. If only they hung around me now!) It made me a bit awkward in the beginning but then I took part in the game. I’ve been involved in my share of debates, but when I changed my posture from one of dogma to one of debate (with a particular bent towards connection and understanding rather than making the other person wrong), I found the world was a much softer place than I originally thought.

Why am I pointing it out? For a couple of reasons. One is that it is sometimes the abrasiveness in the delivery of our message that gets peoples backs up. People sense when someone is trying to make them wrong, and automatically defend their status quo. But the second reason is one that I find gravely concerning – There is a difference between persecution and the persecution complex. Both are harmful, one unspeakably so. But the persecution complex is something that can isolate and divide unnecessarily, especially if a person believes they are suffering persecution when they aren’t.

As I said a few paragraphs up, I’ve seen Christians cry persecution over Facebook stoushes they willingly waded into. I’ve seen mindboggling claims that the President of the United States is being persecuted (i.e. victimized on an international scale). Like…wow! While repeated efforts at convincing an unwilling world of an unpopular opinion (especially on social media) may reap repeated disagreements or arguments that certainly have a negative effect on a person’s state of mind, it is not necessarily persecution.  Nor do I think you can claim persecution when you are the most powerful man in the free world. Holding that position of privilege is the antithesis of persecution.

Of late, I’ve started listening a little harder to my friends who are people of colour, or who belong to the LGBTQ+ community. I’ve been confronted by something I noticed here: we straight, white, cis-gendered, Judeo-Christian, middle-class westerners can be blissfully unaware of our own profound privilege and, by virtue of this, confuse the loss of that privilege with persecution. A better word for what we are feeling would be, I don’t know, crestfallen? Uncomfortable? But systematically victimized and oppressed, not so much. We might find ourselves needing to learn resilience a bit more, but the answer to this problem is compassion and self-development not fear.

Alan Noble, in an article for The Atlantic, pointed out some very real flaws in the evangelical tendency to buy into the persecution complex. He said: “Persecution has an allure for many evangelicals. In the Bible, Christians are promised by Saint Paul that they will suffer for Christ, if they love Him (Second Timothy 3:12). But especially in contemporary America, it is not clear what shape that suffering will take. Narratives of political, cultural, and theological oppression are popular in evangelical communities, but these are sometimes fiction or deeply exaggerated non-fiction—and only rarely accurate. This is problematic: If evangelicals want to have a persuasive voice in a pluralist society, a voice that can defend Christians from serious persecution, then we must be able to discern accurately when we are truly victims of oppression—and when this victimization is only imagined.”

But the last thing I want readers of this article to do is mock those who are suffering from a persecution complex. Here’s why:

The Persecution Complex is a Worrying Mental Delusion

The Merriam-Webster Complex Medical Dictionary calls it “the feeling of being persecuted especially without basis in reality.” In individuals, the persecution complex may be called a persecutory delusion and fall within a range of “delusional disorders’ in the DSM V (the diagnostic handbook of the psychological profession). In groups though, it is an interesting and perhaps dangerous phenomenon.  I found a study resource online that helpfully described a persecution complex in the following way: “A persecution complex is a type of delusion. A delusion is a fixed, irrational belief that one is convinced is true despite evidence to the contrary. In the case of people suffering with delusions of persecution, the fixed irrational belief is that others are plotting against and/or following them. Signs that someone may be struggling with a persecution delusion include:

• Increased isolation.

• Paranoid behaviors

• Verbal statements that make little sense or are not rational.

• An increase in angry outbursts.”

If we were to witness this in a friend, we would have the right to be very concerned. But with the rise of cultural and political discourse in the public sphere (i.e. media), it isn’t uncommon for people to face off against a strong or emotive and opposing viewpoint. When this hit to the ego (and we all have an ego, or a sense of self) is combined with a persecution complex, things can get ugly.

So what happens when a group of people holds to the same ideals and experiences similar opposition? You have the potential for a group persecution complex to develop. You have the potential for the group to isolate itself, to believe society is against it, to develop an “us versus them” mentality, and for verbal statements rooted in the persecution delusion to be met with confirmation bias and thus become part of groups’ folklore. My fear is that this can then become the narrative of their lived experience and entrench the persecutory delusion even further.

Let me be real here: this is a terrible situation. Imagine believing society is against you, and the only people who truly understand you are part of a particular group. Imagine constantly thinking everything people write online is geared at you. Imagine the mental and emotional toll that would take. I could unpack this a lot further but I hope the case is clear: Even if the persecution is imagined, the effects of the persecution complex can be very, very real.

What do we do about it? I can’t give you all the answers, because I’m certainly not the authority on this issue. I write this for awareness and reflection more than anything. But I can say this: start with compassion. Regardless of whether someone is going through persecution proper or experiencing a persecution complex, something is going down here. You can’t fix the former easily. You can pray, and donate to good causes. You can be part of organisations working to end persecution. But if a friend of yours is experiencing a persecution complex, you can’t tell them they’re idiots and should get over it. That may just reinforce the delusion.

There could be something a lot deeper going on. The persecution complex isn’t uncommon in cults. It can also be part of mental illness. It may simply be a way of externalising some deep internal unrest. Either way, its tough stuff. It might require professional help to shift.

Approach it with care. But know this: we can’t fix a problem if we can’t accurately diagnose it. If it isn’t persecution, if its a persecution complex, then the system isn’t the problem. The problem is a lot closer to home.

Just some thoughts! Hopefully thats writer’s block out of the way! lol. I’ll return next week friends!

Capitalism and the Church: Strange Bedfellows

A couple of weeks back, I got a text message from my husband that read something like “Do we know anyone at C3? They’ve just gotten a run on 60 minutes.” The inference was that it couldn’t be good. As I mentally flicked through the friend list, I could only find a couple that were affiliated in some way: all people who were involved in smaller incarnations of the C3 (Christian church) movement lead by Phil Pringle. I watched the 60 minutes special and to be honest, it was no shocker. It was an attempt at a damning expose on the riches of Phil Pringle, earned off the back of the tithes and offerings of congregants. They showed pictures of him prophesying riches and success over people and then juxtaposed this against his multimillion-dollar property and the common Christian doctrine of tithing. 

*Sigh* We’ve seen this before. Hillsong has been criticised for it. American televangelists are notorious for the old “donate and God will bless you” line, along with private jets and lavish lifestyles. The prosperity gospel has been trotted out in many a church across the globe. I’ve heard it a lot. So how does one respond when another one of these TV specials sets out to expose the business of Church?  

I’ll say upfront that I have no problem with Phil Pringle, or C3, or Hillsong. I don’t even have a problem with people making good money. But there are some things that I think we ought to approach with caution: the false gospel of prosperity, mystical manipulation that comes in the form of nice but false prophecy, and the idea that God is a capitalist. The latter is one I’ve heard a lot. I’ve even heard it said just like that (by a pastor, no less). I smiled and thought straight away, “Huh. Well, Jesus wasn’t. Nor was the church of Acts.” Now sure, Jesus did learn a trade. He was a carpenter. He is known to have thrown the tables over in the temple when the traders moved in to sell their wares (and we get to assume or guess the levels of corruption that may have taken place within that context). I’m sure he was anti-corruption. I’m sure there’s loads of that in capitalism. But I’m also sure there are good things about it too.

But is God strictly a capitalist? No. I don’t believe so. I don’t even believe that God needs to stoop to our level in terms of social construct, but that’s another (highly philosophical) conversation entirely. Do we need to shun the capitalist church? Not necessarily, but I believe the era of handing our brains over to big institutions and letting them think for us is over.

We need to take responsibility for our faith, our discernment, and the place that God and church (both being different things) have in our lives.

We know that socialism is the antithesis of capitalism and within the socialist construct is communism. There are theorists who believe the church in the book of Acts was a seminal form of communism, and it’s not entirely hard to see why. In Acts chapter 2 “All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their possessions and goods and distribute the proceeds to all, as any had need.” In Acts chapter 4, “the whole group of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one claimed private ownership of any possessions, but everything they owned was held in common. There was not a needy person among them, for as many as owned lands or houses sold them and brought the proceeds of what was sold. They laid it at the apostles’ feet, and it was distributed to each as any had need.”

My first thought here was that when forced communism (i.e. China) is juxtaposed against chosen communism (i.e. a group that you choose to be part of because it shares a belief system you choose to have), the latter can’t be harmful. But in truth, I’m yet to read a modern case where this hasn’t gone terribly wrong (i.e Waco Texas, Jonestown, The Family – Heck, even Ananias and Saphira in the book of Acts went deady-byes when they lied about the proceeds of the land they sold.). Like I said, the church in Acts was likely a seminal form of communism: shared beliefs, distrubution of resources, devotion to the doctrine of a central character or characters. If not handled incredibly carefully, this sort of thing can lead to cultish or totalitarian situations which terrifies me. I’m not saying the church in the book of Acts was like that. I am saying that centuries later, with the physical form of Jesus long having departed the Earth, we ought to step very carefully.

The truth is, I’m not a fan of pure communism, just like I think pure capitalism stinks. There are some fundamental problems with Capitalism that I don’t think God could possibly be happy with. Things like:

• inequal distribution of the spoils of capitalism leaving some of His beloved children to starve in poverty,

• power and money corrupting people or causes,

• money buying power,

• greed,

• environmental costs,

• short-term focuses sacrificing long term stability in various domains

• economic immobility.

When you pair any of these factors with good Christian gullibility, you’ve got a recipe for something I don’t like. Meanwhile, socialism on the far opposite end of the spectrum contains its own bad apples: reduced prosperity, devaluing of the individual, lost freedom of thought, and totalitarianism to name a few. So you won’t find me choosing one over other. Nor has God given us, in the Bible, a clear directive of which version we should operate under. 2 Thessalonians says “If a man won’t work, neither can he eat.” There are multiple scriptures about work and wages. There are also scriptures that clearly indicate we are not to tolerate inequality. Exodus 22 tells us not to charge interest if we lend money to the poor. Leviticus 23 tells farmers to leave the corners of their field to be gleaned by the poor and the needy, rather than taking it all. James 1:27 tells us that true religion is looking after the widows and the orphans (ie. the marginalised and those who cannot take care of themselves). There is more, but the debate can be argued from both sides depending on which you cherry pick.

What can be gleaned from all of this? God isn’t a capitalist! But He isn’t exactly a socialist either. So when we see preachers earning a buttload of money off the back of tithes and offerings, it can be offensive. It perhaps should be offensive, because in beside Gods directive that we all earn our wages, there is another mandate: that we care for the poor and marginalised. I spotted an account on Instagram called “Preachers N Sneakers” which found the prices for the shoes some of today’s Christian big-wigs wore: wow. Ouch! Some of them would clear some seriously big bills for me. But hey. $3,000 shoes matter too, I guess, in some universe. Maybe? Um…

The truth is that Christianity has become big business and while I don’t for a minute doubt that the likes of Phil Pringle, Brian Houston, and others are genuine in their faith and desire to serve humanity, I also have no doubt that some bad apples have gotten into the applesauce. Those bad apples = bad doctrine. And bad doctrine hurts people. I suppose I split church up three ways in my head: the local church, the dominionist church and the capitalist church. The local church is the type that exists in and for the local community. The leaders are largely altruistic and conscientious, with a heart to serve Gods people whether they are in church or not, regardless of their socioeconomic status. They don’t exist to line their own pockets. Then there is the dominionist church (which I’ve spoken about before). This church exists to infiltrate the so-called “seven domains” of society. In my mind, it is riddled with problems as it is a pseudo-Biblical heresy that can be very attractice to people who want to seek out power or wealth for themselves. (But more on that here).

The capitalist church is a funny one: We’ve established that God isn’t a capitalist (at least according to my rudimentary study on it). While these capitalist pastors (who are more like CEOs in the big business of church) may have started out altruistically with a desire/call to serve God, somewhere along the line they have found a formula that works and attracts big crowds. With the big crowds comes big challenges:  how do you teach them all? How do you encourage them all to devotion? Manage their communities? Often the answer lies in merchandise: books, CDs, conferences, podcasts, etc. I have no problem with that. Its a necessity.

The problem only lies in the area of motivation: who is this serving? God and his people? Or the self-interest of the price-setters/CEO’s who have amassed a huge following and a position of authority or influence in the lives of people with varying levels of biblical literacy and personal discernment? We don’t get to answer the question of motivation. We only get to speculate, and to speculate is to risk getting the answer drastically wrong.

Now this begs a question: If God isn’t a capitalist or a socialist, what should preachers earn? This is a tricky one. Pastors and leaders in the church should certainly earn a fair wage. That wage certainly shouldn’t disadvantage their people. But it’s an impossible question to answer. God didn’t lay out an enterprise bargaining agreement in the Bible, so it’s a hard call. In Malachi 3:10ff, the famous tithing scripture, it tells us to bring all the tithes into the storehouse so there might be food in the house. So the idea of the tithe isn’t so preachers can buy private jets and exorbitantly expensive sneakers. It’s so everyone gets fed (spiritually and otherwise). Fair wage for fair work, pastors should be paid because they are the ones who are looking after the flock – spiritually, pastorally, etc. So are we looking at a local church pastor who should earn a fair wage without disadvantaging his flock? Or are we looking at the CEO of a large (albeit faith-based) company.

My belief is that a good pastor should build up his flock. They should benefit from the fruits of his or her labor. Their lives should be made richer for it. And tithing should be less of a gospel and more of a personal conviction (like it was for Jacob, when he wrestled with God/the Angel at Bethel and instituted the tradition of giving a tenth to God.) I think the reason the Phil Pringles of the world irk us so much is that running a church as a multimillion-dollar enterprise with flights in first class, while we mere mortals pay our ten per cent and hang off prophecies that imply God will make us rich runs a little thin. And we have to question motivation: is he prophecying wealth over people so they feel obligated to tithe? Is he doing it because such a prophecy would make someone feel really good? Or is he doing it because they are legitimately destined for wealth.

The area of prophecy should be one we approach with care (in my opinion): people may place a lot of stock in the words spoken over them by the clergy, but these words may not be divine in origin. If they are not divine in origin, then what the heck is it? The gift of prophecy is one that attracts a bit of attention in the Bible. Ephesians says “Pursue love and desire spiritual gifts, especially that you should prophesy.” Yet despite the exortation towards prophecy, not everyone is a prophet. The office of the prophet is to bring direction, confirmation, or correction for Gods people. There is often a slight sting to the word of the prophet, like there was when the Prophet Nathan came to chastise Kind David, or when the Prophet Elijah took on Jezebel. In fact, find me a prophet in the Bible who went around blessing people with riches and then demanding 10% of their future bounty. This, I believe, is why it doesn’t seem to ring true.

I admit I’m a bit of a prophecy skeptic: not because I don’t believe it is a legitimate gift of the spirit, but because I have seen it misused. As Christians, it is not a bad thing to test a prophet – do their words ring true or confirm something? Have their prophecies come to fruition before? Or are they using “thus saith the Lord” to demand obedience, gifts, or loyalty that otherwise wouldn’t be theirs. Discernment is key here. Not everyone is a prophet. Wolves sometimes wear a sheeps clothing. While the church is full of people who are legitimately serving God, there is also the risk that the ego becomes involved somewhere along the way and people lose the ability to tell what is the voice of God and what is the voice of their own ego. This opens the door for mystical manipulation: “How can I manipulate this person or this atmosphere to make people feel a sense of the divine and offer me more devotion?”

So step carefully. That’s all I’m saying.

As for the prosperity gospel, I’m going to be lazy and point you to an article I’ve already written on it: You can find that here. But if you want the scoop, it is this: when we adhere to a prosperity gospel that tells us all hardship is behind us once we accept Christ, we deny the scriptures that tell us to count it all joy when we share in His suffering. We deny the hardship that inevitably comes as a part of life, regardless of which faith you adhere to (including athiesm!). We deny the fact that salvation should not be judged on healing, wealth, relationship status, or a glowing aura, but simply on whether someone believes in Jesus.

Its a loaded topic. Do read the linked article! But for now ,this:

Perhaps we should be thinking of Phil Pringle, Brian Houston and others like them as CEO’s not purely pastors. Perhaps we should view their wages that way. But we should also certainly, absolutely, always, exercise discernment when it comes to the way people handle the word of God, the word of prophecy and the loyalty of their people. We can’t always tell the intent and motivation behind peoples actions, but we can use the gift of discernment and intuition when it comes to how we engage with them.

Soooo thats the tip of the iceberg of my thoughts on the matter. I’m going to have to leave the tax-exempt status of churches for a whole ‘nother day! So for now…
Peace! 
Kit K.

Can Christian’s Suffer From Depression?

It seems that my corner of the interwebs is all lit up with mental health awareness messages this week. It’s possibly because of ‘RUOK? Day’ that just passed in Australia, possibly because its Mental Health Awareness Month in the United States, and possibly because I follow a lot of people on Twitter who are grieving the death of Jarrid Wilson. He was a pastor and mental health advocate who tragically lost his battle with depression, even more tragically it was on the day he officiated the funeral of another Christian who lost her battle with depression. In amongst the outpouring of grief, the voice of ignorance seems to have raised itself in the form of people who assert that Christians can’t have mental illnesses, or that suffering from a mental illness disqualifies them from the ministry. This is a dangerous belief; one that is unbiblical and unhelpful at best, and flat out dangerous at worst. In a time when mental illness is thought to affect up to 25% of us, its not good enough to turn a deaf ear to such rubbish. So let’s talk about it.

First cab off the rank: Can Christians Suffer from Mental Illness? Short answer? Yes, they can. But of course, there is more to it than that. For some, this question stems from the NAR/Bethel-Esque belief that total healing from all conditions is guaranteed at the point of salvation. Thus, if someone is born again in Christ, they won’t suffer from mental illness, or indeed any other illness (!!! More on that later). For others, it comes from an antiquated and even subconscious belief that mental illness is demonic or spiritual in origin. Now, thankfully most Christian’s will at least acknowledge that some depression can have neurological or physiological origins. But others hold to the idea that depression is a spiritual, demonic or sin-related malady.

*sigh*

The latter is not helpful. And it’s not true.

Let me switch out my “Christian blogger” hat for my “Research blogger” hat for a second. Here’s what research tells us about depression: it is neurological. Every time. It is physiological. Every time. Why? Because thoughts, feelings, ruminations and such all take place in the brain which is a physical and neurological thing, and having stressors (whether they are physical, chemical or emotional) often factor into the etiology of depressive disorders. The research is a little fuzzy on why serotonin reuptake inhibitors help in a lot of cases, but it seems to have something to do with the neurotransmitters that help signals jump from one neuron to another (i.e. that lovely serotonin in your brain and gut that bathes your neurocircuitry).

There is also emerging research that indicates depression is an inflammation issue, and there are well-established links between mental health and gut health (with the gut being home to the enteric nervous system which houses billions of neurons and communicates to the brain via the vagus nerve and the gut-brain axis. I.e. Many depression sufferers have gut problems, too.

Depression is physical. Read that again. Depression is a physical issue. It’s time we stopped treating mental health as some ethereal, intangible thing. Its time we stopped saying “Oh its all in your head.” Guess what: your head is a tangible thing. Your brain is a tangible thing. If its all in your head, it exists. The thoughts of the mind (with the mind being the brain in action) can be seen on brain scans in the form of neuronal pathways lighting up on the screen. The activity of the limbic system (which governs our emotions) is something that can be measured. We can also measure sympathetic function (the sympathetic nervous system is the part of the nervous system that fires up under stress, and kicks our survival mechanisms into play). Thus, mental illness is tangible in many ways. (Research blogger hat now removed, FYI)

So when you ask yourself if a Christian can have depression, you are really asking whether a Christian can experience physical illness, inflammation, chronic or acute stress, or gut problems. If you can have diarrhea after you eat something you shouldn’t, your Christian brother or sister can have depression. One is no more demonic than the other. Yes, one is more short term than the other (hopefully!) but the point still stands.

Have you ever taken a panadol/Tylenol or aspirin for a headache? Have you ever put an icepack on a sprained ankle or knee? Have you ever gone to the doctor for an upset tummy or other condition? It might have been easy to say that it’s okay for you to suffer from those ailments because its just life, yet turn to depression and related illnesses and say “but that’s not.”

That, right there, is hypocritical. I’m coming out of the gate firing on this one because it matters. If we apply shame is to physical, neurological, chemical conditions that manifest as depression or other mental illnesses we may inadvertently create a situation in which someone may feel shame in getting help. This is the danger of bad theology. It can, quite literally, put a life at risk. People! Let’s not do this! Let’s make churches a safe place for someone to say “I think I’m depressed” and receive support in getting help – not shame or demotions.

It is my belief that depression should not be treated as a spiritual issue. It should be treated as a very real, very serious condition that requires a holistic approach for treatment. That approach should include professional (qualified) help such as counselling and medication. It should include diet and exercise (which is often prescribed as part of the action plan). The place where church should come into a Christian’s action plan is that it should provide community, pastoral support, an opportunity to connect in a positive environment, receive peace and encouragement through scripture (etc), and receive prayer for encouragement or healing if if IF the depression sufferer asks for it. *The latter should never be administered as the sole approach to recovery.* I say this as a person who has been ashamed to admit that attempts at faith healing had failed. In my case it was shoulder and elbow damage after an accident. It was obvious my conditions hadn’t been healed and I felt shame. The hidden shame when a mental illness isn’t healed by faith could be dangerous.

I do believe in prayer. I do believe that when we turn to God, He can perform miracles. I don’t believe that should be the only approach with mental illness. To limit “treatment” to faith healing could be deadly because it could cause a person to feel shame or failure if it doesn’t work. Worse still, it could cause them to feel pressure to act like all is well, or discontinue other treatment. I sweat at the thought.

A particularly concerning doctrine regarding and all healing is an increasingly prevalent belief in some NAR churches that healing from all maladies is guaranteed at the point of salvation. I mentioned it at the top of this piece and I’ll mention it again here: it’s not true and it’s not helpful. We can’t measure the quality of our salvation on whether or not our cancerous tumours disappeared when we said the prayer. Nor can we measure it on whether or not our depression, anxiety, schizophrenia, bipolar, (etc. etc. etc.) disappeared when we said the prayer. Some people may get healed when they invite Jesus into their hearts. GOOD for them. Some people may take years to heal. Good for them. Others may be healed in eternity. Good for them. The fact is every walk with God is different and none should be judged against another.

Paul had a “thorn in his side.” Jacob had a limp. No one would look at them and say “disqualified.” God certainly wouldn’t. We shouldn’t do this to people who suffer mental illness.

Now to the question of whether or not someone should be in the ministry if they suffer from depression or another mental illness. I’d like to turn your attention to King David. As the author of many of the Psalms, it has often been questioned whether his natural artistry and melancholy crossed the line into depression or bipolar disorder. It’s possible! Some of those Psalms are dark! But he was called ‘a man after God’s own heart,’ depression or not. Then there is Elijah the prophet: perhaps the clearest example of burnout or depression in ministry, when the burdens of the call proved too much to bear and he felt the need to hide in a cave for three years and not look after himself (thank God for sending the birds as a catering service). Jeremiah was called the weeping prophet. King Saul had moments of extreme darkness (not that he was a pillar of godliness, I know). All these illustrate the point that the personal struggles or mental illnesses of some of the greatest Bible heroes did not disqualify them from serving God.

Nor should it disqualify our modern ministers from serving God. What it should mean is better support around them, and medical help if required. It should mean that their occupational oversight makes sure they take their holidays every year to recharge the batteries and that stress or complexity is well-managed within the context of their role. It shouldn’t mean they feel shame over their condition or hide it from those around them while wondering why God hasn’t cured them yet.

In a secular workplace, you might feel the need to take extended leave if you were suffering to the point where it was affecting your job. A pastor may need that from time to time if his or her condition is serious or worrying, or that sharing other peoples burdens (as they so often do) is proving too much. That should be okay. I see it as the duty of care the denomination or oversight owes to their pastor. (If a church is independent, this would be difficult. Yet another reason I’m cautious of independent churches – but that’s another topic for another day).

So if you are a minister or a Christian feeling shame about mental illness – please don’t. We didn’t see God shaming Elijah, David, Noah, or many others for their walks with the black dog. You are loved as you are, valued as you are, and precious to God as you are – but don’t mess around with this illness. Please. You deserve care and the best chance at recovery.

“Now Kit, you’ve taken a very unspiritual look at this problem,” I hear you say. “Where does spiritual stuff fit in?” I know many people still believe there is potential spiritual involvement in illnesses including mental illnesses. I have heard of people doing prayer counselling to remove generational curses and such. I’m going to do another piece on this because it’s a loaded topic so come back next week for that one. But here’s the scoop: there are three forms of deliverance. The first happens at the point of salvation. The second happens more gradually, as we consume and internalise the word of God. The third is so rare and problematic I’d almost call it needless in a modern setting where the consent issue can push it over into spiritual abuse.

While it is obvious that Jesus cast out spirits in some extreme cases in the New Testament (the one with Legion and the herd of pigs in Mark 5/Luke 8 for example), He had the benefit of one thing: He was God and had perfect insight into the situation. He was yet to give His life for the redemption of humanity. He was yet to send the Holy Spirit as our helper, counsellor and guide. These are benefits that we now have. To invoke power-deliverance ministries and ignore the health-related fields dedicated to a more gentle and therapeutic approach to mental illness is, in my opinion, needless and dangerous. As Christians, as the living representation of Christ on earth, it is our duty to tread very carefully with the most vulnerable of people. But more on that next week.

I hope you’re intrigued. See you again soon

Peace
Kit K

Christian Spiritual Warfare: The Occult Crossover

I remember a visiting preacher coming to church ten or so years ago. He strode to the platform, took the microphone from my Dad’s outstretched hand, greeted us and then began his sermon by hanging something on the pulpit. A large map of our country unfurled. I’ll never forget the silent reaction. Double chins appeared all over the congregation as people pulled their faces back in a collective “Ergh, what is that?” The map was covered in splattered blood.

Okay, it turns out it was nail polish. The sermon was on blood splattering – spiritual warfare by symbolically splattering the blood where God reveals. In retrospect, it was a manifestation of spiritual mapping, like that which C. Peter Wagner referred to.

But the thing is, washing by the blood of Jesus is a metaphorical thing that happens at the point of salvation. Its something you enter into by faith not nail polish. As to whether one needs to splatter  ‘blood’ anywhere in order for the land to be returned to God, well I’d argue Psalm 24:1 – The earth is the Lords and the fullness thereof, and the people who dwell within.

But now that argument is done with, lets talk about the stewards of the Earth. Us – people of faith be it Christian, Islamic, Pagan or otherwise, people of no faith, people of colour, whities, traditional owners of the land, recipients of the spoils of colonialism – I gag a bit on that last one now that I understand the damage of colonialism a little better.  The point is, I don’t believe God is so insecure over what happens with the Earth. He knows the Endgame. Its us mere mortals that need to keep a watch over our own actions and intentions.

It seems to me that the practice of spiritual warfare is dreadfully uninformed. Not only do we not understand the full impact of the finished work of Christ, but we in Christendom seem to have a very poor grasp on the nature and power of the rituals we enact “in the name of God.” So dear Christian friend, let’s talk about some of the rituals that Christian Spiritual Warfare may have actually borrowed from  occultism.

Destruction by Fire and Controlling the Elements

I mentioned in my last article that if you’ve ever been involved in a burning party, you needed to read this. Well here’s the soft opening. “Destruction rituals by fire are very pagan,” says Carrie Maya. “I use fire to destroy things literally and figuratively all the time. Fire is one of the four elements acknowledged and invoked in the oldest shamanic, earth-based spiritual traditions that exist. Often seen as being a living entity in and of itself—with it’s own energy of destruction and creation. It can also just be seen as a symbol of these things without being supernatural in nature.”

Carrie’s statement shed interesting light on my experience as a teen. I remember being about 15 and at a youth group event in the back yard of a farmhouse belonging to a church family. The fire barrel was blasting with heat, and into that barrel went Korn t-shirts and CD’s, Weezer CD’s, band posters, romance novels, old letters, you name it. We gleefully destroyed our items and snapped pictures with our (film) cameras hoping to capture images of demons dancing in the flames. I laugh now. And I want the weezer CD back (Okay, the Weezer CD belonged to my future husband, but still.)

As for whether or not the ritual worked or was necessary, I don’t know. It was certainly spiritual, as evidenced by our intent and by Carrie’s example. But was it something the scripture instructed us to do? Not so much. In fact, I can’t find an example in scripture. Examples of sacrifice by fire always sacrificed something acceptable to God. Something living. God has no want or need for our band CD’s and trashy romance novels. Yet the ritual was spiritual, and oh so common in Christian and occult practice.

Its interesting to note, while we speak of one of the elements, that spiritual warfare has been used to target weather patterns. Carrie remarks, “Controlling the elements (earth, water, wind, fire, spirit) is occultic. I don’t think it’s bad. I’m just saying that this has existed since long before Christianity. So when we have Christians commanding tornadoes, tsunamis, storms, and fires to do things, it’s essentially spellcraft.“

This should make us stop and reflect: in the last entry in this series, we discussed how the difference between spell craft and Christian prayer lay largely in the dichotomy between “my will be done” and “Thy will be done.” Yet if we aren’t even cognisant of the line that delineates the difference between Christian spiritual warfare and witchcraft, how can we be sure where we stand?

Modern Extremes: I.e. Grave Soaking

I’ll admit to being rather aghast when I saw this video of a group of Bethel congregants “Grave soaking.”  This was the act of going to the graves of great Christians and lying on them to “soak up the anointing.” I watched the video with a queasy feeling in my stomach. Not only is that person long gone (in this case, Smith Wigglesworth), their spirit in Eternity with God, but it was extremely disrespectful to the grave and there’s no instruction in the Bible towards this thoroughly odd practice. I shared the video with Carrie and this is what she said:

“I just can’t believe Bethel are doing this! I personally don’t have an issue with people engaging with the spirits of the departed; I’m a medium myself and also practice ancestor veneration. However, the Bible condemns mediumship so whether I agree with it or not isn’t the point. It’s whether the sacred text they’re claiming to live by allows it. And it doesn’t. 

Also, grave soaking (as they’re calling it) goes beyond common mediumship but probably lands on the more extreme end of the necromancy spectrum. I mean, they’re straight up trying to absorb a dead guy’s power. So for the sake of this discussion, say they were actually “soaking up his anointing” but what else were they soaking up? Smith Wigglesworth may have been a good person in their eyes but he wasn’t perfect because he was a human being.

Imagine this: Maybe he was like Mike Gugliumucci and had a secret pornography addiction. Maybe he was like Ted Haggard who had a homosexual affair with a sex worker (but just didn’t get caught). These are things that, in their eyes, would be considered immoral. So do they want to soak that energy too? 

Their flawed logic and cognitive dissonance (the occult is bad but it’s okay to practice necromancy for Jesus) leaves them open to soaking up EVERYTHING Smith Wigglesworth had operating inside of him and that, technically, wouldn’t be energetically safe.”

What does energetically safe mean? “Everything is energy,” says Carrie. “Not just in a woo-woo way but also from a scientific perspective. Conservation law within the science of physics states that energy cannot be created or destroyed. It’s ALWAYS converted from one thing to another. This is usually talked about within the context of applied force. E.g. My cheeky cat slides my mug across the bench then pushes it. The push is the applied force and through the power of gravity it falls to the floor and smashes to pieces. The applied force converts a whole cup that can contain liquid into fragments of glass all over the place. I could take that one step further and say, “Hmm. I liked that mug and don’t want to throw that out. I’m going to use the smaller pieces to create a pretty mosaic art piece.” Yes, I just compared Smith Wigglesworth to a mug. But hopefully that creates a clear illustration of what I’m trying to say.

I’d also like to point out, as a former Christian who is familiar with the Biblical perspectives and protocols around “the laying on of hands” that Charismatic and Pentecostal Christians generally have an understanding that they shouldn’t be touching just anyone. Because they don’t know what kind of “demons” or “spirits” a person might have. So even within Christian tradition there is an acknowledgement of the transfer of energy (or impartation). So it surprises me that these people at Bethel could do this when, within their own worldview, it is actually much more extreme than the laying on of hands.

As a side note, this whole grave soaking thing feels kind of idolatrous from a Christian perspective, right? Like isn’t God big enough to give them the same gifts that He gave the person lying in the grave? Not to mention that, separate from whatever religion or beliefs ANY of us have, isn’t it just bad taste to treat someone’s grave like a spiritual amusement park? Not as a witch, but as a person, that makes me feel icky.”

Why mention the different people’s and beliefs at the beginning of this article? Because threaded like a theme through-out the Bible is honour. Honour thy Father and thy Mother. Honour the Lord with your first-fruits. Honour. Honour. Honour. Yet grave soaking, to me,  smacks of dishonour. Imagine the family of the deceased seeing a video of elated Christians filming youtube videos on the grave of their granddad. But Carrie raises a good point: God is big enough to give you the same gifts without requiring you to go to a deceased and potentially dodgy second source.

But she had another cringy source ready to rock my world: Adolf Hitler was a grave soaker too. Eeesh. In a documentary called “In Search of History: Hitler and the Occult” the documentary makers allege that Hitler and the leaders of the SS were consumed with Aryan Mythology. They found people for the SS based on their ethnic purity going back generations. In order to ensure that the next generation of soldier were racially pure, they recommended sexual rites on the graves of Nordic/German heroes in order to conceive babies that would carry the spirit of the deceased warrior.

Wow.

Other Rituals 

Admittedly, and thankfully, grave soaking is not commonly practiced in Christian circles. (Thank God. Literally.) But as the influence of Bethel spreads, so too does the importance of knowing good doctrine from bad increase. In the last blog post, I put out a laundry list of other practices. So lets take a quick tour of the rest so this article doesn’t go forever.

First up: Extended periods of praying in tongues, warfare worship, prophetic declaration or strategic prayer. The Bible does clearly show the gift of tongues (on the day of Pentecost, and the Apostle Paul saying he prays in tongues more than all of us). It also advises that praying in tongues should be accompanied by the gift of interpretation. Thus, one needs to question what public and prolonged displays of praying in tongues actually achieves.

The same with extended “warfare” worship. My experience, and my reading of cult literature, raises one answer here (you might have others): It brings us to an altered state of consciousness.  Is this good or bad? Carrie reminds us time and time again that it is the intent that matters here. But she also mentioned this:

“It reminds me of the Benandanti of Italy. They took it upon themselves to go on a crusade in the spirit realm to “deal” with God’s enemies. Whether through prayer and discernment (as within the modern Christian Charismatic and Pentecostal traditions) or drug use (as with the Benandanti), these people put themselves into an altered state of consciousness in order to “perceive” spiritual truth about other people. Just as with the visions that were considered “evidence” during the witch trials, it’s not fair that a Pentecostal Christian’s “discernment” or a Benandanti’s drug-induced visions of God’s enemies should be considered any kind of proof of someone’s guilt. Especially if that alleged guilt leads to persecution and even punishment.”

In Carrie’s mind, and in mine, spiritual mapping is a 20thcentury witch hunt. “It sounds just like what they did with the Malleus Maleficarum beginning in the 1400s. Wagner’s methods of using prayer and discernment also remind me of how, back during the witch trials (in America and Europe), random people could say they had visions of people being witches and it would be considered “evidence” in a court of law. Lots of people were persecuted that way which is quite horrific.”

I love the, forgive me, dumb logic of some of the trials. You get thrown into a river with weights around your ankles to drown. If you drown, you aren’t a witch. If you don’t, and you manage to swim, you are a witch. It’s all semantics at this point. Either way, you are dead. Often the accused only had ‘discernment’ as the evidence against them. Yet discernment is what is used as evidence in a good many spiritual warfare practices.

Secondly, repressed memories or generational curses. Yes, the scripture does mention the “sins of the fathers” which could be called generational curses. But to put too much stock in this is to undervalue the complete work of the cross. Lets go back to John 19, people. It is finished. Its all finished. If you are saved, you are in Christ. You are a new Creation. The old things have passed away. A new thing has begun.

As for repressed memories, this represents a hugely concerning area for counselors and psychologists alike, as repressed memories may be false or heavily influenced by suggestion. I cite, for example, the satanic panic of the 90’s when many people were diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder due to Satanic Ritual Abuse realised in repressed memories. Many, potentially the vast majority of them, were found to be false memories. Yet the damage these memories did was real. Real suffering came as a result.

As someone who knows what I believe to be a genuine survivor of Satanic Ritual Abuse, I’m horrified. Not just because fabricated memories devalue the suffering of genuine victims, but also because there is no reason for a person to carry a false memory and suffer the pain and disability it potentially brings. The mind is a powerful thing. Therefore, we should not mess with it. Pastors or Christian counsellors should, in my opinion, step very carefully and only with appropriate qualifications when it comes to counselling anyone. They can do great damage if they follow “discernment” as their guide. Repressed memories are just one area where good intentions and inadequate therapeutic qualifications and professional standards can damage a life incredibly.

Thirdly, and I’m hurrying: Vicarious repentance. Hey guys, the finished work of the cross is finished. There is therefore no need to repent for what others have done, regardless of whether or not you are related to them.

There might be need to make amends. But by and large, this is a civic thing (in my belief). I’m referring mainly to the generational effect of colonialism on first people. I.e. Kevin Rudd, when he was Prime Minister of Australia, issued an apology to our first nations for the stolen generation. It was symbolic, important, and it meant a lot to the recipients. It is not complete reparation, as there is still a lot of disadvantage in these people groups but that is a topic for another day and another expert as it’s a bit over my head to be honest. But on with the show…

Fourthly, Prayer journeys or locational rituals. Followers of the Spiritual Warfare Network and other practitioners have been known to go to specific locations to undertake their rituals. Not only is this not advised or commanded in scripture, its also expensive for no good reasons (plane tickets, yo) and is little more than super-spiritual tourism as its usually an extension of spiritual mapping which is highly subjective. Why? Because God is omnipresent and omnipotent. Praying to him here in the backblocks of Gippsland is as effective as praying to him at the wailing wall in Jerusalem. The important thing is the prayer, not the location.

Upon reflection, I’ve been involved in this sort of thing too. At the instruction of a prophet who visited my church many years ago,  we gathered our church members and the members of another church, went to every entry of our local down and drove a stake into the ground to declare the town to be the Lords. Nearly two decades on, that church still has the roughly same amount of people in it. Despite “reclaiming” the city, it remains largely unchanged except for the hard work of local law enforcement, council and community groups to make it a better place to live and work. But hey, they’d have done that anyway.

It makes me wonder how many towns have been “taken for Christ” in spiritual warfare rituals, and yet they remain, strangely, unconverted. This alone should make us question whether this type of spiritual warfare is pretty much a fruitless fig tree. We know what Jesus did with that.

Lastly, discerning, naming or renouncing demons and territorial spirits. Tune in next week for that one, kids.

I guess in conclusion, there are a good many similarities between what has been included in Christian Spiritual Warfare and the occult. But a personal area of conviction I felt when speaking with Carrie was this: she considers intent and energy a lot more carefully than many Christians I have experienced. We can be far too gung-ho, and plunge ourselves into a world that we so poorly understand.

There is a place for prayer. There is a place for the armour of God. There is a place for resting in the finished work of the Cross and standing firm in what our God has done for us. In my opinion, this is the light by which we should see all our spiritual activity.

*There are two articles left to be written in this series: “Territorial Spirits: Are they out there?” and “The Role of Prayer and Intercession in the Christian Life.”

Hey if you liked this, or had a morbid curiousity about it, sign up to the mailing list and like my socials!

Peace 
Kit K

Blurred Lines: Christian Spiritual Warfare Practices and the Occult

This is a blog series I’ve wanted to write for a while: one that examines whether the approach to spiritual warfare popularised by NAR and third wave charismatic movements actually reflects the way God wants us to approach the battle between good and evil. It’s taken me a year to do it because it’s confronting, even for me. It’s confronting because the place I found the reason for my internal disquiet was a conversation with a beautiful friend of mine.

An exvangelical witch – a person who has been on both sides.

Dear Christian friend, you have to read this.

 It turns out, in embracing what the big names in Christianity call “spiritual warfare” we may actually be performing rituals that are very similar to occult practices, but doing it in a less intentional, informed, or self-aware way than some of our occult counterparts. If that statement made your hackles rise, then strap on your seatbelt. We have some important ground to cover.

The Biblical Picture:

I’ll preface this by saying I believe in prayer. There is some personal ground I need to cover (and will blog on) when it comes to prayer and predestination. But for now what I do know is this: when the disciples asked Jesus how to pray, He gave them a good formula. He gave us “The Lords Prayer.”

It glorified God, focused on His will and His Kingdom. Asked for provision, forgiveness and help avoiding temptation. Then it came back to glorifying God. The end. But that’s not “spiritual warfare” per se.  That’s prayer.

There are three common references in the Bible that seem to combine prayer and warfare. The first is in Ephesians 6 where we are told to put on the whole armour of God. It tells us we don’t wrestle with flesh and blood but with principalities and powers. It then tells us to stand in truth and righteousness, to stand in peace, to use faith and salvation as our protection, and to use the Word of God as the sword of the spirit. It then tells us to pray. By and large, these “weapons” mentioned are weapons of peace, with the exception of the Word of God which can go both ways.

Why the lack of offensive weapons? I believe the answer lies solely and completely in John 19. It is finished. Jesus took the keys of death and Hell. He triumphed over sin and death. It was all done. Finito. That’s why later in Ephesians, the majority of the armour of God is simply standing in what has already been done and given, and using what God has already said. Nothing further is required.

Later in 2 Corinthians 10:4, we see another rationale for spiritual warfare: “For the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God for the pulling down of strongholds.” I do see how people have read this as a spiritual call to arms. However, the rest of the chapter goes on to explain these strongholds and lofty things are thoughts of the heart that exalt themselves against God. So basically, this is an internal work of sanctification to remove the enemies lies from our hearts and minds. It is not an exhortation towards Christians engaging in warfare against external demons. (I won’t talk about exorcisms and deliverance today. That area is too big and too troublesome!)

The Old Testament, being a different era, provides us with a slightly different picture, but in truth it’s not too different. While yes, the Kings and Judges in the Bible did take part in wars, the big stories show God, not mankind, intervening.

• The parting of the Red Sea as the Israelites fled Egypt.

• The walls of Jericho falling down without a single weapon used.

• God Himself destroying Sodom and Gomorrah, and flooding the Earth when wickedness had become so rife that only Noah and his family were found to be righteous.

• Even in the book of Daniel, which is the third reference to spiritual warfare when Daniel fasted for two weeks as he prayed for an answer, it was the angel that wrestled with the big demon. It wasn’t Daniel himself. Daniel was just skipping meals and devoting himself to prayer.

By and large, God’s methodology seems to be this: protect the ones who pray and obey, but don’t make them do the heavy lifting when it comes to fighting supernatural evil. In the New Testament era especially, Jesus has done the work and won the war. It’s a little different from what we see nowadays in spiritual warfare practice.

Spiritual Warfare, the Post-1990 Edition and the Occult Link: 

I know I’ve talked about C Peter Wagner a bit lately. He might be a nice guy and I’m sure he loves Jesus, but his theology has swept across the NAR and third wave movements and I have to say a lot of looks a little dicey when you weigh it up against the Word of God. In the 1990’s, C Peter Wagner began introducing a new type of spiritual warfare into Christian practice (at least it seems to be credited to him a lot, along with names like Cindy Jacobs, John Wimber and others. Wagner is just the most often quoted.).

This new approach has spread a lot in 30 odd years, and seeded many different approaches that don’t necessarily come from Wagner. There are many churches that don’t practice it (including my current church), but there are also many that do. It involves spiritual mapping, where participants pray until they feel God revealing the location of spiritual forces. Those forces are then opposed or warred against using various spiritual warfare ‘technologies.’ (These technologies are techniques, rather than gadgets that let you track down demons. Although, side-note, I’m told demon hunters and such gadgets do exist. The world is weird).

I’m not sure what Wagner wrote in his books about spiritual warfare technologies. But in my experience, and from a brief trip around the internet looking for what other people do, here’s a list of what may be called “spiritual warfare technologies.” Nearly all of them are things I have come across in one way or another during my own walk through evangelicalism. They include:

• Extended periods of praying in tongues, warfare worship, prophetic declaration or “strategic” prayer.

• Identifying (through subjective methods) repressed memories or generational curses.

• Discerning, naming, renouncing or addressing demons and territorial spirits.

• Vicarious repentance (i.e. repenting for the sins of previous generations).

• Prayer journeys in which participants go to specific places and use various methods to ‘displace’ demons found during spiritual mapping exercises.

• Burning CD’s, posters, t-shirts or any memorabilia that might be tangible links to demonic forces.

• Grave soaking where participants, largely of the Bethel ilk, lie on the graves of great Christians to soak up their anointing.

It’s not an exhaustive list. Spiritual Warfare practitioners may use any, all, some, or other techniques. Perhaps the most concerning thing about all of these “technologies” lies in the origin: They aren’t necessarily Biblical.  An article from Charisma Magazine on the topic of the Spiritual Warfare Network said, “Their insights on the subject of spiritual warfare were not derived solely through Bible study, but also through personal experiences of challenging the forces of darkness [1].”

This is extra-Biblical revelation at its finest. Yet scripture warned against adding to or taking away from the Word of God. This particular line of extra-biblical revelation has spawned a great many books, cost spiritual warfare travellers a lot of money, made a lot of money for the authors who make up the spiritual warfare network and cost a lot of time, money, effort and potentially distress for those involved. And for what? So that mankind can feel a sense of power over things that cannot be seen or controlled? Over things that Jesus has already taken care of? But that’s just where it gets interesting. My witch friend Carrie Maya summed it up in this statement:

“Speaking from the basis of my own personal practice (I’m certainly not representative of everyone in the occult community), witchcraft is about power. It’s about learning how to wield power over my own mind, home, words, the kind of energy I bring to my relationships, and—ultimately—taking control over the direction of my life using intention, ritual, and entering into altered states of consciousness. I’m mostly a solitary practitioner. But there’s something to be said for a good community experience. My favourite: magic as a collective response to oppression.

Marginalised groups have done this for generations in and attempt to take their power back. There are many traditions where oppressed People of Colour have been dispossessed and stripped of our entire cultures (which, of course includes the our spiritual systems)—often resulting in classic symptoms of colonial regimes. Systemic abuse like slavery, poverty, high mortality and incarceration rates, discrimination and prejudice in the job market, etc. are just a few of the ways that People of Colour been made impotent.

Many slaves throughout history have cursed their colonisers. Many women throughout history have cursed  the men who have forced them to live in an inequitable world. I never felt comfortable with hexing but it’s still a concept I’m sifting through. At the same time I don’t judge anyone who’s felt they’ve needed to do it.

As someone who was a Christian far longer than I’ve been a witch, I honestly feel that Christianity (along with other religions) are inherently magical—even if that’s’ not how their adherents would describe their faith and practices (occult literally just means concealed and hidden). I look back at experiences I had in the Pentecostal church; when we had to scream at demons, dance for hours to go into battle with the Satanic forces that held our town captive, and pray in tongues until our throats hurt. In hindsight, it was like one big witchcraft cult!

The definition that most occultists (from Wiccans to Theistic Satanists) use for magic is “manifesting your intent”. What this means is to set your mind on a desired outcome and then bring that desired outcome to pass. For some people, that outcome might be to summon a demon. For others, it might be to lose weight. And for others still, it might be simply to have a daily meditation practice where the outcome is greater peace.”

Carries statement makes an interesting juxtaposition against the Lords Prayer: “Thy Kingdom come. Thy will be done.”

Carrie remarks, “There is a difference between spellcraft and prayer. Prayer is a beseeching. It’s calling upon a force that you, essentially, see as more powerful than you are in some way, shape, or form. For a traditional Christian, that force is one or all aspects of the Trinity. For me, this includes praying to my Higher Self (the self that is connected to the collective consciousness of all beings on the planet), my ancestors, my spirit guides, and the god/goddess archetypes that I don’t necessarily see as real but use as tools in my own personal healing. And I definitely see the need for beseeching. I’m all for it. This is what I have in common with Christianity.

Where that commonality ends, though, is when spellcraft comes into it. Because while I certainly beseech my Higher Powers for blessings, comfort, strength, etc. I don’t pray “Thy will be done”. I pray for clarity to see what it is I truly believe is best for me. But my ultimate intention is “My will be done”.  

Carrie went on to describe instances she had heard of when Christians had “felt lead to curse” certain businesses and remarked that “That person was obviously trying to justify what they were saying by putting God’s name at the beginning of that statement. But whether God, Satan, or Queen RuPaul herself told you to curse someone, a curse is still a curse. A hex by any other name would smell just as hexy.”

It should make us stop and think. It should make us scrutinize our motives and methods, and it should absolutely make us reconsider the power of words and intent.

I wrote about the Christian pursuit of power in my series on dominionism (linked below). But here is the big flag and the great caution:

Before you even think about entering the minefield of spiritual warfare, you need to make sure that you are not entering based on extra-biblical revelation that could actually be false or misleading doctrine and not the will of God. And you better make sure you don’t have a shred of self-motivation. Otherwise, my friend, what is it that you are really doing?

Towards the end of my time in evangelicalism, I grew to question the correlation between the spiritual warfare practices I was engaged in and the Bible’s instruction towards us. The words “It is finished” echoed in my head over and over while I played keyboard as the backing track for my church’s spiritual warfare experiences. If it was finished, if we weren’t to worry about what we ate or drank or what tomorrow held, if Jesus took back the keys of death and Hell, then what were we yelling about? Psalm 23 echoed in my head. Surely obedience and devotion to God was our best protection, no matter what life threw at us? (And look, life has thrown me a bit of stuff, to be honest.)

In the end, it started to look a lot more like mankind needing to feel a sense of power. That’s why Carries statement, “Witchcraft is about power,” was confronting as heck to me. Today, I am working on making friends with powerlessness. Over some things, I will have power to act or react, or to intervene in some way. But in other areas, I’m coming back to Proverbs 3:5 and putting my trust in God to take care of the rest. After all, it is finished. He’s done it all.

A good many preachers have, over the years, criticized the slow infiltration of the church by humanism. Yet on their watch, it looks like we have been infiltrated by occultism too. Ironic, given it wasn’t so long ago that the church was hunting down witches and killing them in the name of the cross. Such an unjust incongruence it is when we inadvertently copy their methods.

Hey friend, if you read this, hate it, and decide I’m completely wrong, that’s cool. We all get to choose our belief system and bear responsibility for the eternal consequences of it. But the key message as always is this – know what you are up to, and know what you believe.

That’s part one, guys and gals. I hope you’ll tune in next week when I interview Carrie on the occult practices she sees in the modern version of Christian spiritual warfare. If you’ve ever been part of a burning party, where you destroy worldly memorabilia, you’ll want to read this one.

BIBLIOGRAPHY:

“The Devils, Demons & Spiritual Warfare,” in Charisma, February 1994, p. 52-57, as cited by Dave Hunt, Occult Invasion, Harvest House Publishers, 1998, p. 514

https://www.thebereancall.org/content/does-bible-teach-spiritual-mapping

https://www.lausanne.org/content/territorial-spirits

https://cicministry.org/commentary/issue109.htm

https://kitkennedy.com/2019/04/11/what-is-the-nar/ 

https://kitkennedy.com/2019/04/24/riding-the-third-wave-the-neo-charismatic-movement/

https://kitkennedy.com/2018/11/29/what-is-dominionism/

https://kitkennedy.com/2018/12/05/whats-the-biblical-basis-of-dominionism-is-there-one/

https://kitkennedy.com/2018/12/20/dominionism-and-politics-in-the-era-of-trump-and-scomo/

https://kitkennedy.com/2019/01/09/why-im-not-a-dominionist-anymore/

Riding the Third Wave: The Neocharismatic Movement

I feel like this blog post could open with a Matrix pun. In fact, as a kid who grew up in the neo-charismatic movement, I’ve heard a good many youth-centred messages that included the old “red pill, blue pill, choose your reality” message extracted from the wisdom of the Wachowskis (who wrote the screenplay). But I’ll refrain. I’m about to launch into an interesting series on the link between modern spiritual warfare and paganism. But in order to preface that, we need to know what the New Apostolic Reformation is (see last weeks post) and what the Neo-Charismatic Movement is. They are intertwined, but also quite distinct from each other. So here we go: the history-hack takes on the third wave. Up, up and away. 

The Third Wave Charismatic Movement is known by a few names. Among them are the terms neo-charismatic and hyper-charismatic and of the two, I think the latter makes the most sense. Essentially, it’s a relatively recent movement within evangelicalism, which in itself is a broad term taking in a good many expressions of faith (all of which involve evangelism or the spread of Christianity). To understand the neo-charistmatic movement, we need to know what came before it and what it looks like today.

The first wave: Pentecostalism circa 1900

This “first wave” as some historians call it was undoubtedly an exciting time in the life of the church universal. Marked by revivalists and revivals (such as Azusa Street), it was a renewal movement within protestant Christianity that did away with the cessationist idea that the spiritual gifts had disappeared from the church. The Pentecostal movement saw the restoration of prophecy, healing and speaking in tongues to the church. Since Azusa Street (which seems to have become the historical marker of Pentecostalism’s emergence), this movement has swept across the world and with it, the classical beliefs within Pentecostalism have spread. These include but are not limited to (because lets remember I’m a hack of a historian):

• Evangelism

• The reliability and infallibility of the Bible (in fact, many pentecostals seem to be Biblical Literalists)

• Salvation by grace through faith, and then transformation of ones life through Jesus.

• Baptism, as in baptism into Christ at salvation, then Baptism in water and Baptism with the Holy Spirit where the gift of tongues is received.

• The eminent return of Jesus.

• Other doctrines such as divine healing, spiritual gifts, and worship through songs, prayers, communion, giving and other methods.

All in all, pentecostalism has offered great gifts to the world. It seemed to be an alternative to the stagnation that other faith institutions were/are experiencing. It offered a shared experience of faith which was a relatively new experience. There were some big names in this movement, of course. People like Charles Parham and William J Seymour were teaching on speaking in tongues, divine healing and evangelism. Gone were the silent observances of faith, mediated by the much revered clergy, and in came the participatory revival experiences that immersed believers in a new experience of Christianity.

There have been a good many big names, controversies and developments within the Pentecostal movement over the years (which would take forever to cover off on). I can’t help but think of the tele-evangelists of the 1980’s and 1990’s and wonder where they fit in – names like Kenneth Copeland, Benny Hinn, Yonghi-Cho and others that rang loud through-out my childhood. They were hardly the revivalist types (like Parham and Seymour), but attempted to take the Pentecostal church experience into lounge rooms.

Truthfully, you could exist in a Pentecostal church, be touched by the evangelical charismatic movement and still be influenced by the neo-charismatic movement in tandem. One wave seems to roll into another quiet seemlessly.

The second wave: The evangelical charismatic movement of the 1960’s

Charismatic Evangelicalism amassed a wide following and built on the pentecostal doctrine with two major differences: it did not major on speaking in tongues as evidence of being baptised in the Holy Spirit, but it did major on the spiritual gifts (prophecy, healing, faith, healing, miracles, discernment of spirits, tongues). While, as I said above, these two “waves” or movements seem to roll in pretty effortlessly with each other, there were clashes aplenty. One was this “the failure of Charismatics to embrace traditional Pentecostal taboos on dancing, drinking alcohol, smoking, and restrictions on dress and appearance [that] initiated an identity crisis for classical Pentecostals, who were forced to reexamine long held assumptions about what it meant to be Spirit filled. The liberalizing influence of the Charismatic Movement on classical Pentecostalism can be seen in the disappearance of many of these taboos since the 1960s. Because of this, the cultural differences between classical Pentecostals and charismatics have lessened over time.”

Looking back through my experience in Christianity, it seems that many people don’t know exactly where they fit on the Pentecostal/Charismatic scale. It is said that Pentecostals believe that speaking in tongues is necessary evidence of the Baptism of the Holy Spirit, and that they are more strict on the taboos mentioned in the quote above, while Charismatics aren’t too fussed on either of these things. I guess I grew up Charismatic, but even within this, I was touched by the purity movement which (functionally if not explicitly) placed restrictions on dress and appearance). I had my first drink of alcohol at age 25, and dancing was always a matter in which one had to be careful not to be too sensual. In my experience, Pentecostalism and Charismatics seemed to roll together. The clashes between the movements seem to be put on the back burner as people plunge ahead and roll with the waves when it comes to faith movements. This is fine, but as you know, I’m all about knowing what you believe.

So that was the second wave. The third wave was yet to come:

And here we are: The Neo-charismatic Movement.

In the third wave, we saw the power evangelists gain fame. I’m sure Billy Graham was the trailblazer here. But as time marches on, it’s the big ministries like the Bethel types, the Todd Whites and Heidi Bakers of the world that fly the flag.

Early on, there were a couple of movements that raised eyebrows or attracted a lot of criticism. Two such movements were the so-called Toronto Blessing (marked by so called “holy laughter” and lead by Rodney Howard Browne) and the Pensacola (or Brownesville) Revival. Criticisms that spanned both movements included  a lack of sustainability, and potentially capitalising on the naivety of believers who may have been swept up in a hyped atmosphere that may have had little or nothing to do with God at all.  There was also a bucket of theological issues raised. (I’m not going to critique these revivals today. You can read up on them here if you want).

As a child, I never experienced the Brownsville/Pensacola revival. That was considered to be “geographically specific” and unless you visited the so-called “power centre” you wouldn’t be touched by it. This, of course, is jarringly opposed to the omnipotence and omnipresence of God which leads me to ask “Which spirit was ruling the roost over there?”  I did, however, experience the Toronto Blessing. I sat beside my parents in a crowded auditorium in 1996 and witnessed the immersive worship that was the preliminary to Rodney Howard Browne striding onto the stage and singing “This is that” – his self-penned revival theme-song. To be honest, I was more taken with the lady on the piano who could run a whole band from her seat behind the ivories.  She was the one I wanted to emulate. (And kinda did, I guess).

ANYWAY! This movement characterised by laughter and being “drunk in the spirit” did reach my corner of the world – little Gippsland region in the back blocks of Australia. I remember watching the adults roll about on the floor in church meetings barking and laughing and falling on each-other. I had no idea what was going on, but it proved the perfect opportunity to find your friends and cackle your way through church. No one ever noticed if you leaned in to your bestie, made a quiet remark about how ridiculous someone looked, and then laughed raucously. It was “the Holy Spirit at work”. That was our cover.

Years on, I see little or no fruit from that movement (although I’m happy to be proven wrong if anyone has data). Not a soul saved in my area because of it (that I can recall). No lasting sense of renewal that I know of or could observe. No larger churches. No socio-economic change. No patches of the world touched by this movement that showed lasting declines in depression and anxiety statistics that should go with an outpouring of holy peace and joy. Maybe there were miracles, but these can’t be attributed directly to a movement. If the scripture says “Lay hands on the sick and they will recover” and that happened, then it’s because of the Holy Spirit and not because of so-called “Holy Laughter.” I guess 1 Peter 4:7, which cautions us to be sober and watchful, is my big caution here.  

What was the Toronto Blessing then, and if it was God, why did He do it? I don’t know. Ask the real historians. But the thing we have to be watchful of now is the theological issues that are raising their heads as the neo-charismatic movement beds itself down and marches forward under the current big brands in Christianity.

The Big Theological Differences in Neo-Charismatics

In the neo-charismatic movement, we have gone from the gifts of the spirit, to emphasis on signs and wonders, and the supernatural. I find this interesting. We seem to be upping the ante from one movement to the next and I have to wonder whether this is at least partially manufactured to fit an audience that demands more from the entertainment it consumes and has less of an attention span to consume it. Tv scenes are shorter and more intense. Movies are more gripping, with more special effects and quickly escalating plot lines. Social media has seemingly affected the attention spans of readers to sound-bytes and status updates.

Why do I mention these seemingly unrelated issues? Because along with these shortened attention spans and the escalating nature of entertainment in the secular world, we see shorter sermons, more intensive immersive worship experiences, electric atmospheres, shows of signs, wonders and miracles and (in my opinion) less emphasis on a well-considered and well informed faith. How do you build a solid, deep and well informed faith in a short sermon that is often more loaded with pop psychology than with scripture? (Look, there are some wonderful churches out there! I’m taking a broad brush to the issue)

My big concern within this third wave is that we can’t and shouldn’t treat Jesus like a drug. If we don’t feel Him, that doesn’t change His reality. It shouldn’t. But if we have been raised into Christianity on a steady diet of signs, wonders, miracles and spiritual gifts, immersive worship experiences and communal expressions of faith, then if our faith suddenly becomes rocked by an estrangement from church or community, and those feelings go away or we pray and don’t get healed – who is God? Where is God? Did He disappear? Am I going to Hell now?

Many a theologian has raised concerns over the errant teachings that have come out during this third wave. A personal concern of mine is that with increasing numbers of independent churches, and a decrease in emphasis on doctrine and qualification (with calling taking its place as if we don’t need both), then it seems we are perfectly poised for an epidemic of toxic, authoritarian or even cultish churches to emerge. These do not serve the body of Christ. These can leave immense damage in their wake when a believer wakes up to what is going on and has to extract themselves and their family from its grasp. (Read more here)

We don’t need bizarre manifestations for Christianity to be relevant. In fact, that could make it a laughing stock. We don’t need to ‘use’ Jesus like a drug to fix our mood or elevate our faith and devotion. Christianity, true followership of Christ, comes from a deep place within us. It is not a political stance. It doesn’t demand Dominionism (as we see in the NAR) or showiness. If we continue to create this hyped-up Christianity, then we are prepping ourselves for a mass exodus from the faith when inevitably, the individuals that make up the massive evangelical following worldwide hit hard times and start to question their faith.

True faith, to me, is deep, sober, grounded in the word, grown in compassion and love, and practiced regardless of church attendance (which of course we are exhorted to do so we don’t lose faith in the hard times anyway). How do you build such a faith if yours is built purely on the experience of neo-charismatic Christianity? For all the hype, for all the miracles, for all the songs and sermons, surely the personal expression of faith offered to God in the quiet, unseen moments is more meaningful. Just my take on it!

So there you have it: third wave/ neo-charismatic movement. I’ll admit, I’m a participant in the third wave. I just do it with my own Bible in hand rather than a firm reliance on my pastors wisdom. To be honest, I much prefer it that way.

See you in a few days for one heck of a series!

(Okay Kit. Stop procrastinating and write it!) 

PEACE!

Kit K

Theological Catfishing

“Catfishing” was a term inspired by a 2010 documentary where a person was lured into a romantic relationship with someone online, only to discover that the real person behind the online presence was entirely different. Disappointingly different.  In a modern world where social media rules, catfishing is rife. It is a deceitful act where someone creates a false persona, on purpose, to lure people in by false pretences. Of course, there are degrees of severity, from doctoring a picture far beyond recognition to inventing entire personalities. But you get the idea. 

So what’s this got to do with church, Kit? I’m glad you asked.

I’m surely not the only one who has noticed that churches aren’t called what they are anymore. We used to know what a church believed based on their name. Lutheran, Methodist, Catholic, Anglican, Baptist, etc – we knew what these names meant. Now we have things like “Elevate Church” “Hillsong,” “Vertical Church” to name a few. These are some of the big brand names in Christendom, but the trend has trickled down to local churches too. You name it, there’s a church called that. I could name a hundred churches that brand themselves this way, but I guess that’s not the point I’m trying to get to.

That point is this: What do they believe? What is their theology? In all too many cases, we don’t have a clue. We just follow along, immerse ourselves in the goodness of it all, until one day it doesn’t feel so good. One potential juggernaut for these inevitable clashes is that of ambiguous theology. “Oh, I thought you believed this. But you believe the exact opposite. This affects me deeply. Where do I fit now?”

Marketing matters for churches nowadays, and I absolutely understand that necessity. If you jump online, you will find an ocean of slick branding, relentlessly friendly and upbeat social media pages (which admittedly I contribute to), pictures of smiling faces and coffee machines, and video after video of amazing music and lively worship. It all combines to present the hook by which new attendees are attracted.

Though it is a reality, and perhaps an inevitability, there are a couple of potential problems with this:

1. We can’t confuse branding with evangelism. You don’t undertake the Great Commission by running a Facebook page. Real evangelism involves real connection. While I don’t discount the necessity of social media for facilitating Christian community, we can’t rely on it to do the whole thing for us. Let us not reduce Christ to content.

2. If we aren’t upfront about what we believe, then people can join us on false pretences. If when true intent comes to the fore, it doesn’t match the public or evangelistic narrative, the repercussions for a persons faith, participation, self-worth, and even mental health can be serious.

I’m a strong believer that we need to be upfront about what we believe. I’m a stronger believer that ambiguity is dangerous. It was recently International Women’s Day. So perhaps this is a good example of how theological catfishing is problematic.

Imagine you’re a girl who has grown up in church, hoping to use your gifts and talents for God. You want to be a pastor and you are given no indication that this would be an issue. Imagine wondering why your male counterparts keep on getting the opportunities you wished you had, if it was not made clear that your church was not as egalitarian as you thought it was. Wouldn’t it make you internalise the problem and ask “Why am I not good enough?” What would constant (and potentially unexplained) rejections do to your self worth and participation in faith? How would it affect how you view God and His heart towards you? What would it do for your trust in people if, after years of serving, someone finally tells you that you aren’t getting promoted because you are female.

Don’t empower someone using your words and your sermons if you can’t deal with what they do with empowerment.

The truth is many churches don’t believe women have the right to leadership  (despite Biblical examples like Deborah, Junia, Phoebe, Euodia, Syntyche and others – more on that here). I know that many churches are complementarian, believing women don’t belong in senior leadership, or positions of authority at all. I used to be complementarian. I don’t judge anyone for not being egalitarian in their beliefs (believing all people are equal and able to serve/lead) as there are all types of churches and doctrines, many of which can be argued strongly from the Bible. However, I feel obligated to flag the danger in not allowing your theology to be clearly seen before it becomes a barrier to inclusion for someone who already thought they were accepted by the church.

There’s a simple solution to this: Be upfront with your theology. Because empowering a little girl right up until the point where she is a woman wanting to serve God with heart, soul and vocation, then telling her she has no place in leadership is harmful. Because that young woman, has given her time, energy and effort for years to sow into a cause she thought she was fully accepted in. She was used, then disempowered in the cruelest of glass ceilings.

It is, in fact, this little-known phenomenon known as ‘theological catfishing’.

Another group of marginalised Christians who fall victim to theological catfishing all the time is that of LGBTI+ Christians. I’m going to say something here that shouldn’t be controversial at all, but it is: I am a progressive Christian. I support LGBTI+ Christians and believe they have equal right to participate in faith and service. This is my individual, well-considered stance and I’ll tell you all about why another day. For now, I just want to flag this catfishing trend that does great harm to these individuals (and indeed others who have been mislead by ambiguous theology).

The harm I see in the lives that have touched mine and the stories they have relayed is this: We tell them they are loved, and accepted. We tell them that Jesus loves them just the way they are. Often, we have them serve on our teams until they decide to live authentically and be “out” then we remove them from leadership, having already used their talents to our ends and dangled the carrot of love and acceptance in front of their eyes.

Love and acceptance that should be healing, faith that should be a solace and a joy, is then another place of harm and judgement. When love is our great commandment, when compassion is our great example through Jesus, I believe we need to do better.

Research already shows that this group has a significantly higher risk of depression and suicidality than other groups (read more here). We also know that discrimination and exclusion are listed as “the key causal factors of LGBTI mental ill-health and suicidality [1].” We need to be treating them with more compassion and care. Not less. I know that there is a lot of debate around this issue, and I’m not going to get into that today, but I will say this:

Don’t say you are egalitarian if you do not believe that LGBTI people have every right to participate as fully in faith and ministry as their straight, cisgender counterparts. That is theological catfishing.

“Welcoming but not affirming” is not welcoming at all.

I am learning how to be a better ally to the people near and dear to me who are LGBTI+ and in my travels around the Bible, I’ve found there is absolutely no theological issue with my pure-egalitarian stance and my decision to love with no “ifs’, but’s or despite’s.” I’ll tell you all about the how and why another day. The message for today is this:

Mark 12:30-31 – Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’[a] 31 The second is this: ‘Love your neighbour as yourself.’[b] There is no commandment greater than these.

Love doesn’t catfish people by ambiguous theology, whether they are women, minorities, or LGBTI+ Christians. Love is honest. Love is kind. Love is not ambiguous. Love grapples with the deep issues other people face, because love wants to be with them in their plight. Love lifts the broken. It doesn’t break the lifted.

Think about it: what harm could be done when someone is converted on false pretences? Who then, is God, if His representatives deceived a person through a promise of unconditional acceptance and empowerment in order to convert them then taking that away.

My warning against theological catfishing comes after watching friends grapple with it. It comes after hearing a dear Christian friend choose not to attend church again because of the risk of theological catfishing. Once bitten, forever shy. There are more stories I could cite, as at least in my part of the world, its pretty darn hard to find a modern, affirming church. We’ve got a long way to go. Tis is just one story, but no doubt a very common one. We can tell ourselves that by hiding the less palatable elements of our theology, we are evangelising better. But if we are driving people away from God more permanently by revealing these things after time rather than go on a deep journey of understanding and discovery, then I counter that this is not sustainable or genuine evangelism.

It’s just false advertising.

God doesn’t need a PR manager. He needs people with good theology, open hearts, honest mouths, and a lot of love to give. He can handle the rest. Another day, I will tell you why  I am a progressive Christian. But today I’m not brave enough. I’m only brave enough to implore you to love better. And that should truly be every Christians job.

REFERENCES:

1. https://margmowczko.com/new-testament-women-church-leaders/

2. https://www.beyondblue.org.au/docs/default-source/default-document-library/bw0258-lgbti-mental-health-and-suicide-2013-2nd-edition.pdf?sfvrsn=2  

Why Faith Post-Deconstruction is Pretty Great

When I look back through the backlog of topics I’ve written about on here, one thing is abundantly clear: I’ve written on a lot of heavy stuff! (#SorryNotSorry). While you could be forgiven for thinking I’m constantly sitting on a rock, looking at the stars and stroking my chin like some contemplative stone statue, in truth that’s not me at all. I just carve out a few hours a week to be a nerd. And. I. Love. It. But its time for something happy and simple. So today I’m popping out a bit of encouragement for you: if you are going through deconstruction right now, then fear not. Life and faith post deconstruction can be pretty great.

This week, I was talking to a beautiful friend who is just beginning on this journey. I guess I’m optimistic that for her, the deconstruction process won’t be so much like a rug brutally ripped out from under her feet,  toppling a well-ordered world. I hope it will be a little more gentle, a little more hopeful. Hey – I might be way off mark, but a girl can hope, right?

However you approach your deconstruction journey, I want to say there’s hope. Many people who find themselves undergoing this dramatic internal reinvention go on to find deep satisfaction in life and faith. My deconstruction was brutal. But my life now is so deeply satisfying. In the beginning, it felt like all ashes. My world felt burned to the ground. But now, to quote the cliché, beauty has come out of it.

The thing each of us must know is this: you don’t begin a deconstruction journey unless you knew that something wasn’t right and that you had to figure out what and why.

You might not tell yourself this explicitly. It might be something that happens on a subconscious level. It might be something kicked off by conflict or circumstance. But there is a reason for the search. There’s no avoiding that. So you best lean in and strap in, friend.

I’ve met people who are trying their hardest not to go on the deconstruction journey. Eventually, they all find this to be futile. If you find yourself avoiding that pull, its because there is something that needs looking at. There is some soul-sore festering in there and it wants your attention.

But no matter the hardship that lead you there, beauty can come out of it. You can stay a Christian if you want to. You don’t have to walk away from everything. But taking a microscope to your belief system in the service of finding deeper truth just is not a bad thing. If anything, it can lead you into deeper authenticity and happiness.

The Peace Barometer

I love how Marie Kondo’s decluttering method seems to have taken the world by storm. She asks “Does this item spark joy?” If it doesn’t, then we thank it and it goes. Regardless of how you feel about your clutter, or the little sprite who floats into people’s homes and helps clean them, its not a bad approach. I guess, spiritually, my deconstruction journey was a little bit Marie Kondo.

I started comparing things against Romans 14:17 – That the kingdom of God is righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Ghost. I started comparing everything against that. But even within this, we can tell ourselves that our actions are right in the sight of God, and that settles the righteousness conflict. We can even tell ourselves that we are happy and joyful (although if you are about to start deconstructing, then you know this isn’t true).

For me, the one thing I could never manufacture was peace. Therefore, peace became the thing I measured everything against. The other two, righteousness and  joy, factored in but I could convince myself I had both to a certain degree. But if peace was missing then I knew I had issues.

As Christians, we accept a lot of what we are told, because the people rocking our pulpits occupy such a place of respect and honour in our lives. Yet a persons walk with God is such a deeply personal experience. No one does it for you. Its you and God. From here to eternity. Over the years, I had become deeply uncomfortable with some of those things. I could believe them to amount to righteousness. But I did not feel peace and I did not feel joy.

So I had some questions to ask. For example, some of them looked like this:

• Does dominionism bring peace? Does it bring joy? Does it make the world better?

• Does the constant work of ministry bring peace and joy? Does it make me a better ambassador for Christ, or just a tired, cranky, legalistic one?

• Do I have to support “Christian” politicians and their anti-immigration policies just because I too am a Christian? Does it bring me peace? Does it bring me joy to support such suffering? (if so…WHYYYYYY?)

• And for a particularly touchy one – Do I have to be homophobic and transphobic just because I’m a Christian? Does this bring me peace? Does it bring me joy?

There were so many questions asked. These are just four examples. Everyone’s answers will likely be different. Mine were “no, no, no and no.”  So I looked to the Bible. I searched. I listened to podcasts. I read books. I talked to other deconstructors to normalise what I was going through (important step, this!). I leaned into the process. I’m so thankful my hubby was there with me, because I’m sure he’d have gotten CRAZY sick of me if he wasn’t.

I’ve learned that if peace cannot be found, then something needs to change. Just because something is preached at us doesn’t mean it is truth. (Take that with a grain of salt. There are so many wonderful, wise, theologically strong pastors and leaders out there. I’m so blessed to have some of them in my life and my life is better for it. But that does not erase the fact that authority figures can be prone to error and dogma, and when the two combine, we have bad theology that does great damage.)

Chase peace. Chase joy. Chase righteousness. The truth is that the human conscience is a gift from God. It points us to truth when the external stimuli can be so aggressively pointing us to error. If your conscience is telling you something is amiss, then lean in to that. It is never wrong. It can be muted, but never wrong.

Post-deconstruction: love-based faith not fear based religion.

I can’t even begin to explain the depth and breadth of my deconstruction journey. It was big. I can tell you this though: I have peace and I’m happy. I will always carry grief. But that is true for anyone who has faced loss. We don’t stop grieving. We just grow a bigger life around it, and we find joy in appreciating the things that grew into our lives  after loss seemed to prune us back.

I don’t feel anxious on Sunday mornings. I don’t feel anxious when I disagree with something said from the pulpit. I serve in a church and it brings me joy to do so. I grapple with how best to raise my children, but I have peace knowing we all do, and that if I keep faith and conscience at the centre of it then I can’t go too far wrong. I don’t feel that clench in  my chest when I look at the politics section of the news. I feel calm, knowing I’m right where I need to be and the rest is God’s problem.

Even when there is a challenge that comes my way, there is a peace there that I never had before and that’s a truly beautiful thing.

This past weekend, my husband and I dealt with two sick kids and a list of odd jobs as long as our arms. I was leading songs at church and I knew it was going to be a tough gig because I had skeleton staff on the band, was multitasking far more than is practical, and half the church was away at a wedding across the other side of the state. I knew it wasn’t going to be the most earth-moving worship service. But I didn’t feel anxious. I felt peace. The word brought at church had a gentle challenge in it, but I did not feel crushed or at odds. I felt empowered to look at it and let it sink in. In amongst the domestic madness, my husband found moments to look at each-other, look at our kids and feel truly blessed and in love with our little family.

That’s not something that I could have had while I was at odds with myself, my faith and my expression of Christianity. But oh its a blessing now that the deconstruction journey is less intense.

I hope to deconstruct and reconstruct my faith constantly over the years to follow, because I always want my faith to reflect Christ, to be a sweet fragrance to those my life may touch, and to be authentically, peacefully, and joyfully me. Don’t fear deconstruction, friend. Lean in to it. Good things can come out of it.

So that’s me! I hope it encourages you. If you are on a deconstruction journey, then I hope you find support here. Hit me up if you have any questions as I love helping deconstructors if I can in any way – even if that’s linking you with resources.

Anyway! I’ve got to go do some real work. You have a wonderful week.

Kit K. Over and Out

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Faith, Identity, and the Deconstruction Journey

When I first read the terms “deconstruction” and “reconstruction”, I was in the thick of what one might call an existential crisis. Up until this point “deconstruction” was something referring to food in swanky restaurants (A deconstructed cheesecake, for example. Basically it means a messy, smashed cheesecake with a garnish on top.) Suddenly I was hearing this word applied to faith, belief and the way one looks at life. At that time, I felt like my neatly packaged way of looking at the world was suddenly flying about in a million pieces like ticker tape. It was its own messy, smashed cheesecake and I didn’t know how to put it back together. 

I don’t know how to write this series in a way that’s neat. Because deconstruction and reconstruction aren’t neat. But I sure hope its helpful. So here are my first four thoughts.

First thought: You’re going to be okay. Its scary as heck. But you’re going to be ok.

Deconstruction, in psychological terms, is a process of critical analysis. You could apply it to faith, relationships, identity, life, or even specific issues in news or media. You could even apply it to a prize fight. Where did it go right? Where did it go wrong? Etc. But the type I’m talking about here usually comes after a loss of some sort: loss of a friendship, a relationship, a faith, a community, etc. It causes you to look back on time and ask things like “What was I thinking? What do I think? Who am I now?” and in some cases, “How do I approach life?”

The process itself involves deconstructing your old ideas about who you are and what you believe (and reconstruction is the partner to this process: where you put those pieces all back together). Think about this like a thousand piece puzzle. Its lovely when the picture is all together and looking sharp, but when you are holding the pieces and you don’t know where to start – well gee. That’s daunting. And its messy as F. (F meaning foretold. You didn’t think I’d drop the F bomb, did you? Heh.)

For some people this process of deconstruction can be limited to one patch of their life. For others its all encompassing. I’ve read that for people leaving a controlling relationship or a high demand group, for example, it can involve high-anxiety and inability to think through things as simple as deciding where and how to open a bank account.

When I started this journey, I was happy with where my bank accounts where held, thank Heavens. But I was second guessing what the Bible really meant, who was God really, how should I raise my kids or approach faith, God, and contribution to society. I was wondering how I should redevelop a tribe for my husband, kids and I to live and thrive in. My experience of faith had informed everything: my friendships, how I interacted with family, career, finance, sleep, tv consumption, major life decisions – everything. All of a sudden it was blown to pieces. I felt like I my locus of control had been external. I didn’t know how to reach out, grab it and figure out how to possess it for myself. I didn’t even know whether I was allowed to. In some moments, I was rapt in the freedom of it all. At other times, I was almost crippled with fear.

Its been three years. And I want to say something to people who are just starting this journey – you are going to be ok. I’ll give you a spoiler here: I’m ok. In fact, I’m happier. My marriage is thriving, as are my friendships. I love my tribe, and my weekends are spent with people I just adore. We soak in the sunshine, watch our kids play, drink wine (on many if not all occasions) and we laugh a lot. I laugh a lot more than I used to. I still have struggles but they are well within the bounds of “normal.” How do you deal with 2 year olds? How do you squeeze in date night when you are so tired? Why do the weeds in my garden have to grow so freakin’ fast? That sort of thing.

If you’re just starting this journey, then it feels all-encompassing right now. It feels messy, and painful, and out of control. But it won’t feel that way forever. I’ve got friends who are 4, 5, 6 and even 15 years post-deconstruction. They are doing well. Life looks different but it looks good. You’re going to be okay. Just keep taking one step at a time.

Second thought: There’s grief, and no matter what you’ve heard about the five stages of grief – it isn’t linear. One moment you are in denial. The next you are angry. You think you’ve accepted it then you change your mind about that. That’s okay. Just roll with it.

Yes, you can grieve for faith, community, or relationships as deeply as you would grieve for a person.  Why? Because if you are grieving for the loss of identity or a relationship, then its almost like you are grieving for the person you were before. Its okay. My husband and I used to try to fix each-other. If one of us was having an off day, we would try to talk each-other up and out of that funk. One would compensate for the other persons sadness or rumination with confidence and cheeriness. It was noble. But we have learned something over the years: its better to acknowledge those feelings of sadness and rumination, hug it out, and simply be there in the sadness. You don’t have to feel “up” all the time. You can’t. That’s life. But if you have someone beside you to simply share it, then cherish that. I’m so blessed that hubby was on this journey with me. The way we worked through our deconstruction/reconstruction was different, as was the timeline, but we were in it together. I’m so thankful for that.

Not everyone will go through this process with a partner. If you can’t, then find a friend, a support group, or a therapist. Better still, find all of the above. This is hard stuff. You’re going to make it. But its hard stuff.

Third thought: You probably need to know about limbic lag.

Fun fact: Your prefrontal cortex (which makes sense of the world) sometimes works on a different timeline to your limbic system (which is thought to govern emotions). So when it comes to matters like re-evaluating and re-building your life, if you are feeling like crap, it doesn’t have to mean anything more than that you’re feeling like crap. Acknowledge it. Don’t fight it. But don’t think you need to rethink everything because you are feeling like rubbish in that moment. It could simply be limbic lag – thoughts and feelings working on different schedules. Eventually they’ll line up a bit better. But in the midst of the crisis, they might not. And that’s okay.

Tomorrow will be another day. You don’t have to feel sad tomorrow if you felt sad today. But if you do that’s okay too. (Disclaimer: one or two days is okay, but if your low mood lasts much longer than that, see a doctor. Sometimes when we face upheavals in life, it can wear on our mental health. If you are suffering from ongoing low mood then it could be depression, which is a medical condition. Don’t muck around with that. Your life means too much. Yes, even if you feel like you’ve lost your sense of purpose and place right now. You are worth help. And help helps, you know.)

Now, I know that limbic lag is a bit of a pop-psych terminology to describe this phenomenon but its a helpful one based on how the different sections of the brain work. If you’ve gone on a big process of deconstruction, then your whole life might be put under the microscope of critical thought, and you might be grieving a lot while also talking and thinking through it all. If you are used to “following your gut” to know whether you are right or wrong, then this limbic lag could be confusing. You might wonder if you are wrong on something just because you don’t get that happy, peaceful feeling about it.

In this moment, I encourage you to sit with the feelings and know that sometimes you just feel bad. I’m about to use another pop-psych term (eeek!) but in these moments, self-care matters. So run that bath. Have that chocolate. Go for that walk (get dressed first if you’ve just had that bath! You’re welcome). Phone that friend. See that movie. Deconstruction can feel all encompassing, but you can take a few hours off your existential crisis to see Jason Momoa, er I mean Aquaman or whatever. Your existential crisis will still be there tomorrow, so you can give yourself permission to take a day off making sense of the world.

Fourth Thought: Deconstruction and reconstruction don’t have to be separate. You can do one as you do the other. They can also be positive and freeing, even if the circumstances that lead you there weren’t.

Look, how you face your crisis is your business. No one can tell you how to do it (apart from a good therapist, which EVERYONE needs. I swear. Emphasis on the word good though. A good one will guide you through it, give you the skills to do it, but never demand you do it their way or according to their values). But I found I had to approach deconstruction and reconstruction together, and in an ongoing fashion.

In the beginning, something would pop up almost every day. Its amazing how pervading your belief system can be. During the heavy deconstruction phase after I left a church, lost a community and had to reinvent it all, I was amazed at how much I had to rethink. But deconstruction and reconstruction ran together. Something would pop up, and I’d realise “I used to think this about a particular thing. What do I think now?” I’d then study, think, talk it through with people in my circle and arrive at what I now think. It was a constant process of taking one belief out of my box of beliefs, turning it over, thinking about it and deciding whether it was to be kept, discarded or reinvented.

You see, you can’t just discard a belief. You have to replace it with what you now think. It’s not just a matter of realising Santa doesn’t exist. Its a matter of realising he doesn’t exist, and he’s actually your parents waiting until after you go to bed and putting the presents bought with their hard-earned cash under the tree. Santa didn’t eat the cookie. Ruddolph didn’t eat the carrot. Dad ate the cookie and Mum put the carrot back in the crisper so it could be chopped up and put in with the roasting vegetables.

It sounds terribly orderly, doesn’t it? I wish it were. It was actually a lot less organised. Because one day it was church attendance and tithing, the next it was social justice, predestination, the afterlife and fear of Hell. Then back to tithing or whatever. It was haphazard and emotionally draining, sometimes intellectual, and other times deeply emotive. Sometimes it was easy to arrive at a new conclusion or retain the old one, and sometimes it was too hard to sort through in a day, a week or a month.

Three years on, I hope I keep deconstructing and reconstructing for the rest of my life. Now that I’m through the existential crisis and into a more authentic, congruent and peaceful way of living and expressing faith, I think its an altogether healthy thing to keep asking yourself important questions. Its hard in the beginning if you’ve been living life one way and then it all gets thrown up in the air. But its not always a negative thing or something undertaken in reaction to loss or upheaval.

I realise this blog post lacks my usual references and intellectual geek-speak. I felt like it deserved a bit more of a personal look. I hope it helps. If it doesn’t, then I hope you just hold on to two things: find a good therapist, and you’re going to be okay.

Life can get sunnier if you do the work.

Three years into a deconstruction/reconstruction journey that may come and go for the rest of my life, here’s what I know: I’m still me. I just like me more. I am more able to grow and evolve than I thought I was. I am stronger and more capable than I thought I was. I am still a Christian. God hasn’t changed, but my understanding of Him has and so the way I express that and love people has changed. There will always be things I grieve. Because grief doesn’t necessarily go away. You just grow a bigger life around it.

And you can, you will, grow a bigger life around it.

Good luck. Stay tuned next week when I talk about…something relevant.

xo
Kit K

Is Church Still Relevant?

Rounding out the relevance series (before we get stuck into some heavy topics) is the topic of Church. To me, there’s no question that Jesus and faith are still relevant. In fact, a reader remarked during the week that it is people that drive people from Jesus. Jesus himself isn’t the problem but often Christians mess it up. No arguments there!

We’ve talked about the concept of sin, and we’ve unpacked preaching. But now its time to talk format. We’ve been doing church this way (roughly) since Constantine. Meet in a building on a Sunday and hear a sermon.  Somewhere along the line, songs or hymns made their way in. Tithes have always been part of it (since Jacob promised God a tenth of everything and Malachi put pen to paper). Society has evolved over the last few centuries but Church kept the same format, albeit adding flashing lights, stage design and contemporary music stylings.

So friend, is church still relevant? Here are some thoughts on it.

To kick this one off, the obvious scripture reference has to pop up, right? Hebrews 10:25 – “Do not forsake the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhort one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching.”

Some translations say “the gathering together of the saints”. Others word it differently, but the inference is clear – if you are a Christian, meet up with other Christians to keep yourself encouraged and built up. Its good logic, I believe. No man is an island. Its a cliché because its true. We need people, because life will be great but it will also be crappy. At times, our walk with God will be as easy as breathing. At other times, it will be as easy as breathing when you have end stage emphysema and a sumo sitting on your chest. It seems to me that we need the Christian community around us in both scenarios.

• Firstly, when faith is easy its easy to stop praying, searching, or checking your doctrine. Its easy to invent your own truth and ride high on the euphoria of your own ideas when things are going well. Boy, I’ve heard some strange things come out of peoples mouths during these times! Things are going well. Things feel right. So we don’t check our thoughts to see if they are wrong. Being part of a community of believers can help keep you on the straight and narrow, and keep throwing scripture at you (via sermons) even when you aren’t reading your own copy of the Good Book.

• Secondly, in the hard times, encouragement and friendship can stop you from throwing in the towel, hiding from God or yelling “As if You are even there!” at the sky. I think I’ve done all three. And I’m eternally grateful (perhaps literally) for the people who have helped me through. But in these times, church hasn’t been in the walls of the church necessarily. It’s been at kitchen tables, crying into cups of herbal tea.

• Thirdly, community is a valuable part of a healthy existence. One of the greatest plagues of the modern world  is that of loneliness. We are surrounded by people but have no one to share our lives with on a deep, personal level. We have Facebook friends lists with thousands of names, but no one to call in a crisis. Church, when done right, can be a solution to this problem. It can be a place to find a tribe and a sense of belonging. Nothing wrong with that (unless that church wields too much control over you because you need somewhere to belong. But that’s a whole other can of worms).

I am acutely aware that there are those who have a deep grapple with this question: is this “song service + pop culture sermon” format, the one that is oh-so-common across the western world, the best way to explore faith within the context of community. I can’t give you a Yes/No answer, but I’m more than happy to lay out a few thoughts.

There have  been various movements in church format over the centuries. From the church of Acts which sounds a little like the communes of the 70’s (although I’m sure without the hippy/culty stuff that popped up in a lot of those). They shared their belongings. They broke bread together. They did life together. Then over the centuries that followed, long-form sermons and hymns took precedence as communal living faded away. Today, that sermon/hymn format has survived in some denominations. But in others it has been superseded by a more seeker-friendly format seen in mega-churches: a song service, tithes, the occasional communion, and a sermon. Its just all wrapped in slick advertising, nice stage designs and shorter, less fire-and-brimstone messages that are more appealing to the masses.

Is this the only relevant format? I don’t think so but each comes with pros-and-cons. Perhaps the modern format has been created to fit in with peoples busy, complicated lives, and perhaps that comes at the expense of a deep understanding of the word of God and a too-heavy reliance upon music to create the mood and experience. But the  bottom line is this: if you are relying on church to keep your relationship with God afloat, you’re missing the point. Church doesn’t manage your relationship with God. It doesn’t save you. It doesn’t hash out your deep doubts or your misgivings. It shouldn’t dictate your every decision between Monday and Saturday. You and God have to work that out. Church is where we gather to keep encouraged, to be challenged when needed, and to find others who are walking a similar path. When we find a good church, its a thing to cherish.

Currently, a regular attender at church is someone who goes once every three weeks (or maybe four! I can’t remember!). It could be easy to think that this is the measure of a persons Christianity. I don’t think this is wise. Who has a closer walk with God? Someone who goes to church every week but never opens their Bible? Or someone who never sets foot in church but prays and reads their Bible every day? Who has a better hold on righteousness? The songleader who can create a heightened emotional atmosphere in a worship service, but chooses songs purely on how they can make people feel and lives a life that contradicts the songs? Or the person who doesn’t go to church regularly but makes a daily effort to ask “what would Jesus do?” and follow through on that.

Church attendance really isn’t a hill I’ll die on. I don’t think it determines whether or not you’ll go to Heaven. It can just make life a bit easier along the way. It can surround you with community, give you focus, and opportunities to contribute and grow your faith. That’s good. I’m in a church and I love it. But not all of my friends find it that easy. In fact, many of them serve out their faith the best way they can, but regular church attendance isn’t part of it at this point. You won’t find me passing judgement on any of them, because they share their faith and walk with God with other Christians (myself among them), and I’m absolutely sure God looks upon their reasons (and in some cases their struggles) and sees someone He loves and cares about.

Example: I’ve got a friend who left behind a city mega-church and settled down in the country. For him and his family, church is a lived experience that never has them set foot in a church (at least for this portion of their life). They have Christian friends and parents. They share their lives, frustrations, playlists, scripture readings, dreams, hopes and day-to-day stuff with them. But every day they make an effort to share the love of God with the people that are in their lives. Is it for everyone? No. But does it satisfy the Hebrews 10 clause – yeah, pretty sure it does. And they seem happy.

More than once, I’ve heard people voice their frustration at various parts of their own church experience. The worship doesn’t satisfy them (either its too pushy or its too light). The sermon isn’t quite right (its too pop culture, too light on scripture, too long, too short, too confrontational, not confrontational enough). The character of the congregation doesn’t suit. Its too cliquey, or too love-bomby and suffocating. It seems if you’ve got a church of 100 people, you’ll have 100 opinions on how it should run. You’ll have people who get along better than others. You’ll have rough diamonds. You’ll have iron sharpening iron. It will be great. It will be uncomfortable. It will be different things to different people. That’s all fine.

Church will never be perfect because its made up of humans and we aren’t perfect. I look at Hebrews 10:25, I look at people who never skip a Sunday unless they’re dead, I look at people who skip church on a sunny day and here’s what I think – Church isn’t Christianity. Church is encouragement, and community. Church is flawed, and easy, and difficult, and imperfect. It is beautiful and ugly at times, but Church is just people. It was a God-breathed concept that inevitably has good and bad aspects because it was entrusted to the hands of inherently flawed humans but church is not salvation. Jesus is.

The minute we think it is a qualifying factor in our salvation, or that it buoys our sinking devotional life, we miss the point. Over the course of the last few months, I’ve spoken with a lot of people who carry deep, deep wounds from toxic churches. Many of them can’t set foot in a church. To them I’d say – Don’t worry. No one is dooming you to Hell because you can’t do it. But find a friend who can help you satisfy the Hebrews 10:25 clause. There’s another scripture that says “where two or more are gathered, there I am in the midst.” Church doesn’t have to be in a building with a spire or a band. It can be in kitchens around tables. It can be in lounge rooms. Communion can be in tiny cups or it can be giant feasts an Italian mamma would be proud to put on. Format isn’t important. Here’s what is:

• Does it encourage you to keep on going in your faith, to keep on searching for a deeper walk with God in the mountains or in the valleys of life?

• Does it create room for the kind of friendships where someone could say “Okay mate, I think you’re going off on a weird tangent here. Why don’t we come back to what God says about it?”

• Does it motivate you to find ways to show the love of God to people who need it and thus spread the fragrance of His love in every place like the scripture says?

• Does it surround you with community so you never feel like you are doing this thing alone?

Christianity is you and God. Church is a community that surrounds you. How that works format-wise is less of an issue than some make it out to be. There are markers of a healthy church. I’ve talked about that before and I’ll probably talk about it again. But for today I’ll say this: I strongly believe Church is still relevant. It just doesn’t have to look the way it always has.

I say that as a member of a healthy church, as a member of a worship team. I love where I am at and see it as an important part of my walk with God. But that is my walk with God.

You do yours.

Is Preaching Still Relevant?

This instalment of the “Relevance” series is a bit of a treat – because I didn’t have to write it! First guest blogger! Let me introduce you to Tom Postlethwaite. Tom is one of my favourite people to kick around ideas with. He’s been a Christian since he was 14 and is currently studying a Bachelor of Theology, after having felt the call towards Pastoring  – a call which was seen first by a bunch of people around him  (often a good indicator/confirmation)! He lists his hobbies as “cricket and Netflix” and neglected to mention in his bio that he’s a pretty handy drummer who has the rare knack of being able to run a worship service from the drum kit. So there’s that too. When I kicked off the “relevance” topic on the blog, he mentioned to me that he had thoughts about preaching…aaaand I hadn’t even thought about it. So here it is! Why preaching is still relevant today. Thanks Tom Pos!

…

“A sermon often does a man most good when it makes him most angry. Those people who walk down the aisles and say, “I will never hear that man again,” very often have an arrow rankling in their breast.”

– Charles Spurgeon –

When was the last time you heard a message you disagreed with? Not because it was theologically bad, but because it really challenged you about how you go about your life. How often have you made a big change in your life when a preacher confronted you with the truth found in God’s Word? I would say far too seldom in this day and age.

The preaching of yesteryear, by impassioned people like Charles Spurgeon, has seemingly been lost – lost to the instant-culture we are now a part of, lost to people who want to be comfortable and not challenged, lost to the money-grab that has become some mega-churches. Pastors begin pleading with their congregation not to go elsewhere, rather than pleading that people hear the gospel and be changed by it.

We may not want to go back to being pricked by a sermon’s challenging sting but, if Christianity is to thrive in a post-Christian world, we need to.

Preaching has two main components to it: teaching and proclaiming. It seems that, in this individual-centric culture, teaching is being prioritized over proclaiming. It is easy to see why: teaching is far easier than proclaiming. Teaching appeals to the audience’s idea that we have control over the message we hear. Half-an-hours’ worth of preaching summarized in one, or a few, neat take-home lessons – packaged with a live concert and the promise of a comfortable seat awaiting us next week.

Is that not what preaching is supposed to be about? Is that not how Jesus did it?

Like I said, this is a part of good preaching. Jesus taught all the time, using parables and stories as his main teaching method. He desired for his audiences to learn truths about the world and the kingdom, and teaching them via stories was a great way to do so. Take Jesus’ section of parables found in Matthew 13, for example. When we read it in our Bibles today, we find it broken up into neat little sections – one labelled ‘the Parable of the Sower’, another ‘the Parable of the Weeds’, and so on – all so that Jesus’ teaching may be easily comprehended and understood.

But if Jesus’ preaching was all teaching, then he either wasn’t the Messiah, or we are completely misrepresenting his words.

Paul Scott Wilson claims that the second part of preaching, proclaiming, is just as important as teaching – and has mostly fallen by the wayside [1]. Again, it is not hard to discover some of the reasons why the art of proclamation has become a little lost. It is completely focused on God. Using the example of a tour of an historic house, teaching would be like viewing the house but proclaiming would be like meeting the owner. The owner of the house of the Word of God, being God himself, and I should think there are some people in our congregations who would be very keen on delaying that interaction as long as they could.

When we take proclaiming who God is seriously, people will be introduced to the Author of the pages we are teaching from. It is this that will take preaching from being a declining Sunday tradition to a powerful vehicle of transformation.

This is also what will rub people up the wrong way. God is unapologetically God, unapologetically holy, and unapologetically offended by sin. When we proclaim this holy God – this sin-hating God – people will surely feel challenged and uneasy in his exposing light. Mostly because they have not been introduced to Him for quite some time, if not ever.

That is where the pastoring comes into the equation, when people are uncomfortable with the sin in their lives, where will they turn? But that is another point for another day.

When preachers become passionate about proclaiming God from the pulpit, that is when our churches will change and Christians will become ignited with the Spirit. The passion from the preacher will keep the art of preaching alive.

Not just a fake, transparent passion, but a true unrest with the lost souls that a preacher is confronted with every week. A deep frustration that time is running out and each message preached is important. Not a desire for bigger congregations, but deeper congregations. Not comfortable audiences, but audiences that are driven from the easy lives they are living and desire the truth. A hunger and thirst for a crowd that hungers and thirsts for more of God.

And this is driven by the preacher. Philip Brooks says this [2]:

“Preaching is the bringing of truth through personality.”

When the preacher adds themselves to the teaching of the Word and the proclamation of God himself, the congregation gets to see the truth in action. Zack Eswine makes the claim that [3]:

“Biblical preaching will meet this challenge (of reaching people in a “post-everything” world) only when a generation of preachers remembers where they have been.”

Preaching is essential to the Church because it puts into human words the heavenly truths we find in Scripture. The power and passion that testimony provides is a crucial tool in teaching congregations and proclaiming the character of the God we serve.

Ultimately, preaching is not relevant because the preacher is powerful. Preaching gains its relevancy as we proclaim the power of God.

“If I only had one more sermon to preach before I died, it would be about my Lord Jesus Christ. And I think that when we get to the end of our ministry, one of our regrets will be that we did not preach more of Him. I am sure no minister will ever repent of having preached Him too much.”

Charles Spurgeon.

Bibliography:

3Eswine, Zack, Preaching to a Post-Everything World: Crafting Biblical Sermons that Connect with Our Culture (Grand Rapids, Baker Books, 2008).

2 Merida, Tony, Faithful Preaching: Declaring Scripture with Responsibility, Passion, and Authenticity (Nashville, B&H Publishing Group, 2009).

Smith, Steven W., Dying to Preach: Embracing the Cross in the Pulpit (Grand Rapids, Kregel Publications, 2009).

1 Wilson, Paul Scott, Setting Words on Fire: Putting God at the Centre of the Sermon (Nashville, Abingdon Press, 2008).

[1]Wilson, Paul Scott, Setting Words on Fire: Putting God at the Centre of the Sermon (Nashville, Abingdon Press, 2008).

[2]Quoted by Tony Merida in his book, Faithful Preaching: Declaring Scripture with Responsibility, Passion, and Authority. 

[3]Eswine, Zack, Preaching to a Post-Everything World: Crafting Biblical Sermons that Connect with Our Culture (Grand Rapids, Baker Books, 2008).

Is the Concept of “Sin” Still Relevant?

We can’t talk about the relevance of Christianity, faith, church, etc without talking about one of the cornerstones upon which this all sits – the idea of sin. So today I’m taking a quick look at whether or not this word still has a place in the modern world. Breathe in, breathe out, lets go. 

“For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23) Okay then, what next.

I first heard about “sin” pretty early on in life. I was raised the child of evangelicals, who began pastoring when I was 8. Thus my “sin” radar was pretty well-tuned.  In truth, it became a thing so big as to become a boogie monster of sorts – the shadow that chased me into a deep pursuit of Christianity, rather than being taken along that journey by the guiding light of who Jesus is/was. Hey look – my faith might have been a lot more fear-based back then than it is now, but I’m still grateful for it. These days I accept that every human (including me – gasp!) is flawed and that’s ok. I do my best and thank God for grace that covers the rest. I pursue a faith that is about running towards the good things, not running away from the bad things, but that doesn’t mean I have erased the concept of sin from my brain.

In the modern day, we might ask ourselves whether the word ‘sin’ is even necessary. Its very presence in the modern lexicon is something some may find offensive. We have ethics. We have crime and punishment. Atheists, agnostics, humanists and Christians (and all the other belief systems too innumerable to list) alike can all pursue a high standard of ethical, altruistic living with or without the word ‘sin’. Is it therefore still relevant? I’m going to say that yes, it is. But it is our attitude to it that needs attention.

I guess we need to start with what “Sin” is. When you trace it back to the Hebrew and Greek origins of the word, there are two big concepts: one is that of a transgression (stepping across a boundary or limit), the other is that of missing the mark (so perhaps think of an athlete shooting for a goal but missing it.) “This view of sin includes the concept of our going in one direction but straying off course to the side and not continuing in the direction we intended to go, with the result that we don’t reach the goal we intended. We miss [Scott Ashley – on how the Bible defines sin].”

There are two types of sins: sins of commission and sins of omission. The first is pretty well spelled out in Scripture. Take the 10 Commandments for instance –  idol worship, adultery, theft, murder, covetousness, dishonouring your parents, blasphemy, not remembering the Sabbath (incidentally, almost the whole gentile population is guilty of this one! Ooops). Galatians 5:19-21 (in some weird translation!) goes on to list a few others: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery (interpret those the way you will), idolatry, witchcraft, hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkness and orgies. These appeared in a letter penned by the apostle Paul, who was raised a pharisee and spent his pre-conversion life as a dedicated anti-Christian pharisee. His was a theology informed by the religious system of the day before being interrupted by a revelation of Jesus. So who knows how much this influenced his look at sin.

We know that Jesus came to transcend the law of Moses, and that He called us to a higher law of love. But that doesn’t mean that debauchery and orgies aren’t sin. *shrugs* Who knew?

Then there are sins of omission: the sins you commit when you see something that requires action, but you do not act (James 4:17.) I’m absolutely sure that this is something nearly everyone is guilty of. I don’t think sin is something we can avoid. The big things we can avoid. Its pretty easy to not murder. Just, you know, don’t murder. Its pretty easy to not rape. Just, you know, don’t rape. But envy? Fits of rage? Not speaking up when you should? That’s where it gets hard. Factions? Ask anyone involved in politics – they’re hard to avoid. (Hmmm, is politics sin then? *strokes chin thoughtfully. I jest. Of course. Mostly.)

John Calvin was one of the theologians whose ideas have survived into modern Christianity. One of his big ideas was that of Total Depravity. Sounds bad! Right! Here’s the sum of up that doctrine: there is no part of us which hasn’t been affected by the “taint” of sin. Its in our mind, will, emotions and physical body and has been ever since Eve ate the fruit of the forbidden tree. (I’m not going to go into every aspect of Calvinism and the doctrine of Total Depravity. If you want that, go here). What I will say on the matter is that it underpins the idea that man is lost without God, and the only way to please God is through Jesus. Both things are found through-out scripture. It also inspired a common persuasive evangelistic approach – to lay out the power and pervasiveness of sin before they bring in the saving power of Jesus.

It has certainly had its place in the past. Perhaps it still does. In years gone by, the church has acted as a moral guidepost of society. In a post-modern world, and what some would call a post-Christian world, this is not a place we occupy anymore. Does it mean that preachers should no longer use sin as a means of converting people to the gospel? Certainly not.

Does it mean the word ‘sin’ no longer belongs in the modern vernacular? Also, I’d say, certainly not. I have three reasons for this:

1. The word ‘sin’ is related to ‘wrongdoing’, ‘crime’, ‘evil’ and ‘unethical.’ These words cover, in part, what sin is. They are very present in the modern world, as is a (largely) shared concept of what is just and unjust. For the life of me, I can’t find the most perfect CS Lewis quote that summed up how this, rather than a look at nature or the stars, was a better proof of the existence of God – that this idea of right and wrong is engraved deep within all of us. But it was a beautiful and poignant quote that showed just how the knowledge of good and evil, fruit of the first sin, is still with us and thus the latter is still pervasive – even when one does not believe in God. You don’t need to believe in God to know when something is wrong. You don’t need to believe in Him to feel guilty over not standing up for a bullying victim, or for cheating or stealing. Its there in all of us.

2. The other part of sin’s definition is simply not measuring up to the standard of a holy, perfect God. By virtue of this, by virtue of our very humanity, we are sinful. I don’t believe we should feel shame over this. We should just accept it, that there’s no way to be superhuman, and to thank God for the grace that covers our sin and allows us eternity with God anyway. So we need to stop thinking of sin as pure evil. We need to start thinking of it more as a fact of life, a part of humanity – one remedied by Jesus and only Jesus. So sin doesn’t just mean the heavy things (like evil). It also means imperfect. It also just means human. We aren’t God. Who knew?

3. The presence of sin (the second part of the definition provided in the first paragraph – that of not measuring up or of missing the mark) does not exempt us from doing our best, even though it will never be as perfect and superhuman as God. It simply means we do what we can, knowing Jesus is the One who covers the shortfall.

I don’t think we should be offended when others take issue with the presence of the word ‘sin’ in the Christian vocabulary. Ask them for their definition of right, wrong, good, evil, success, failure, ethics – you’ll see that sin consciousness is there. The rest, I believe, is just semantics.

The preachers of old used to use ‘sin’ as the thing to illustrate our need for God. For me, there is a fine line between illustrating how Jesus is the only one who bridges the void and scaring people into a fear-based Christianity. When I look around me these days, I see enough fear. I don’t think we need that. But if some people feel lead to preach fire and brimstone, good for them. There’s a time, a place and a scenario which calls for that (I’m sure!)

It’s not my call. You won’t find me on a street corner reminding the world, yet again, what my read of the Bible condemns. You’ll find me loving people and doing the best I can when it comes to showing the love of Christ while examining my own faith and making sure I do the best I can when it comes to emulating the red letters.

The last thing I’ll say is this: “For we know that our old self was crucified with Christ, so that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin because anyone who has died has been freed from sin.” Romans 6:6-7

If you are a Christian who, like me, found yourself fumbling through a fear-based faith – breathe easy. According to Romans 6:6-7, you’re exempt. You aren’t exempt from doing your best to ‘bear fruit worthy of salvation,’ but you are exempt from the penalty of sin. Do your best. Live a good life, knowing Jesus sacrifice both covers you and empowers you (Matthew 3:8, Philippians 4:13) But don’t stress out if you fumble. You are free.

But still. No orgies, okay. Unless, you know what…I’m not even going to go there. You do you.

Solitude vs. Isolation: Where is the Healthy Place to Land?

I have this lovely friend. She's been through a lot in her life, a lot that could make her bitter, introspective, and a touch soul-destroyed. But she's more than a survivor. Her's is a life that is now devoted to supporting other people who have survived horrendous damage - be it psychological, spiritual, physical, or sexual abuse - and to finding her own way to thrive again. She never claims to be perfect. She's upfront about the ways in which she's not. But she is getting on with life and helping other people while she helps herself. Because "perfection" is not a prerequisite of "contribution." I love that.

Side note, before I get to the main topic: how come there isn't a cosmic quota for how much hardship a person can go through in their life before its all lottery wins and lucky breaks? Because I think that would be an amazing idea.

Anyway. She sent me a picture of Jim Carrey captioned with a quote of his. It said "Solitude is dangerous. It's very addictive. It becomes a habit after you realise how peaceful and calm it is. It's like you don't want to deal with people anymore because they drain your energy." Apparently old Jim -- AKA the mask, Ace Ventura pet detective, the guy with the stretchy, plasticky, comedic face - has undergone a spiritual awakening of sorts and is now all deep-thinking and wise. He just returned from weeks of solitude in the bush or something like that  (I'm not sure here. Don't quote me).

My friend asked me my thoughts on the quote. I have to say, its an interesting one. I like that Jim is so out there with his reinvention, and I'm not sure whether he was being poetic, or sarcastic. But here's what I think about solitude:

There's a difference between solitude and isolation. Loving solitude is a beautiful, healthy, regenerative thing. Needing isolation can be dangerous. 

There was a time where I couldn't do solitude. I didn't feel safe alone with my thoughts. I hid in plain sight - busy running a business, writing a book, being at every event, working crazy hours, maintaining a nuts kind of a social life, and so on. What would happen if I stopped? What would happen if one of the juggling balls dropped? Would I drop them all? Would I be completely out of control? Then I confronted the things I was afraid of. One by one, I took them down out of the "too hard" cloud that was hanging over my head. It was terrifying. It was empowering. It was painful.

It was beautiful.

Life has been reinvented somewhat. It looks barely anything like it did three years ago. Jobs, social circles, expressions of faith, hobbies, houses, daily routines, approaches to wellness - so much has changed. I thought about the things that were too hard to think about. I discarded the things that weren't healthy, even if those unhealthy things had become a crutch for me and it scared me to do so. I grew. I changed.

On the other side of the reinvention, I love solitude. Taking time away from the grind of daily life to sit on my back deck and watch my kids play without checking my phone or working. I love sitting outside and listening to the sounds of breeze and birdsong. I love sitting by the crackling fire with a glass of wine and nothing big on my mind. I've released myself from the evangelical tendency to think there are eternal consequences for my every action or inaction (Because like, God is pretty big. I don't have to be).  I'm not trying to solve the worlds problems or think my way through complex big ideas. There's time for that, but not during my wine and crackling fire time. Coz a girl has to recharge!

Solitude is not something I could ever do before.  But now I love it.

The thing is, its very different from isolation. If solitude is regenerative, isolation is the very opposite. 

Even in my raging workaholic days, I could do isolation. You can be isolated in a pile of work, too busy to connect with people who care about you. You can be too busy to be alone with your thoughts. You can pull away from the world and hope no one notices. That is isolation. It's a form of hiding. Where solitude says "I'm here. I'm me. I don't need to be anything else," isolation says "Don't come near me. Leave me alone. I don't want to be around anyone.. I can't be around anyone."

Isolation doesn't mean you are spending time with yourself and you are happy about it. Isolation can be damaging. Because isolation, to me, is fruit of fear, or of poor mental health. That can make you judge yourself far too harshly.  It can make it very hard to rejoin society when you feel better, because that choice makes you confront the fear what people thought of you during your absence, or what they will think of you when you rejoin. (Side note: I've also found that most people don't think about you nearly as much as you think about yourself!)

Getting out of an isolation loop can be tricky. There are so many reasons you got to that point. Getting back isn't always as easy as just turning up to an event and announcing your return to the land of the living. Isolation doesn't improve silence. It compounds it. The silence of isolation isn't comfortable. Its heavy with all sorts of bad.

Knowing your own personality type, your comfort zone, and your type of "healthy" is an important skill in maintaining the balance between solitude and isolation. 

My friend pointed out that abusive people will often shame you for needing solitude, recharge time or ever saying "no." Their demands take precedence over your own health. It's taken her a while to reclaim her need for solitude.

Now - a need for solitude is different from isolation. If you are an introvert, then quiet time matters. So don't feel pressured to fill every diary spot. A person who knows you and cares about you will either know the difference, or they'll listen when you say "this is what I need."

If it crosses over into isolation, then the friend stays important. They may gently challenge you and say "Hey I don't think this kind of isolation is healthy." An abuser will say the same thing, about solitude or isolation, but they make  it all about them-self or their expectations. If someone comes and presses on your self-protection bubble, then ask yourself which one it is. If its the caring friend, let them in even if you are feeling pretty crappy about life. Their love and care will make it easier to come out of the isolation bubble, even if the conversations that requires aren't easy. If it is the demanding, selfish person who is making it all about them, then you are free to choose solitude, and you should - for the sake of your health.

Because Jim Carrey is right about one thing. Sometimes people drain your energy. Solitude can be a little addictive like that. These days I have an "emotional coinage" budget. I don't spend more than I've got in the bank. Some people will take all you've got. Other's will help you recharge. Sometimes you give when there will be no return on investment, because you love that emotional vampire. Sometimes, the person you've got to spend your emotional coinage on is yourself. Know yourself. Know your needs. Know the difference. Sure, challenge yourself in certain areas. That is healthy. But a healthy person sets their own terms, and recognises their limits.

So there you go! My thoughts on Jim Carrey's quote.

Solitude can be great. Isolation, not so much. Know the difference and revel in the healthy one!

Happy Friday ya'll

Kit K

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Josh Harris, Purity Culture, and the Power of Saying “I Was Wrong.”

"There is transformational power in admitting you got something wrong." 

I just listened to the most amazing Ted Talk. The speaker talked about how you can't rush the process of transformation, and that process involves owning up to, rather than sweeping aside, the things you were wrong about. He spoke about how admitting you were wrong will tick some people off, because they were invested in the old you. He talked about how, when someone can't admit they were wrong, they are not growing. And this should serve as a warning to those who follow them.

The whole talk had me nodding and murmuring my agreement (somewhat geekily I guess, given I was sitting in a café.)

Honestly, it was an amazing talk. You should give it a listen (I've pasted it below, but don't ruin the suspense by scrolling down to see it just yet). The guy giving the talk only just gave mention to what he was wrong about. It wasn't the true subject of the presentation, but gosh, it was massive. It took a lot of humility to do what he did - stand on the world stage and say "I got something wrong."

If you were anywhere near your teens or twenties at the height of the 90's evangelical purity movement, you know this guy. You were probably handed his book by a youth leader or mentor, and you might have felt a little kick of something like shame when you realised why you were reading it.

The speaker was none other than Joshua Harris, author of the international bestseller "I Kissed Dating Goodbye." This is the book that made him famous. Its the book literally sitting on millions of shelves, that was translated into several languages. At the height of the purity movement, this was the guidepost that urged us to guard our hearts and keep our desires in check. Now, after it's first readers have grown up, Harris is noting that it seems to have had a few not-so-positive effects.

Harris recounts an interaction on Twitter in which a reader told him his book was used against her as a weapon. Harris did an uncommon thing, when it comes to big name Christian celebrities. He apologised. It wasn't tokenistic either. He went on to open his website up to stories of the impact his book had. Some of them were resoundingly positive. Others were heart-wrenching. He is now making a documentary on it, one that is saying, "I was wrong about this." He's not throwing the whole baby out with the bathwater, but there's a lot he is copping as not quite right.

"Wow.  Just wow," I thought. Its the same thing I said to myself when Benny Hinn admitted he was wrong about the prosperity gospel, or rather the extreme he used it for. (Read my take on that here). Its the same thing I thought when I read Billy Graham's take on what he would do differently. (Read that here).

I truly believe that, when people say "I was wrong" about something, especially if they do it on a potentially humiliating public platform like Harris did, we ought to sit up and listen. These are people who are deeply conscientious, who are growing in their faith and the expression of it. These are people who are safe to listen to. (Don't base your entire life on their expression of faith. That's dangerous. Your relationship with God is your business and responsibility. But they've been doing some soul-searching and they've changed because of it.)

Harris's Ted Talk is about the transformational power of admitting you were wrong. Honestly, its liberating!

But I can't really call this a complete review unless I talk about the subject he says he was wrong about: his book.

I can't say honestly that it hurt me. Much. The stories on his website vary a lot in content. The sadder ones include claims that it was legalistic, a flyswatter to whack people who stepped out of line, or that it was used to control people. I can't disagree with those points, whether through reading these accounts or recounting my own observations that spanned multiple churches I encountered over the years.

Many a story on Harris's website came from Christians in their 30's who are still waiting for their life partner. Some stories came from people relationally paralysed either by fear of giving too much of their heart away, or by the strength of their desires. One particularly unsettling story came from a 30 year old guy who simply cannot accept a mate who has had sex, even if it was just a mistake from her past. I read that account with two types of heartbreak - one for him and all that he may have lost by never finding love, and one for the girls he has rejected. Has this book given rise to a pseudo-Biblical form of "slut shaming", even in a time when we understand more about grace and forgiveness than we ever did? Quite possibly.

In hindsight, I remember reading the book and feeling a certain pressure to marry the first guy I "courted." (Spoiler: I did, and he's the best thing that ever happened to me). I am the eldest daughter of Christian ministers. There was a whole church and a whole network of churches that would see my every move. It was like living in a fishbowl. Oh the pressure to get this right!

I remember one lady in the church telling me off for flirting with a guy. She wasn't my mother, and it wasn't her job to police my behaviour. And I wasn't flirting! I had zero feelings for the guy. But the shame I felt over that was huge. It wasn't the only time I was pulled up for flirting. I truly believe this had a big impact on my ability to interact with members of the opposite sex. I tried my utmost to relate out of a stoic, "I have no sexual desires, I don't even want to get married, you know, unless its God's will for me," kind of persona. If even flirting was sinful, then gosh, I was evil! I'd done it more than twice. I have a naturally bubbly personality. I love to connect with people. Part of me died.

University was a particularly interesting time for me. When I was "outed" as saving myself for marriage, and when my fellow students discovered my flirting-disability, bets were laid. I felt so humiliated, and then all the more on guard with my peers. I was just a girl trying to find her way in the world. Now I was a trophy. A scalp to be claimed. A virgin. And that became the thing that everyone knew.

(Side note: Apologies to the guy who asked me out for dinner, and who was greeted not only by me but also the other 11 members of our study group. I totally missed the "its a date" memo. I will never forget the look on your face.)

(Another side note: I don't blame my parents at all for being among hundreds of thousands of church ministers globally who embraced this book and used it! Heck, we were all in the 90's purity movement. And you don't need a shot-gun or baseball bat if your teenagers are afraid of dating to the same degree that they're afraid of hell. My parents were just doing their best! I'm just sharing how I feel about Harris's book and its effect in hindsight.)

For many people, this book was a lightbulb moment. For me, and apparently for a lot of other Christian kids, it was fear-inducing. I was afraid of natural desires God had given me. Guess what: I wanted to get married. I wanted to love and be loved. I wanted the full experience of that and I felt all sorts of guilty about it. Imagine my mortification when an itinerant minister with the boomiest of voices began to call my parents church his home and insisted on loudly "Blessing" me with a husband - Every. Single. Sunday. (I still cringe)

I finally married when I was 29, and I don't regret for an instant that I saved myself for my husband - my soulmate,  best friend and life partner. I guess, in some way, I have "I kissed dating goodbye (IKDG)" to thank for that. I guess in some way we do. Truly, I'm happy about it.

But post-marriage, we had a thing or two to learn about switching-on the desires that we had been told all our lives were bad. Yeah, yeah, you can kiss and hold hands and stuff when you are married. You can even flirt, you know, if you want. But the guilt doesn't go away instantly. (There's a whole lot I could write on that topic, but I won't yet because its a whole lot of disarmed honesty! Haha!)

I have a number of good looking, educated, eloquent, funny, amazing, single Christian friends who are of an age now where they look around at other friends with kids and wonder why its not them. They're still waiting for "the one." I've often ranted to my husband "Why don't guys just ASK HER OUT? I mean, she can even COOK! Wife her already, someone!" I sometimes think this is the legacy of IKDG. We can't go out for dinner with someone unless there's a bloody strong chance they are "the one." It carries a disproportionate feeling of failure if that dinner date doesn't result in a second date, a third, an engagement ring, a white dress, a picket fence, 2.5 kids and an SUV.

I wonder how many others felt guilty for even flirting. I wonder how many others felt bad that they wanted so darn much to get married and have kids. "What if it isn't God's will for me?" and all that.

My thoughts on flirting now - It lets you know what good chemistry feels like. And chemistry matters. If you are dating someone and there's none, then hold up honey! Warning bells.

My thoughts on Christianity and sexuality now - Can we stop pretending that because we are Christians, sexuality doesn't play a central, sensitive part in who we are? Can we take it off the list of things we don't talk about? Sure there is a Biblical approach to sex, and I don't for a second regret saving myself for marriage. But gosh - sex, relationships, sensuality, desire for connection - they're all God-designed. Can we not feel shame over owning something that is God-designed?

I applaud Josh Harris for standing up and saying he was wrong, and for expressing his regret at the legalistic fly-swatter his book became in more than a few instances. I hope he can also see the good it did (and I think he does). But adjusting our stance is a good thing.

My husband and I have two beautiful kids now. I adore them and hope they never face heartbreak. I'd love it if they fell in love with and married the first person they dated. I'd love it if they saved sex for marriage. I really hope they do and I'll raise them to believe that true love waits. But I'll also raise them to believe that flirting isn't bad, and our desire for love is normal and good.

Hopefully they'll marry younger than hubby and I, and I'll get a lot of years with my grandkids! If I have to wait until I'm in my 70's to chase the grandies around the park, I'm gonna be pissed.

If you've read Harris's book, if you love it, if you hate it, if you feel it helped, if you feel it hurt - I urge you to check out his Ted Talk and his website. At the very least it will make you view change and the admission "I was wrong" as a wholly good thing no matter what it applies to. It might even release you from some baggage you have felt over the years. It doesn't have to reframe how you feel about faith, sexuality, relationships or desire.

But you should know me by now! I like to think. I like to challenge thinking. And I have a firm belief that truth will prevail. I hope no one looks back on the 90's purity movement with bitterness. A lot of good came out of it. But one perk of the passage of time is that we build on the generation before us. That doesn't and shouldn't involve taking their word as gospel. It should involve extracting the truth, and discarding that which is harmful, then moving on to a closer, better, more compassionate expression of faith.

Oh and if you want to check out his Ted Talk, its here.

Just some thoughts!
Kit K.

Over and out.