Why its Time the Church Retired the Term “Forgiveness”

Hello all. I know its a rare thing for me to sit down and write these days but here I am - answering a particularly poignant question that has popped up in my inbox a bit of late. It’s the question of forgiveness. Now I’ll state up front that I am no theologian. I am a geek who has been in church for all but two years of her life. I’ve been in good churches and toxic ones. I’m sure I’ve likely been in good churches that were only good on the surface. I’ve experienced and witnessed things that would make Jesus’ roll in his grave (a metaphor I’m sure I’m not allowed to use!) and I hope I’ve been part of a small amount of healing for people who have walked some pretty terrible roads. It’s taken me a long time to stop fearing judgement and damnation enough to back myself enough to make the big calls. So I’m here making one today: Church needs to stop weaponising the word forgiveness. If it can’t do that, it needs to retire the term altogether.

I said what I said. Now let me explain. (CW: sexual assualt and other religious abuse)

I’m a communications professional. That’s my wheelhouse. Thus, I am acutely aware of the evolving nature of language, and that words are just sounds we make. We imbue them with meaning that is then shared by other people and then Huzzah - we have something that we can use to express our thoughts and their meanings to other people. One example is the word I just used: Huzzah has no real meaning other than that its an exclamation of something like joy or applause. Pretty vague, but pair it with the body language of the person yelling it and you’ll have a pretty clear understanding of what they’re talking about.

The meanings of words evolve. I’ve heard it said that there is currently no word in the English language that means “literally.” Why? How many times have you heard someone say “I literally died.” or something like that. Well they didn’t die. They’re talking to you right now, and more likely about a funny or awkward situation - not about a medical emergency. No one died. Not even close. The word “literally” is evolving to mean something more like “experiencing a strong feeling or placing a strong emphasis on something.” It doesn’t really mean “literally” anymore.

So then, is it possible there's a gap between what forgiveness should mean and the meaning it has taken on? I defer here to the writings of Maria Mayo, who holds a Master of Divinity and a PhD. She makes some seriously interesting points on this same topic (in fact, go read the article. Its great. It’s here.) The word ‘forgive’ comes from “aphiemi” which, as per usual with Greek terms, translates to a wide variety of things poorly captured by our watered-down English translations. Words associated with aphiemi include “to remit (a debt), to leave (something or someone) alone, to allow (an action), to leave, to send away, to desert or abandon, and even to divorce.” So there’s a wide variety of things it was supposed to mean. But these days, it seems to mean “forget something happened. Don’t do anything about it. Get on with your life.” As if victims of life altering trauma have the option to do that. As if it’s even okay to place such a demand on someone who has sustained such damage.

Interestingly, the prevailing idea of forgiveness as a mental or emotional condition is much more modern. It “traces to 18th-century moral philosophy, not first-century Christian writings, ”says Mayo.

When you read through Jesus’ statements on forgiveness, you’ll find that he speaks mostly about humans forgiving each other. But there’s another element in there: repentance. If we repent, turn away from our sin in action and intent, forgiveness is available to us. Fine. Good. Perfect.

So what’s the problem?

The Weaponising of the Word

We have witnessed the floodgates open in terms of abuse allegations against churches and church leaders in recent times. I won’t rehash it again as I’ve blogged on it very recently and dropped names. Plus, lets be honest, most of you reading this would have a harrowing story or two pop to mind without my assistance. Sadly, there is a common story that runs right alongside allegations of abuse within religious circles and faith communities (not all of them, blah blah blah).

The modern day church too often weaponises the term ‘forgiveness’ against victims of abuse or mistreatment for whom there is no repentant transgressor. The term ‘forgiveness’ is then taken to mean ‘lose your chance at justice’, ‘sweep this under the rug’ or worse, ‘allow your abuser to keep abusing.’

Classic example: Josh Duggar of 19 Kids and Counting was busted for sexually abusing some of his sisters. He was sent to a church based rehab thing (which I seriously doubt the therapeutic credentials of) and then a big show was made of his sisters forgiving him. Justice was not done. It was swept under the rug. Years later, he is up on child pornography charges that make my stomach churn. The burden of forgiveness was placed on his sisters, the victims, while the burden of repentance with an active “turning from evil ways” was not adequately placed on Josh.

I wonder how his sisters feel. I don’t wonder what they say. I know what it’s like to be a good Christian girl and say the right things. But often this comes with a searing sense of betraying ones own soul. This never brings true healing. In my observation, it re-traumatises the victim because, when what they needed was a police report, a supportive community and a therapist, they were given trite scriptures justifying leaderships desire that they shut up about it. The meaning with which the word ‘forgiveness’ was imbued was made very, very clear.

That is traumatising. That is hitting out at vulnerable people who need the support of the church community. If Jesus was in the room, he wouldn’t be telling the victim to shut up. He’d more likely be throwing a table at those who demanded such silence and who got in the way of justice. I’m also quite sure that, should the perpetrator have a genuinely repentant heart, Jesus would forgive. But that doesn’t mean justice wouldn’t be done.

Remember: render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s. If sin is lawlessness, then there is a penalty for that even if you said you’re sorry.

While yes, the New Testament talks about forgiveness a lot, there is a condition. Maria Mayo writes, "The author of the Gospel of Luke repeats the same story, but adds a condition to forgiveness, stating that church members must forgive boundlessly "if there is repentance" (17:3).

So here is my hot take: The burden of forgiveness should not be pressed upon the victim of crime or abuse. The burden of repentance needs to be placed on the perpetrator. And that perp needs to “bear fruits worthy of repentance.” I.e. Hand yourself into the police if you have committed a crime. Even if your pastor says you don’t have to. Your pastor is not above the law of the land. Not ever.

Side note: Like many survivors of the more toxic aspects of church, I’ve heard the whole “turn the other cheek” line quite a bit, along with the old line about the Bible never contradicting itself. Here’s a fun one for you then - the Bible also says “an eye for an eye.” So while we can shrug off the little things and move on with our day, there is certainly no Biblical precedent for letting major abuse or mistreatment fall under the category “turn the other cheek.”

Just like there is no Biblical precedent for forgiving where there is no repentance. Even Jesus on the cross didn’t forgive, he prayed that God would. Modern translations of the Bible don’t tell us which version of Aphiemi was used in that moment. All we know is that Jesus died bearing no ill will towards the ones who taunted him, as unrepentant as they may be.

Which brings me to the next big point: what then do we do with our hurt?

Therapeutically speaking…

While undoubtedly, I’ve been known to write with a pen of fire (I think I can thank my grandmother, the original Kit, for this gift), those who know me see me as a soft-hearted and compassionate person. I can be both things - fiery and soft-hearted - because of two things: therapy and boundaries.

Not once has my therapist used the word “forgiveness” to me. She knows, as any good counsellor would, that such a word would shut down my processing of all the things I’ve gone through. It would stunt my progress towards peace and happiness. To be pushed in any way towards a certain end would be tantamount to therapeutic sabotage.

Under skilled, qualified care, I’m doing amazingly well.

While I am sure pastors and Christian teachers have good intentions for people when they speak about healing and forgiveness in the same breath, the two are not necessarily connected. Survivors of abuse and mistreatment do not need to forgive their unrepentant transgressors in order to gain mental and emotional health. They need to be empowered over and above the degree to which they were disempowered, they need supportive community that doesn’t play down or try to erase their abuse, and they need to be given adequate support to process and work through the trauma. This includes qualified medical and psychological help in many cases.

When we say “Just forgive” we shut down this vital pyscho-emotional processing, disempower the victim again, and stunt the growth towards healing. As well-intentioned as this might be, it is damaging. I’d argue that the road of true healing, psychoemotional processing of trauma and then empowered choices regarding justice or clemency is the hard road. the right road, but the hard road. “Just forgive” is easy in a way. You don’t have to face the damage. You don’t have to sit in the wreckage and look at it. You don’t have to decide anything.

But what we know from research regarding PTSD and trauma is that the body remembers. Trauma will find its way out of the shadows and up to the surface, no matter how many times you said the words I forgive.

One thing that makes me laugh these days is the contents of my shame shelf. Yes, you heard it. I had a shame shelf. Over the years, following my disclosure of abuse, I was given by various people quite a collection of books. I’d say most of them were gifted by well intended but poorly informed people. They were books on forgiveness, on how women need to be less bitter and then they’d feel better or how reading a prayer out loud would fix everything (*eye-roll). Would it surprise you that while this was the best advice available to me, I was at my worst?

They went on the shame shelf, right next to fiction novels I wouldn't dream of admitting I own. When I learned to laugh at the lot of those books, I threw them out (But okay. I kept the Twilight series. *Gasp). With them went my shame over having faced abuse in religious settings or communities. I realised the shame doesn’t belong on my shoulders. It belongs on the shoulders of those who did me wrong. I don’t hold it against the people who gave me those books. Frankly, I’ve only got a finite emotional budget to spend each day and it would get spent real quick if I dwelt on the actions of good people who were ill-informed. So I choose to laugh at the shame shelf and educate myself so I never make the same mistake, no matter how well-intentioned I am.

If there is no repentance, there is no capacity for real forgiveness if for no other reason than the victim then spends the rest of their life wondering if the perp is at it again. I can tell you this though. Forgiveness, where there is remorse, is amazing. I had the incredible experience of having one transgressor ask for my forgiveness. It was beautiful. It came at a time where I had benefited from enough therapy to have the skills to extend compassion and forgiveness while also maintaining boundaries. It goes down as a red letter day for me, because I felt empowered and in no way bitter at all. That was genuine repentance and forgiveness.

There are others from whom I will never get such a question. My pursuit of therapy has allowed me to have the skills to process that, set boundaries that maintain my emotional and mental safety (and that of my children) and move on. It does not mean never getting justice. It does not mean sweeping anything under the rug. It does not mean denying any of the things that happened. It does not mean remaining in a place where I am at risk of any sort of damage, even emotionally. And if I choose one day to seek justice, it doesn’t mean I am wrong in doing so.

Its rare for me to use my personal situation in such an example. I know this. But when so many people have suffered deeply personal abuse in situations similar to mine, its unfair to not use it as an example.

I have a mixed relationship with spirituality these days. I call myself post-Christian, because I’m so good with Jesus but I’m so not okay (for the most part) with church. But this is what I know: Jesus would not want the church to be a place of abuse and mistreatment, where the vulnerable are further disempowered and their need for justice and healing disregarded or even sabotaged. Jesus wouldn’t weaponise the word forgiveness. Neither should we. And if we can’t do away with even the slightest tendency to put pressure on victims to forgive unrepentant perpetrators, then we shouldn’t use the word at all. When Jesus offers us forgiveness if we repent, then its bad logic to think the same conditions don’t apply when we are called upon to decide.

Just some thoughts on a contentious topic.

You may now hit me with your hate mail. I’ll either forgive you if you ask nicely, or make fun of you at driveway drinks with my friends. It’s completely up to me.

As for the rest of you, I hope you get some context, relief and validation from this.

Peace

Kit K.

P.S. If you happen to go to a church that supports vulnerable people, has clear lines of accountability, transparency around protocols for reporting grievances and keeping people safe, and stands up for marginalised or traumatised people - I like that church. Just saying.

Abuse, Cover Up’s, and Sex Scandals - Church, We Have a Problem.

This past week, a few people slid into my DM’s with the same headline. Brian Houston, the man who heads the Hillsong Empire, is up on charges for covering up sexual abuse of minors. Yes, plural. He claims innocence, of course, and the long arm of the law must wait until he returns from Mexico (!!!) to take the next steps in the two year investigation. Houston famously fired his own dad after it came out that Houston Snr. (Frank) had abused minors. Did Brian Houston remove his dad from the staff? Yes. Did he make organisational changes? Allegedly, yes. But did he go to the police with the information he had and was obligated to report, thus allowing the system to process the charges and take reasonable steps to prevent future abuse? Apparently not. This knowledge doesn’t rock me. It doesn’t even surprise me. If there is an emotion anywhere near surprise, it is my anger and disappointment that it has become so unexceptional. To place doctrine, ambition or empire over person. To do exactly what Jesus would not do.

This from the people who instruct us in the ways of selflessness and Christ-likeness, who we take as moral standard bearers over our lives. Yet, in this moment when justice comes knocking for Houston Jnr, will the Church collectively answer the clarion call to stand on the side of justice, truth, and lawful living let alone compassion and advocating for the vulnerable? I doubt it very much.

As we know, Hillsong’s followers and attendees number in the millions. Across the world, there are numerous “campuses” as they are now called. Last year, we saw another Hillsong scalp fall as Carl Lentz got outed for cheating on his wife. It happened in a year when Ravi Zacharias, the legendary apologist, died and with that took to the grave any possibility of justice for his alleged abuse victims (who I absolutely believe, for the record). It has been reported that Zacharias regularly exaggerated his academic achievements, and that there are multiple sexual misconduct victims.

Then there’s Jerry and Becki Falwell, the couple at the head of the conservative Christian College, Liberty University in Virginia. They were outed as having some sexual practices that certainly wouldn’t fit within the doctrines they publicly espoused. (I.e. One of them would trawl the university for young men for Becki to sleep with while Jerry watched on. It’s called cuckholding. If that’s your thing. Fine. Just don’t shame girls for their spaghetti strap cami’s or loss of virginity while you watch your wife doing the the pool boy. Hypocrite. That’s before you delve into the issues around power distance between a sexual predator and their prey).

The Falwell issue was creepy at best, predatory at worst, and when you throw in their the fact that it was Falwell’s recommendation that went a long way to putting Trump on the American throne for four ill-fated years, ousting Ted Cruz as the conservative anointed one, it gets creepier. It is rumoured Trump hooked the Falwell’s up with his lawyer. A cover up in return for a favour, perhaps? But the pool boy talked (Here’s the scoop on that one: The Rollingstone with some more salacious pieces of wow for you).

There’s a joke in there about the wrong type of preying/praying, but its entirely the wrong time for jokes.

You could be fooled for thinking that these people were anomalies. That there was just too much at stake for these Christian leaders to operate by the moral standing required of them as they headed up these large churches or Christian institutions. Does the end justify the means if you are weighing the life of a handful of abuse victims versus the millions of followers worldwide? The answer should be obvious here: no! In the parable of the lost sheep, the good shepherd leaves the flock of 99 to care for the one that was lost. As groups like the Australian Christian Lobby parade around, crying foul over the Church’s loss of privilege as the institution that was somehow a standard bearer for morality and goodness, this is what we are weighing it against - People like Brian Houston who is famously pals with Prime Minister Scott Morrison, and who is off preaching in Mexico while a two year investigation draws its conclusions that there is enough evidence to charge him for his handling of his fathers abuse of minors.

You could be forgiven for thinking that somehow the sheer size of Hillsong would make it harder for Brian Houston to do the right thing. Perhaps that he is the anomaly, or that riches and influence somehow made it too hard to stand up for truth without compromising the work of the ministry globally.

But there are three problems with that logic: 1) its horse shit, 2) its diametrically opposed to the energy of the gospel, and 3), perhaps most importantly, its not just the bigwigs.

My suspicion, and my lived experience as an Evangelical survivor and as a podcaster/blogger who moves in exvangelical spheres, is that the issue of abuse and its mishandling permeates right through institutionalised religion. These people are supposed to represent Jesus - the model for compassion, justice and self-sacrifice. And yet they do it so very poorly. It would be laughable if it weren’t so darn tragic.

Roughly a year and a half ago, I sat in a courthouse waiting room with the mother of an alleged abuse victim (alleged - because the case is still before the courts at the time of writing. But I 100% believe and support the victim). We waited for the accused to turn up for his hearing. He was a pastors son. (Still is). He never showed. The victim’s mother had shepherded her priceless, vulnerable child through treacherous years, having disclosed the abuse to the pastor almost a decade prior and then weathering all sorts of personal hell as the crime was kept quiet and covered up (allegedly, again I'm using the word even though I 100% believe the victim and their mother). She approached police, who were rightly concerned about the vulnerability of the victim when it came to the timing of pursuing charges. But this day, she had raised every ounce of Mamma bear strength she had, and sat at the court house waiting to face them - both the accused and his pastor-parents. But the accused never showed. No one did.

I later heard (via second hand sources, admittedly) that there was a prayer meeting across town. It was supposedly a special prayer meeting called as “the church was under attack.” If true, then I can only guess where the accused was. And I can only guess what “the attack” was.

Lady Justice was at the ready, scales in hand.

Here is the case in point: Brian Houston has millions of excuses, irrelevant excuses, to potentially cloud his judgement when it comes to reporting the crimes. Count them in attendees, or count them in dollars - whatever balances your scales - but nothing stands up to me and thousands of others who demand that churches, you know, represent a loving God. But what about the abovementioned micro-church pastor? Well at this point I would estimate his church attendance to be well under 50. Does he have the same money or power to justify covering up the (alleged) abuse?

I think not. And yet…

It’s not just the bigwigs that that seem to think that the call of the their god, whatever that god may be, is bigger than the call of justice. This is an opinion piece. Let’s state that loud and proud. I blame two major factors for this gross miscarriage of justice. 1) Dominionism, and 2) Power. Let’s take the latter first.

I once saw a movie, and for the life of me I can’t remember what it was, but there was a line that struck me so hard the rest of the movie became irrelevant. The quote was this: “One of the greatest myths in the world is that power is innocent.”

We would so like to think that church leaders are immune to the corrupting influence of power. But with the growth of influence comes the growth of ego. Therefore, humility is less of a trait and more of a discipline, and it is my suspicion that too few people in power understand this. Still fewer church pastors, regardless of the size of their congregation, adequately discern the depth of their power/influence over their congregants. They do exist, I’m sure of it! I’ve met maybe a small handful for whom I know this to be true. But what of the others, however innumerable they may be?

I once did an interview with Mike Phillips who aptly pointed out that, as soon as there is money, hierarchy or power involved in a community, there is the opportunity for that to become corrupted. It was a damn good point. Influence is just another word for power, let’s be honest. I have witnessed, time after time, that the damage caused to a victim within a church system can regularly fall far down the priority list when it involves exposing the ways in which people in positions of power have behaved badly or covered up the actions of those who did.

Even when it involves grievous harm.

So what if a church of a million closes because the pastor was found to be covering up child abuse? So what if that pastor is friends with the prime minister? If we think that the means justify the end, if we think that our empires and our money and our political influence is more important than a child who faced insufferable abuse at the hands of anyone within our leadership ranks, we are thoroughly and biblically wrong. Jesus said “let the little children come to me. Forbid them not for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

But what do we do when we tell a child that their innocence, their damage, is less important than God’s man or God’s plan? We are the stumbling block in their way. We are a giant, cosmic “fuck you” representative of God himself.

This isn’t true for just the original victim. It is true for the mothers and fathers who advocated for that child. For the siblings who knew the secret. For the relationships and friendships throughout the course of that childs life who are privy to the damage and hold the hands of the victim as they weather the tough terrain of recovery. To them, the question is obvious: “Where is God in all of this?” And the picture we give them time and time again is that he is there, behind the Frank Houston’s of the world, and that the Brian Houston’s of the world are there to play armour bearer and get in the way of justice. It is here in these moments, that Jesus, who came to model radical, sacrificial love and inclusivity, to stand up for justice, overthrow corruption, and model the law of love, is completely absent from the Institutions of Church. In fact, Church more clearly resembles the pharisees and sadducees of the scripture who Jesus railed against, and who railed against him.

Did I just call Brian Houston, and any church leader who values power, money or influence over the plight of the vulnerable or covers up abuse within their ranks, a Pharisee? Yes. I did.

But where did we get the idea in the first place that there was a call so great, so lofty, that it was our mandate, and not serving the vulnerable, marginalised or at risk? Thats the second problem: Dominionism.

I’m going to go ahead and say it: this is the most problematic doctrine in churches today. It’s a big call to make but I stand behind it. Dominionism is unbiblical. It sounds nice, because it tells us that power and dominion is our birthright as Christians; that we are somehow spiritual spies with a heavenly mandate to infiltrate and take over the halls of power, whether they be business, politics, family, spirituality, education, entertainment or health. That God intended for the world to fall in line while we ascend to power. Tempting, isn’t it, to believe that saying the magic words (the sinners prayer) automatically entitles you to riches, power and influence.

I’ve written on Dominionism before, and I’ll link you at the end of this article. Dominionism is believed by its adherents to be Biblical. But when you delve into it, it is nothing more than a heresy - an unbiblical idea that appeals to some because it rubber stamps their desires for societal ascension. Politics is where dominionism is most obvious - we saw it in Trump pandering to the Republicans and locking up the Conversative vote. We saw it at the end of his presidency when his followers blindly proclaimed false prophesies about his second term, and we saw it in the Capital under seige on January 6. This was not a kingdom based on righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost (the definition given in Romans 14:17). This was a kingdom built on ego, and its fruits were violence and lawlessness. Yet the good Christian conscience of many of these conservative followers was absent. Dominionism had replaced discernment, and Donald “Grab ‘em by the pussy Trump” was now their banner. His multiple divorces now overlooked (an aberration not to little old me, but to many of these church leaders who abandoned their own doctrines to support the man). The sexual assault allegations against him now silenced. To raise these abuses would be to speak against God’s anointed, as they like to say.

Of course, not all American Christians. Of course - I say by way of disclaimer. This topic tends to get my blood a little warm to say the least.

The problem runs deep. Deep enough for many many blog pieces to cover it. But it doesn’t just apply to billionaires or church leaders with millions of followers. It also applies to small church leaders, even micro church leaders, who think the end justifies the means or who believe that their great and lofty call is more important than the child who discloses that a church leader did something to do them.

If the church can only reach its goals by silencing its victims, then the institution is lost. It is not representative of Jesus. It is not representative of any of the values it claims to espouse. Jesus told us, in the New Testament about the law of love. If we look on the global scale as churches fail to protect their victims, we have to mark this with a gigantic fail. So if we can’t measure up to Jesus one commandment, then maybe we should go back to the Ten Commandments:

1. I am the Lord your God, you shall have no gods before me. (Okay then…how about power? Can I worship power or riches before You? FAIL)

2. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord in vain. (Oh, do you mean using the name of the Lord to justify things that the Lord would absolutely not justify? FAIL)

3. Remember to keep the Lords Day Holy. (Well first of all the sabbath is a Saturday, so for the majority - FAIL)

4. Honour your father and your mother (Okay. Maybe this one is okay, for the churches who don’t split families apart in the name of “restoration” or “spiritual fathering”)

5. Thou shalt not kill (Gosh, I hope we don’t fail this one! But do you count it when people suffer abuse at church and then lose their lives to suicide? FAIL)

6. Thou shalt not commit adultery (I’m looking at you Carl Lentz, and the Falwell’s. Fail)

7. Thou shalt not steal. (Do you mean stealing a child’s innocence? Does that count? FAIL)

8. Thou shalt not bear false witness. (OOOOh burn. FAIL)

9. Thou shalt not covet your neighbours wife. (Lol. Sorry Carl Lentz. You bombed twice in one scripture passage)

10. Thou shalt not covet your neighbours goods. (Okay, even I’m bombing here, because my neighbour has some cool stuff.)

How did we rate? 1-2 out of 10?

Let’s refer back to the big man, shall we? If Jesus became “obedient to the point of death, even death on the cross,” can’t you report crimes against children and vulnerable people? If Jesus said “Let the children to come unto me, and forbid them not, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven,” should we be making these children suffer and bear wounds from which their recovery will be long and gruelling if possible at all?

The point I’m making is this: the Church is now being disabused of the idea that it is above the law, or even that it is an example of anything to society. The Royal Commission into Institutional Abuse (in Australia) was a damning mirror held up to our faces, and yet we refused to take a good hard look. Here we are, years later, and the secular world is leading the charge when it comes to all matters pertaining to protecting and advocating for the vulnerable, and demanding truth and transparency from organisations. And the people who seem to be kicking the most against this progress seem to be found in churches. Or in Mexico. Or attempting to wield political influence so they can continue on their merry, unscrutinised way.

Is all lost? Can the church be rescued? Only if it is willing to look in that mirror, long and hard, and completely rebuild it’s structures from the ground up - to humble itself to the point of death, even death on the cross. Can miracles happen, yes. Do good churches exist, yes. Have I experienced some of these good churches? Yes, I think so. Do I still take a dim view of the system worldwide? heck yes.

Do better church. You won’t find me supporting Brian Houston, or any other pastor against whom an allegation has been raised. You’ll find me on the side of the victim who had to gather every shred of strength and self-belief to stand up and report what happened to them, only to be smacked down and silenced. Because generally speaking where there is one such allegation, there is bound to be more.

I hope I am proven wrong. I just don’t think I will be.

xo
Kit K - who has a bee in her bonnet today.

And the Links Bebe:

What is Dominionism?

Is there a Biblical Basis for Dominionism?

Why I’m Not a Dominionism Anymore
Dominionism in the era of Trump and ScoMo, the 2019 Edition

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.

Deconstruction: Why the Church Needs To Do It Too

I was reading a critique of the Christian deconstruction phenomenon this week (because I like to challenge my own thoughts, too, not just everyone else’s!). It seems the movement is greatly misunderstood. Several articles I read alleged that the problem with deconstruction was that people who went through it seemed determined to do away with absolute truth, or the concept of sin, or the deity of Jesus, or the authority of the Bible. They seemed to believe that the only way to be a Christian and a progressive is to erase these fundamentals in order to line up with our own changing ideals.

As a deconstructor, and as a Christian progressive, nothing could be further from the truth. If anything, the process of deconstruction calls us to delve further into truth. It causes us to search for it beyond dogma and beyond what we have been told scriptures mean, sometimes from the days of early childhood. Deconstruction is applying critical thinking to the concepts we just assume are true. It calls us to really look for truth, and once we find it, to wrap thoughts and words and ways of living around it.

Here’s the kicker: If what you are living by is the truth, then you shouldn’t fear to apply critical thinking to it. The truth will survive examination. If anything, it will become more meaningful because of it.

I’ve been listening to a podcast called “This Cultural Moment.” It’s been fascinating, and while I don’t necessarily agree with everything these guys say (because my analysis on certain things differs), I love the process of looking at cultural moments and current affairs through the eyes of what it means to be a Christian. But a thought hit me when I was listening to it: this phenomenon of “deconstruction” doesn’t just apply to Christians. It applies to churches as well, and that’s a very needed, very good thing.

I look around church establishments these days and I see a few things (and I should note at this point that this article is wholly and solely my opinion!). I see some institutions trying to hold on to relevance by arguing old ideas, asserting dogma because “God says so” in the face of civil rights advancements, and generally bunkering down in some ill-fated attempt to hold on to influence and relevance. I see other churches trying to get hip in order to maintain relevance. Here are fancy stage designs, cutting edge music and tech, coffee machines in foyers, sermons that are less like delivery methods for spiritual and scriptural truths and more like Ted Talks. What is the “right” way, if indeed there is one? I don’t know. Some of these ways of staying hip are very much enjoyed and appreciated in my corner! But I can tell you one thing for sure:

The church needs deconstruction too.

Church attendance used to be every week. Now, to be a regular, you need to go only once every three or four weeks. (I go almost every week. That must make me a zealot. Or a musician). Attendance is deconstructing. Church used to be a moral measuring stick. Now, it isn’t. Church used to be a place where we found God, grew convicted of our sin, and sought the way forward in terms of living a more Godly life. Now, we figure out ethics and morals within the context of our own spheres of influence and our own devotion. Evangelism isn’t so cut and dried. These aspects, too, are deconstructing.

Of late, I’ve found myself asking whether it’s possible to have Christianity without the fear and self-loathing. The answer I came to is that it should be possible: because Jesus was the highest example of love, compassion, and progressive ideas when it came to the inclusion of those the religious system had shunned. He was/is the highest example of life above temptation, of grace and truth in the face of persecution and death. He is always worth following. He doesn’t require me to hate myself so that I can follow Him. He only requires me to love, acknowledge and follow Him, knowing that in my humanness I will mess up and that in those moments, His grace is sufficient.

As more people embark on this journey of deconstruction, and as modern life marches on, there are a few changing realities we can expect: digital church attendance will matter more to people, so our web presence’s need to offer more than shiny pictures and short clips of sermon highlights. Depth will matter. Preaching, being an experiential thing, will take precidence over teaching in many settings, but this does not negate the need for good teaching. If anything, it makes it more important (especially as more independent churches pop up, which has many benefits but also the ever-present risk of bad theology and cults of personality). The community of faith will maintain its importance, but the way this manifests may be faced with challenges.

These are my hunches. There are better experts with more thoughts, I’m sure. But what I’m saying is this: deconstruction is here, and it applies to groups as well as individuals. If the church doesn’t change, it is done. But Jesus isn’t. Because He is still relevant and will always be relevant. Now is not a time for digging in and attempting to maintain old structures of power, influence, dogma or even format. The structure we have now is something we have inherited generation after generation since Constantine. But even that didn’t bear any resemblance to the early church we saw in Acts. So why we have such a devotion to the old familiar format is a curious thing.

Maybe its time to reinvent it.

Just some thoughts! See ya’ll next week for something a touch more scholarly!

Peace out,

Kit K.
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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

What is the NAR?

I started writing this kick arse piece on the intersection of Christianity and paganism in modern Christian practices around spiritual warfare (yeah – what a topic, right?), then I realised something: ya’ll really need to know what the NAR is. So here’s a crash course in an unbranded movement that seems to have taken off in many Evangelical churches/networks across the world. While there is some good stuff nestled in there I’m sure, there are also some very real red flags that should have us all a little bit woke.

If you followed my series on Dominionism (first article linked here – follow it through if you haven’t already!), then the term NAR might be a little familiar to you. It stands for “New Apostolic Reformation” and it refers to a movement in Christendom which believes that God is restoring the so-called “lost offices” of apostle and prophet.

Now that in itself is of no real concern to me. Depending on where you stand theologically, you might not believe that apostles and prophets ever really disappeared. The idea of them coming back and completing the five fold ministry referenced in Ephesians 4:11-16 is no biggie.

But the NAR has some interesting theology that runs alongside that belief. Only one of them is Dominionism, although it can be argued that it is one of the distinguishing characteristics [1]. Berean Research stated that ” Leading figures in this seemingly loosely organized movement claim that these prophets and apostles alone have the power and authority to execute God’s plans and purposes on earth. They believe they are laying the foundation for a global church, governed by them. They place a greater emphasis on dreams, visions and extra-biblical revelation than they do on the Bible, claiming that their revealed teachings and reported experiences (e.g. trips to heaven, face-to-face conversations with Jesus, visits by angels) can not be proven by the ‘old’ Scripture [1].” 

That quote has been lifted from the interwebs because I really couldn’t phrase it better if I tried. The thing is, the scripture repeatedly cautions us against adding to the word of God or taking away from it (Deut 4:2, Deut 12:32, Rev 22:18), understanding it poorly (Matt 22:29),  or twisting it/getting too creative with it (Matt 24:24, Genesis 3;1-4 and Mark 7:13). We are also encouraged to be “sober and watchful” in 1 Peter 4:7. Yet these movements that major on untested, extra-Biblical “revelatory” teachings leave us wide open for a pseudo-Biblical con job if we aren’t watchful and doctrinally grounded.

But hey – the mood sweeps you along, right? And it feels good, right? So that has to be right, right?

If only there was a sarcasm sign in the English keyboard. Look, I’m not saying that it is always skewiff, as good people with hearts for God are swept up in this movement and God can bring good things out of literally anything I’m sure! All I’m saying is we need to approach things with caution and that involves knowing the finer points of what this movement stands for, as it may not be obvious that a church or network is in fact NAR.

In 2011, NAR big-wig C. Peter Wagner wrote a piece for Charisma Magazine. In it, he made the assertion that the NAR was not a cult [2]. As I’ve remarked before, you can ask anyone who’s in a cult “are you in a cult?” and the answer will be no. Thus I don’t believe we can put much stock in his rebuttal. What we can judge this movement by its theological markers. Wagner listed the key values of the movement, which by his own admission has no membership list or structure. Here are the big points (which can vary from church to church). The NAR beliefs include:

• Apostolic governance

• The office of the prophet

• Dominionism

• Theocracy

• Extra-biblical revelation

• Supernatural signs and wonders

• Relational structures

Wagner “wrote that most of the churches in this movement have active ministries of spiritual warfare. As an example of this warfare he claimed that God acted through him to end mad-cow disease in Germany. In an article responding to criticism of the NAR, Wagner noted that those who affiliate themselves with the movement believe the Apostles’ Creed and all the orthodoxy of Christian doctrine, so that the movement is therefore not heretical [3].” I’ll be jumping into a discussion on spiritual warfare next week but for now…at least you know how mad cow disease was cured. *Shrugs*

I’m happy to know that the Apostles Creed isn’t contradicted in NAR churches, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for heresy. Frankly, the Bible is a large and complex book that contains a lot more doctrinal points than those covered off in the Apostles Creed.

Alright friend! Lets break these bad boys down.

Apostolic governance:    Okay, so this is basically the idea that there is a “divine order” rather than a hierarchy, and at the top of that divine order is the apostle who answers to God alone [2]. This sorta kinda comes from Ephesians 4:11 which lists apostles first in the list of ministries. However, it can be problematic as the nature of an apostles appointment to that “office” is somewhat of a grey area.

In my observation, many apostles are self-appointed or appointed by peers. Thus, there’s really not anything to stop a convincingly charismatic person from ascending to that role regardless of their qualifications or doctrinal strength. This, in fact, is a common criticism. Wagner argues strongly against it, saying that they need to be called to the position and appointed by qualified and respected leaders. But any time I have heard someone called an Apostle, there has been no trace of who anointed them as such. It’s called a ‘recognizable grace on their life’ or some such thing. Apparently God doesn’t call the qualified, He qualifies the called. I’ve got no issues with this either, but if an ‘apostle’ is self-appointed or dubiously appointed and answered to no one but God alone, then this leaves a gaping hole in protections against heresy, bad doctrine or a questionable ability to “hear God” accurately. It leaves it wide open for a human with charisma to ascend to power and wield it badly over the lives of their sheep.

The scripture also says that all authority is appointed by God. Thus, the apostle shouldn’t be greater than the pastor, teacher, evangelist or prophet. Yet when they occupy such revered territory in their movements, an almost mystical idealising in the minds of their followers, they may claim to hear directly from God (i.e. Extra biblical revelation) and have no one to keep them accountable (i.e. Relational structure). The flow on effects in the lives of followers can be massive.

How do you tell when an apostle has fallen for the age old pitfall of pride, or let their doctrine come from the depths of their own human, flawed, souls and not from God? Who’s to know?

I do believe that there is an apostle in my life at present. However, he would be blissfully unaware of the fact that anyone thinks that. He doesn’t even like being called “pastor.” There is no grandstanding. There is no title-attainment or bowing and scraping. Just humility, a deep respect for his service and teachings among his network and a strength in theology and equipping of the saints that I haven’t seen equalled yet.

The office of the prophet. Okay. I have no big issue with the office of the prophet. I have an issue with an over-emphasis on the role of the prophetic. To me, Ephesians 4 is a picture of a balanced five fold ministry that exists to ensure the needs of Christians are well met. Too much emphasis on prophecy with not enough emphasis on teaching or love has a potential juggernaut of side effects.

I grew up inside a prophetic movement. While I do believe that in my lifetime I have met two (perhaps more) legitimate prophets, I believe I have met a good many people who treat prophecy like a plaything, or worse, like a type of divination. For example, prophesying a music ministry over the kid playing keyboard isn’t prophecy. It’s an educated guess. Prophesying an administrative role over someone when there is an administrative lack in the church isn’t prophecy. Its manipulation, manipulation that can enslave that person to a fabricated call God never assigned them purely because they are obedient and devout. Of course, prophecy can be accurate and legitimate. But frankly, we can test that. We test it by checking it against the word of God, by whether it rang a bell with the recipient or by whether it came true. Sadly, a lot of prophecy goes unchecked and is blindly followed.

Dominionism. Well, friend. I’ve talked about this. Here, here, here and here. (Seriously, I’m proud of that series. Read it! haha)

Theocracy. Theocracy, according to Wagner isn’t necessarily an entirely Christian run state per se [1], but rather an endpoint of dominionism with Christians occupying positions of dominion in the so-called “seven domains of society.” But…I’ve spoken about my concerns on that before.

Extra-biblical revelation. In the beginning of this piece, I listed a bunch of scriptures that caution against it. But if you’ll allow me to expand on my concerns, in a system where followers are taught to accept (with little or no question) the revelation of an ‘apostle or prophet’ who has a special communication line to God, there is a huge risk for undue and unhelpful influence. Power has the capacity to corrupt. Good intentions can become tainted with self-interest, and where there are no accountability structures or theological qualifications, this can be dangerous. Imagine someone using the pulpit and speaking from a place of “divine authority,” but being seduced by their own ideas and representing them as Gods own. Wow, wow, the damage this can do.

Supernatural signs and wonders. This is an interesting one. Many people believe that signs and wonders have ceased. Others believe they are still alive and well in third world countries but are not the realm of developed nations. There are major movements (especially one major movement with influence across the world that shall remain nameless lol), that encourages its believers to live a supernatural lifestyle, expect signs wonders and miracles, and alleges that full and complete healing is guaranteed with salvation. Let’s think about that: if you get saved at a crusade but your arm is still as broken at the end of the night as it was at the beginning. Well you mustn’t be saved, huh? What if you have been believing God for healing for a long time, or even waiting on God to provide healing without consulting the medical professionals available to you. This is a dangerous doctrine – both spiritually and potentially physically. The fact is God can do what He likes. But if He doesn’t do what we like, He is still God. Full and complete healing, or the ability to perform miracles is neither a litmus test for genuine salvation nor a legitimate call to ministry. In fact, I’ve watched an atheist performer do a pretty good job of healing the sick, too [8].

Thats not to say I don’t believe in miracles. I somewhat sheepishly admit my own disbelief in miracles was interrupted by a spontaneous remission that happened in a church hall (when I had a foul attitude and was determined not to be healed. So there’s that). So I believe they happen. I just also happen to believe that in a lot of cases, its hype, fluff and bubble that allows us to tell ourselves a different story. And in my life as a neuroscience blogger, I have read a lot research that shows just how powerful the mind is.

As a Christian, I believe God is powerful too. But if you don’t experience full and complete healing, or if you lay hands on the sick and they don’t recover, you haven’t failed.

Relational structures. I’m the first to admit that organised religion has a load of issues with it. From dogma, to structures covering up abuse, there are faults. But my belief is that independent churches represent a greater risk. There is safety in accountability. When we remove that, when we allow people to pick and choose their apostles and appoint themselves as leaders who wield great influence over impressionable and often vulnerable people, then this is a recipe for danger. Organised religion has a long way to go before it is the organisation that I believe God ordained to represent Him on earth. But there are some good things about it: a grievance structure, and a clear path forward for qualification and ordination to ministry are just some.

The other thing about relational structures is that it can make it very difficult to resolve an issue or to disclose abuse and have it dealt with. If a relational structure means “we are banding together to accomplish a mission” and someone makes a disclosure of abuse or mistreatment, then the temptation to cover it up and protect the relational structure can be immensely tempting. I’m not the only one who has seen this play out in their own lives, but I’m telling you from my experience alone.

So there you go. Thats the crash course in the NAR movement sweeping the world.

It is my belief that a person is free to believe what they want to believe, and live out their faith the way they want to. But the way to a well-rounded faith is to know what you believe and know what you are involved in. If you scrutinise the different areas of your faith and don’t like how some of them play out, then denial isn’t the answer to that problem.

But then again I’m a geek who loves getting into the nitty gritty of church, Christianity and the word of God.

Until next week,

PEACE! 
Kit K. 

BIBLIOGRAPHY:

1. Berean Research. https://bereanresearch.org/dominionism-nar/

2. Charisma Magazine https://www.charismanews.com/opinion/31851

3. Wikipedia https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Apostolic_Reformation#cite_note-:0-1

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

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

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

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

8. https://www.premierchristianradio.com/News/UK/Derren-Brown-reveals-faith-healing-trick

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  

Losing the Jezebel Brand

Last week I posted an article I thought would be a stand-alone. It was a rather academic piece on Jezebel – what she/it is and isn’t, and how it is wrongly used to subjugate and control women. I packed as much as I could into it in the vain hope that I’d never have to write on it again (read that here, if you haven’t already). 

But I already knew that I had to, didn’t I? You see I’ve learned something about you readers: you like the academic stuff, but you love the personal stuff. I’ve also learned something about me: I write what interests me, but any writer worth their salt draws from the deeper parts of themselves. For a long time I didn’t feel as if I owned my story. But I freaking do. So here I am, with my big girl pants on, telling you what its been like for me to gain and lose the Jezebel brand. 

I’m a big sister. I’m a mum. I’m a loyal friend. So perhaps it would come as no surprise that I’m the sort of person who can take a fair bit on the chin, feel the hurt, shrug it off and then get on with life. But when people around me are in pain or somehow negatively affected by something, then ohhhh mother. It takes all my strength to say “not my circus, not my monkeys” and stay out of it sometimes.

It wasn’t whether or not I had been called a Jezebel that motivated me. It was other women’s stories – other women’s pain. It was other women trying to find their way in Christianity, or just in life, wearing this shame that comes with the inference that you are under the influence of an evil spirit; that you are responsible for the lack of spiritual progress in your church, for division, for ill health, for bad things that have happened in relationships or families. It takes a bit to recover from that and find your personality and voice again. I think, I hope, I’ve learned some things along the way. They say sharing is caring so here we are.

First a bit about “Jezebel” and me.

I have to say up front that it was never said to my face. No one ever said to me “you are a Jezebel. It was said to my husband though. It was said to my face in other words. “You shouldn’t be so strong. You need to surrender your opinion. You’re becoming too much. Surrender. Back down. Don’t ask questions. Your intellect is a problem to God. If you ever hope to get married, then you need to learn not to be such a handful.” Or the big one, “I’m not saying you are a Jezebel, but you ought to be careful not to act under the influence.”

I knew what that meant, because I’d heard or been part of conversations where other women had been talked about in the same terms. They were called Jezebels. Thus, by characterisation, I was at risk of being one of them. I knew when I was out of favour, and I knew when I was in. I knew, by virtue of the gossip I’d been part of, that certain things would be said about me. The J word, if not pronounced explicitly, would be present in every insinuation.

But you see, I wasn’t a Jezebel, and I knew it. If Jezebel was associated with sexual immorality, then how could I, a virgin on her wedding day and a faithful wife, be one? Even if I wasn’t a virgin on my wedding day, it still would have been a long, long way from Baal, the fertility cults of Canaan which Jezebel partook in and their alleged temple orgies. Gosh! If Jezebel was associated with idolatry, how could I, a monotheistic Christian constantly on guard against putting other things before God, be idolatrous? If Jezebel was associated with unsubmissiveness, then how could I, the woman who wanted to vow to “love honour and obey” on her wedding day (but took the vow out because my husband wasn’t comfortable with it) be one of them? But as comfortable as I was in my knowledge of this, I was not immune to the feelings that come with the brand.

• You start to ask God why He made you smart/inquisitive/bubbly/passionate, if that made you a problem. You feel ashamed of these aspects of your personality, so you try to mute it.

• You start to feel guilty when male attention comes your way, and feel ashamed of your sexuality or your looks (both of which are God-given parts of who you are).

• You begin to hate your desire to use your talents (for God, or for fun or vocation in my case), because you know this could come across as attention seeking and that would add fuel to the fire.

• You begin to second guess your discernment. If something feels or looks wrong, you silence your misgivings – partially because you doubt yourself, partially because you know that if you raised it you’d be “being a handful” or “dishonouring leadership.” I.e. You’d be acting under the influence of Jezebel.

All in all, this Jezebel brand can have the effect of eroding a persons confidence and discernment, muting their talent, intellect and sexuality, causing their self-esteem to plummet and their personal appearance to be the cause of great shame. Gosh, you should try dodging the ‘seductive/attention seeking/Jezebel’ brand while possessing boobs and being expected to dance at every worship service. Good golly. If that isn’t a double bind!

Can you see why I feel so strongly that this label is harmful, and that bad theology is dangerous? Too many women have had it worse than me. Too many women still struggle to find their voices, or to fully express their strength, femininity, talent, intelligence or charisma. Too many women are not living the lives God intended for them – all because of bad theology that is too often used against them.

I don’t care whether you are egalitarian or complementarian. I don’t care whether you believe women should have the right to preach/pastor or not. This type of inequality does not belong in the church. Not when all of us are fearfully and wonderfully made, and marvellous are the works of the one who made us. (Psalm 139:14)

Shaking off the big J brand

Every healing journey begins with the realisation that you have something to heal from. We see the world through rose coloured glasses sometimes, because its easier to smile and say, “Oh no thats totally fine,” than to look at your wound and say “Yeah that hurt.” Because that statement has another statement attached to it. “That hurt, and you hurt me.” It might be a person, it might be a system. Either way, the realisation that you have something to heal from often comes with the realisation that something else ain’t right. Once that bubble has popped, it’s popped. You can’t unpop it. The only thing you can do is sit with that realisation, and then eventually figure out what you will do with it.

Read lots. I know, I am a nerd. This is how I handle life. But reading *helped* me. I read the Bible. I read commentaries on the Bible. I took notes about what I agreed with  and what I didn’t agree with and why. I talked with people wiser than me and let my inner nerd loose like a kid in a lolly shop. I discovered a lot of theological clashes that had made their way into my belief system. But I also discovered that the colloquial term “Jezebel” that is used to control and subjugate women bears little resemblance to the Biblical character and the warnings that accompany her.

Find people who will tell you the truth. I’ve always valued people who tune me, who don’t blindly agree. When someone confronts bad ideas and tunes you on them, that’s a valuable thing. When those same people tell you “Nope! That’s wrong. You aren’t this thing you’ve been called. Don’t accept that,” then you’ve got to listen. It was these people who helped me regain my faith in God and in myself, and who reminded me again and again that it is okay to be strong, and to be a woman of substance.

Remember you are fearfully and wonderfully made, and marvellous are your creators works. If I am a work of art, then how awful of me to hate myself and whine to my creator about what a rubbish job He did. If I was to honour God, then I needed to honour what He made me: smart, bubbly, loving, passionate, generous, talkative, curious, discerning, musical, a nonconformist who can’t stand injustice and needs to uncover bad theology, a compassionate person who can’t look upon the plight of wounded people and feel nothing. None of these things are bad. All of these things are God-given, and thus He would not look upon them or me with shame.

Take back your story. Take back your voice. You don’t have to do this in spite. You don’t have to do it on anyone else’s timeline. You can be kind, strong, restrained and do things in your time and on your terms. Eventually I had to stop being ashamed of my story. I haven’t told it yet. I may only ever tell snippets (because there are too many other people whose stories intersect with mine, and even though some of these people have hurt me, they are still people).

Tangent! But! I was saying – It is my story though. No one else owns it. I decide what to do with it. For now, I’m sitting comfortable in my ownership, and only sharing what I think is relevant and helpful to other people. But there is a whole lot of freedom that comes with knowing the simple fact that no one else owns your story, and no one else gets to tell you what to do with your voice.

I’ll be the first to admit, it has taken/is taking me a while to take back my voice. I’ve been a writer since I was a kid. I’ve ghostwritten books. I’ve authored novels. But to write non-fiction, and to examine doctrine was what I always wanted to do. It took me until last year to do it. I was scared people in my past would think it was a veiled dig at them, even if it had nothing to do with them. I grew the courage to blog about things that fascinated me, but didn’t have the courage to share it. I was still scared of other peoples judgements of me. But there came a tipping point where I had to think “Okay, how long am I going to let other people run my life? How long am I going to ignore God’s promptings and defer to the judgement of people who don’t love me like He does?”

Things went boom on this blog. Every time I think about quitting, I get another thank you email from someone it has helped. So I owe it to myself and others to keep on. I never write something out of spite. I never write when I am hot headed. But I owe myself, others, and my creator, better honour than to let fear dictate my limits.

I am a woman. I am loved by God. I am worthy of equality. The patriarchal systems within some churches may not agree. Some men may not agree. But I do not attend those churches and I am not married to those men. This is my space, and I intend to fully inhabit it.

Look in the mirror and try to see what God does. If you can do it, look at your kids and ask “What do I want for them?” I looked at my daughter, and I asked it about her. My husband and I want the same things for her. We want her to be free to be herself in the fullest possible way. She’s only one, but she’s smart, loving, wacky, affectionate, musical, inquisitive and just so beautiful. We will teach her to own these things and never to listen to someone who tells her they aren’t pure and wonderful. If you can’t see yourself the way God sees you, if you can’t see His heart for you when you look in the mirror, then look at your kids and ask yourself “how much more does my creator love me?”

I asked that question. I couldn’t argue with the response. So this fierce and worthy woman is shaking off the shame of a brand that once tried to attach itself to me. It is not mine. I won’t have it. You can say what you like about me. That simply doesn’t make it true.

Before I sign off – a shout out to my branded sisters, wherever you might read this from: You owe it to yourself, your partner, your kids and your creator to rise up above the voices that tried to control and minimise you. What you are is beautiful. No one else gets to dictate how much of your true self you can let shine through. Don’t become less just because someone doesn’t think you have the right to shine. You do.

You do. And I do.

Go in peace, girlfriend

Kit K. 

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

Dominionism in the Era of Trump and ScoMo: the 2019 Edition

This article was published last year. That was before a national crisis in Australia (the firestorm we are currently living through), a badly-timed Hawaiian holiday and ill-thought-out ad spruiking the Liberal Party’s response to the crisis (both by our PM if you missed those memos). It was before a Trump’s impeachment and the appearance of increasingly unhinged American President. Over the course of the last year, I’ve heard resounding questions as to why Christian voters aren’t so quick to wake up to it when their representative touts Christian values but behaves differently. (I’m aiming that statement more at Trump than ScoMo, but the latter is finding himself increasingly lit by an unflattering spotlight).

ANYWAY! I wrote this piece a year ago and published it, then accidentally trashed it, then found it again because – relevant. It’s still good, and it’s still worth a read. At this time in history, its prudent for the discerning voter, Christian or news/media consumer to both know of and rethink dominionism. This bad theology is, in my opinion, leading to an unreliable combination of bad politics and good ole Christian gullibility. I’ll do a 2020 version next week. For now, and for posterity, enjoy. (Pro-Tip: This article will make a lot more sense if you go read parts 1 , 2 and 3 of this series! You’re welcome.)

…

Of the seven mountains in the Dominionist doctrine, none seems to possess the magnetism of politics. The reasons, I’m sure, would be as diverse as Dominionism’s adherents. One can only speculate why. Perhaps it’s because to conquer the mountain of business, you need to be a good business person. At the end of the day, your empire proves you. To conquer the mountain of music, you have to be a brilliant musician AND have the good luck to get noticed and signed. To conquer the mountain of education, you have to be smart, educated and bloody hard-working. In every other mountain, its your talent, dedication, hard work and results that prove you. 

Politics has a different pull. Work the room. Get the votes. Influence the men at the top. Then you can say you’ve conquered. You can claim to be a power broker, or an important vote or voice, even if you never actually succeed in politics.  It’s a different game entirely, lit up with personalities, promises and ultimately the seductive pull of power.

I promised in the teaser video that I’d talk about Donald Trump, Scott Morrison and Dominionism. Here’s the scoop – I don’t actually believe Trump or ScoMo are Christian Dominionists. I believe they are men who are playing to a niche of interested people – something any politician knows how to do. But around these men are political structures. That’s where the gameplay happens and that’s where Dominionism hides. Like I’ve said previously, this isn’t a doctrine with a sign-up sheet. No one is going to waltz into a political party and announce “I’m a dominionist and I’m here to take you over!” It’s far more nuanced than that.

The US ExampleReally, there’s no better place to look at political Dominionism than America.  As mentioned before, Rushdoony has widely been credited as the father of Biblical Reconstructionism, and from that springs Dominionism. Rushdoony was born in 1916 and died in 2001, so the doctrine itself is only something that really sprung up over the last 100 years. If you take a glance across history, separation of church and state isn’t really a thing we’ve had since Constantine. The two have been quite intertwined, so it’s only in the recent past as the church lost its clout as the moral compass of society that we have seen this fight for power in the political arena.

Here’s the thing though: Christians aren’t all that used to losing privilege. How we react to that is unfolding in the public sphere in many ways, but it doesn’t appear that Christians en masse are ready, or rather willing, to reflect on that just yet. (Spoiler: we should. But I talk about that, among other things, in this video here.)

Over the last century, there have been a few significant moves that have spurred the Dominionist movement forward. Arguably the first was Billy Graham. In many ways, he was a standard-bearer for evangelicalism in the 1900s. Towards the end of his lifetime, he stated that one of his regrets was that he got too involved in politics. In an interview with Christianity Today in 2011, he said “I also would have steered clear of politics. I’m grateful for the opportunities God gave me to minister to people in high places; people in power have spiritual and personal needs like everyone else, and often they have no one to talk to. But looking back I know I sometimes cros­sed the line, and I wouldn’t do that now.”

The great irony is that, by the time he made that statement, the horse had bolted on Christian ministers seeking influence in politics. Perhaps it had bolted too far for many to turn their ear to Graham’s reflection.

But let’s fast forward until now. 

Somewhere, someone (I hope) is writing a thesis on this stuff. You just can’t condense it into a blog post. While I would love to read such a thesis, writing it is not my jam. So here’s the pop-culture, layman version of American politics and Dominionism in the Trump era. There are better historians, for sure. But here goes.

The scoop is this: The ‘anointed one’ was never Trump. Before he wore that title,  Ted Cruz and to a lesser degree Ben Carson did. Carson was a famed Christian and surgeon amid a crowded field that had a few other conservative draw-cards. Many pastors, leaders and members of the Christian right rallied around him and pinned titles upon him, such as “God’s man” for America. But he bowed out of the race on March 4. That was okay though because Ted Cruz still stood – a stoic conservative with a wide Christian following. He too could be called “God’s Man” for America. I watched from my couch in Australia as the proclamations and prophecies effortlessly shifted. No-one stopped to question whether the prophets had been wrong in word or intent when the Cruz bid for the Presidency was over on May 3.

While undoubtedly both men had their faults, both were legitimate men of faith. I could see the Christian connection.

Then. Came. Trump.

I wondered how on Earth the Christian Right could support such a man. This was Donald “Grab ‘em by the pussy” Trump.  Since then, he has done some things that should at the very least raise an eyebrow if they fail to turn a stomach. His treatment of refugee families and children is infamous for its cruelty. His installation of Judge Brett Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court Bench was shrouded in scandal over the sex assault claims. The alleged victim was shamed. The judge was installed. When Trump was interviewed about the whole thing, his big wrap statement was “It doesn’t matter. We won.” I could go on. But time simply would not allow.

Currently, his public and personal empire is heading deeper into the mire when it comes to legal scrutiny. His personal lawyer, Michael Cohen, has been jailed. A number of investigations are underway putting the Trump-Russia connection under the microscope, and Florida democrats want an investigation into Trump’s cabinet over the Epstein Case. Several investigations are in process. Yet large portions of the Christian Right remain largely unwavering in their support of Trump.

How? It’s mind-blowing. I’ve heard (or read) a good many people say something along the lines of “He is God’s man for America because he is surrounded by so many Christians.” (Read more on that here!) Does it matter that he appears to have a trivial approach to law and ethics? Apparently not. In fact, the American Right appears to have no problem “rewriting their code of ethics” to support the guy (according to this article by Randal Balmer which lays it all out!)

Truth-bomb, friends: Trump is a businessman. He knows a target market when he sees one. Say the right thing, and you lock up the target market. That doesn’t mean he is listening. It just means he looks like he is. But you know a tree by its fruit. I see a problem here. We can be so blinded by the idea that someone in power is listening to us, that we neglect to take a second look and see whether they actually are. We should be asking serious questions about which way the influence flows when it comes to Trump and the Christian Right.

Many a political commentator has offered insight into how Dominionists have had their claws in team Trump. (Check out thisand this if you need more info, or this if you want info into the Dominionist tag attached to VP Mike Pence!) But here is my question: if the best Christian Dominionism can offer up is a thrice-married Businessman with a dubious attitude to women, the law, human rights and ethics (who looks like a raging narcissist if you ask me), then shouldn’t we be putting the righteousness, intent and discernment of the whole Dominionism movement under a little more scrutiny?

When we fall for the allure of power and influence, and dessert the idea that it all starts and ends with Jesus, we can switch off the conscience that should send up warning signals, and tell ourselves that the end justifies the means. If families are ripped apart, if sexual assault is trivialised, if women are belittled and made a joke – then the end does not justify the means. And that list is just a start.

Look, in a representative democracy, all creeds and faiths should be represented in government. Thus, it is to be expected that Christians would be involved. But dominionism is more militant than just democratic involvement. Its a call to war, a war that does not respect the equity and diversity of the world around us or the free choice God granted to all. It is a war that seeks to aggressively retake the reigns. Who cares who gets squashed on the way? As an egalitarian Christian woman, I’m all for faith and Christianity where it is faith in and (attempted) imitation of Christ. I’m not for the subjugation of people groups or belief systems that do not profess my creed. I don’t think God is either. Because He sent His Son as a baby, who grew up to die for the sins of the world. He did not send him to a palace. He sent him to a stable. But here we are, 2000 years later, trying too hard for the palaces.

Is Dominionism moving onto Australian soil?I have to preface this section by saying I’ve always been a conservative voter. I’ve held membership in conservative parties. I’ll probably err on the side of conservative politics for a long, long time even though the last election saw me hang with the swing voters for the first of what I’d say would be many times.

But here’s the kicker: I’ve also been a Dominionist, I just didn’t know it until I wasn’t one anymore. There might not be much on the public record about political Dominionism in Australia yet, but as the spread of the doctrine reaches across the seas, there are breadcrumbs to suggest that this movement is gaining momentum here.

I see four problems with this:

1. Dominionism may sound appealing to Christians on face value, but there are Biblical scholars who call it a heresy, saying it’s at odds with the example of Christ and that there is no Biblical basis for it. This should serve as a red flag, and cause us to delve a lot further into the motivations for it before we allow it on our pulpits alongside the message of salvation. A lot of harm can be done when we stray from where God wants us to be and throw our efforts into the quest for power instead. (Read more on that here)

2. There are legitimate conservatives who are involved in politics, and a strong political system needs constructive debate from all sides in order for balanced and fair policies to be written into law. If the Dominionism movement gathers momentum, it is possible that good-natured conservatives with a mind for civic service will get tarred with a Dominionist brush and the baby will be cast out with the bathwater. Given the tendency for Dominionism to take on a militant “here to take over” nature, it is natural that it would reap such opposition. We need legitimate conservatives in a balanced, well-functioning political system. We don’t need clandestine takeovers of established parties by people engaged the political equivalent of a pseudo-holy war.

3. Even within Dominionism, I have to acknowledge that there is a continuum. On one end we have good-natured (perhaps naïve) Christians who may have a somewhat misguided idea of Dominionism as spiritual servitude. They may get involved thinking this is what God wants of them. Good intentions meet bad doctrine but they aren’t bad people. On the other end, we have people who are militant in their intent, crafty in their methods and have their eyes on power. This, to me, is the more dangerous end of the continuum. Where each individual sits may change according to their own set of ethics, their read of the Bible, their circle of influence or their gumption when it comes to pursuing power.

4. My final concern is that the lack of discernment I see in the American Dominionist Movement may be echoed in the Australian effort. People at either end of that continuum may be caught up, thinking they have gained the ear of the people in power, but in actual fact, they may purely be a number in someone else’s game.

So that’s my personal thoughts on it. Let’s look at the Aussie reality.

Following the Breadcrumbs: Dominionism in Australia

While conservative politics has been alive in Australia for a long time, the word ‘Dominionism’ hasn’t really featured much on the public record. At present, the most you’ll get is links to Lyle Shelton of Australian Christian Lobby fame. (Read more here and here). Predictably, Shelton denies the allegations. While it is completely reasonable for a special interest group to have a lobby to campaign for its interests, let’s just remember that rule number one of Dominionism is kind of like rule number one of fight club: Don’t talk about it.

I didn’t hear about dominionism first in the news. I heard about it first from a pulpit. It was a guest preacher, an itinerant whose name I can’t remember. But his flash Powerpoint presentation mapped out the seven domains of society and built people up with the idea that their destiny, their God-given place, was at the top.

How exciting! We weren’t the only church who heard it, and I’m sure he wasn’t the only man who preached it. Years later, I was involved in an international network of churches who espoused this doctrine. We stood together, inspired by the message of our divine assignment and sang songs that asked: “What time is it?” The answer: “Its time to take over.”

The message of Dominionism has slipped its way into churches, but it’s unlikely to slip its way into headlines for a long time yet. It is clandestine. You won’t hear of someone walking into a political party and saying “I’m a Dominionist and I’m here to take over.” That’s a large red tick in a box marked ‘entitled weirdo.’ Nor will you read headlines like “Dominionist faction does blah blah.”

Still, we have had a couple of headlines that should raise the eyebrows of the discerning.

Headline number one was Cory Bernardi’s “Australian Conservatives” merging Christian micro-party “Family First.” The latter had long existed on the political scene but failed to gain much traction outside of their own home state.

Cory Bernardi is a staunch Catholic and a legitimate conservative. I very much doubt he is a Dominionist. But he sure has given Christians a logical place to go with their political support. It was a smart move in terms of votes, but Heaven only knows how discerning he is when it comes to recognising the Dominionism in his own ranks. Simply by virtue of its branding, the Australian Conservatives could well be a beacon that attracts Dominionists like moths to a flame.

More recently, whispers of factions within the Liberal Party have rumbled along. These rumours reached fever pitch at the last leadership spill when PM Malcolm Turnbull was ousted, the guy who kicked the leadership spill into motion couldn’t muster the votes and neither could the popular Party deputy. The person left standing at the end of it all was Scott Morrison – the Steven Bradbury of Australian politics.

Christians cheered. And that’s fair enough.

The jury is out on whether he is a Dominionist or just simply a pentecostal. A bit over two months ago, Awakening Australia happened. It was a Christian mega-conference that attracted crowds to an arena in Victoria. ScoMo chimed in, and again Christians cheered. The term “God’s man for Australia” was one I heard thrown around.

But when I heard ScoMo’s address to the Awakening Australia conference, I just heard a guy who knew how to speak to his target audience. It would be easy to see a Christian on the stage and think that the hand of the Almighty God has intervened in Australian politics and thus we should put our full-throated support behind the man and herald him as the saviour of Australian politics. But be discerning.

Is the Christian right really influencing ScoMo, or are we switching off our watching eyes and our listening ears because he wears the brand “Christian”? I haven’t heard much Christian discourse on ScoMo’s refugee policy, or even kickback over his tasteless comments on Pamela Anderson.

The guy is a politician. Plain and simple. But the energy of Dominionism is to surround such people, bend their ear and influence their decisions, so the best political commentators could do right now would be to watch what happens in the membership and administration that surrounds the Liberals.

On a state level, the finger-pointing continues after a conservative obliteration at the voting boxes in Victoria (especially for the Liberal Party). As the political columnists piece together the wreckage, we are starting to see an interesting picture. MP Mary Wooldridge took aim at a “small but dominant” group of right-wing conservatives in the party’s membership. That’s a big breadcrumb.

More sensationally, the text message scandal featuring Marcus Bastiaan shows the same man who has been accused of branch stacking, targeting conservative churches and community groups in his recruitment drives presumably to bolster his factions numbers, privately denigrate Catholics and ethnic groups in the State Party to his friends. (More on that here)

The scandal has caused widespread outrage and the predictable cries of innocence from those involved.

Where’s Dominionism in all of this? It was Wooldridge’s use of the term “dominant conservatives” that raised my eyebrows. The message of the seven mountain ‘mandate’ may have softened the ground for someone like Bastiaan to sweep into churches and bolster faction numbers, or Bernardi to hold up a banner called “conservatism” and watch the membership forms roll in.

Once again, it’s important to know the difference between a legitimate conservative, and someone who knows how to take advantage of naive and/or ambitious and power-hungry dominionists and use them for their own ends.

Perhaps this is what Bastiaan is? Perhaps this is what Trump is? Time will tell what Morrison is.

It is my belief that good people get caught up in Dominionism for a variety of reasons including those mentioned in my dot-point list above. How this promise of power affects each individual will vary. Thus we can’t call them completely self-serving. Some will be. Others won’t.

But again, we must judge a tree by its fruit. Eventually, good-natured individuals getting caught up in Dominionist pursuits will likely become disenfranchised by the inevitable revelation that, unless they go full Frank Underwood and sell their souls, they are simply a number and a set of hands being used for someone else’s political gain.

I’m a proud Christian. So I have to ask a simple question: no matter what the motivation, is Dominionism good for Australia? I feel sad for the good people who get caught up, who give their time and effort for a cause they aren’t naturally interested in or become disillusioned because they are being used. I feel nervous when power-hungry Christians use the Dominionist heresy as a reason to chase down power and influence, thus dragging the good name of Jesus through the mud.

But when we look up from the individual to the collective effect, the result is concerning. Rather than Dominionism being a positive thing for Australian politics, it seems like the best it has offered the Liberals is an eye-watering defeat on a state level, a splintered party with warring factions, and a trail of wreckage in the office of the Prime Minister.

Dominionism is certainly here in Australia, a burgeoning movement but still here. While I will always believe that in a representative democracy, the Christian voice should be heard, I also believe that we need to abandon this idea that we should “take back the mountain of politics” – because in a representative democracy all voices are equal, but Dominionism hides a militancy and intent that seeks to silence the voices that do not agree.

A balanced and upfront approach is what is needed, not a clandestine effort at a takeover.

This was the 2019 version of events. I republished it unedited for posterity. Next week, I’ll lay out the 2020 version. A lot has transpired. Christian minor parties have shut down as the Morrison orbit sucked up the supporter base, but a national bushfire/climate crisis and some flawed decision making/empathy distributing efforts have cast a shadow over Morrison and potentially the Christian influences within the Liberal Party. Trump has been impeached on the heels of the damning Mueller report and the world has stood watching while the President chose to wage war via Twitter and then via an attack on an Iranian General on Iraqi soil.

My my. What a year. And its only the 14th of January. Tune in next week for that updated piece. For now, don’t go hating your Liberal friends! They aren’t bad, I’m sure. And I am sure they’re not all dominionists. Anyway! Read the other pieces in this series (links at the top)  and I’ll see you next week.

Peace, friends. 

Kit K

Why I’m Not a Dominionist Anymore

When I sat down to write this series, I knew I had to write a personal reflection because a helicopter view of the dominionism issue pales in comparison to the personal experience of it. Still, the first versions of this blog piece had too many elements. Too many other peoples stories. So I’m stripping it back and having a go at writing my experience of dominionism. 

An experience I found crushing.

From the time I was 15, I studied a book called ‘In His Steps’ as part of a discipleship program I was in. The plot of this book involved the editor of a local paper who started to run it the way he believed Jesus would have – censoring certain ads, posting good news and omitting other stories – that sort of thing. That book began a movement that spawned millions of plastic bracelets that asked ‘WWJD? (What would Jesus do?).’ It had its upsides, sure. The very question should call us to a higher level of ethics, compassion and altruism. Right?

For my church, it began our slide into dominion theology. We just didn’t give it that name. I don’t know that we gave it a name at all.

I was 15 when I was introduced to the idea of taking over positions of influence for the cause of Christ. I was 30 when I started consciously questioning it. I was 32 before I gave it words, asking my husband in the quietness of our loungeroom whether the end justified the means. Here I am, 35, no longer going to a Dominionist church, and finally talking about it. And perhaps not a moment too soon.

It’s an interesting thing to reflect on. As a 15 year old who wanted to serve God to the best of her ability, I was a sponge. I soaked up all the teaching. However, in comparing notes with my husband, I realise that I always had reservations. But I felt strongly that if I did not participate, it would mean trouble for me somehow. I also knew that questioning authority was not the done thing in my church. It was dishonouring or rebellious and these things were snuffed out pretty hard.  All my friends and family were in boots and all. If I wanted to be part of their lives, I had to be too. So I became a reluctant participant in the Dominionists efforts of my church.

It’s interesting – how you can justify some things to yourself when your entire life is wrapped up in it, when you know how difficult things will be for you if you raise your hand and say “Umm, I’ve got questions.” I certainly silenced my misgivings for a long time.

I absolutely know that not everyones experience will be like this. I’m only talking about mine. Even my husband’s was slightly different. He moved from our state’s capital to be part of this ‘rare true church.‘ If there was Coolaid to drink, he skulled it. Over time, the rose coloured glasses would shatter for him too. But the happy memories he looks back on from that time are not mine to share.

For years, the church (which my husband and I have moved on from) was involved in an international network with heavy Dominionist overtones. Catch cries like “What time is it? Its time to take over!”, “Dominion in every domain” and “Let’s go take the city” were met with songs about laying down our own ambition to serve the cause. We talked this. We sang this. We worked this.

Over time, I became aware that working out my salvation had become hard work – a fact that seemed at odds with Ephesians 2:8-9 “Salvation is by grace through faith and not of works, lest any man should boast” and 2 Corinthians 12:9 which talks about God’s grace being sufficient. I was hearing less and less of these scriptures, instead hearing constant reminders of how we must carry out our primary assignment or risk Gods grace being removed from our lives.

I now realise that second bit is unbiblical, and the truth I need to align myself with is that Gods love is the same no matter what. It would not change if I never attended church. It would not change if I was an utter failure at everything I attempted. Gods grace and His love never fails.

But my entire church,  family and social community was so caught up in this movement that I dared not question it. My husbands natural interest in politics got swept into this, and the results of it were deeply uncomfortable for us at times. My natural desire to write, and write fiction, got swept into this. All of a sudden the hobby I’d taken up as a means of carving out some me-time in my crazy life was my ‘primary assignment.’ I was to conquer the mountain of arts and entertainment.

To me, it was more pressure, where I had only taken it up to escape the pressure that existed around me. Life had become relentless hard work. Salvation had become a curse. My only hope was a short life. But after four pregnancy losses, a fifth pregnancy finally survived beyond the seven week mark and I had to start asking what kind of life I wanted for my child. By virtue of this, I started asking what kind of a life my heavenly Father wanted for me.

That pondering turned out to be revelatory.

The Fruit of Dominionism

At the time I wrote my first novel, I was running a business, working full-time and serving on my  church’s music and leadership teams. This meant that with meetings, bookwork, practices, Sunday services, and so on, I barely had time to myself. The business was a “kingdom” business I had entered with many misgivings. It turned out to be seven very difficult years. But it was in service of “taking the mountain of business and commerce.” I was working as a subcontractor in the education space, not just turning up to a job but trying to do my bit to ‘take the mountain’ of education. I was giving 120% in every aspect of my life and my adrenal system didn’t love this. I fell into exhaustion, constant migraines, and my battle with post-traumatic stress disorder became a complicated one to win.

When every action or inaction has eternal consequences, you can’t just take a sick day, can you? In fact, there are many things that fall by the wayside.

The wheels started to come off subconsciously as I started to look around and see exhausted people. A number of my friends were suffering with depression and anxiety. I myself was battling crippling fatigue. Many a lunch break was spent asleep, even asleep in my car if I was working out of town. But I brushed it off. It was too hard to think about.

Then I started writing my third novel. It was supposed to paint a picture of what it looked like when “the kingdom of God” was manifest on Earth – i.e. when Dominionism finally reached its peak and Christians had taken over everything. I didn’t like anything I could see in my minds eye as I listened to message after message searching for hints. So I looked to the Bible and found my answer in Romans 14:7 “For the kingdom of God is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Ghost.”

My Dominionist experience had been governed by a driving mandate to gain power and influence in order to bring the kingdom of God (ie. righteousness). But it had come at the expense of peace and joy. If life as a Christian was a three-legged stool – it was crazy wonky, having only one leg to hold it up.

After watching a documentary the lights came on. I didn’t want to live this life. I didn’t even want to write about it, because I didn’t like what I saw in my minds eye when dominionists took over. I was a fiction writer. I could create utopia if I wanted. But the clashes were too deep even for fiction.

Losing Dominionism

Between October and November 2015, my husband and I quietly lost dominionism. If you know our personal story, you will also know we lost a lot more than just a bit of bad theology. But I won’t cover all of that here.

When we lost Dominionism, we also lost a sense of destiny and significance. To be honest, it was a painful loss. We had been told our family and church had national significance. Having entered this movement as youths, when we were idealistic and wanted to change the world, it had been a seductive belief, and there’s a risk our identity had been somehow built around it.

People ask me why someone would get involved in Dominionism. My answer is two-fold: 1) they may not realise they are, as this doctrine seduces you by degrees. 2) It is indeed seductive. If you are a Dominionist, you are not a normal person slugging it out in your job. You are destined for greatness. You have God on your side. You are, in a way, super human. You are destined to take over.

Destined.

I see it now as a grandiosity, and inflated sense of self. But the point of Christianity is Galatians 2:20 – Christ living in and through us. There’s no greater example of humility and servitude than Christ.

Still, losing that grandiosity was painful. Imagine going from the Christian version of Sidney Bristow on Alias – superspy with a super destiny masquerading as a run of the mill office worker – to being an average Joe asking ‘What is the meaning of life?’

It took three years to get to where I am now. It took a lot of pain, a lot of tears, and a lot of sleepless nights. But where I am is happy, at peace with my faith, still grappling with my grief but happy. My three legged stool isn’t wonky any more because it isn’t just righteousness trying to hold the whole thing up. Peace and Joy are there too.

The Question of Powerlessness

Unsurprisingly, my husband and I have spent many a late night up talking about why we have gone on the journey we have. When it comes to Dominionism at least, I have a theory. Or rather a hypothesis, because obviously it is unproven (can you tell I work as a research writer?)

My theory is that another seductive thing about Dominionism is that it shields us from our own powerlessness.

The church used to be a fearsome and powerful institution. It was the measuring stick against which society sized itself up. To swear on the Bible was deep and meaningful. To sin was mortally wounding. The church lead the charge with social justice, with serving widows and orphans and trying to make the world a better place.

Somewhere along the line we lost that higher ground. The secular world now exhibits a greater dedication to social justice, and often finds the church as the thing that opposes it. Government hums along without needing the churches permission or looking to it for guidance in most instances.

Dominionism, to me, seems to have its roots in fear not love. If we fear losing our rights, fear losing our relevance, then Dominionism is the antidote. It tells us we are destined to forcibly retake the ground we have lost. That God demands it of us.

Yet the higher law we are supposed to live under is the law of love. Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul and strength, and love your neighbour as yourself. Love-based faith, not fear-based activism.

Right now, at this point in my life, I do not live in fear of my powerlessness. I don’t, because my faith is in God who is all-powerful. I do not fear losing my rights. Because if I lose my rights, then I share in Christ’s sufferings, which according to my Bible means I’ll also share in His glory. I don’t need his glory. I am comfortable with not sharing his sufferings. But if I do, that’s ok.

It would be a light on the hill moment. It would be an opportunity to share a little light in a dark world. That would be ok.

I hear the persecution narrative from dominionists. But I don’t view Western Christians as persecuted. I’m happy to give that crown to our Middle Eastern brothers and sisters. There are places where the crown of persecution can be rightly worn.

It is not in a representative democracy where the worst persecution a Christian is likely to face is a deletable comment or an angry emoji reaction on Facebook.

It’s blunt. But it’s true.

I may have lost a lot, but losing Dominionism isn’t a thing I grieve. Three years on, I’m seeing purpose in my life again and I’m enjoying life that once again has peace and joy. I do believe that God has a plan for all of us. But I don’t think there’s anything grandiose in that. There is beauty in it for sure, though. And that is more than enough.

If you missed the rest of this series, then here’s the rest: 

What is Dominionism? 
Is there a Biblical basis for Dominionism?
Dominionism and politics in the era of Trump and ScoMo

Is There a Biblical Basis for Dominionism?

As a research writer, I never show my hand as far as my personal belief or individual take on a topic is concerned. I simply state the facts, spit out a list of references and tie it all together in a neat little narrative. So it was a little out of character for me to show my hand so clearly in the last article, titled “What is Dominionism?” I am anti-Dominionism, a conviction I hold so strongly that I came out and said it, right off the bat. I’ll talk about the personal reflections that lead to that standpoint in another article. Today, I’m talking about the Biblical reasoning.

Depending on the context, I either laugh or groan internally when I hear people say, “Well I believe the Bible!” Frankly, it’s a complicated book! You can’t just believe the Bible. You need to consider which lens you are viewing it through (and it is inevitable that you will be viewing it through a particular philosophical or theological lens, even if you don’t know it). Are you a Biblical literalist? A Calvinist? A progressive? Are you attempting to view it through the lens of Christ Himself? Or perhaps through the eyes of a preacher you follow? It’s a complicated question. Someone with a decent grounding in theology could argue for or against a good many doctrines regardless on the basis of scripture.

Call me a poor theologian if you like, and I will happily wear that, but I just can’t argue for Dominionism from scripture. Add to that one simple fact: Dominionism comes from Biblical Reconstructionism – the brain child of Rushdoony (and other influencers for sure), who was also a totalitarian. So its kind of counterintuitive to argue for dominionism, and against Kim Jong Un. Just saying. But anyway. On with the show.

Is there a scriptural basis for Dominionism?

For the hard-line devotees of Dominionist theology, there are a few scriptures that seemingly justify it. Even for those who find themselves in tacit agreement with dominionism, these scriptures seem like justification on first look. I would argue, however, that they don’t actually back the militant Dominionist approach. The key scriptures often used to argue for Dominionism are the following:

Genesis 1:26 “Then God blessed them, and God said to them, “Be fruitful and multiply, fill the earth and subdue it; have dominion over the fish of the sea, over the birds of the air and over every living thing that moves on earth.”

Luke 19:13 “A certain nobleman went into a far country to receive for himself a kingdom, and to return. He called his ten servants and delivered them ten pounds, and said unto them, “Occupy till I come.”

Matthew 28:18-20 “Jesus came to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.”

And finally, Matthew 16: 15-20. “He said to them, But who do you say that I am? And Simon Peter answered and said, You are the Christ, the Son of the living God. And Jesus answered and said to him, Blessed are you, Simon Barjona: for flesh and blood has not revealed it unto thee, but my Father who is in heaven. And I say to you, That you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.”

Okay! So lets talk about it.

Genesis 1:26 seems like it should be the first place we argue for Dominionism. It’s also the first place we should argue against it. I really can’t say it better than this [3]:

“This verse is taken by Christian Dominionists as a divine mandate to claim dominion over the earth, physically, spiritually and politically. However, this is taking a large step away from the text, which only says to have dominion over the creatures of earth, and to “subdue” the earth. It is likely that this verse simply means for humanity to a) multiply and expand over the face of the earth instead of staying in one place and b) keep and take care of all other living things.”

Pure and simply, and perhaps most tellingly, there were no political, business, media or education entities in Genesis 1. This passage of scripture specifically names plants and animals. It makes no mention of any spiritual or political dominion.

It is my belief that Genesis 1:26 was talking about spreading out over the earth and taming creation, not about taking dominion over or subduing people. When we think our job is to subdue people, we have problems. Subduing people means taking away their rights and ignoring their hardship – these are two things that the God we see (especially in the New Testament) would never sanction.

As responsible Christians, we need to read the Bible in context and consider the kind of God who created us. Why would He grant us free will (two trees in the garden) only to take it away in the next breath by instituting a system that subdues and disenfranchises some people groups by granting power to others? Dominionism involves Christians ascending the halls of power, but at the cost of what? As they say so often in The Handmaids Tale (seemingly a cautionary tale when it comes to theocratic dystopias), “Better isn’t better for everyone.”

Then we move on to Luke 19:13 – “Occupy till I come.” In other translations, it simply says “Do business until I return.”It was a parable spoken by Jesus describing good stewardship, illustrating that a good steward doesn’t just look after what is entrusted to them, they improve upon it.

I agree with this premise. I just don’t think it’s about dominionism. This passage is not militant. It is not forceful. It does not allege that these stewards should engage in covert activities in order to carry out their master’s mandate. In these ways, it does not resemble dominionism at all. In fact, if anything, it resembles servanthood.

If you look at this scripture through an economic lens, it makes sense. If a master is gone ten years, then the ten pounds buried in the ground has lost value, as it does not keep up with inflation. Its an illustration that bears thinking about: whatever we don’t improve upon is given to entropy. You could look at this scripture and see it as a picture of the church – Jesus was going, and would return at an unknown point in the future. If we stayed the way we were, never sharing the good news of Christ with others, then Christianity and the gift of salvation would have died out with the 12 disciples and the other followers of Christ during his time on Earth. “Do business until I come” could mean “keep this movement going. Pass on my teachings. Keep growing.”

How on Earth it has come to mean taking dominion over politics, business, education, arts, etc. is beyond me. Can we reflect for a moment? Even Jesus didn’t do this during his time on Earth. His chosen nation, the one He was born into, wasn’t the ruling class of the day. It was not the powerful Roman empire. It was the nation of Israel.

Perhaps this scripture ties most closely to the Great Commission of Matthew 28. Yes, Jesus charged us with being stewards of this message, and making sure all heard it and had the opportunity to be saved. This is a beautiful thing, when done right. But again, it is a message of love, of forgiveness, and of Jesus sacrifice. It is not political. It is not business related. It is not militant.

I can’t ignore the fact that many a country was colonised with Matthew 28 in the minds of the explorers of the olden days. Many a nations first people still bear the scars of colonisation. Again, I don’t know how the Great Commission could translate into the atrocities committed during those times. I can’t even bring myself to mention them in this post, because their damage is so great. How would Jesus feel about it? To know that the sacrifice of His life for the redemption of mankind somehow meant the subjugation and abuse of people He meant for us to love and care for.

It’s a topic too large and too complicated for me. Even this month, a Christian was killed while trying to reach an unreached tribe. I do agree that the Great Commission charges us with making sure all have an opportunity to respond to the message of Christ. I don’t agree that it should be done in ways that are unethical, or that abuse, or remove rights. That, to me, is in direct opposition to what Jesus was about.

Often, I see Dominionist theology’s adherants taking their so-called mandate to be a command to vocally oppose ideologies they do not agree with. I’m sure in the future, I’ll blog on this too. But for now, this: can we learn the lessons of the harm done via imperialism and colonialism, and avoid committing the spiritual equivalent by forcing our righteousness down the throats of people whose rights we intend to take away? Can we reflect instead on John 3:16 and realise there are no caveats? That God loved all of us to the point where He sent His Son to die for us?

Anyway….

Now finally, Matthew 16. There are lots of times through-out scripture where the term “dominion” is used. But overwhelmingly, these are referring to God having dominion. In Matthew 16, Jesus mentions the ‘the keys to the kingdom’ in a conversation with Peter. This, to many, symbolises dominion over a fallen Earth returning to mankind. But my big thought here is this: Jesus said to Peter that “on this rock” He would build His church. The rock was Jesus or the revelation of who Jesus was/is. Ownership of the church still belonged to Jesus, never to Peter. The keys to the Kingdom described governance of the church, which, in all messianic prophecy throughout scripture, rested on Jesus shoulders. Not on that of man. For me, it’s a bit of a long bow to think that Peter replaces hundreds of years of messianic prophecy with that one statement, especially given the general acceptance that ‘the rock’ was the revelation of who Christ is/was.

There is another rabbit hole I’m choosing not to go down, and that is the Zion scriptures. The reason I am choosing not to explore them is twofold 1) because the above four scriptures are more commonly used as justification for Dominionism, and 2) because it seems quite clear from Scripture that Zion is referring to either Jerusalem, or to the City of God. Perhaps I’ll talk about that another day, but I’ll do so with a guest blog from a dear friend who is also Jewish! (Just doing my bit to avoid cultural appropriation here!)

The Ultimate Example

Now let’s look at Jesus’s MO, seen best in Philippians 2:5-11.  “Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross. Therefore God also has highly exalted Him and given Him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those in heaven, and of those on earth, and of those under the earth, and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”

It’s clear here that Jesus brought himself low. He did not ascend to the halls of power and redeem the Jews from the seat occupied by Pontias Pilate and his homies. It was redemption via the most humiliating of deaths. In this passage of scripture we see a clear exhortation toward humility and servanthood, and a clear statement that the highest office still belongs to Jesus not man. Why claim to emulate Jesus then pursue a faith that orbits around Dominionism? It’s counter-intuitive. Jesus had a whole world of people He could have come to during the years He walked the earth. He chose not to come to the powerful Roman empire. He chose to come to a small nation, a marginalised race within a powerful Roman stranglehold. Again, He didn’t seek power.

So there are a few fundamental clashes there but the big one for me is Philippians 2:5-11. This is a picture of Christ as servant, not as Dominionist. This is a picture of going low to serve and empower, rather than going high to take what one deserves. He was perfect. He deserved/deserves everything. Instead he gave everything. If we are to emulate anything, then the servitude and compassion of Christ is surely the place we need to start and end. That compassion and servitude is shown over and over again…from Joseph, to Daniel, to Jesus himself. It is what I believe Christianity should be built around.

There is one more picture that I can never ignore, and it’s the picture of Christ the shepherd leaving the 99 sheep to find the one lost sheep. To me, it’s a picture of care, and of seeing the plight of the individual. Yet if we seek after power, then we can so easily ignore the plight of the individual while we try to chase down dominion in the domain that surrounds the 99.

I get the appeal of dominionism. It means we do not have to confront our own vulnerability, because we believe we are born to rule. We do not have to trust in God, because we believe that God has put His trust in us. It means that call of compassion is lesser than the pull of power.

So in light of all this, I have to agree with the scholars that call dominionism a heresy – that is a false doctrine, an unbiblical idea that has seeped its way into popularity in the church. It does not mean that Christians should not have positions of influence in any of the domains of society. If we are to live and work in this society, be good at what we do, or be good stewards of the teachings of Christ, then it is inevitable that some of us will have positions of influence. In fact, we should try to excel! We should try to serve and empower the very best we can!

But power in and of itself should never be the motivation. Because that is a position loaded with potential to go awry, and it is not an example Jesus ever set for us.

So that’s that! Tune in next week when I talk about Dominionism in modern politics in Australia and America.

What is Dominionism?

Welcome to the first in the series on “dominionism.” I’m starting to think that when I first named this blog, I should have named it “Woke Christianity” instead of giving it my name. But here we are, and I guess that’s the aim – talking about how Christianity can be conscious, examined, responsible, relevant and always reflecting Jesus. That’s why we have to talk about dominionism.

It’s a sneaky little doctrine that slipped its way into many churches. Up until about 5 years ago, I didn’t know I was a dominionist. I just was. I had taken for granted many elements of my faith, packing them into my metaphorical bag of beliefs without stopping to check whether they were right, relevant, Biblical, helpful or even asking the all-important question “what would Jesus think about this?”

Dominionism is the belief that Christians belong in and should pursue power and influence in the seven domains of society. These domains are said to be media, government/politics, education, economy/business/commerce, religion, arts/entertainment and family. Over the course of the next few weeks, I will be delving into the scriptural arguments for and against dominionism, its role in modern politics, its fruit, and my own personal experience with dominionism. As tricky as it is, I’ll try to keep these topics separate.

Today’s topic: What is this stuff and where does it come from? 

Dominionism and the NAR

Dominionism is fruit of the NAR (New Apostolic Reformation) movement that started in America. That in itself is a fascinating little topic, as no one really claims membership to the NAR overtly. They are known by their theological markers – such as the belief that God is restoring church governance through returning the ‘lost roles’ of the apostle and prophet. It is essentially a fifth house within Christendom “distinct from Catholicism, Protestantism, Oriental Orthodoxy and Eastern Orthodoxy.” It is estimated to be the fastest growing movement in Christianity today, and it grows by “recruiting pastors of independent congregations and nondenominational churches” among other methods [1].

Big names in the NAR include C. Peter Wagner, Todd White, Randy Clark, Rick Joyner and Bill Johnson. Significant theologies include spiritual warfare, apostolic governance, dominionism, theocracy, supernatural signs and wonders, extra-biblical revelation and relational structures.

The issue of relational structures is a bit of a concerning one for me. It can mean (in some cases) no formal structure, grievance procedure or checks or balances in place for a person to gain the title of apostle or prophet. This leaves it wide open for people with lots of charisma to ascend to positions of power even if their doctrine and credentials are poor, and potentially makes it difficult for these people to be held accountable if their doctrines/prophecies stray into concerning territory. Cults of personality may develop (notice I said “may”not “will.”). How does someone gain the title of Apostle or Prophet? This varies from church to church. It may range from self-proclamation, to recognition of a gift, to some sort of ceremony.

Again, it may not be concerning in every instance. But the potential in such systems is that when a person wears the title of apostle or prophet, their words can be taken as infallible. Followers may build their lives around these words without question. Beliefs and doctrines may be added without scrutiny, by virtue of extra-Biblical revelation supposedly granted to these apostles and prophets who ‘govern’ NAR churches. Now, the Bible actually warns us against extra-Biblical revelation (Revelation 22:18-19, Proverbs 30:5-6, Deuteronomy 4:2). But that’s a topic for another day.

There’s no list or sign-up sheet for an NAR church, and they are unlikely to list dominionism among their core beliefs. This is a movement neck-deep in nuance and subtlety. You’ll need a bit of discernment to spot it.

Dominionism is sometimes called “7 Mountain Dominionism” or the “7M Mandate.” This drive towards Christian domination of the 7 domains uses some tactics that are innocent and others that are less so; varying from mastery of ones own craft, to spiritual warfare or subtler/sneakier methods to dominate or stack organisations or movements. It is perhaps best summed up by this quote (cited in [2]):

“Christians have an obligation, a mandate, a commission, a holy responsibility to reclaim the land for Jesus Christ—to have dominion in civil structures, just as in every other aspect of life and godliness,” wrote George Grant, the former executive director of Coral Ridge Ministries, which has since changed its name to Truth in Action Ministries. “But it is dominion we are after. Not just a voice … It is dominion we are after. Not just equal time … World conquest.”

In other words, they believe that Christians must occupy and subdue the world as God’s stewards of the earth.  When I read these type of quotes, its hard not to recognise it as a call to arms, a certain militance in the stance taken by hard-line adherents to this belief. It’s an ‘us or them’ mindset, and with the call to action is a colonial type “conquer or be conquered” attitude.

Whats the Problem with Dominionism?

I remember watching “The Handmaids Tale” and discussing it with a friend. The plot might seem shocking to some, and even for me the ceremony stuff is a bit imaginative, but it was otherwise very reminiscent of the ultimate goal of Dominionists – a complete takeover of society by the Righteous. With Trump at the helm of America and a number of dominionist/NAR sorts around him, it doesn’t seem too far-fetched to me at all.

But contrary to how I used to think, I don’t believe that to be a good thing. Why? There are a few deeply concerning factors to be considered. Analysts Chip Berlet and Frederick Clarkson offered up these three points on Dominionism/Dominionists. The comments are focused on the USA, but with this particular theology spreading, pop any old country in there and you’ll get a good fit. They said [3]:

1. Dominionists celebrate Christian nationalism, in that they believe that the United States once was, and should once again be, a Christian nation. In this way, they deny the Enlightenment roots of American democracy.

2. Dominionists promote religious supremacy, insofar as they generally do not respect the equality of other religions, or even other versions of Christianity.

3. Dominionists endorse theocratic visions, insofar as they believe that the Ten Commandments, or “biblical law,” should be the foundation of American law, and that the U.S. Constitution should be seen as a vehicle for implementing biblical principles.

Berlet and Clarkon’s points are poignant for a few reasons. There could be whole theses devoted to the topic of democracy, especially representative democracies like Australia and the USA. But the core takeaway is this: we all live here. We all belong here. The idea of a covert take-over of any democracy would involve squashing the rights of others who share it. That’s not okay with me. That shouldn’t be okay with us.

This does not mean that Christianity has no role. It means that we have to play nice with the other kids, while letting our light shine (to quote the cliché). I’d rather attract people to my faith than demand they adopt it. I’d rather be the carrot than the stick. Dominionism has the potential to be all stick.

As to the topic of religious supremacy, Australia’s current Prime Minister (Scott Morrison, an evangelical), said in his maiden speech: “Australia is not a secular country—it is a free country. This is a nation where you have the freedom to follow any belief system you choose. Secularism is just one. It has no greater claim than any other on our society [4].”

He was speaking about secularism. But the same could be true for Christianity. One trend I’ve noticed recently is that of Islamophobia. For Christian dominionists, freedom of religion seems to be synonymous with only their religion (or their stream of it). The right of Muslims to practice theirs is the topic of many an irate Facebook post. The truth is any citizen should be free to practice their religion as long as it exists within the boundaries of the laws of that country and does no harm to others. Likewise, the laws of the land should not ban legitimate practices of faith.

Michelle Goldberg wrote this of Dominionism [3]:“In many ways, Dominionism is more a political phenomenon than a theological one. It cuts across Christian denominations, from stern, austere sects to the signs-and-wonders culture of modern megachurches. Think of it like political Islamism, which shapes the activism of a number of antagonistic fundamentalist movements, from Sunni Wahabis in the Arab world to Shiite fundamentalists in Iran.”

Mic drop, Ms. Goldberg. We can’t point an irate finger at Islamic fundamentalism while denying the harm done by Christian fundamentalism. She also points out something rather concerning: Dominionism has its origins in Biblical reconstructionism, which harks back to a guy named Rushdoony – a prolific and influential totalitarian. Yep. You read that right. Totalitarian. Why would a free-will giving God anoint totalitarianism as His preferred form of government? It is counterintuitive at best.

While it is certainly more obvious in America, there are strong indications that dominionism has reached Australian shores. ABC journalist Chrys Stevenson wrote this of the Australian Christian Lobby, while examining their potential dominionist tendencies [5]:

Dominionism goes beyond Christians exercising their democratic right to be politically active. Dominionists aim to dominate the political process – to exercise “a disproportionate effect on the culture.”

Lyle Shelton is the son of Ian Shelton, pastor of Toowoomba City Church, a “transformation” ministry which grew out of the now defunct Logos Foundation, a cultish group closely associated with dominionist and reconstructionist theology.

Apparently, Shelton Snr joined Logos in the early 1980s when Lyle was in his pre-teens. When the group folded in the wake of its leader’s sexual indiscretions, it was resurrected by Shelton in the guise of the Toowoomba City Church. Shelton Senior’s vision is for Toowoomba to become:

“a transformed city where all the spheres – sport/arts/leisure, welfare, health, media & information, law/police/judiciary, politics & government, business & commerce, education – … come under the lordship of Christ.”

Compare this with the words of the late American dominionist, D. James Kennedy, from the Center for Reclaiming America for Christ, and it becomes clear that Shelton and Kennedy sing from the same hymn book – although, perhaps, on different scales:

“Our job is to reclaim America for Christ, whatever the cost. As the vice regents of God, we are to exercise godly dominion and influence over our neighborhoods, our schools, our government, our literature and arts, our sports arenas, our entertainment media, our news media, our scientific endeavors – in short, over every aspect and institution of human society.”

“From local parents and citizens associations to regional councils, from our previously secular state schools to state government departments and even within Parliament House, Canberra, this particular clique of evangelical Christian extremists is working quietly but assiduously to tear down the division between church and state, subvert secularism and reclaim this nation for Jesus.”

Christians are certainly charged with the Great Commission. They are certainly charged with being salt and light, representatives for Christ on Earth. I have no issue with that. The issue is not in the spread of Christianity per se. Its in the methods used, and the nature of the drive beneath dominionism. The scriptural clashes are a plenty, and a matter for next weeks blog. For now, the important thing is this – Dominionism is a thing, its here, and it is usually covert and militant in its nature. We’ve met Islamic Fundamentalism. Its out there. So too is Christian fundamentalism and this is one way it manifests.

A Question of Motivation

Dominionism may seem attractive on the surface, as it tells its followers they are destined for power and influence – seductive promises indeed. But dig deeper. Use your imagination. Or just use Margaret Atwood’s if you can’t be bothered coming up with the plot yourself. Totalitarian theocracy is a Kim-Jong Un meets Commander Waterford kind of nightmare.

If it’s not abundantly obvious by now, I am a deeply conscientious, deeply devout Christian. I’m also anti-Dominionism. But does that mean that Christians can’t occupy positions of power or influence within the 7 domains of society? No! In fact, I don’t think we can avoid it. The idea of the 7 domains is that everything is covered. I work in media and communication. I should be free to do my thing and rock at it. I have friends who all live and work within these seven domains. If we want to earn an honest living, we can’t avoid this.

But the question is always motivation. I work where I work because I believe I can make a positive contribution, and because I enjoy it. I have friends who are upper level managers. They do what they do because they are good at it, because they like it, or because it pays well (lets be honest!). We should be able to contribute positively and live out our faith conscientiously. We should never have to, or desire to, live out our faith in a sneaky, subversive way or in a way that seeks to subdue others and take away their rights.

Dominionism has, at its heart, the subduing of other forces (i.e. people, and their opinions) to get to the top and then rule from there. Yet Jesus Himself was not militant. His followers were not militia. They served. They lifted the downtrodden. I don’t see any example of Him taking what was His by force, or by subduing another person or their rights. His was a life that drew crowds by attraction, not by demand.

And herein lies the inherent problem with dominionism.

There will be time when the tide turns against Christianity. I can’t deny that there are some ideologies held by my fellow Christians that don’t stand up well to public debate. The tide has turned against such ideas. But the parable of the bushel talks about letting our light shine in a dark world. It doesn’t talk about taking that light and setting stuff on fire because you want it all to shine too. I think they call that arson. Legitimate Christianity should be positive. And until such a time as it is outlawed, it should be practiced overtly. If there is a reason to hide your faith, or to sheild your faith-related activities from the eyes of the wider community, I’d have to question why.

We should all be free to, and perhaps obligated to, contribute to society in a positive way. Does Dominionism facilitate that? Tune in next week when we take a Biblical look at it.

Bibliography/References:

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Apostolic_Reformation

[2] https://www.thedailybeast.com/dominionism-michele-bachmann-and-rick-perrys-dangerous-religious-bond

[3] https://www.politicalresearch.org/2016/08/18/dominionism-rising-a-theocratic-movement-hiding-in-plain-sight/

[4] https://parlinfo.aph.gov.au/parlInfo/search/display/display.w3p;query=Id%3A%22chamber%2Fhansardr%2F2008-02-14%2F0045%22

[5] https://www.abc.net.au/religion/is-the-australian-christian-lobby-dominionist/10101124

[6] https://www.gotquestions.org/Christian-dominionism.html

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.

Church Reformation - The Billy Graham Edition

Its 2018. The year still feels young, even though we have just ticked across into May. This post has taken me a lot longer than I thought it would, but I wanted to write it anyway. Because its been burning in my mind since Billy Graham passed away a few months ago.

I've heard many a preacher stand on the podium and talk about the need for church reformation. It surely is an easy case to argue. I, myself, am not sure that God would look happily on every aspect of His bride at present. I'll spare you the examples. We know that churches are made up of imperfect people. How could we expect perfection of ourselves?

There is one thing I'm sure of though, and that is that the type of reformation the church needs isn't the kind that points at the splinter in a brothers eye without dealing with the plank in ones own. That's why when a giant of the faith passes on some information about what he would do different, it's wise to listen.

In the early moments of this year, one such giant died. Billy Graham left this world bound for the eternal plain and with that, the world got talking. The criticism was as loud as the praise. (So much for not speaking ill of the dead!) Thousands if not millions paid tribute to him as if he was a saint, while members of the LGBTI community detailed their hurt over the harsh words he had directed at them and others railed against his brushes with the law when it came to tax evasion.

Thousands upon thousands spoke of the impact his life had on theirs. It was one heck of a mixed bag. I don't think even Micheal Jackson had so many negative articles written about him when he died - a fact that seems more than a little unjust. I'm grateful for the good stuff, while I also acknowledge the not-so-shiny. My own parents were converted at a crusade they attended on their honeymoon. Mine is a life that has been touched by Billy Graham's shadow, as it were.

I'm absolutely sure the guy was imperfect, and had his not so great aspects. But I'm also sure that the way to reform the church isn't by nitpicking giants like this.

It's by learning from them.

I struggled to find an article in which he reflected on his life and talked about what he would do differently. When I did, I realised why it was so hard to find. It's an area the church in the western world seems to be wading further and further into, and I wonder if it's because of the seductive promise of power and influence. What was the one thing big Billy Graham said he'd stay out of if he had his time again?

It's the area of politics.

In an interview with Christianity Today in 2011, he said: "“I also would have steered clear of politics. I’m grateful for the opportunities God gave me to minister to people in high places; people in power have spiritual and personal needs like everyone else, and often they have no one to talk to. But looking back I know I sometimes cros­sed the line, and I wouldn’t do that now.”

Graham had in fact been tied up with President Richard Nixon, and his is a legacy that thinned the dividing line between church and state by what some call 'a relentless pursuit of civil religion.'

It's a cautionary note in Billy's story, but it wasn't explained. The interviewer carried right on through to the next question. I couldn't help but dwell on that statement though. Why would he steer clear of politics? What's wrong with that?

I can't pretend to know what Billy was thinking. But I do know this: the church has always been counter-cultural. It gives me great unease when it seeks to be otherwise. Jesus wasn't a populist leader. Quite the contrary. It was him and twelve guys. The movement started from there but it didn't seek power and influence. It served. It served the orphans and the poor. It served the widows. It served those shunned by society. Of course it reached those in high places but that wasn't the emphasis.

The church in the book of Acts was as small number in a big world. My fear is that, in the modern era, the church fears losing its relevance, and thus it seeks out power. But there's a saying that contends "Power is not innocent" and there's the problem.

After thinking about this for months, and letting it challenge my own standpoint, this is the opinion I've come to: The church, and the men and women of God who lead it, should maintain innocence and righteousness, should be a voice for good, and should avoid blurring the line between the State and the sacred.

I could list pages and pages of ministers who have gone off the rails when handed too much power and influence. Its a seductive thing. It allows human leaders to confuse their own ideas with the voice of God, to start believing their own hype, to turn a blind eye to abuses and injustices while saying to themselves "the end justifies the means." It isn't like this because people are bad, but because of the effect of power, and of the people who revolve around those in power, and potentially the way it's easy to ignore counsel when there is no one you answer to. (Hmmm. Big can of worms there! Shutting the lid on that for today!)

When we look at the life of Jesus, we see His approach to power summed up nicely in Philippians 2:5-11. Jesus brought himself low, to the point of death, even death on the cross. He was the ultimate servant, who God then elevated. But that elevation was God's responsibility, not ever that of a human. Politics causes us to seek out the popular vote. It seeks for man to elevate us, whereas a life of service to the church is a calling to servanthood in its purest form.

The church should be a powerful voice for good. But I believe it is best kept separate from the State. Having the two institutions separate creates a healthy tension, in my opinion, and creates potential for the other to stay on track.

There is an example of the church and state becoming completely intertwined. (Okay, theres a few. Henry VIII is one. So is the Vatican. Both of those carry obvious cautionary tales.) I'm referring to Constantine. Many laud his achievements for the advancement of Christianity, but others point out the ways in which he married a pagan state with a Christian God and emerged with a mixed, state-sanctioned faith.

This is our danger.

I'm absolutely not saying Christians don't belong in politics. In a representative democracy, there should be room for all creeds. But I am suggesting that if you are called to the cloth, you mightn't be called to the crown. If you find yourself edging towards the other, do consider the words of Billy Graham and ask yourself if you are crossing a line that shouldn't be crossed.

My considered opinion is that the church should put pressure on government to maintain fairness to all people, and freedom to all religions, whilst the government should ensure that citizens involved in churches don't find themselves at the mercy of organisations who think they are above the law. Jesus said "render unto Caesar what is Caesars." This protects the vulnerable people who often seek out the church to find healing. There, they should find safe harbour, not political agendas.

Being a pastor or minister (the Christian type) is a sacred role. It's there to serve and love God's people, teaching them and discipling them according to the word of God. Its role is not to rule them. Each believer's walk with God is their own responsibility. When the state tells us how we ought live that out, we have problems. If you can't imagine that, go watch the Handmaids Tale. (Yes, I know dominionists will cite Genesis 1:28 when God tells Adam to have dominion - but He was referring to fish, animals, plants and insects. Not people.)

The power and pull of politics might be seductive, but it is a different calling entirely. It is to represent the will of the people, not the Will and word of God.

My fear, yes I use the word fear again, is that many a person who has sought out influence and power has done so because they fear their own vulnerability. But for pastors and ministers, and indeed for Christians, our God is our sword and shield. So what if we stay countercultural and never overpower the culture of the day? That is probably our place - to show a dark world there is a light they can follow.

I'm aware that this post may come across a bit abrasive to some. That is not my intent. It is simply to call our attention to Billy Graham's one regret, and to urge Christians not to fear where the world will go but to have faith in a God that has all the power we will ever need. If you are a Christian in politics, great! Serve with honour and integrity. Be a person of your word. Represent your people. Find good counsel and heed it.

If you are a pastor thinking of crossing over, if urge you to consider the undue influence you may wield over people who may think your word and the word of God never differ. It's a dangerous line to blur.

Just some thoughts! Have a fab weekend, friends.

Kit K