Blurred Lines: Christian Spiritual Warfare Practices and the Occult

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

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

Dear Christian friend, you have to read this.

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

The Biblical Picture:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BIBLIOGRAPHY:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Riding the Third Wave: The Neocharismatic Movement

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

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

The first wave: Pentecostalism circa 1900

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

• Evangelism

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

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

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

• The eminent return of Jesus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And here we are: The Neo-charismatic Movement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Big Theological Differences in Neo-Charismatics

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Okay Kit. Stop procrastinating and write it!) 

PEACE!

Kit K

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

We Need To Talk About White Supremacy

I had another kickin’ post ready to go today, but in the wake of the Christchurch Mosque Shootings, I just can’t bring myself to publish it. This is a moment in history when racially motivated gun violence reached the shores of a country where gun violence like this is far outside the norm. I know the USA is rife with gun violence. I know that Middle East Countries suffer terrorism far more often than we know – so often that it rarely makes the news. I’m not discounting that. What I am saying is that for Australians, this far-right extremist terrorism was a warning to us – a warning allof us must heed.

One of my closest friends is a person of colour, and oh how she has opened my eyes to the plight of other people of colour in my country. I used to proudly say that “I’m Australian. We don’t have a problem with racism here.” Now that I have spent time listening to her, I know that was about the whitest thing I could say. I had no idea until I sought to understand. Until that point, I was blissfully blind to it.

We do have a problem with racism. Exhibit A: an Australian man walked in to two New Zealand Mosques and killed 50 worshippers in what he made clear was a racially based attack. While it might be tempting to ‘tsk tsk‘ and say this is not us, we can’t afford to do that.

Because the behaviour we have excused, ignored or turned a blind eye to is behaviour that has grown and exacerbated. Now I don’t want to play the blame game exactly. But in truth, I feel like its just as problematic to say “its nobody’s fault,” as to say “its everybody’s fault” when perhaps both things are true. Either way, if we want the blight of terrorism to be expunged from our ranks, we all need to be a little less apathetic, a little more vigilant and a lot less likely to let hate speech slide. No, you can’t stop every act of terrorism. You aren’t the terrorist. But you can call out the racist, Islamophobic BS that you come across in every day life because fear and misinformation are a lethal combination.

We might have been blind to this stuff before. And I hope that its more obvious now that some of the problematic ideologies, and the people that hold them, have reared their heads. But you don’t start out as a ranting, raving, gun waving white supremacist. The slippery slope starts long before there. That’s what we missed and can’t risk missing anymore.

The moments since the Christchurch shooting have flushed out some of the white supremacist rhetoric hiding in our own ranks. I’m not going to show the comments I’ve seen on political pages ( with some page followers claiming the terrorist should be given an award – among other vile, inflammatory comments!) I don’t need to recount the Fraser Anning response to it, or add the other political commentary riling up hate and fear before it. The internet is doing a good enough job of recounting this stuff.

Fraser Anning is just one loudmouth. Years before he attracted the 19 votes that propelled him into parliament (!!!), and even before Pauline Hanson’s resurgence and the re-energising of the One Nation Party, I stood up the back of a church completely unimpressed as the figurehead of a Christian minority party railed against the dangers of Islam and encouraged people to rise up against it.

There was a militance in his air – it was a call to arms and not just a political roadshow (at least in my opinion). Harmless? I didn’t think so then and I don’t think so now.

But what’s the point of all of this? What should we, as Christians, as conscientious members of society, do differently if anything? I have a few thoughts on that.

A few observations from the fallout

Its easy for Christians to get caught up in a freedom of religion argument and believe this only applies to them. But if there is only freedom of religion for one group of people, then we don’t really have it. We only have an exclusion clause in state control.

Its easy for Christians to point to Muslims or Islam as the root of the terrorism problem. But here it was a far-right extremist and his accomplices who undertook the terrorist act. Far-right extremism can breed terrorists too. This is not a moment to point to all the harm Islamic extremists have done as if its justification for what has just happened.

No. The cornerstone of Christianity is love. Compassion. Forgiveness.

It makes my heart sink when I read Christians contributing to societal panic about Muslims, minorities, refugees, etc. Please. Don’t spread this misinformation. Before you share an article on Islam, find a Muslim. Sit with them. Ask their opinion. Before you say “We don’t have a problem with racism,” find a person of colour. Sit with them. Ask them of their experience.

And before you offer your hearty agreement to those who talk about taking back Australia from the clutches of Islam, or immigrants, or any other group, ask yourself whether you might be at the top of the slippery slope into a nasty state of things.  Statements about “protecting our way of life”, or telling people to “go home, we are full,” or “if you don’t like our way of life, go home,” might seem like they aren’t worth scrutiny. Heck, we hear them often enough, But they are gateway statements. They set up an animosity towards anyone we regard as an “other”. They soften the ground for more extreme comments and attitudes.

The place where such rhetoric gets thrown around is fertile ground for racism or Islamophobia to grow. For most, hate speech will stay speech. For others, it won’t. So here we are: with a red neck posse here in Australia defending and praising the abhorrent actions of a white supremacist – a far-right terrorist.

For a long time, it has seemed inevitable to me that the narrative of the far-right would reach such fever pitch that terrorism would spring from its own ranks. This week it did. A sad day indeed.

I hope and pray we never see another Holy War. But the only way we can avoid this is to make white supremacist talk completely unacceptable, to exercise compassion to our Muslim and Middle Eastern communities, to respect their right for freedom of religion as much as our own.

I like what New Zealand PM Jacinda Ardern said. “They are us.”

They are our neighbours. Lets love them as we love ourselves.

Anyway that’s my lame attempt and putting thoughts around this tragedy as it seems to have gotten to me more than usual.

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  

Let’s Talk About Cardinal Pell and Institutional Abuse

For years now, the Catholic Church child sex abuse scandal has worn on. For the victims in each harrowing case, it is more than just years. It’s trauma they carry forever. We don’t know their names. We don’t know their individual stories, but when the latest, high-ranking scalp fell, it reminded us all that we still have work to do. I wasn’t sure what to say about this issue, if anything at all. I didn’t want to be another voice in the din, offering nothing more to the conversation but virtue signalling. But I read a quote on Facebook this week (penned by my husband, admittedly) and it caught it all. So I’m sharing that. Because its the whole ballgame.

He said this.

“Institutional abuse isn’t just perpetrated by one person. It’s also reinforced by all of us around the victim who for years ignored the signs, then wouldn’t listen to children when they spoke up, and sided with the perpetrator when the victim spoke out. And even when years later, a conviction is secured, for a victim the trauma continues. Powerful men who still won’t face up to the truth about their hero, still stand with the perpetrator, preferring to believe the victim must be lying, rather than allow their illusion about a man be shattered. These men who still defend the perpetrator are in a sense secondary victims, because they believed in him their whole lives and he let them down. The sadness of it all disrupts all those whose life was influenced by Pell. Some of those handle it by facing up to the awful truth, and others double down on their denial.”

He was referring, of course, to the Pell sex abuse case and two past Prime Ministers offering their support or character references to the Cardinal. The media was in uproar over it, but Abbott and Howard weren’t the only ones grappling with the guilty verdict.

It seems like the whole issue of sexual misconduct is reaching fever pitch right now. It would be easy to turn a blind eye to the trauma and the fallout. In a sea of stories, it could be easy to get compassion fatigue over the whole thing.

But that’s the problem. Institutional abuse can happen because we turn a blind eye and ignore the warnings signs or cries for help. We might not want to face up to the ramifications of it all. We might not want our heroes to fall from grace in our eyes. The ugly truth may require us to look at our own participation, and ask “how can I be a better ally for vulnerable people, regardless of their age? What must I do? What am I tacitly approving of if I don’t speak up?” It may present us with some tough changes to make, but it’s necessary.

Here’s what I know:

• The abuse of children matters greatly to God.

• There is no call so great, no church so powerful, that the suffering of even one victim should be silenced.

• Abuse might not always be sexual. It may be psychological. It may be physical. It may be financial. It may even be spiritual. Every victim deserves the chance to have their story heard, to have a chance to shake off the shame that does not belong to them, to transform from victim into survivor. One day maybe, the victor even.

• Life is complex. People are complex. But our response to disclosures of abuse shouldn’t be. It should be to listen, not demand silence. It should be to help them gain healing, or help them gain closure or legal aid – whatever is needed. It should never be to cover it up.

We mustn’t fall into the trap of judging all Catholic priests as deviants, as this is not the truth. Lets also remember that sometimes sex offenders are charming, smart, and able to make positive contributions to society in many ways. The crime does not negate the good, but it makes it more complex to reflect on. It does make the abuse more confusing, and potentially more difficult to disclose. I understand that Tony Abbott and John Howard may have seen the good in George Pell and thought that because he was good in so many ways, he couldn’t commit crimes in others. I understand that George Pell may have had a positive influence on many a life. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t guilty of the crimes for which he has been tried.

Recently, a jury found him guilty – beyond reasonable doubt. He is an offender. But he is also a symbol. Even if you are at the peak of your industry or institution, even if your industry is representing God, you can’t abuse children and vulnerable people. The end does not justify the means.

It never ever does. Let’s not be the ones who double down on our denial. Things are coming to light right now, across industries and institutions. It’s a moment where we can collectively grow and learn how to be a safer, better society. Let’s lean into that evolution.

Rediscovering Joy When Faith has Been Tough

I have a confession. Don’t hate me but sometimes I just can’t stand a lot of Christian blogs that are out there. I can’t stand how relentlessly happy they are. They’re full of colour and scriptures about how good God is and how wonderful life is. Even when there is a hint that the author is going through hell on wheels, they don’t crack a frown. They just keep smiling and sprouting Psalms. I don’t know why but it gets my back up. Not because I have a taste for drama, but because I have been a Christian all my life and I know one thing for sure – it isn’t all rainbows and unicorns. And we may as well be honest about it. Christianity doesn’t erase difficulty. It just gives you a friend and a frame of reference to get you through it. But gosh – wouldn’t we all be lying if we claimed we never struggled with that?

Those kind of blogs jog my memory in the worst kind of way, because I juxtapose them against the happy talk I used to sprout even when I was going through hell. For example: Three year and a half years ago, I stood in the shower sobbing and doing something I had never allowed myself to do ever. I was yelling at God. My husband and I had just suffered our fourth miscarriage. I couldn’t understand how God could see the heartache and pain I went through every time, the compounded grief I experienced with every baby I never got to meet, and still there was more heartache in store. How could He? Why would a loving Father not stop that if it was in His power to do so? I couldn’t wrap my heart around it. So I stood in the shower sobbing and yelling.

Truly, I couldn’t take it anymore. The toll had become too great. We gave up our hope of falling (and staying) pregnant naturally and booked in with a fertility specialist. Turns out we didn’t need it. A couple of months later, I was pregnant with our first successful pregnancy. All onwards and upwards huh?

Nope! Life would deal us a few blows yet. The next six months would see us plunged into a strange series of events that saw us lose our church community and what we had been promised were lifetime ‘covenant’ friends. Our family landscape dramatically changed, and we were neck deep in an existential crisis I now know is shared by many an exvangelical. Three and a half years later, I can say hand-on-heart that I’m happier than ever, and a little bit thankful for the wake-up calls life gave us.

But I can also say, hand-on-heart, that long before the first of four miscarriages broke my faith, I had lost my joy. Salvation, church, and faith had become hard, hard work. They held no peace or joy for me. I wanted to walk away from it all, but I felt like Paul – a bondservant. Couldn’t walk if I tried. So how does one rediscover joy after that? Aren’t you just stuck? 

I hope I never stop deconstructing and reconstructing my belief systems, but when I was at the beginning of this steep learning curve, it was painful. I’d lost my joy long before I started this process though, and once I saw it and understood that God wanted better for me, I had a bit of journey to get back that deep sense of joy and happiness. Here are some things that I’ve gone through along the way.

Confront your bad theology. 

Over the years, I’d found myself believing strange things. I just didn’t know they were strange. They’d been preached relentlessly by people I’d looked up to, and I had listened with open heart and good intent. I never scrutinised them. Where these things Biblical? Where they helpful? Now that I’ve said them out loud, and confronted my bad theology, I almost laugh at some of the things I thought. I say ‘almost’ because there’s nothing funny about bad theology.

I believed that God would remove His grace for me if I was not 100% dedicated (with my time, resources, heart, mind and soul) to His “primary assignment” for my life. The subliminal belief lying under this was that I had to earn His favour, grace and love, thus every failure or idle moment was eternally important (#exhausting). I had to behave well to earn His grace. Now I know that I can do no such thing, and my entire life I knew the scriptures that told me this. But I had turned a deaf ear to them. I believed that God cared less about my wellbeing than He cared about the rest of the world. (Hey, He can multitask). I believed God’s best for me was an exhausting life of subservience, persecution and obedience that lacked any real enjoyment. I believed that I had to lay down any of my own dreams/ambitions because ambition itself was ungodly. In truth, God placed those dreams in me. Even if He didn’t, I know He would honour any dream I pursued wholeheartedly believing it was in His service. (I.e. I could live a life I enjoyed. I could serve Him too. One did not negate the other).

There were other things in my bag of beliefs. I had to scrutinise it all. In fact, I went over everything with a fine tooth comb, deciding what I ought to keep and what I ought to discard with the help of a Bible, a conscience, a bunch of Christian friends, and a husband on the same journey. Bad theology robs joy. It robs peace. It sets your conscience against you and sucks you dry. And as I said in my last blog post, the Romans 14:17 is the barometer I use to tell me if I’m off on the wrong tangent – righteousness, peace and joy in the Holy Ghost. If I don’t have all three, I need to look at myself.

Stop fighting “negative” emotions. 

Another belief I had collected along the way was the belief that some emotions were negative, and therefore untrustworthy and unacceptable. I had developed a habit of shoving them under the carpet, silencing misgivings, and plunging blindly ahead when all the warning bells were dinging up a storm. Years on, I know there is no such thing as a negative emotion. Emotions are like blood.  If you start bleeding, you best not ignore it. It’s a sign something is wrong and needs attention. Once you figure out what that thing is, the cause of the bleeding (or the unwanted emotion) becomes more important. You want to, you need to, take care of that.

These days, my husband and I don’t try to fix each-other if we are feeling not quite right. We just sit with that feeling, and if it leads us to a conclusion that something is off, we pay attention to that. If it doesn’t, we know that its probably grief and we just need to give that space. The irony in this is that once we embraced negative emotions and stopped trying to mute them, we were able to enjoy life much more fully. Life became more beautiful.

I’ve learned that when you try to mute emotions on the sad/frustrated end of the spectrum, you also have to mute the other end of the spectrum. Why? Love and hate, joy and sadness, pain and elation, they all come from the same heart. The same brain. The same limbic system. You are either emotionally connected to the good and bad, or you are disconnected from them both. (Hey – not talking clinically here. Just talking metaphorically. If you have depression or another mental health challenge, then don’t take this as treatment advice. All I’m saying is listen to your emotions. They are telling you something about yourself or your situation and you need that intel).

Audit your beliefs about yourself.

Oh this one is fun. Life is complicated. It might be a bad relationship that knocks you. It might be tough financial situations, abuse, grief and loss. It could be a lot of things. When faith gets tough, it might be the last domino to fall or it might be the first. Whatever the reason for your joy-robbing, faith-interrupting existential crisis, it can pop some funny little beliefs into your head.

And by funny, I mean not funny at all. The last few years have seen me having some chance conversations with a lot of people who had negative or damaging experiences with church, who lost their faith or their faith community, and who regained or reformed their faith later. I’ve heard some eerily familiar things come out of their mouths.

• It took me a long time to belief that I deserved love

• It took me a long time to stop fearing every bad thing that happened was the judgement of God

• It took me a long time to trust my own intuition again

• It took me a long time to believe that I could be loved by God and accepted by Him if I wasn’t perfect in the eyes of (my old church/relationship/etc)

These are just a few things I’ve heard. I’ve had to confront a few other beliefs of my own. But here are some truth bombs on the four beliefs I just noted.

• Romans 8:37-39 For I am persuaded that neither life nor death, nor angels nor demons, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth nor any created thing can separate us from the love of God. (Expansive list! I can’t think of anything that doesn’t fit under those categories. Also, John 3:16 has no caveats on it. The love of God is deep, and profound, and no one on the face of this Earth is exempt. Neither. Are. You)

• Romans 3:20-24 is massively long, so go read it later. But heres’ the scoop. Under the law of the Old Testament,  none of us measure up in the eyes of a Holy and blameless God. But we are all justified through Jesus, and His grace covers all of us. Hey friend, if you are worrying about God and His judgement and trying to do the best you can, then you are a candidate for justification through Christ and His grace will cover you. Some things are just bad luck. God doesn’t hate you. He doesn’t want to punish you just because. (But sure, if you have something on your mind that you think you are being judged for, then bring that to Him to clear your conscience. You’ll feel better.)

• Job 38:36 talks about God putting wisdom in our inner parts, and giving understanding to our minds. Other scriptures talk about the still small voice, or refer to what discernment. This is a big area. But case in point, God lives in you. Therefore you need to trust your intuition if it is setting off a warning bell. God may just be using that.

• I guess on this final point, it was simply something someone said to me while I was comparing myself to other people and their judgements of me. “God has no grandkids.” His love for us, His care for us, His intent for us doesn’t lessen with our position in the social hierarchy of our churches. Our place in His heart is as His child. Always. No better or no less than any other.

It was this last point that made me start asking myself if my Heavenly Father wanted me to live a life that had no joy in it. Why would He want that for me? Why would Romans 14:17 appear in the Bible if God wanted me to be exhausted, miserable and self-loathing? There was only one answer: He didn’t want that for me. He wanted peace and joy for me, not just a relentless pursuit of righteousness when it was guaranteed that I would remain imperfect.

 Its amazing what happens when your beliefs change

In the beginning of our deconstruction, we gave ourselves permission to skip church every now and then (ooooh ahhh). Believe me – That was a big deal. I remember one Sunday we skipped church and spent it visiting an Aunt in Melbourne. She’s not a church goer, but the conversation we had about love, compassion, and altruism taught me something about God. I learned more then than I would have learned zoned out in church. Another Sunday we skipped church and spent it with friends who are also Christian who weren’t attending church. We had wonderful conversations about how lifestyles reflect our deeper values and we can’t rely on a religious rite like Sunday church to carry our faith for us. It was beautiful, and it was memorable. I believe God smiled upon these moments.

It took us a while to lose the guilt, even though we knew we weren’t doing anything wrong. These days, I’m on the music team every other week. We love creche even on the days we aren’t feeling churchy. (Hey. Real talk.) But we always love the fellowship with our amazing tribe regardless. In the beginning it was hard to listen to some messages. Nowadays we listen with open hearts, but with a promise to be kind to ourselves if something hits home. We have spent so much time thinking the world depended on how well we responded to every word spoken from the pulpit, and we had to course correct immediately and without question or else. It takes a while to get over that kind of exhaustion and conditioning. Simply listening with an open heart is good enough for God. The rest can come later. We don’t have to be perfect now.

Put your trust in God, and the passage of time.

I don’t know what lead you to my blog. I know a lot of you are on the exvangelical journey. I know others are recovering from bad experiences. Some of you are just morbidly curious. Others, many others, I’ve never met and I don’t know. So  I don’t know what you are recovering from, or deconstructing after, or reconstructing into. All I know is this: it gets easier. It’s a cliche but it’s true. If it took you years to lose your joy, then it takes a while to dismantle the habits, beliefs and mindsets that lead you to that state. If it took years for your self-worth to be worn down, then it will take some time to rebuild. If it took you years to start thinking God was this awful being in the sky waiting for you to mess up so He could get a bit of revenge and ruin your life a bit more, then its going to take some time for you to get to know the real God. But once you dedicate yourself to the process, once you tell yourself you are worth it, then time is your friend. Its gets so much better. Joy can return. Joy can be more full.

And you are worth it.

P.S Good therapists help. Just saying.

Until next time, over and out

Kit K

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Why Faith Post-Deconstruction is Pretty Great

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Peace Barometer

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kit K. Over and Out

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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. 

Jezebel: Facts, Faults and Fiction

In this video (Click here, click here, click here) I cover off on the Biblical characteristics of Jezebel. If you haven’t watched that, then get on it (just doing my bit to cut down your reading time. You’re welcome). Now we need to talk about the modern use of the term. Across Christendom, there is a wide spectrum of approaches to the Jezebel issue. Some choose to ignore it, and keep their focus on the good guy (i.e. Jesus).  For others, Jezebel is a major focus and foe. There is a combination of good and bad doctrine about this, and some of it is downright harmful.

They say the most dangerous type of a lie is the one with a bit of truth mixed in. Yes, Jezebel was a strong woman. Yes, she was a bad woman. But that does not mean that strong women in churches are bad women. Oh Heck no! Its time to put this back in context and stop using the term “Jezebel” as an excuse for misogyny.

Interestingly, when you read about the Jezebel spirit, you’ll read over and over again  from different preachers and scholars that “spirits don’t have genders,” but in my experience I’ve noticed that it’s quite rare for men to be branded this, while women have this label cast on them much more easily.

It can be used to describe a person who needs to be in control, or a person who is manipulative. But concerningly, the term “Jezebel” can also be used to describe women who have strong opinions, obvious talent, or leadership capabilities. It has even been used to describe women who volunteer excessively. But that, my friends, is unbiblical and no individual characteristic should lead a person to be labelled as a carrying a Jezebel spirit, when the Biblical picture of Jezebel was a lot more complex.

I’ve taken the liberty of going on a quick tour of the internet to find the top things listed as “characteristics of Jezebel.” You’re about to see where truth, myth and superstition interact and leave us with a bit of a problem.

Up first, are the things we can see in scripture. The Jezebel Spirit is said to be:

1. Controlling, manipulative, domineering and pushy.

2. Vengeful and prone to oneupmanship

3. Refusing to admit guilt or wrongdoing

4. Clairvoyant (or a false prophet)

5. Religious

6. Prone to use false accusations

7. Tending to isolation as a control tool, both publicly and privately

8. Mocking

9. Blameshifting

10. Cursing those that oppose them or engaging in witchcraft

We do see these things in the Bible. These, to me, would be a valid explanation of the Jezebel spirit.

Next up comes the ones that are a bit of a stretch, but may be connected to the pop-psychology understanding of control dynamics. They aren’t seen clearly in scripture, but may have been present in the character of Jezebel – Possibly. Maybe. If we use our imaginations. In this imagining of the Jezebel spirit, it  is said to:

1. Take credit for everything good and never show gratitude.

2. Use people to accomplish its agenda.

3. Ignore people in order to establish fear and control

4. Be heavily critical of people

5. Sequester or withhold information and use it for manipulation and power

6. Command attention and dislike like it when others are the centre of attention

7. Sow seeds of discord

8. Be insubordinate, independent and disliking of authority

9. Frequently attempt to make it look like other people are the problem (accusing others of being the Jezebel)

10. Insinuate disapproval to those under their control, thus inciting fear

11. Be a know it all

12. Be ambitious

13. Target the leadership, head or prophet. (The latter is clear in scripture, so the former is imaginable)

14. Play the victim.

15. Use false humility and have a sense of entitlement.

16. Whine until they get their way

I do have to say that there’s nothing wrong with being ambitious, if it doesn’t involve victimising others. I also have to point out that it wasn’t Jezebel who was prone to whining. It was Ahab. The rest sounds a little like the description of Narcissistic Personality Disorder, in my opinion. It’s a valid thing, it’s just not the Jezebel Spirit.

Next up are things you can file under bizarre, with no real Biblical basis. The Jezebel spirit has been said to;

1. Talk in circles or in a confused manner

2. Volunteer for anything (supposedly a control measure)

3. Lie

4. Talk incessantly

5. Spiritualize everything, often to avoid taking responsibility for their actions

6. Give gifts to gain control

7. Be insecure

8. Seek to infiltrate undermine

9. Hate prayer and spiritual warfare

I can see how, to those who major on spiritual warfare, some of these things would make sense (I’ll talk about spiritual warfare another day). But my caution here is that you can’t just lump undesirable characteristics together and call it a demon. Nor can you decide that being ambitious or talkative is a fault, that volunteering a lot is bad (???) or that being unclear in communication is a demonic issue.

Misunderstanding the Jezebel spirit (if indeed it can be called a spirit, when it is a complex cluster of characteristics that may be occurring for a number of reasons) and using it as a label can cause extraordinary harm. Imagine a good hearted person offering to volunteer at a church and not getting any good reason why they are being kept from giving their time and talents to a good cause? Imagine what this would do to their self esteem? Now imagine being told someone is carrying a Jezebel spirit. How might that affect your relationship with them? Would you trust them to the same degree? Or distance them and treat them with distrust? It is possible for a good person to be ostracised for no good reason other than being a strong, smart woman who wants to help her local church.

Let’s not do that. Let’s not damage people and label them unfairly.

But believe it or not, that isn’t the most harmful part of the list.

I have read articles saying that a Jezebel spirit:

1. Will operate in a person with charisma, intelligence, or wit

2. Will have problems with fear and rejection, and need control because of it

We need to stop and take heed here. I understand that people who have a history of trauma may have a fear of being out of control. So let’s not re-traumatise them by socially rejecting them through labelling and restriction of duties inside churches. Let’s love them. Love is what heals rejection. Just because they need some element of control in order to cope with trauma doesn’t mean they are a Jezebel. That is harmful. That is doing more harm where God intended the church to be a place where people could heal.

Let’s also scrutinise our tendency to use this label. Why is it needed? Is it used by insecure leadership to stop talented, smart people from having input into church life, or from reaching their potential? Or is it used as some supposedly Biblically-sanctioned misogyny? Is it used to re-traumatise or control women and victims of trauma? Is it used to distract from one’s own bad behaviour or lack of skill?

Hey people – labels kill. They kill self-esteem. They kill social connectedness. They may even drive people into sad states of mental illness.

I understand that there are those who will read/watch this and say “but the Jezebel spirit is a real thing.” And yes, it is. I have no arguments against that. It is seen in the Bible, rates a mention in both Old and New Testaments, and represents a worthy caution. But it is a cluster of characteristics that we need to watch for. We can’t just spot one thing and then throw the baby out with the bathwater.

There are two points I want to raise on this: The first is that the tale of Jezebel was not to teach us that strong women are bad women. It was to teach us what happens when we passively tolerate evil. Many a Christian writer has aptly point out that Ahab was the problem. If he had of stood in his place, she wouldn’t have gone down in history like she did.

The second point is this: the antedote to Jezebel is when we stand for what is right – when we do what Ahab didn’t. Yes, we might cop it a bit. But that’s okay. If our God is for us, who can be against us? I’ve seen Jezebel conflated with rejection and trauma. This is dangerous, because these people are traumatised, not demonised. Let’s meet them with love not isolation.

For all you women out there who have been called a Jezebel – I’ve got a message for you: Be strong. Be smart. Be talented. Be generous. Be you. And if you have a fear of rejection, or if you need to be in control – then find a good therapist and heal. Not because you are a problem, but because you deserve a healthy, happy life. Some of you got branded this when you shouldn’t have. I hope you find your voice and your self-worth again. I think God would want you to as well

BIBLIOGRAPHY

https://truthinreality.com/2013/09/24/30-consistent-traits-of-the-jezebel-spirit/

https://www.biblewaymag.com/what-are-the-characteristics-of-the-jezebel-spirit/

https://aandbcounseling.com/12-warning-signs-person-influence-jezebel-spirit/

https://www.bible-knowledge.com/how-jezebel-spirit-will-operate/

https://www.thattheworldmayknow.com/fertility-cults-of-canaan 

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

A Quick Thought on Reconstructing Identity

Morning! It’s a Wednesday. My kids are in care today so it gives me a few blessed hours to slam out literary brilliance. (Where is the sarcasm sign when you need it?) I’m about to start a series that will be geared around rediscovering yourself and your faith after your world has been turned upside down. I thought it would be easy to slam out, but I’m giving it some good thought first. Because when someone loses something that formed a big part of their identity – well gee, thats not trivial! It deserves a bit of homework on my part before I write it.

But before I start on that, I wanted to pop a quick thought out there – a challenge perhaps. So here’s todays microblog.

It’s easy to define ourselves on what we aren’t anymore, or what we don’t believe in. It’s easy to say I’m ex-this or ex-that. When I first began the process of deconstructing and reconstructing faith, I liked the term exvangelical (short for ex-evangelical). It resonated with me as it encapsulated some of the things I was no longer comfortable with. I still like it. I’m still probably exvangelical (even though technically my church is evangelical, I guess.)

Deconstructing your old faith and reconstructing your new one is tough, messy work. I’m also going to say its beautiful, because deep reflection and thought can lead to a more informed and authentic faith. It can lead you through some of the roadblocks that kept you and God apart, helping you to shed the unhelpful aspects of religion and dogma and discover new, more helpful aspects of a living, evolving faith. If you are on that journey, be it about faith or identity or whatever, perhaps you could try to think about defining yourself by what you are rather than by what you’re not anymore. I found that helpful.

I am most likely an exvangelical. But I’d rather think of myself as a post-modern Christian, a compassionate person, a deep thinker, a good friend, a person of faith, and a person of conscience. There’s no tidy, all-encompassing term for that. But its a positive identity based on what I’m moving towards, not an identity based on what I’m moving away from.

Just a thought.
Have a fab day and I’ll see you early next week with a piece on deconstruction and reconstruction of faith!

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.

Is Preaching Still Relevant?

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

…

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

– Charles Spurgeon –

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Preaching is the bringing of truth through personality.”

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

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

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

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

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

Charles Spurgeon.

Bibliography:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is the Concept of “Sin” Still Relevant?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Is Faith Still Relevant in Today’s Society?

We are in between big series’ here on the Kit K blog. We have just finished talking “cults and high demand groups.” We are just about to talk “Dominionism and the NAR (New Apostolic Reformation.” But in the mean time, I’ve got a slightly lighter, much more personal topic to talk about – relevance. Is the church still relevant? Is faith still relevant? Is the way we do church still relevant? (I’ve even got the very first guest blogger coming up. He’s going to be talking about whether preaching is still relevant. So excited about that!)

But for right now, I want to talk about whether or not faith has a place in 2018.

When my life got turned upside down about three years ago (after Hubby and I had to leave our church), I lost an entire community of “covenant, unconditional” relationships – relationships that turned out to be neither ‘covenant’ nor ‘unconditional.’ In coping with that, I had to also look at many different beliefs that I’d held. It was a time of deconstructing my old faith and reconstructing a new one out of that wreckage.

Tough, but oh so transformative. I like who I am now, and what my faith is now, to a much deeper degree.

I’d believed that the church in Australia was being persecuted, that we were up against an increasingly humanistic society that left little room for God. I’d believed that it would be a battle to share my faith with people, because their hearts would be hard and the conversation would be adversarial unless I’d prepped the ground with months if not years of friendship.

I discovered I was wrong on oh-so-many counts. Perhaps I’d changed my posture from needing to be right and to convert people to my way of thinking, to just wanting to understand and connect with people. I don’t know. But over the last three years, I’ve sat with atheists, agnostics, pagans, and people of many other spiritual persuasions and we have talked and talked and talked. In these conversations I’ve been warmed by a shared desire to make the world a better place, to better serve humanity, and to show deeper compassion to the marginalised and down-trodden. I’ve seen noble, compassionate and heart-warming similarities in the ethos of these people and for the first time in my life felt like the something we shared was greater than the something that divided us.

Surely this is a better place to start than on a street corner with a megaphone shouting a message of sin and damnation.

I’ve realised that the Western world really isn’t a place where the church is truly being persecuted. We are blessed! Syrian Christians are being persecuted, for sure! Christians in some Muslim countries sure are, but Remnant theology doesn’t belong in the Western world because all we face in terms of persecution is adverse opinions on Facebook (which literally everyone faces, regardless of creed), and a government that wants to make sure the church doesn’t abuse people – surely a noble and Christlike pursuit by the powers that be!

So is faith relevant? You betchya! But does Institutional Religion have to evolve in order to maintain relevance in an ever-evolving world – heck yes.

How do we evolve? I don’t know. All I know is how I have personally evolved, and that I feel like my faith is more relevant now than it ever has been.

These days, I pursue a faith that concentrates on what it stands for rather than what it stands against. In years gone by, the church as an institution thought of itself as the moral guardian of the world. Preachers could stand on the podium and blast fire and brimstone messages, and hold people in adherence to their faith via fear. It was the stick rather than the carrot. You want to go to Heaven, not Hell. So be a Christian.

I still believe in John 14:6, where Jesus said, “I am the way, the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father but through me.” But I no longer believe that fear of Hell is the only reason we should pursue a life of Christianity.

Jesus came to serve the world and give His life for it. He came to the marginalised, the misunderstood, and the down-trodden as well as those in the highest offices of the land. He exhorted us to a higher law – the law of love while also making sure we knew that wasn’t a call to anarchy and disregard for the law of the land. He didn’t come to reinforce the law of Moses and the legalism of the Old Covenant, but to transcend it and call us to a higher expression of faith – that of love. It is my belief that modern Christianity should be leading the world when it comes to compassion.

I could criticise it for its performance here, but really the only thing that matters is whether or not I am putting my money where my mouth is and challenging myself to show more love, compassion and generosity.

Sure, love means speaking truth when truth is required. Sure, sometimes this will be confronting as heck. But I’m not too keen on getting the balance skewed in favour of ear-chewing. There’s a time and a place. I’m well aware that large chunks of the world have issues with the term ‘sin,’ and maybe that’s a topic for another day. But it’s about balance here.

We don’t need to throw out the doctrines the Bible warns us against. We just need to make sure we realise that we can’t police other people’s walks with God. We can only make sure that ours is pure, and true and the best it can be in terms of being ambassadors for a Saviour who has been as badly abused by Institutional Religion as any other abuse victim. Remember, Institutional Religion actually killed Jesus. So I’m absolutely sure He knows what harm at the hands of those claiming to be righteous feels like.

When I first began the deconstruction/reconstruction journey, an abortion bill went before Parliament. It was at that time I had a conversation with a friend from my new church that flipped how I thought of faith. She said (something along the lines of), “Of course, I’m pro-life. But if you give me a choice between publicly campaigning against abortion and inadvertently shaming people who have been forced to make that horrible decision, or to be able to sit with someone who has seen that heartache and show them the love of Christ, I’ll take that option. Other people can campaign. I can do what I need to quietly about that. But showing the love of Christ is my job.”

Other people can campaign on it. Good for them! There is absolutely place in this world for campaigning and holding the government to account (please do it gracefully as broken hearts can be caught in the crossfire!), Its just not mine.

I’d love it if we could’ve reinvent Christianity – if we could make it something people join because it is good, and noble, and inspiring, and loving, and true, and compassionate, not just because we are afraid of Hell and want other people to be afraid of Hell too. If we could make it a movement of people who amplify the beauty of salvation, forgiveness, grace, truth, love and service rather than a movement of people who wish to police how other people wield their God-given free choice.

I love the Church, even though I see its faults. I love the people who make up the Church, even though I sometimes want to head butt them.

These days I look at the red letters in the Bible more than I look at the black ones. I want my faith to emulate Jesus – the ultimate example of all good things. To me, He will always be relevant. Read the beatitudes, the sermon on the Mount. Read His exhortations toward sincerity, community, and the higher law of love.

These things will always make the world a better place. The world knows what the church is against. We don’t need that to be the only drum we beat. Let’s beat a drum that plays beautiful music instead.

Just some thoughts. I know – less academic and more heartfelt than my usual posts. But hey! That’s me too.

I’d love to hear what you think about the relevance of faith in the modern context. Shoot me a message!

Kit K