That’s right, it’s been a week since I set up Substack, and hello to the more than 1000 subscribers!
But also…it’s been a week.
On Sunday, I attended a beautiful Easter service at my church, Church of the Servant. We proclaimed the resurrection, ate brunch together, and filled the sanctuary with flowers. We also lamented the police killing of Patrick Lyoya. We grieved with those who grieve, including with members of our church who were friends and colleagues of Patrick. These Congolese members prayed for the Lyoya family, and they also expressed grief and anger that a young man would flee his own country only to be killed in the street by law enforcement in the place they thought would be safe. We expressed our Easter hope through Swahili and Tshiluba songs about a Christ who heals the broken and who brings new life, even in the midst of darkness.
It struck me, too, that this is the unity of the body of Christ. It is not a unity without difference or conflict, but rather a unity that mourns with those who mourn. And this can only happen when we come together across our differences.
In this country, we struggle to come together across our racial differences. The Christian church in particular. We’ve all heard the quote from Martin Luther King Jr., who asserted that 11am Sunday was “the most segregated hour in this nation.” More recently, Willie Jennings has reminded us that “Christianity lives comfortably in its segregation.”
A while back, I reflected on what this means:
“Today, more than 80 percent of American Christians attend segregated churches. (A segregated church is a congregation where a single racial or ethnic group comprises at least 80 percent of the congregation).
Despite this pervasive segregation, Christianity Today reports that 71 percent of evangelicals think their church is diverse enough; 42 percent feel strongly that their church is doing everything it needed to foster diversity; and only a minority of white evangelicals (37 percent) believe their church should become more diverse.”
In that essay, I asked what this means for the body of Christ, but also, what this means for our country. In terms of the latter, I found this statistic striking:
“A Public Religion Research poll revealed that about 80 percent of black Christians believe police-involved killings are part of a larger pattern of police treatment of African Americans. Yet 70 percent of white Christians believed the opposite—that these are simply isolated incidents. In fact, white Christians are more likely than white people in general to believe these are isolated incidents.”
I hear a lot of talk about “Christian worldview” in certain circles. But our worldview is shaped not just by a set of tenets we claim to ascribe to, but more fundamentally by the people we with whom we surround ourselves—with whom we worship, pray, celebrate, and mourn. The people we love. The people who help us know what is good and true.
In many ways, this heaviness has persisted through the week for me. I’ve watched as friends—fellow Christian scholars—have been slandered for the work they do. There is nothing unusual in this. Those of us who bring our work to the public know that by addressing certain topics we will inevitably provoke backlash. This has certainly been the case for Jemar Tisby. In light of the report released by Grove City College, I was struck by how effective the “anti-CRT” movement has become. In a relatively short period of time, “CRT” has come to encompass any and all analysis of racial inequity, including in many cases the teaching of basic U.S. history, and used to rally people to suppress any honest and genuine attempt to understand our nation’s past and the ways race and racism function in our society today.
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p lang="en" dir="ltr">The committee at <a href="
21, 2022</a></blockquote> <script async src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script>
I’m not an expert in CRT. Not in the least. My training in U.S. history is quite conventional. But that hasn’t stopped one Christian college from rescinding a speaking invitation on the basis that critics claimed I was promoting CRT. The president knew full well that my work had nothing to do with CRT, but he also knew that that didn’t matter, and that constituents and community members up in arms over “CRT” would not be swayed by accurate information or careful reason.
This is where we find ourselves. We could certainly spend some time examining how we got to this point. But perhaps more urgent is how we can respond to various smear campaigns that seem to be becoming the norm, not just in the media or on social media, but within Christian communities.
If there was an inspiring moment on social media this week, it would be this:
<blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p lang="en" dir="ltr">Senator Lana Theis accused me by name of grooming and sexualizing children in an attempt to marginalize me for standing up against her marginalizing the LGBTQ community...in a fundraising email, for herself. <br><br>Hate wins when people like me stand by and let it happen. I won't. <a href="
19, 2022</a></blockquote> <script async src="https://platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script>
Maybe it’s the fact that I’m also a white Christian suburban Michigan mom, and a Notre Dame grad, but state senator Mallory McMorrow’s words resonated with me in powerful ways.
Here is something that each of us can do: When we encounter slanderous claims, when we encounter the dehumanization of those who are different from us, when we see those who are marginalized further marginalized, and especially when those of us who are Christians see all of this done in the name of Christ, we don’t have to sit back and watch it happen. We can speak up and disrupt the narratives before they take hold. Or at least it’s worth a try.
A couple things more things to wrap up the week:
First of all, thank you to those of you who came to my talk at UVA Law School this week. It was a wonderful event in so many ways, and especially thank you to all of the students and community members who shared your own stories with me. I never tire of hearing them.
And finally, I cannot wait for the event with Beth Allison Barr tomorrow afternoon here in Grand Rapids! It’s sold out, but I think they are giving separate tickets for a book signing to accomodate those who couldn’t get in. And also it will be livestreamed. Come and celebrate the incredible things The Making of Biblical Womanhood has done this past year, and also the announcement of her trilogy: Becoming the Pastor’s Wife and Losing Our Medieval Religion.
I reflected here on the difficulties Christian scholars face in doing public work, but it is also true that there is so much joy in doing this work in community. Thank you for being a part of this.
That shooting was terrible. Sadly I have a couple good friends from church who really do not like what you're doing - and I think it boils down to them seeing anything other than salvation by faith alone and PSA (must be penal...) as a distraction from the real Gospel. Anything "social justicey" is such a threat. I'm going to see NT Wright at Baylor in June (very excited :) ). I think he (and Rikki Watts and Scot McKnight too) was THE catalyst that drew me away from seeing the gospel as only about soteriology and correct doctrine. If Wright is correct then ecclesiology is at the very heart of the Gospel, and thus a racially segregated church is anathema! A lot of guys who are serious about Christianity seem to gravitate to doctrine and biblical study. If we could somehow get NT Wright and Scot McKnight etc into their bible studies I think more people would see how the stuff you and Jemar T and Beth Beth Barr are doing is not only NOT a distraction from the Gospel, but is well-nigh the heart of the Gospel. I know a lot of folks don't want to change since this status quo is comfy. But some would. Anyway, great content as always. You're emerging as a very capable voice of leadership for an important movement.
So grateful to be semi-local and got a ticket for tomorrow. Looking forward to it!