Brett Tilford

In response to my previous post: are you gay affirming, the question has quickly arisen, “What about the Scriptures? Where is the gay affirming position found?”

In the context of a conversation about homosexuality when the question is asked, “What about the Scriptures?” Old Testament verses, like Leviticus 20:13, that have harsh words for homosexual sex, are usually what one has in mind. There are books written on the topic that have differing interpretations of those scriptures (e.g. one argument I’ve heard is that those verses aren’t referring to committed monogamous homosexual relationships) but I agree that the deeper question this topic poses for the conservative branches of the church is, “what is our view of Scripture and will we be willing to cut loose from our more stringent standards if we feel they’re perpetuating injustice and ignoring the highest law – love?”

With that question in mind, the rest of my response won’t really be about homosexuality per se but actually about how we view the Bible, because I believe the question behind the question is this: “Brett, what is your view of the Scriptures that would allow you to ignore certain verses in the Bible and write a post like, are you gay affirming?”

In response to that question I’d say this: through the years the church – even the most theologically conservative churches – have had to reinterpret (sometimes quite creatively) our understanding of particular issues. Many of these items seem downright silly or crazy to us today. For example, one of the first questions of this kind is recorded in the early chapters of Acts, when the question of circumcision arose, “Will these Gentile converts have to become good (circumcised) Jews to truly follow Christ?” Recognize that there is a mountain of Old Testament Scripture that would answer, “Of course! This is a central mark to delineate the people of God. It’s absolutely essential that we follow all of Scripture – we can’t pick and choose which verses to follow and which to ignore.” Of course, we know that ultimately Paul won the day with his argument about a “circumcision of the heart” but if that interpretation seems ho-hum and theologically conservative to us today, it’s only because of familiarity.

A more recent example is the issue of slavery, with the question arising, “Do not the scriptures say, ’slaves obey your masters?’ And the answer, as awkward as it seems to us today, is “yes.” Of course, we know all of the cultural baggage that surrounds that verse and we could likely cite other scriptures that would argue for the equality of all men under God (which is why we could pretty easily debate it with any person at a coffee shop – assuming we could even find someone who would try to justify slavery on that basis – hopefully not). Today, it would seem not only utterly ridiculous but downright immoral for a church to hold racist views on the basis of a verse like that, but again, recognize that’s because we live in the 21st century – churches were split over questions like that.

Other examples include women wearing head coverings in church and the freedom of the faithful to get tattoos (the scriptures clearly command the former and abhor the latter). Again, I understand that we have all of our cultural reinterpretations of these verses, but I can’t emphasize enough that these were the types of issues that got pastors fired and incited flame wars on twitter and blogs around the world.

What’s interesting is that even on the topic of homosexuality I don’t know of one conservative Christian that would actually hold to a “pure” biblical interpretation of a verse like Leviticus 20:13, because of course that verse doesn’t let the people of Israel off with a simple, “Love the sinner, hate the sin.” interpretation, but it commands the offending person’s instant death. My only point in bringing this up is to show that in the same way you asked me, “Brett, where in the scriptures is the gay “affirming” viewpoint found?” My answer to you would be this: the same place that the seeds of the “gay welcoming” viewpoint is found – in the law of love and the command to embrace and empower those on the margins of society – which in this case is the LGBTQ community.

As a “welcoming” Christian, you’ve already started down the path of reinterpreting what the scriptures have to say on the topic. My only encouragement would be to go a bit further.

“Are you gay affirming?” I believe this is the question for the church in the year of our Lord, 2011.

To their credit most churches have moved beyond the gay bashing & homophobic tendencies of previous generations, but it seems we’ve stalled out. By that I mean, we haven’t made the move from gay accepting to gay affirming.

Gay accepting invites people to come as they are but demands that they change. It views homosexuality as a sin that any truly godly person will eventually move beyond (or die trying).

Gay affirming sees no sin, demands no change and actually celebrates gay individuals and couples.

The terms themselves “accepting vs. affirming” may seem like splitting hairs but the descriptions above show the gulf between the two.

In the meantime church leaders continue to be quite flabbergasted by gay couples who attend their church, ask to meet with the leadership team, are told that the church is “gay accepting” – which when asked to clarify reveals the description above – at which point the couple storms out of the meeting never to return. “Why did they have to be so rude? Didn’t they understand that we accept them?” the leader bemoans. Of course if we put ourselves in their shoes for a moment we see the hypocrisy of it all.

Imagine that the year is 1970 and you and your spouse are a bi-racial couple. You’ve been visiting a local church for a few weeks and, knowing the controversy your union sometimes makes, you schedule a meeting with the elders of the church just to make sure everything is on the up and up. You arrive to smiles and small talk until finally the real question comes up: how do they feel about your marriage and are they willing to not only accept, but encourage and celebrate your union? Now the smiles are gone as you’re told in carefully chosen words that while you’re certainly free to attend the church, because after all they’re a very progressive and welcoming bunch, a marriage like yours isn’t well, God’s “best” because it’s clear in the Scriptures that God didn’t intend the co-mingling of races. However, they quickly add, everyone at the church is working through their own “issues” and so you’re welcome to come and do the same.”

That’s not a welcome – it’s a slap in the face.

You see, it’s one thing for a pastor to stand before her congregation and say, “We’re a church that’s called to love people just like Jesus would – that means all people – regardless of color, gender, or sexual orientation.” This is a statement that causes the faithful to rise to their feet in thunderous applause (e.g. Bill Hybels this week).

The bigger, and I would argue more courageous step, is for an evangelical pastor to stand before his congregation and say, “I want to extend a personal invitation to every gay, bisexual & transgender person in our city – we love and accept you as you are and we demand no change in your sexual orientation to become not only a valued member at our church, but a leader as well. We also reject any interpretation of scripture or understanding of God that views a person’s sexual orientation as sin. We are not only gay accepting – we are gay affirming.”

Right now we’re content to pat ourselves on the back for being gay accepting. In reality that takes little courage and doesn’t make anyone blink an eye (accept maybe the stodgiest of oldtimers).

In the name of love and justice, it’s time for me – for us – to come out of the closet and announce that we are gay affirming.

Introduction

Years ago I was captivated by Paris Reidhead’s fiery sermon Ten Shekels and A Shirt which he delivered in the mid 1960’s at a missions conference. In it he gives a harsh critique of both fundamentalist and liberal Christianity by accusing them both of a sinister humanism. It’s a brilliant speech: clear, funny and extremely persuasive. It strikes that delicate balance of philosophy, theology and story that has an incredible effect upon it’s audience. Truly masterful. I’ll do my best to summarize his thoughts below before moving onto my letter of critique, but of course it’s best if you read or take the time to listen to his sermon yourself before proceeding (10 pg. PDF version here and 45min audio version here).

The Main Point

As I said above, Reidhead accused the modern Protestant church of an insidious humanism which he defined in the following way, “humanism is a philosophy that declares the end of all being is the happiness of man.” What’s interesting about his argument is that he accused both the liberal and conservative branches of Christianity of this pagan embrace – though as we’ll see, they come about it in different ways.

Liberals and Fundamentalists

Although it’s a bit simplistic, Reidhead described theologically liberal Christians as people who have given up on knowing anything definitive about the spiritual world. They can’t really say if there’s a heaven or a hell. They can’t say if Christ was truly raised from the dead or if he was in any way divine. They can’t say if the Bible is really God’s word or if people need to truly be saved. But they can agree that there’s something to be said for lofty thoughts, poetry, and inspiring rituals. So that’s enough “Christianity” for them to encourage people to come to church on Sunday morning, be inspired, drop a few dollars in the plate and then go their merry way. At the end of the day, they’re powerless to give people any assurance of happiness in the life hereafter, but they can make you more comfortable while you’re alive. As Reidhead states, “It meant simply nothing more than to try and put a little sugar in the bitter coffee of the journey and sweeten it up for a time.”

Reidhead understands fundamentalists as a people at the other end of the theological spectrum. They believe in a literal heaven and hell. They believe in the authority, inspiration, and inherency of the Bible. They believe in the deity of Christ. They believe that he was crucified, buried and raised on the third day. These are the fundamentals of the faith, as they see them, and so they hold to them unswervingly.

Summary

But remember the atmosphere of the age is a humanism that, “is like an infection, an epidemic—it just goes everywhere.” And so, while liberalism and fundamentalism couldn’t be further apart from the standpoint of beliefs, they both unconsciously embraced the humanistic spirit of the age as a guiding principle.

With their emphasis on social justice and alleviating human suffering (i.e. ending war, racism, poverty, homelessness, etc.) Reidhead understood liberal Christianity to be saying, “our goal is the happiness of man while he’s on earth.” And in the same vein, with their formulaic “fire insurance” offer of salvation: a salvation that implored people to believe in Jesus so they could go to heaven, Reidhead understood fundamentalists to be saying, “our goal is the happiness of man when dies.”

Either way you spin it, Reidhead argues, it’s humanism and “IT’S THE BETRAYAL OF THE AGES!” He literally yells this on the audio version and it’s quite a compelling moment. I remember nearly clapping out loud the first time I heard it.

My Faith

Of course, today I have quiet a different Christian faith than I had all those years ago: sitting in my apartment as a young youth pastor, enraptured by this sermon from a man I’d never heard of before. Which is why, although it’s been nearly 20 years since Paris passed away, I often think about how he might critique the version of faith I hold now, and in turn I consider my response.

He’s like a grandfather that I greatly respect, yet have come to disagree with. While I don’t hold a strong allegiance to either the liberal or fundamentalist camps that he critiques – I do have an understanding of faith that’s very “human centered” – a faith that Mr. Reidhead would almost certainly accuse of being humanistic. With that in mind, here’s a letter to my beloved spiritual grandfather, Paris Reidhead.

My Letter

Dear Mr. Reidhead,

I’m a huge admirer of your work and the candor and clarity with which you write and speak. It’s rare to find someone so thoughtful and filled with conviction as yourself.

There’s much we can agree on, however when it comes to your critique of humanism, and liberal Christians specifically, I feel you miss an essential insight. You argue that liberals are so focused on alleviating human suffering and bringing heaven to earth, that they’ve left the gospel, truth, and even God himself far behind. Where my critique lies is that this statement ignores the strong tradition in both the Old and New Testaments that testifies to the idea that the best expression of a love for God, is a love for human beings – especially the downtrodden and marginalized within society.

This can be seen within all of the OT prophets, but in many ways it crystallizes in the example of Jesus who spent his life serving “the least of these.” There’s no clearer picture of this than in Matthew 25 where the sheep and the goats are divided, not on the basis of a confession of faith, but on their unwavering commitment to something you would call “humanism”. These are people who, moved by human suffering and the plight of the poor, became Jesus hands and feet in the world. In this judgement day type scene, God doesn’t question the motives of those who fed the hungry and clothed the naked and he certainly doesn’t label them despicable humanists who have left the Him far behind. Instead He presents the somewhat paradoxical idea that at the very moment of being utter humanists – people committed to the flourishing of mankind above all else – they were actually the ones who, as you might say, were “born from above”, or in our more popular lingo – were saved.

What’s interesting, is that the seeds of this view of faith are found within your sermon: in those moments where you rail against a faith that is transactional and selfish – a faith that wants nothing more than to avoid hell, gain heaven, or have a better life for oneself. You’re right to critique a faith that sounds like two people trying to make a deal with God. But where you go wrong is attempting to paint missionaries like Albert Schweitzer and others of his ilk with the brush of a people who’s love for mankind and the “sanctity of life” have overshadowed their love for God. If it’s true that God is love – then He is the source of love no matter where it’s found. In your zealous attempt to uphold the glory of God I’m afraid you’ve setup a false dichotomy between a love for human beings and a love for God – this ultimately causes you to label as goats those that God would call sheep. You’re right to critique a selfish man’s faith, but you’re wrong to critique any person (fundamentalist, liberal, or even atheist) who, either consciously or unconsciously, is seeking to be Jesus’ hands and feet in a very needy world.

Perhaps we can chat about this in person in heaven one day – assuming, of course, that I make it (don’t worry – you’re not the only one who feels my entrance is questionable).

Your Spiritual Son and Enduring Admirer,

Brett Tilford

There’s No Place Like Here: Brazenhead Books from Etsy on Vimeo.

An inspiring story about doing the thing you love – even if it’s not the most lucrative. Beautifully shot and edited to boot.
Anyone want to open a secret book store with me?

The big questions in life terrify us.

What do you want to do next?
What are your greatest strengths?
What big project do you want to start?
What direction should you take?
Who are you?
Who do you want to be?

Difficult questions, but ones that need answers – are begging for answers.

That’s why sometimes the biggest challenge is simply making the decision.

Mustering the courage to launch out.
With too little information.
With no guarantee of success.
Without the approval of those you respect most.

It’s called being an adult.

Learning to take responsibility.
Learning to fail.
Learning to succeed.
Learning.
Growing.

The worst thing you can do is be paralyzed. To make no decision at all. To remain the same.
Stagnant.
Frustrated.
And blaming others for it all.

In your twenties it’s a compliment to be told your someone full of “potential”.
In your 30’s it’s depressing.
In your 40’s it’s a slap in the face.

I’ve come to value action over the last few years. It’s easy to talk about how things should be and bemoan the shortcomings of the world around us, but that’s not courageous. What takes courage is standing up and doing something about it.

I’ve come to value goodness and kindness. For a long time they were out of fashion for me – reserved for old ladies and dying churches. I didn’t want to be merely good. Kindness was a sort of Christian give-up. I wanted to be the best, the strongest, the most powerful of Christians – not a kind one. Now I realize how priceless goodness is in this world. So I’ve given up trying to be the most kick-ass Christian in the world (hours of prayer in solitude and demanding miracles of the almighty) and now I’m just trying to be a decent one.

I’ve come to value generosity. I was taught to give from a very early age – in our house at least 10% of our income went to God. This normally meant “church” but it was normal for us to give above and beyond that to other orgs and causes. As an adult, I now realize that not everyone views the world this way so I’m especially grateful to my parents and churches for this value. I think my checkbook speaks so much more accurately to the things I value than what I write on my blog or what I’d tell you over coffee. In other words, this isn’t who I really am. Who I really am is hiding in plain sight – check my bank statement.

Most recently these values are the motivation behind the event 1 House 1 Night that my brother and I are putting on for the organization Ten Thousand Homes. Ten Thousand Homes is a grassroots organization based out of South Africa that is bringing hope and homes to HIV/Aids orphans. Our goal is to raise $5,000 (enough to build one home for an orphan or two) for them in one night – thus the name – 1 House 1 Night. It’s a goal that stretches me. I realize that most of my friends are starting families, paying off school loans and credit card debt (the sins of their youth) and simply don’t have a ton of disposable income. But I also know that they’re amazing people who share many of the values I mentioned above – which is why I’m holding out hope that we can do it.

You can checkout our website here and follow us on twitter here (@1house1night).

“Patience with others is called love, patience with self is called hope, and patience with God is called faith.”

This is taken from a book I recently finished called Patience with God: The Story of Zacchaeus Continuing In Us by Tomas Halik. In it he argues that the primary difference between theists and atheists is simply patience.

In other words, both Atheists and Theists have experienced the absence of God: the feeling that we are alone. We both wrestle with the questions that arise when we see the pain and suffering in the world. We both shake our heads in disbelief at times. The primary difference is that Atheists have experienced this absence of God and concluded that there isn’t one. Thoughtful theists, Halik argues, experience this absence, absorb that reality into their bones and let it do it’s work: maturing and deepening their faith.

Sure, this type of Theist is a bit more feeble, less sure of themselves and their grasp of “truth”, but at the end of the day they’re left with a refined faith.

One the one hand, it’s not a week faith destroyed by doubt. On the other, it’s not a muscular faith that has doubt in it’s cross hairs. It’s something in between – a faith that simply bears doubt and unknowing as part of the human condition.

Christan leaders tend to make alot of “we believe” statements.

Here’s what we believe about the bible, here’s what we believe about women in ministry, here’s what we believe about who will go to hell. Who is this we, I find myself wondering?

1,500 years ago the we was probably all of orthodox Christendom.1,000 years ago it likely referred to the Roman Catholic Church. 500 years ago the we may have been all Protestants. 100 years ago it was likely denominational. 50 years ago the we was your church. Now I’m inclined to think the we refers to the leadership team or simply, me.

There was a time when people never ventured further than 25 miles from home. They listened to one or two preachers their entire lives and had two books on the shelf: the Bible and Pilgrim’s Progress. Their thinking was informed largely by geography. They believed mostly what their parents and community believed. In that context it was always clear who the we was referring to – us, the community, all the clear thinking people in the world – a world that extended about 25 miles in every direction.

Of course this isn’t the world we live in anymore. Now, no one person or organization controls what their constituency believes. This is the simple reality of a living in a globalized, pluralized, technocized (not a word) society. Now we travel all over the world and interact with people from dozens of countries for business. We can listen to almost any pastor in the U.S. via radio, t.v., or podcasts. Our adult education took place at a school that’s probably not in the community we grew up in, and we have access to thousands of books and online resources articulating all sorts of ideas.

Which is why it makes sense now for Christian leaders to speak with a bit more nuance. Instead of, “this is what we all think about such and such topic” we should assume the intelligence and diversity of our audience and say, “From my perspective…” or “In my interpretation…” My hope is that this will encourage Christians to embrace the world we live in and give them permission them to think for themselves, instead of trying to strong arm them with the false pretense of unity on issues where it simply doesn’t exist.

Now, here’s what I’m not saying. I don’t think pastors need to preface literally every statement with “in my opinion…” or that we need to pretend the people in our congregations are on wildly different pages on every issue we address.  My point is simply that we need to realize the shift that has occurred in the world and come to grips with the fact that there’s more diversity of thought in our churches than we realize.

Most everyone I know is really big on not judging people. I guess this is important in a pluralistic society where there are so many different cultures and values all trying to coexist peacefully. It’s in our DNA, we children of the last 30 years, “Don’t be judgers”, they told us, “Be tolerant.” It also has some biblical precedence, as Jesus said, “don’t judge lest you too be judged.” Only the worst, most rigid Christians are judgmental.

When I talk to friends about my faith now – a faith that’s very hands-on and works focused (read more here) – this topic inevitably comes up. I’ll say something like, “At it’s core, I feel like Christianity is more a way of life than a system of beliefs, it’s less about a personal relationship with God, than obedience to the way of Jesus. Instead of looking at how high someone’s hands are raised during worship or how many hours a day they pray, to determine their “closeness” to God, I’m more likely to look at how they treat the people around them.” Then, as if on cue, my friend responds: “Aren’t you being judgmental? How could you ever say, who is and isn’t close to God? Why are you even asking questions like these? Being a Christian is about the heart, and no one can ever know anyone else’s heart, so we can’t say anything about that. Only God knows, stop playing God.”

Apparently, I’m a judger and I’m never quite sure how to respond to this. I could defend myself by explaining that this isn’t a conclusion I reach within 5 minutes of meeting someone, or that I tend to do this more in the affirmative (e.g. I think that person really loves God because they’re so kind, forgiving, patient, etc.) as opposed to the negative (that person definitely doesn’t love God because they’re so angry, bitter, unkind, etc.) but I don’t think that quite get’s to the root of my discomfort. What knaws at me is that in our “progressive Christianity” we think it’s very Christlike to withhold judgment on things, forever. We’d never say that someone doesn’t love God. Never rise up and call someone out for their shitty behavior. Never question a faith that had no fruit. Instead we’d mutter something about not knowing “their heart” and stay quiet.

I guess what I’m left wondering is this, doesn’t justice require that at some point we “pass judgment” on people? That we take a stand and say, “Stop it. This is absolutely unacceptable.” That could happen on a micro level: individual to individual basis, or a macro level: individual to a group, basis. Martin Luther King Junior didn’t say, “I hope my children grow up in a world where they’re never judged.” He said, “I want my children to grow up in a world where they’re judged, not by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.” It seems like in our embrace of tolerance (which I happen to think is a very good thing) we’ve overstated our case, promised never to judge anyone, and unwittingly put justice on the sidelines. I’m not a fan of a culture, or a religion, that does that. The reality is that for us to take love and justice seriously we will have to become more judgmental – not less.

As a teen I remember getting quite excited over crisis in people’s personal lives. Not because I liked to see them suffer, but because this meant they would be more likely to turn to God. I didn’t necessarily read this in the Bible, it just came after many years of observing people in the church. Folks would be perfectly fine without God for quite some time and then crisis would strike: death in the family, raging alcoholism, crushing financial losses, or some other incredibly trying circumstance. Then they would turn to God. My unspoken assumption was that people needed a crisis to find faith.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer had the insight that pastors had become the worst kind of gutter journalists – always peering into peoples private lives for their dirt and smut – because they felt that it was only by appealing to people’s weaknesses that they could be saved. In other words, he was suspicious of a faith that felt the need to go around convincing people who were perfectly happy with their lives, that they were in fact miserable.

I have a few friends who are really struggling right now but I feel it would be almost sin to push them towards God. Instead, I want to be there for them: listening, crying, and helping them as they go through a difficult time. Maybe later, when they’re back to some semblance of sanity and health, it will be time to re-engage the God talks. Not now though, not now.