Theology doesn’t save us.
Doctrine doesn’t save us.
Resurrection saves us.
(And transformation is the point!)
I’ve been thinking about that ever since my podcast last week with Aimee Byrd, talking about her new book Saving Face, which is quite profound and lovely. Aimee invested so much of her life in theology, and lobbying the church denomination she was in to make theology and study more accessible to women. She loves Scripture, she breathes Scripture, she studies. And she wanted other women to be able to study too, to glean the gold nuggets that she found.
But she was rebuffed, maligned, and attacked, and chased out of that denomination.
And then she had to do the painful work of reassembling a faith. And what she’s found is that, while theology matters, it doesn’t transform. Relationship with God does. And understanding our own story and how it plays into God’s larger one is so key. Her faith had to travel from her head to her heart.
I was thinking about that yesterday, on Easter.
And I’d like to share some scattered thoughts I’ve had as I contemplate how we ever got to this point where doctrine was the aim, rather than transformation into the likeness of Christ (Romans 8:29).
Here’s part of what Rebecca wrote in her Friday email that goes out to 45,000 subscribers, about her Good Friday thoughts:
These days I find myself facing over and over again how little I recognize the Christianity I grew up with in the evangelical church of today.
We were told “it’s a relationship, not a religion” but then if you use the wrong term to describe your marriage, if you disagree over politics, if your faith presents outwardly in a different way than your neighbour’s, you’re gossiped about at church and your faith is questioned.
We were told to be transformed into the likeness of Christ, to examine every inch of our hearts leaving no stone unturned. But when we expected our leadership to actually act like Jesus, too, we were told we were expecting too much.
We were told to be willing to die for others, to put down all of our rights and desires in our mission to save the poor, but then everyone turns right around and is obsessed with upsizing their houses, having the most modern decor, and never having to go without.
We have a crisis in the church of showy, meaningless faith that doesn’t change how we live on a day-to-day level.
“Christian” should mean something more than a lifestyle, political tribe, or beliefs about societal roles.
“Good Friday” isn’t good in the way we mean that word today. It was holy, sacred, immensely meaningful.
What would it mean to give today’s version of “good” for the holy and sacred? What would it mean to stop looking for comfort, but instead look to how we can practically live out the counter-cultural, counter-intuitive way of Christ?
What would it look like if being a Christian actually meant that we were so incredibly different from the world around us in ways that were positive for society that we actually stood out in a good way for how fiercely and self-sacrificially we loved those around us?
One of the biggest things that so many millennials have had to grapple with is that the Jesus that they were taught about in youth group seems to be ignored by the very people who introduced them to Him. And that’s hard to come to terms with. How could they teach you all these verses, and then act the way they do? How can they not care about sexual abuse, or about justice?
How can they think God’s main concern is that the right people stay in power?
And I was thinking about that this morning, as I woke up to the news that Pope Francis has died.
I admit that I know little about the man. I don’t follow Catholic politics very closely. I do know that he came to Canada to apologize for the residential school evil that was done in the name of Christ, and that apology was a good start (though many want far more).
And I know that he had his deputies lecture one of the most powerful people in the world on compassion, right at Easter.
And I think how fitting it is that he die on Easter. My impression of him has always been that he did try to fight injustice and make things right, but he was always hampered by a huge intrenched bureaucracy. And my heart is heavy for Catholics who are grieving today.
That idea–that the church should be known for its compassion–is one where we have sorely missed the mark, both Catholic and Protestant.
I am glad that the Pope was advancing this idea, and I hope his legacy in that regard will go on; but there is so much further to go.
Because the ugly truth is that the world does not know we are Christians by our love.
The world sees us largely as the perpetrators of evil. The world largely sees us as covering up for abuses of power.
And in many ways they are right.
They also miss a large part of the story, and I found the book Bullies and Saints so interesting, looking at the history of the good that Christianity has done on the margins, even as the institutional church has often missed the mark completely.
Jesus often works at the margins, away from the centres of power. For where the church is invested in power, and where the church is invested in keeping itself going, the work of Christ is often pushed to the margins.
And the world largely doesn’t see what is done at the margins. It sees what is done by those in power, in Jesus’ name.
The world doesn’t see what we do at Bare Marriage; it sees John MacArthur sending abused women back to their husbands. The world doesn’t see Aimee Byrd advocating to let women learn; it sees Joel Webbon advocating for women to lose the right to vote, all in the name of Christ.
So those who are seeking Christ are eventually pushed to the margins.
Because that is where Christ is, and where He has always been.
Jesus lives at the margins.
He was born to two poor people in the time of Empire. He was born in a forgotten, lowly place, and announced to shepherds, the lowliest of society.
He was never rich. He had a ragtag band of followers, who never had any guarantee of a wage or a place to lay their heads.
He was killed by Empire, and abandoned by most, except the women.
He was tended to by forgotten women, and announced His resurrection to these women.
He ignored Empire. He ignored the teachers of theology and the law. And He went to the margins, to the forgotten, to the downtrodden, and announced good news.
And they were transformed. At the margins.
Saving Face Helps You Find Yourself Again
With thanks to Zondervan for sponsoring this ad
Have you ever felt betrayed by the church you thought had your back? Attacked by the people that you thought were your people, and loved Jesus, simply because you stood up for what was right?
Or maybe you're just devastated that the church you served doesn't seem to care about harm.
Aimee Byrd's new book Saving Face is a beautiful and profound work to help us heal from hurts--from church or others--and find Jesus again as we explore our own stories. Highly recommend!
Throughout church history, those who advocate for change have tended to work on the margins.
We think of them now as these great stalwarts of the faith, but they did not begin from the seat of power, or have the support of power. Instead, they tended to push against it–and they are remembered because they transformed how power could be used.
Whether it’s Martin Luther, William Wilberforce, Josephine Butler, Susan B. Anthony, Nellie McClung, Mother Teresa, Catherine Booth–they worked at the margins.
And Easter, I think, reminds us that transformation happens when you’re content to be at the margins.
Transformation rarely happens when you try to be comfortable in the seats of power.
Crucifixion is at the heart of power; resurrection is at the margins.
Because resurrection and transformation are the work of saying goodbye to the trappings of life, and embracing the upside down kingdom which transforms.
And all of this leads me to this one question:
This Easter, can we be content to look to the margins?
One of the most beautiful parts of the book Saving Face is when Aimee describes the difficult journey she went on to find a new home church, and how the church she landed in had a female pastor who held her newborn during a sermon. It’s a lovely story, and I won’t wreck it for you–but you should read the book!
She found joy and meaning and belonging at the margins. She found home.
For years I have been focused too much on trying to transform the seats of power. That’s not going to happen.
But you know what we can do? Enlarge the margins! Find your home in the margins, with people who are similarly excluded from power, but wanting transformation and justice. And do your work there, at the churches that will never be invited to the White House or the halls of power; that will never headline a big conference; but which will feed the hungry and welcome the abused.
Remember: Crucifixion happens in the heart of power; resurrection at the margins.
Because Jesus is at the margins, and that’s where He does His best work.
Do you feel frustrated at the margins? How can we form a better community? Let’s talk in the comments!
UPDATE: I edited this a bit because I felt I hadn’t been fair to Catholics reading! Forgive me.
I’m newer around here, so I haven’t read all your blog posts… But this has to be one of my favorite ones yet.
So much has changed in the Church and from what was taught and what the current day Church reality is.
I’ve always preferred to “be at the margins” but that’s not the what the Church teaches or displays. It’s power, control, hierarchy… That’s contrast to what Jesus taught and did.
Such a great article Sheila. Thanks for writing this!!
Thank you! I just updated it because I don’t think I was fair to the Pope. I wrote it quickly and I don’t think I properly conveyed how much I think he did care about justice. But it’s hard to get much done in such a huge bureaucracy.
Why are you using one of the most powerful and unmarginalized religious figures as an example for in article about “those who are seeking Christ (being) eventually pushed to the margins”? Here is a quote from that same from Pope Francis: “All religions are a path to reach God. They are – I make a comparison – like different languages, different idioms, to get there. But God is God for everyone.” Pope Francis scolded the American President for not having more open borders while living in the comfort and safety of his literally walled city with security guards all around to protect him and his vast wealth.
I would argue there are more people who are kept from finding Christ because of so-called “compassionate” Christians who dilute the gospel than kids in youth group who don’t find Christ because they’re agonizing that their youth pastors don’t “care about sexual abuse, or about justice”.
You say that “the world sees us largely as the perpetrators of evil. The world largely sees us as covering up for abuses of power.” I propose that this is a carefully nurtured narrative being pushed by those who want Christians to focus solely on “compassion”. We are told that the ultimate ideal is to be compassionate and accepting. You just wrote that “the church should be known for its compassion”. But this is not what we are to aim for – the verse says “by your LOVE”. This is a far different thing than the left-leaning / sin-indulging compassion the North American Church is embracing.
Perhaps I am reading more left-wing politics into your post than you intended. But I am heartsick at seeing a pope who doesn’t believe the gospel being held up as an ideal by Christians all over the internet today. At hearing “Loving The Marginalized” used by Christians almost as a new gospel when, so often, that seems to only mean not saying anything against the pride community, abortion, DEI, or voicing concerns that immigrants should have to follow due process. “Compassion” is being weaponized against the followers of Christ (“if you believe in a God of love, you’d never say anything is “sin”).
Speaking as someone who would likely be classified as “in the margins” due to my race and economic status (and living in the middle of Nowhere, Canada), yes, love people in the margins, but don’t let that become a crusade that overshadows the Gospel. Grace AND truth.
You know when the pharisees came to Jesus and said, “But who IS my neighbour?”
Yeah, that’s what you’re doing with, “But what IS love/compassion?”
Same thing. Just so you know.
(Oh, and that thing you said, about how you’re frustrated you’re not allowed to “voice concern” about the fact that immigrants get due process? That’s to stop them from having human rights violations committed against them. Pretty sure Jesus wouldn’t be “chill” with having due process stripped from people.)
Grace and truth, absolutely. In this instance, the truth is that pedantry and theological rebranding of certain words to strip us of our responsibility to help people we consider “outside” is goat behaviour, not sheep behaviour.
Be a sheep. Not a goat.
I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear – I definitely think that immigrants should get due process. I think legal immigrants are wonderful.
I was a bit ranty when I wrote that, so I’d like to take a deep breath and rewrite, with apologies for speaking ungraciously. Jesus loved everyone, especially the hurt and broken. Those discarded by society. One story I love is the one of the woman caught in adultery. However, I think many Christians stop reading the story at the point where Jesus says “neither do I condemn you”. They don’t go on to read where he tells her to now stop sinning.
My issue with the late Pope being held up as a model for compassionate Christianity is that he had many examples of compassion gone wrong. There are NOT many paths to God. The Bible is very clear. As a leader of a large section of religious people, he has a great responsibility to speak truth. There’s the old saying about “loving someone all the way to hell”.
This is why I say it’s important to differentiate between “they will know us by our love” rather than “they will know us by our compassion”. I can feel great compassion for someone and yet do nothing about their true problems. Love, however, speaks truth – “This thing you are doing is hurting you so, while I will not “affirm” you in it, I will always be there for you if you want help and I will view you as someone God cherishes”.
I hope that states my position more clearly.
As an evangelical protestant convert to Catholicism, I want to point out that Pope Francis, and the Catholic faith in general, absolutely “believe the gospel.” We believe that all truth is God’s truth, so people following other faiths are, indeed, able to grow closer to God that way. Do they have the fullness of faith as expressed in Jesus? No, but unlike the protestants of my youth, Catholics do not consign all the unreached to hell. We also define the gospel somewhat differently (though it’s not exclusively Catholic, because NT Wright is all over it). The gospel is not just me, individually, “getting saved” and becoming a disciple. It’s not just the community of believers being saved. The gospel is also bringing about the Kingdom of God on earth. Christ inaugurated it, and we won’t see the fullness of it until he comes back, but part of our mission is bringing about the Kingdom, more and more, and that means serving the poor, educating children, taking care of prisoners, protecting immigrants, etc. That’s why my parish spends $1,500 every month in our small town, paying utility bills, providing motel rooms for homeless people, paying rent for people who are at risk of eviction. We do the other stuff, like Bible studies, instruction in the faith, personal accompanient, but those don’t make the news.
Honestly, as a Catholic, my relationship with Jesus is far, far deeper than it ever was as a protestant evangelical, and I was their poster child until I was 35 years old! Why did it take me so long to get here? Because I was regularly taught that Catholics weren’t Christians, that they didn’t believe the gospel, and it wasn’t until I was 31 that I wandered into a Catholic Bible study and realized that everything I had been taught was wrong.
So, yeah, we’re a great big Church, and as an institution, we’re not at the margins, but as individual ministries, religious orders, parishes, and people, we are absolutely right there in the trenches, because Catholic social teaching says we always give a preference to the poor and marginalized, and we always work as locally as possible.
I appreciate this article, Sheila. I couldn’t agree with you more. I just had a conversation with a friend this weekend about how a religious spirit is not of God and not rooted in God’s agape love but in self-righteousness. I learned how to operate in this spirit in Church, as you said they said it was a relationship with God, but I now know this was masked as a religious/self-righteous spirit that judged everyone who wasn’t in the church building. I’m grateful that God has delivered me from that spirit and into a greater revelation knowledge of the Holy Spirit in me to be led by, not man alone. She thought I was trying to say all religion was bad, and although I tried to explain to her a religious spirit is not the same as a religion, she did not understand. I depend on the Holy Spirit to continue to lead us all in how to do our Father’s/King Jesus Kingdom of God business here on Earth.
>> Doctrine doesn’t save us.
>> Resurrection saves us.
This is so important. For many people, Christianity is all about rules, things you MUST do, things you CAN’T do, verses to memorize and recite, and obsessing over who has power over who. These all aren’t necessarily bad, but a real faith is so much more than that.
I agree!
Some of the people I have spoken with who are most against Christians are the ones most hurt by faulty, ultimately unloving (even hateful at times) theology. I myself almost gave up on God because of this, both from a horrible mom (who has a church fooled by her “good works” but uses that to gain knowledge for gossip nd manipulation’s sake), and by a patriarchal pastor.
Part of the problem with the patriarchal pastor is that he would say that marriage to an imperfect husband doesn’t mean you can throw out the marriage-or submission, and he also kept that to the Christian model- it isn’t right to blame all of Christianity for the few bad apples so we should tell /show them that we are the good apples… unfortunately he (and many like him) is ignorant that he IS one of the most badly bruised and spoiling of others apples in the bunch.
So no, we can’t change the “headliner” pastors/authors. You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make it drink- However, you can look at its backside and take stock of what you see (no insult meant to horses!) and look at other options, like the margins you mentioned.
Love that!
“Part of the problem with the patriarchal pastor is that he would say that marriage to an imperfect husband doesn’t mean you can throw out the marriage-or submission…’
When somebody exhorts you to “Chew the meat and spit out the bones”, first make sure he’s not trying to unload a bag of dry bones on you.
Two thoughts this Easter:
1. I have been asking this question for a while (in person, on social media) and still no answer: What can wealthy white theologians living in the richest country on earth with the mightiest army on earth possibly have to teach us about an impoverished brown carpenter who lived under foreign occupation?
2. My sister attends a church where women are not allowed to serve communion and that fills me with rage. Not so much for the inequality (that just makes me angry), but because women were the brave ones at the tomb after the male disciples al fled and when they told them about the resurrection, the male disciples did not believe them. That’s the part that fills me with rage. If anybody should be barred from serving communion, it should be the men, that is, the gender that proved to be such cowards after their Savior died.
Suggest to her that when she receives the tray, she should not pass it to the next person in the row. Because passing someone the tray IS serving that person communion (it doesn’t matter if you’re on your butt instead of your feet).
Even better if she could convince a half a dozen other women to do the same thing, then they all sit in different rows.
It’s called malicious compliance. When the fellas get upset, and I’m guessing they will as they won’t like being usurped, the women simply explain they’re taking the men at their literal word of “NOT SERVING COMMUNION.” Loudly, so everyone can hear.
(If they do this, and if that church streams their services, I would love to get a link to the service in question.)
(I’d also like to know who preps the trays and cleans them up, because I’d bet big money it’s not the gents.)
BIG money it’s not the gents! Lolllz!
I grew up Methodist and my dad was for years the Communion Steward who poured the grape juice into the little glasses beforehand and then collected them up after and washed and dried them. He used a siphon to fill each glass. Thanks for bringing back the memory!
I understand the rage!
I’ve read a number of different articles recently, posing your first point, and the answer the writers tend to come up with is ‘nothing’. But to me, that resembles the world’s thinking, and doesn’t take into account how the Holy Spirit works in peoples’ lives. I think we can learn from anyone who is servant-heartedly following Christ, regardless of their wealth, ethnicity or gender.
I have known some incredibly wealthy Christians who had tremendous ministries. But they were all people who shared out of their abundance and who had humble hearts. That’s the key – the heart, not the outward appearance or what’s in the bank. If we assume that another believer has nothing to teach us because of their background, we are at risk of becoming like the ‘religious’ person in Jesus’ parable, who thanked God that he was not like other men!
As for your second point, I find it really bizarre that anyone would impose hierarchy on communion (although if you look at the original context of the Last Supper, pretty much any communion service is very far removed from that!). In your sister’s place, I would be looking to change churches. My feeling is that if communion is being used as a power-playing ritual rather than an act of unified thanksgiving and remembrance and a looking forward to the second coming, then it has become meaningless anyway.
This also goes back to the issue of having women do a lot of work when a church is new, and pushing us out when things get comfortable.
Live in a secular area, and you’re surrounded by people who talk about the hypocrisy in faith. Sometimes those complaints are unjustified (Christians, overall, so a truly immense amount of charitable work); sometimes, they are quite accurate (eg., complaints about the sex abuse scandal in the Catholic Church).
I think it forces people to be known by their fruit; if they aren’t, the dominant culture points out the problems.
I wish Christianity would take that underdog mentality everywhere, because in many ways, we are underdogs. Evil doesn’t rest.
From what I have read in books, I believe the church has been hijacked by unbelievers (wolves) some time in history. And these ‘wolves’ introduced heresies that continue till this day (example: women can’t be leaders).
And these people that do unjust and evil things in the church – I think you have to wonder if they’re even saved (I’m not trying to be judgmental, but something’s wrong here).
Before I became an egalitarian, I was a complementarian, to an extent. I didn’t know parts of the New Testament were translated inaccurately in English. I didn’t know the original Greek said something different!
I think many people are the same way – they don’t know that the English translations are inaccurate, along with missing context.
Yes, I think many people don’t realize that. And when some do, they eagerly switch, because all along they could sense truth. But others resist, because it was never about truth. It was about power and fear.
I agree with you, Hope. When I first started examining the topic of women in the church 30+ years ago, I was full of misgivings that I couldn’t possibly be right, because how could the church have gotten in wrong for 2000 years?!
Turns out that I could possibly be right, because the church got it right for about three centuries, and then came Constantine, and Augustine, and all the other ‘yeast which leavens the whole lump’. 🙁
“I didn’t know the original Greek said something different!”
Were you taught the original was Kynge Jaymes Englyshe?
This is such a beautiful, timely and accurate reflection, Sheila! I forwarded it on to a few of my favorite women who will absolutely appreciate it as well. Thank you for continuing to speak prophetically to the Body of Christ, with both truth and love!!!
Oh, thank you!
Just chiming in to say that I’m one of the ones that has seen my branch of US evangelicalism change (although I’m still unsure how much is actually a change, and how much was always there, simply undisturbed). I live in what most would call a section of the Bible Belt, and as much as I’ve known we’ve always had issues with “christian for social appearances”, I’m still kind of surprised how bad things have turned. We are a region with both a long history of grifter pastors/teachers who are in it for the money or social status, and things like company housing and stores. My own area nearly had company owned housing in my grandfather’s younger days. You’d think my region would be more wary of both clergy and power. But then again, the pessimist in me can’t help but remember that public executions used to be considered great public entertainment all over the world.
I know! It’s like, I assumed for a long time that we had progressed. But it was all just there, under the surface, waiting to come out again.