News

Indian Christians Stopped an Anticonversion Law. Until Now.

Believers in Arunachal Pradesh who faced persecution in the 1970s fear a new wave of repression is coming.

Christians leaving a church in Arunachal Pradesh.

Christians leaving a church in Arunachal Pradesh.

Christianity Today February 17, 2025
Thierry Falise / Contributor / Getty

Marbom Tasar’s story is well known among the Christian community in Arunachal Pradesh, a state in Northeast India that shares a disputed border with China.

Tasar and his business partner, Tai Tatu, became Christians in 1968 while staying with Tasar’s Christian relatives in Roing, a town in northeastern Arunachal Pradesh. They then made the 160-mile return trip their village, Lete, to share the gospel with their fellow Gelo tribesmen who practiced animism.

Soon after they arrived, Tasar found that homemade wine had caused severe dysentery in several villagers. Tasar went from house to house, praying for the sick and witnessing miraculous healings, according to his daughter, Bomto Paipodia. The families of those who were healed accepted Christianity, and Tasar began the work of building a church for three local villages. 

Two months later, tribal leaders and villagers, upset over the conversions, burned down the church. To curb further spread of Christianity, the police arrested Tasar, Tatu, and another believer.

“For us, persecution started right from the time we carried the gospel to our village and the neighboring villages,” Tasar said. 

In the 1970s, Tasar faced more arrests and harassment. He fled deep into the forest and slept in trees to evade capture. Authorities tortured some of his fellow believers. To counter the spread of Christianity, the state government passed the Arunachal Pradesh Freedom of Religion Act in 1978, which largely banned religious conversions. Yet opposition from Christian legislators and locals prevented the law from taking effect.

Christian leaders in the state said that through miracles, the translation of the Bible into local languages, and the work of bold evangelists like Tasar, the Christian faith continued to spread rapidly. In the 50 years since his initial persecution, Tasar and other leaders have shepherded a growing Christian network that includes more than 80 churches across the state.

This success story may soon face a serious setback, as the government plans to enforce the anticonversion law in March, following a court directive. This push comes as the influence of Hindutva, a political ideology that advocates for Hindu supremacy, grows throughout the country and is championed by the ruling Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP). Christians in Arunachal Pradesh fear a new wave of repression is on the horizon.

Tasar, now 78, said the recent move made him think of the persecution in the 1970s, including when he saw villagers strip a Christian woman naked and humiliate her in front of the entire village to force her to renounce her faith. She refused.

“It was never the backing of the church council nor the funds from wealthy businessmen that encouraged us to share the gospel,” Tasar said. “It was only God and his Word that was with us.”

Today, Christianity is the largest religious group in the state of about 1.4 million people. According to the 2011 Indian census—the most recent one to date—Christians make up 30 percent of Arunachal Pradesh’s population, Hindus make up 29 percent, and indigenous religions make up 26 percent.

Christian leaders believe the real number is even higher. Tagang Gelo, the general secretary of Nyishi Baptist Church Council, estimates that Christians comprise more than 40 percent of the population due to the significant growth of the church since 2011.

Arunachal Pradesh’s Christian roots trace back to the early 19th century, when Scottish Presbyterian and American Baptist missionaries first ventured into Northeast India. Missionaries introduced Christianity through evangelism, medical aid, and education to the Indigenous tribes living in the region. However, conversions were slow. Opposition from animist local rulers and British authorities fearful of unrest forced the American Baptists to relocate to Assam state.

In 1920, missionaries baptized the earliest recorded converts of what is now considered Arunachal Pradesh: Dugyon Lego and Tamik Dabi in the eastern part of the state, and Sensu Nar, a Nyishi tribesman, in the west. Around the same time, missionaries like John Firth established Christian schools in North Lakhimpur (present-day Assam), furthering education and faith in the region. Many students who attended these schools carried the gospel back to their villages, leading to more conversions.

By the 1970s, Christianity had become too visible to ignore. Government authorities and local leaders were concerned that Christianity threatened indigenous and Hindu beliefs, and they responded with harsh persecution. Between 1968 and 1974, police burned churches, looted homes, and attacked Christian families. In a particularly brutal campaign in 1974, authorities torched 47 churches in a single region. Some Christians faced executions, hangings, or beatings. Others, like Tasar, fled to the forests and survived on roots and leaves.

One police officer who led crackdowns on the Christian community, Takeng Taggu, converted to the Christian faith in 1984 after he was sent to arrest a missionary. When he saw the missionary absorbed in prayer, he felt God’s conviction. He renounced his past and eventually founded the Arunachal Pradesh Christian Revival Church.

Christianity grew from less than 1 percent in 1971 to more than 4 percent in 1981. To combat this growing trend, the state established the aforementioned religious law, which prohibited conversions or attempts to convert by force, inducement, or fraudulent means. It also mandated government scrutiny of religious conversions. Under the law, authorities could send anyone guilty of conversion to prison for two years or apply a fine of up to 10,000 Indian rupees (about $115 USD), which was nearly two years’ salary at the time.  

Yet the law faced opposition on the national level, including from Bakin Pertin, a Christian member of parliament from Arunachal Pradesh, as well as the Nagaland Legislative Assembly, which passed a resolution against it. Christians in the state banded together to form the Arunachal Christian Forum (ACF) to protest the law. Because of the pushback, state officials never framed the rules implementing the law.

In 2018, Chief Minister Pema Khandu publicly announced that his government might repeal the anticonversion law, stating that it “could undermine secularism and is probably targeted towards Christians.” He acknowledged concerns that it could be misused by authorities and promised to bring it before the assembly for repeal.

However, after backlash from Hindutva groups and pressure from the BJP, Khandu reversed his stance. Hindutva organizations, such as the Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) and Vivekananda Kendra, began establishing Hindu schools, promoting cultural nationalism, and reviving indigenous tribal faiths in Arunachal Pradesh to counter Christianity.

One of the most successful efforts was the formalization of Donyi-Polo, a traditional animist practice that the RSS helped institutionalize as a structured faith to compete with Christianity. They developed prayer centers and religious texts to reinforce tribal identity within a Hindu framework. The RSS also sought to reinterpret local myths—such as linking the Idu Mishmi tribe to the Hindu deity Krishna’s wife—to integrate Arunachal Pradesh into India’s sacred geography.

Another significant religious movement that has emerged is Rangfraa, a syncretic faith that blends indigenous animism with elements of Hinduism. While originally rooted in tribal spiritual traditions, Rangfraa also received support from Hindutva groups like the RSS.

According to Gelo, indigenous faith groups and pro-Hindutva factions have already started interfering with Christian gatherings. In some cases, local organizations have “blocked healing meetings and prevented churches from holding meetings in public spaces,” he said.

The law also started to reflect anti-Christian sentiment. By 2022, the same government that had, four years earlier, toyed with repealing the anticonversion law was now seeking to frame rules for the law’s enforcement.

A lawsuit filed by a former Indigenous Faith and Cultural Society of Arunachal Pradesh (IFCSAP) leader accelerated the push as the Gauhati High Court directed the state to finalize the law’s implementation by March. IFCSAP contended that the law was needed to protect indigenous traditions, alleging that conversion rates had reached 90 percent in some districts.

Interestingly, it was a former English missionary who first introduced the idea that Christianity threatened indigenous identity. Harry Verrier Elwin arrived in Central India in the 1920s with a passion to evangelize, but over time he abandoned his faith and became an anthropologist who advocated for preserving tribal cultures.

Elwin played a key role in shaping India’s approach to the Northeast, promoting laws that kept missionaries out. His work influenced the Inner Line Permit System, which restricted nontribal people—including Christian missionaries—from freely entering and working in Arunachal Pradesh. Elwin’s policies helped create the environment in which later crackdowns on Christians took place.

The revival of the Freedom of Religion Act raises troubling questions about religious liberty, not just in Arunachal Pradesh but in the nation. The Indian Constitution guarantees the right to freely profess, practice, and propagate faith. However, in many states, authorities have used anticonversion laws to selectively target Christian communities.

Christian organizations in Arunachal Pradesh are preparing to challenge the law’s implementation. However, uncertainty remains over whether the appeal should be directed at the government or the judiciary, which instructed the government to frame the rules, Gelo said.

Although there may not be an immediate large-scale crackdown, Gelo said, arrests could begin after the rules are framed. A case in Tawang, a town in the eastern part of the state, already hints at future oppression. In June 2022, authorities halted the construction of a new church building even though a church had existed at the site previously. Gelo is concerned that such restrictions could become more frequent.

ACF is spearheading efforts to prevent the law from being used against Christian communities. Attempts to engage with government officials have proved fruitless, so ACF is organizing protests, including a week of prayer and fasting, to call for the law’s repeal. They plan to gherao, or surround, the state assembly building on March 6 when legislators discuss the law.

Christian leaders who lived through persecution are watching as the state once again turns its gaze toward them. “We have faced persecution before, and we stood firm,” said Tasar, who has joined the ACF’s prayer week. “This time will be no different.”

Ideas

Christianity Today Has Not Received USAID Funds

On false rumors and editorial integrity.

A stack of newspapers
Christianity Today February 14, 2025
Luvlimage / Getty

Recent weeks have seen a flood of misinformation about ministries and their funding sources. We consider it sound journalistic hygiene to help readers understand our sources of funding and how we protect editorial independence. 

First, the misinformation. Last week, rumor spread on X, the platform formerly known as Twitter, that Christianity Today had received government funding in 2023. News influencers who have long been critical of us amplified these claims. In its extreme form, they claimed we had received $9 million in grants from USAID and were therefore “on the Biden payroll.” 

The hysteria around USAID is having catastrophic consequences not only for Christian ministries doing lifesaving work around the world but more importantly for the poor and vulnerable people they serve. A careful conversation around whether and when ministries should partner with government agencies, and where corruption might be weeded out, is wise. Throwing those ministries and people into the flames and dancing around the bonfire is not. 

But to state what should have been obvious, we have never received funds from USAID. 

We applied in 2023 for an Employee Retention Tax Credit (ERC), a program signed into law by President Trump in 2020 to assist organizations impacted by COVID-19 shutdowns. Accountants enter the ERC into a standard line in tax forms for government “grants” even though it is a credit against payroll taxes. We have still not actually received the credit, but we keep our books on an accrual basis and were encouraged by our auditors to book the amount as a receivable in 2023. 

So our critics are wrong on the facts. They’re not wrong, of course, that sources of funding can be sources of temptation. 

This tension is native to the journalistic enterprise. It is not particular to philanthropic revenue. Publications face temptations to publish something false, or refrain from publishing something true, to please shareholders, directors, partners, donors, advertisers, or subscribers, and thus improve their financial position. Nor is this temptation limited to the right or left, or only to organizations. Conflict entrepreneurs on social media may perform for their audiences to increase their income. 

The difference at a solid journalistic institution is that standards and practices protect the impartiality of the editorial voice. These are imperfect, subject to scrutiny, and fiercely defended. At a journalistic organization like Christianity Today, they intertwine with our sense of calling. We would fall short of our vocation as Christian journalists if we did not hold each story accountable to the truth and each opinion accountable to Scripture, without fear or favor. 

This is why we separate the editorial and business sides of the house. Board members superintend the mission and values of the ministry but do not intervene in editorial process. Operations staff members understand they cannot pressure editorial to gain or retain favor with sources of revenue. Editorial staffers understand they are free to follow their consciences without concern for business consequences. We communicate with foundations, advertisers, and partners that we protect editorial independence because it’s critical to reader trust, and we only work with those who respect that commitment. 

Readers are welcome to review our journalistic code of ethics here. Our finances are scrutinized by our board, independently audited each year, and public in our 990s. We have top marks for transparency and accountability from Charity Navigator and MinistryWatch.

Some of our critics might be surprised to learn (though they should not be) that we declined to publish a piece by then-president Joe Biden in 2021 because we found it too political. We also declined to conduct an interview with President Biden amid the 2024 campaign because it would have felt imbalanced to do so for one candidate and not another. These are not the actions of an organization beholden to the Biden administration. 

We publish articles that reflect poorly on institutions dear to our board members when we believe they are true. We report stories of pastoral misconduct that we know will cost us subscribers when it’s important for the health of the church. We might publish a piece that will frustrate a left-leaning foundation on Monday, and a right-leaning foundation on Thursday. This would make for a typical week.

Our views on social and moral issues—the sanctity of life, religious liberties, the Christian ethic of marriage and sexuality, God’s passion for justice, the Christian call to care for the vulnerable, environmental stewardship, and even the importance of democracy and free markets for human flourishing—have remained substantially the same for decades. This makes it difficult to sustain the argument that we adopted those positions to please recent sources of revenue. 

We understand it’s frustrating to some that Christianity Today does not fall neatly into their political agenda. We consider it a strength. Billy Graham liked to say he was not for the left wing or right wing but “the whole bird.” We are for the whole bird of the church. That bothers those who would conscript us for one party. Yet it makes us indispensable for anyone who wishes to examine all parties according to Scripture. 

If you yearn for good Christian sense in a sea of nonsense, you should subscribe. We will be glad for your company and hope you hold us accountable to our vision. 

Timothy Dalrymple is president and CEO of Christianity Today.

Culture

Don’t Write Your Own Marriage Vows

Custom wedding vows are popular. But Christian marriage is about more than personal identity, ephemeral affection, and jokes about chores.

A bride and groom cut out and overlayed on top of the text of the marriage vows from the Book of Common Prayer.
Christianity Today February 14, 2025
Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Getty, Wikisource

It was 2002, and I was sitting in premarital counseling with my fiancé and our pastor. We were a young, idealistic couple, and we were going through a workbook to reveal the expectations we had for each other and our marriage. 

One of the questions, I remember, asked if I planned to work outside the home. We were ready. We had already talked about this. I would work until we had kids, we confidently said, and then I was excited to be a stay-at-home mom. We even had a financial plan for this scenario. It was all decided.

Our pastor nodded and said it was good that we were on the same page. Then he paused and gathered his thoughts. “One thing I want you to keep in mind,” he said carefully, “is that it’s okay to change your mind.” 

I bristled a bit at the idea that he’d question our planning, but he continued. “What I mean is, you may like being a stay-at-home mom. That’s great! You may struggle with it more than you anticipated. That’s okay too,” he advised. “It might always work financially, which is great. Or there might be circumstances outside of your control, and you might have get a job to help out.” 

His point, he said, was that while it was wise to talk about expectations, marriage is not a commitment to a plan. We would make promises not to our scenario but to each other and to God.

Those words have been an encouragement to me these past 22 years, and I think back to them often. I also can’t help but connect them to our wedding vows. Though writing your own vows was then starting to come in vogue, we said the traditional words—“for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health”—which date to the Protestant Reformation and were part of one of Martin Luther’s reforms. And of all the things we’ve done wrong in our marriage, I think that’s one thing we did right.

In the years since, I’ve heard custom vows at many a wedding. I understand this now feels normal and it’s intended to be romantic. But it strikes me as naive for couples to write their own vows when they’ve only seen marriage from the outside.

Maybe I’m just getting old. But I wish younger couples could see the value and freedom that traditional marriage vows bring. I don’t say this to push some agenda about ideal roles within marriage. On the contrary, I say it because I see younger generations burdened with reinventing every wheel, with treating every choice as some definitive expression of identity. Self-invention has become a constant grind.

This is especially true of weddings and especially for brides. Granted, these ceremonies have always made statements about family status and wealth. But now it’s not enough to show what your parents can afford; a wedding is also a declaration of identity, an announcement of what kind of person you are and what sort of marriage you will have. After an adolescence and young adulthood spent displaying individual identity online, the wedding is where you debut your new, unique identity as a couple. It sounds exhausting.

Christian couples, in my observation, do this as much as their secular neighbors, albeit sometimes with a theological spin. I’ve heard personalized vows that assert a theology of marriage and gender roles expressed by divvying up chores: She vows to always do the dishes. He vows to always keep her car in working order. 

It reminds me of a former pastor who cared for his wife with multiple sclerosis. Was their marriage somehow diminished because she couldn’t do her chores anymore? Was she less his wife? The chores vows are played for laughs, but I wonder if these couples know that one day they too will be old or ill and unable to care for themselves, let alone the dishes.

Another strand of vows I’ve encountered veers in the other direction: The promises aren’t too small and pointed, but ephemeral or missing altogether. These custom vows sound more like public love letters, explorations of each party’s feelings, on how each sees the other as the ideal partner, with no mention of what will happen when the ideal stumbles.

The time-honored script these couples have eschewed is honored for a reason. By comparison, the old vows look like a respite, a chance to simply commit for whatever comes, “for better, for worse,” in humility and love.

And when I say “traditional,” I don’t mean marriage vows from the 1950s. I mean vows from the 1550s, for the standard Christian marriage vows we all know are a product of the Protestant Reformation. 

In the 1500s, marriage was in a crisis as people as young as 14 could consent to marry one another in secret, without an officiant (though they might later seek a blessing at church). If a couple married this way and conceived a child the husband did not want to raise, he could simply deny the marriage ever happened. Or a couple might want to get married, but some other man could claim that he’d already married the woman in secret. It was his word against hers. 

Church courts were overrun with marriage dispute cases. Divorce was not permitted, so the Catholic church often resorted to annulling marriages—denying they’d ever happened. 

Once the Reformation was underway, Martin Luther began to require that couples say their marriage vows publicly. It was a safeguard for women, and it forced minors to secure their parents’ permission to get married. Beyond this, Luther said the church should allow for divorce and call the thing what it is—vows broken—instead of pretending these marriages had never occurred. Call out the sin boldly, he taught, but give grace lavishly.

Luther also took to task men of his time who thought of marriage as a way for women to use, emasculate, and tame them for a life of domestic drudgery and dependents. Against this idea, he said, the Christian faith honors the ordinary responsibilities of husbands and fathers:

[Christianity] opens its eyes, looks upon all these insignificant, distasteful, and despised duties in the Spirit, and is aware that they are all adorned with divine approval as with the costliest gold and jewels. It says, “O God, because I am certain that thou hast created me as a man and hast from my body begotten this child, I also know for a certainty that it meets with thy perfect pleasure. I confess to thee that I am not worthy to rock the little babe or wash its diapers or to be entrusted with the care of the child and its mother. How is it that I, without any merit, have come to this distinction of being certain that I am serving thy creature and thy most precious will? O how gladly will I do so, though the duties should be even more insignificant and despised. Neither frost nor heat, neither drudgery nor labor, will distress or dissuade me, for I am certain that it is thus pleasing in thy sight.”

And for those who would mock men who took the duties of marriage seriously, Luther had a stern rebuke:

Now you tell me, when a father goes ahead and washes diapers or performs some other mean task for his child, and someone ridicules him as an effeminate fool, though that father is acting in the spirit just described and in Christian faith, my dear fellow you tell me, which of the two is most keenly ridiculing the other? God, with all his angels and creatures, is smiling, not because that father is washing diapers, but because he is doing so in Christian faith. Those who sneer at him and see only the task but not the faith are ridiculing God with all his creatures, as the biggest fool on earth. Indeed, they are only ridiculing themselves; with all their cleverness they are nothing but devil’s fools.

This is Christian marriage. It is not about chores or personal identity. It is not only about affection for each other. It’s about service and love, a love to which you remain committed even as you grow, as you change, as you celebrate, as you grieve, as you age, until you die. Marriage is a way God uses us to love others with a sturdy, generous love that mirrors God’s love for us.

That is what is expressed in the marriage vows Luther wrote, which were close to our standard vows today. Luther’s script quickly crossed over to England and was adapted by Thomas Cranmer to the English lines that were included, with slight adjustments, in the 1662 Book of Common Prayer. 

You likely know the words “to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, to love and to cherish till death us do part.” And if you are in a good marriage, you know that these words grow to be a comfort—that love isn’t just about maintaining an image. It’s not just for the highlights and prosperities of life, but for life’s deepest sorrows as well.

Gretchen Ronnevik is the author of Ragged: Spiritual Disciplines for the Spiritually Exhausted and cohost of the Freely Given podcast.

Church Life

My Neighbors Aren’t Ninevites

The Book of Jonah offers a clarion call for peacemaking between believers from Hong Kong and China.

Hong Kong next to Jonah preaching to xthe Ninevites and China next to Jonah under a tree
Christianity Today February 14, 2025
Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: Unsplash, WikiMedia Commons

Three years ago, I was conducting research for a study on the Bible and the Chinese Community in Britain (BCCB). I reached out to several Hong Kong–background churches to request interviews with their pastors or church members but didn’t receive any replies. I tried following up over email but continued to hear radio silence.

When I shared this with a Hong Kong friend living in Britain, she said she wasn’t surprised that I was encountering setbacks in my work. “Your name sounds like a typical mainland Chinese name, which may have made them reluctant to respond,” she told me.

On her advice, I decided to email the churches again using an English name. This time, it worked. But these interactions left me with a heavy heart because they highlighted the deep-seated mistrust and estrangement that exists among believers of Chinese descent.

Chinese churches in Britain are currently experiencing explosive growth. Much of this can be attributed to a surge in immigration: As of last year, the government had welcomed more than 200,000 Hong Kongers with British National Overseas (BNO) visas after the Chinese government imposed a harsh national security law on the former British colony.

Yet this positive perception of Chinese church growth in Britain is a fragile bubble that could pop at any time, as divisions between Hong Kongers and mainland Chinese believers persist.

I’ve witnessed some outcomes of these tensions between mainland Chinese and Hong Kong believers, such as believers self-segregating into congregations with others of similar backgrounds and even cursing at each other on social media due to political disagreements.

People from mainland China speak Mandarin and grew up under state-driven ideology with limited religious exposure. Hong Kongers speak Cantonese and experienced greater political and religious freedom. Certain stereotypes—like how Hong Kongers consider mainland Chinese people as backward and uncultured—are common.

Many Hong Kong immigrants in Britain also tend to be strongly against the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), exacerbating tensions between themselves and the immigrants from mainland China.

Often, churches never acknowledge these political, social, and communicational divides. Most believers treat politics as a taboo topic to maintain a sense of peace, however superficial it may be, even as ideological tensions simmer below the surface.

In a context where ideological differences seem impossible to surmount, it’s challenging to live out Hebrews 12:14: “Make every effort to live in peace with everyone and to be holy; without holiness no one will see the Lord.”

But the Book of Jonah can offer us a deeper understanding of what real peacemaking entails. God invites us to actively pursue harmony with one another, encouraging us to engage with those we might prefer to avoid, gently confronting biases and seeking reconciliation where division has taken root.

To explore what struggles the Chinese church in Britain is facing and how to cultivate peacemaking in this context, I held interviews with church leaders from China and Hong Kong for the study, commissioned by the British and Foreign Bible Society in 2022.

My conversations with these ethnically Chinese Christians illuminated the strains on that bubble I mentioned earlier, showing how a nationalistic attitude often overshadows Christian convictions to love each other—or love our enemies.

Of the 45 church leaders I interviewed, 41 mentioned that attaining unity within their congregations has become more challenging in recent years. “A group of young people in my church refused to pray in the same space with others due to differing political views” about China and Hong Kong, a London-based senior pastor of a Chinese church told me. (Interviewee names remained anonymous in the research process.)

Only about half (55%) of Hong Kong churchgoers holding BNO visas felt that mainland Chinese people could be trusted. In comparison, close to three-quarters (74%) felt trusting of white British people.

Many Hong Kong immigrants prefer attending local English churches, “not because these churches are better, but because they feel uneasy around other Chinese,” said the same London-based senior pastor.

Some Hong Kongers also expressed concern that there may be spies in Chinese churches. (Last December, a UK court barred a mainland Chinese man who was close to Prince Andrew from entering the country for national security reasons.)

Mainland Chinese believers, in contrast, tend to view newly established churches that only serve Hong Kong immigrants with suspicion. In their view, this exclusivity is driven more by political motivations than by biblical principles.

Mainland Chinese Christians also displayed a strong nationalistic perspective when discussing geopolitical issues during the BCCB study.

“The CCP has undeniably brought significant economic progress to China, lifting millions out of poverty,” an elder at a mainland Chinese church in Britain commented. “Many criticisms of China are rooted in inherent prejudice against the country, and some even justify hatred toward Chinese people.”

Expressions of distrust and judgment have loomed so large that some Mandarin-speaking churches and newly established Hong Kong congregations in the same cities avoid any interactions.

But this isn’t just a modern-day problem besetting the Chinese church in Britain. We see it taking place in one angry prophet’s account in Scripture too.

Jonah is aggrieved with God for showing grace to the people of Nineveh because he regards them as “outsiders” who are not Israelites. “That is what I tried to forestall by fleeing to Tarshish,” he tells God almost petulantly (4:1–2).

Only when Jonah is trapped in the belly of the fish does he confront his own helplessness and need for God’s pardon. “I will say, ‘Salvation comes from the Lord,’” Jonah cries out at the end of his prayer (2:9).

Here, Jonah begins to recognize how much he needs the mercy of God, mercy that he struggles to extend to others, laying the groundwork for dismantling his biases and self-righteousness. Yet, even after the entire city repents, he fails to see the Ninevites the way God sees them.

Later, God asks the sulking prophet, “You have been concerned about this plant, though you did not tend it or make it grow. … And should I not have concern for the great city of Nineveh, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand people?” (4:10–11).

God’s question to Jonah is a timeless reminder: His mercy is far-reaching. And we are called to extend this same mercy to those we may wrestle with accepting.

We are called to show the same grace and tenderhearted affection to others that God has shown to us. When we focus on distinctions and use them to label someone as “other” or even as “enemy,” we stray from God’s heart.

The ever-evolving Chinese church landscape in Britain may not exactly mirror the conflict between Jonah and the Ninevites. Yet, the BCCB study reveals a tendency for Hong Kongers and mainland Chinese believers to think of each other as Ninevites who are outside God’s salvific plan.

To truly cultivate authentic peacemaking between Christians from Hong Kong and mainland China, we first need to exercise humility and repentance, just as Jonah did in the belly of the fish. Scripture exhorts us to allow the scales to fall from our eyes so we recognize our shared depravity and desperate need for a Savior.

Jonah’s story also prompts us to ask, “Are we content with preserving a surface-level calm while avoiding difficult conversations and leaving deeper issues unresolved?” God did not allow Jonah to simply avoid the Ninevites; instead, he called him to engage with and extend grace to those he disliked.

In Britain’s Chinese church context, peacemaking requires creating spaces where personal and collective tensions can be openly and compassionately addressed. Good answers start with good questions, approached with genuine curiosity and a willingness to acknowledge any awkwardness that may arise.

Examples of successful peacemaking among Chinese churches in Britain are rare. Conversations about these divisions are still often treated as taboo. But some glimmers of hope are appearing through initiatives like the Society of Chinese Public Theology, a newly established association which encourages open dialogues around sensitive topics, such as Christian responses to war and engagement in political protests.

My research for the BCCB study has also been a step toward peacemaking. In my interviews with church leaders from Hong Kong and China, I learned to set aside my own assumptions and spend time hearing their stories, struggles, and hopes. I lamented, wept, and prayed with some Hong Kong–background believers.

Ultimately, peacemaking must be rooted in mutual love, where we address underlying tensions without judgment or hostility, because we are all part of one Spirit and one body (Eph. 4:4–6). As Jonah teaches us, we can trust in God’s immeasurable grace for people who are different from us and learn to show mercy and love to them.

Yinxuan Huang is research manager at the British and Foreign Bible Society.

Ideas

A Funeral Rose on Valentine’s Day

Contributor

The greatest love stories are often marked by sacrifice and suffering. My father’s life was no different.

Christianity Today February 14, 2025
Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: Getty

My freshman year of high school, my father died in early February. His wake was on Valentine’s Day. At its conclusion, a funeral attendant who closed his casket handed me a single rose from the bouquet adorning its cover. It seemed like a macabre twist on a day that wouldn’t feel happy again for years.

In my later teens, I always felt somewhat out of place among peers who associated Valentine’s Day with simple joys like chocolates. But when I learned that Valentine’s Day is named after a Christian martyr, I came to appreciate that some of history’s most powerful love stories don’t have happy endings.

Our modern, commercialized version of Valentine’s Day revolves around romance—or at least any form of affection worth rewarding with a Hallmark purchase. But the original Valentine is said to be a third-century saint who was executed under the Roman emperor Claudius II. Through his death, he modeled a kind of love that transcends sentimental affection and has never been very marketable.

His witness has less to do with romance than it does with self-giving, which he embraced unto death. For Christians, Valentine’s Day can remind us that love comes in many forms—chiefly, the cruciform. 

My dad was not a martyr. He wasn’t killed for his faith; he died of cancer. But he did live—and die—in a way that set an example for me. Early in his illness, my parents prayed fervently for healing. But they didn’t cling to their own imagined happy ending blindly. Though they believed a miracle could happen, they held their hope with open hands and sought to teach their young children to do the same.

On the day my parents told my five siblings and me about my dad’s diagnosis, he looked us in the eyes and said, “We found out today that Daddy has cancer. And we have decided that whether I live or die, we want my life to glorify God.” His radical entrustment made little sense to me then. But it has forever shaped my faith.

Another way my dad set an example for me was in how he spent his last years. My memories of his slow decline are marked by the intense effort he made to create special memories for our family despite his illness. A few summers before his death, he and my mom took us on an epic family vacation. He was in a wheelchair for most of it, but he made it into almost all our family photos. He was in pain, but he was there.  

Closer to the end of his life, we were watching a movie together when the closing credits started playing one of his favorite songs. It was the song, he said, to which I would learn to swing dance. He got out of bed, with oxygen tubes still in his nose, and danced with me until he was too winded to stand anymore. I know it was excruciating for him to do that. And I know he did it for me. On Valentine’s Day each year, I remember my dad and the love he showed me until the end of his life.

I also remember my mom, who modeled the same love-to-the-end by showing up every day after his death to raise six kids without a husband. Her long, lonely years of parenting were a kind of death to self that most of the time was completely invisible to others.

For a season in high school, I channeled my unresolved grief and anger toward her, as if hating her might dull the incurable ache of losing my other parent. In response to my rage, she made a letterbox for me to write anything I wanted about her to put in the box for her to read. She absorbed my hatred with a gentleness and grace that eventually quieted me. I am sure I’ll never know the full cost of that grace.

In my own ministry now as a parent and as a pastor, I am beginning to recognize the gap between what I want love to feel like and what it actually requires of me. And I am growing in my awe of Jesus, who uniquely fills that gap on my behalf. His willingness to be brought low, first as a human being and then as a man hanging on a cross, becomes a kind of ground zero for those who aspire to follow in his footsteps.

In our journey toward cruciform love, we will always be, first and foremost, recipients. But as recipients, we can expect we’ll be given the strength we need to be faithful on that journey—even if it takes us down paths would never choose for ourselves.

When my mom and my dad dreamed about their family as newlyweds, neither of them imagined the challenges that lay in store for them. Theirs wasn’t the kind of love story anyone signs up for. But their witness has taught me more about the gospel than any sermon I’ve heard. Their faithfulness, though imperfect, illustrated Jesus’ words to me: “Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit” (John 12:24, ESV). Without sacrifice, love remains little more than a nice sentiment.

Sentiments, of course, are fine. I will certainly be eating my share of Valentine’s Day chocolate this year. But what makes Christian hope unique is its promise that when the sentiments fall flat or run out, sacrificial love still holds.

Our culture’s lingering obsession with Valentine’s Day is evidence that in all the commercialism, we are still looking for that love. Its true, cruciform nature will never cease to surprise us—which is exactly why we should never cease to proclaim it.

Hannah Miller King is associate rector at The Vine Anglican Church in Western North Carolina and the author of a forthcoming book about grief and hope.

News

Church of England Stalls Proposal to Overhaul Safeguarding System

The General Synod voted to transfer national staff overseeing abuse response to an external body but not parish and diocese officials.

A man in a clergical collar speaks at a podium with the purple Church of England logo.

Archbishop of York Stephen Cottrell at Church of England's General Synod in London.

Christianity Today February 13, 2025
Jonathan Brady / PA Images via Getty Images

At its General Synod this week, the Church of England faced what one member of Parliament had called “a watershed moment for the church to change its culture and its approach to safeguarding.”

Gathered in Westminster, a few minutes’ walk from the Houses of Parliament, the church’s governing body was given the option to outsource abuse response by dioceses and cathedrals to a new independent body.

Abuse survivors and several bishops supported the proposal and argued that new systems were necessary to restore trust in the wake of an onslaught of abuse revelations in the church.

“We need to send a very clear signal to … Parliament and to the public that we are serious about change,” said Robert Thompson, a London priest.

In the end, though, members voted to delay the move, calling for more work to be done on the legal and practical requirements of shifting operations outside the church.

“Survivors are devastated,” Jane Chevous, the cofounder of advocacy organization Survivors Voices, wrote online. “We feel betrayed by the church, who again have not listened to us. Trust is not restored but further broken.”

Wednesday’s vote came as the Church of England has been engulfed in scandal and suspicion over its handling of abuse.

A bombshell November 2024 report detailed abuse perpetrated by an evangelical lay preacher, John Smyth, and cover-up dating back decades. It ultimately resulted in the resignation of the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Members of Parliament were outraged; church leaders warned that the church was losing trust and confidence.

Other high-profile cases compounded the concerns: a BBC investigation into Blackburn Cathedral, where the church paid a six-figure sum to remove a member of the clergy assessed as a risk to children and young people, and reports of a vicar who continued to minister despite getting banned in the 1980s for sexual misconduct.

Channel 4, one of the UK’s main TV stations, has been broadcasting a series of exposés; last month, the Bishop of Liverpool stepped down after being the subject of sexual-assault and harassment allegations, which he strenuously denies.

In the UK, safeguarding has become an established term in the public, charitable, and faith sectors, legally defined as the protection and support of children and vulnerable adults who have been abused or are at risk of abuse.

The Church of England also uses safeguarding to refer to “acting in ways that mitigate any risk of harm” and has expanded its resources devoted to preventing abuse and responding to allegations.

The church expects each parish to have a safeguarding officer and every diocese to employ professional safeguarding staff, and the Church of England also has a National Safeguarding Team based in London. Safeguarding training is required not only for clergy but also for laypeople with certain roles in the church.

The proposal up for vote on Wednesday would have transferred the safeguarding staff from each cathedral and diocese—currently functioning as 85 separate charities—to be employed by a new independent safeguarding body.

This proposal followed a review of the Church of England’s safeguarding by professor Alexis Jay, the chair of the UK’s national Independent Inquiry into Child Sexual Abuse.

Jay concluded that the church’s provision, with patchy practice across the country, fell below the standards found in secular organization. Moving oversight of abuse response to an external body was also expected to address real or perceived conflicts of interest since those reporting abuse may worry that the response from the church will be compromised by loyalty to the institution.

The vote failed, but members did agree to transfer the National Safeguarding Team to an external body. This team, employed at the church’s national headquarters, handles complex abuse cases or those involving senior leaders, including bishops. The national team also develops safeguarding policy and supports operations at the local level in dioceses and cathedrals.

Lesley-Anne Ryder, a leader from the health and charity sectors who cochaired the group that proposed the new model, told the church that it had “created structures which confuse people and cause suspicion.” She urged church leaders to draw on the expertise of those outside their walls.

Some fear that the decision to delay full independence for safeguarding officials will only deepen suspicion. Others believe that the structural changes of outsourcing—something believed to be untested in any other charitable organization—could hurt morale and processes.

Ahead of the vote, more than 100 safeguarding officers based in dioceses wrote a letter arguing that the model could be “inherently less safe” by creating “additional barriers to communication and cooperation.”

Legal advice published by the Diocese of Gloucester warned that outsourcing safeguarding raised difficult questions about where liability for failures would lie: What would happen if the new independent body failed to deliver?

During the debate this week, some of those speaking against outsourcing shared cautionary tales about outsourcing from their work in secular organizations.

The Church of England continues to work on further reform around safeguarding structures, policies, and practice—a complex undertaking likely to attract less media attention.

As the Church of England prepares to identify its next Archbishop of Canterbury, safeguarding remains at the center of the church’s deliberations, with many braced for further allegations of abuse to emerge. Speaking during another debate this week, one evangelical member of the synod, Ros Clarke, suggested that those who had “failed to uphold safeguarding protocols previously or are unable to articulate an appropriate response to questions on safeguarding matters” were “utterly unsuitable for senior appointments within our church.”

Culture

What Do Christians Owe Their Ex-Boyfriends?

Sometimes loving your neighbor means telling him you’re not in love anymore.

An image of a valentine card showing Jesus inside a heart shape.
Christianity Today February 13, 2025
Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Pexels, Wikimedia Commons

During a recent breakup, in an attempt to regain control over my life, I went back and forth about what would help. A new piercing? A tattoo? Dying my hair? But I hate needles, and I like my natural color. Many Olivia Rodrigo belt sessions in the car, pints of dairy-free ice cream, cuddles with my breakup bear (Build-A-Bear, have I got a marketing campaign for you!), and tears later, I started feeling a little more like myself again.

But I hadn’t resolved the tension I feel whenever one of my dating relationships ends. How do I love my neighbor when I’m telling him I don’t love him anymore? Or when he is telling me? What do we, as Christians, owe each other in breakups?

On one level, these are practical questions. Regardless of whether it was your decision, someone else’s decision, or a mutual choice, even amicable breakups often bring out the worst in us. Christians can aspire to better in those painful final conversations, informed by the instructions to early church communities that were navigating disagreements (Eph. 4:15, 29; Col. 4:6). Even in our anger, sadness, and grief, we can choose words that will inflict the least amount of damage, opting for clarity and concision rather than Shakespearean soliloquies or letters claiming to seek “closure” that are really designed to get the last word. We can be quick to listen to our exes’ perspectives, slow to speak, and even slower to anger (James 1:19).

Breaking up as a Christian also means avoiding some contemporary norms around the ends of relationships. Ranting, gossiping, or putting up a “thrive post” only leads to bitterness. (In the aftermath of my breakups, I’ve tried to avoid social media altogether.) Confiding in trustworthy friends and voicing frustrations to God in prayer allows for healthy processing without spreading rumors.

But loving your neighbor during a breakup requires a change not only in behavior but also in philosophy—of wanting the best for your ex in the fullest sense of that expression. “Our love for others, for who they are, moves us to seek the best for their lives,” wrote Pope Francis in a recent encyclical. That love might be no longer romantic but brotherly and sisterly. Love that seeks the best for the other might involve making the decision not to be together—or accepting that decision once it’s been made.

Let me be clear: I’m not endorsing that devastating one-liner God told me to break up with you. As someone who’s been on both ends of that excuse, I can attest that it’s usually not helpful. As a recipient, there’s no room to question such a declaration. If God told you, why wouldn’t he tell me? Even if a person has felt the Spirit’s prompting to end a relationship, “God told me” often comes off as the easy way out.

Better to be brave and honest about the reasons you need to part ways. It is possible to acknowledge pitfalls in a relationship without turning that acknowledgment into a diss track. For example: “We spend a lot of time arguing,” “We are not great at listening to one another,” and “I don’t feel that you respect my time with my family.”

Breaking up as a Christian often means considering what’s best for your ex even as you also respect what’s best for yourself. (I’m talking here about relationships ending over incompatibility or changed feelings, not over abuse.) You are not responsible for how another person reacts to a breakup. But you do have responsibility for your own actions.

If you’re the one receiving the bad news, it’s even harder to keep the other person’s needs in focus: That person is awful and selfish and wrong! It takes radical empathy (and humility) to listen to explanations for the decision and to respect the other person’s boundaries.

Though they were partners in ministry rather than romance, Paul and Barnabas’s parting ways is a helpful model for a relationship’s end. Their difference of opinion about whether John Mark should join them caused “such a sharp disagreement that they parted company” (Acts 15:39).

But both parties were ultimately instrumental in spreading the gospel. And neither is recorded as speaking poorly of the other. Barnabas never posted about Paul’s shortcomings on Facebook, and Paul never spread rumors about Barnabas as he wrote his epistles. Sometimes, relationships just need to end, for reasons that we might not be able to understand at the time but that might result in flourishing for both parties.

Seeing breakups as acts of love doesn’t mean we have to be happy about them. A therapist once told me that ending a relationship often requires moving through the five stages of grief. The Lord meets us in our sorrow; Psalm 56:8 says that God keeps track of all our tears. In my weakest moments at the end of a relationship, I’ve looked to Christ crying out on the cross, knowing he too felt forsaken.

For me, the hardest part of any breakup is always the aftermath, once we’ve returned sweatshirts, hair ties, and borrowed books and have sent our final texts. I’m embarrassed and want to move on as quickly as possible. But terrible advice from family and friends shows how futile that is. “There are more fish in the sea.” Well, what if I wanted that fish? “Your perfect match is out there right now.” But God doesn’t promise marriage. What if that was my only shot? “He wasn’t even that cute.” So you think I have bad taste?

As Jesus reminds us to love our neighbor as ourselves, he insists we must love God first and foremost: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength’” (Mark 12:30–31). Perhaps a breakup is an opportunity, however unwanted or misunderstood, to love God better. Maybe the other person had become a stumbling block for you; maybe you’d become an idol. Regardless, love of God always undergirds love of others.

You might want to avoid the tattoo, the spontaneous haircut, and the lengthy letters trying to win someone back. But let yourself get ice cream, cry to friends, go to Build-A-Bear. And know that the love of God extends graciously, both to you and your ex.

Mia Staub is editorial project manager at Christianity Today.

News

Founding Congregation to Exit Christian Reformed Church

Few legal entanglements complicate the departure, but brings a lot of grief over denominational division.

Christians worshiping inside First Christian Reformed Church in Grand Rapids.
Christianity Today February 13, 2025
First Christian Reformed Church Youtube screengrab.

First Christian Reformed Church chose its name for a reason. It’s the oldest Christian Reformed Church (CRC) in Grand Rapids, Michigan, and one of the original four congregations formed by Dutch immigrants at the founding of the influential Calvinist denomination in America in 1857.

Now, nearly 168 years later, First Church is also preparing to be one of the first to leave in a split over the denomination’s stance on LGBTQ inclusion. 

“As a leading voice for the use of women’s gifts, for ethnic diversity and justice issues, and for rigorous debate, First Church insists that faithfulness requires them to separate from the denomination that has reflected them and nurtured them,” Thomas Hoeksema, a regional representative of the CRC, told Christianity Today in an email. “They are clearly grieving.”

The CRC is the latest in a line of American churches riven by debates over homosexuality, from the Episcopal Church USA, to the Mennonite Church USA, to the Church of the Brethren, to United Methodist Church. Typically, it has been those on the traditionalist side of the debate who have felt forced to leave. The CRC, however, codified its opposition to homosexual sex in 2022, and in 2024 it instructed all congregations to either come into full alignment or separate.

Twenty three of the CRC’s nearly 1,000 congregations have officially notified the denomination of their intent to disaffiliate, but still more are having crucial conversations before taking any official action. In Classis Grand Rapids East, 10 churches are in the process of disaffiliating. Some, like First Church, once thought they had found a way to navigate doctrinal differences without disrupting denominational unity. 

The historic Grand Rapids congregation began discussing sexuality in 2018, according to David Jacobs, chair of First Church’s leadership council, which is made up of its ministers, elders, and deacons. There were many different views, and the council sought to find some unity while allowing a lot of latitude. 

Ultimately, First Church articulated its position like this:  

“Recognizing the differences of Biblical interpretations regarding same-sex marriage and acknowledging that we are in a place of uncertainty, we move to invite all members of First Church to full participation in the life and ministry of the congregation. Neither sexual identity nor being in a same-sex relationship will impact a person’s membership or ability to fully participate at First Church.”

According to Jacobs, this was not an affirmation of same-sex relationships. 

“We interpreted this as an inclusive but not affirming stand,” he told CT. “We never said that we interpret Scripture to say that God affirms same-sex marriages. We said that we wanted to operate in a way that includes everyone in the life and ministry of the church.”

Some members of First Church did feel compelled to leave because of the statement, Jacobs acknowledges. And the denomination did not find the compromise acceptable either.

According to a large majority of delegates to the CRC’s synod, the denomination needs to be clear on its teaching about sexual morality. It isn’t acceptable to allow some to offer caveats and give themselves congregational exemptions.

“We are a confessionally Reformed denomination, and we want to embrace that. We want to pursue that,” said Cedric Parsels, reporting from the synod for the Abide Project, a group that upholds the CRC’s historic view on sexuality.

The CRC does not claim ownership of individual church buildings through a trust clause, so the division of the denomination will probably not entail the same legal struggles seen in other splits. But people on both sides of the CRC division said they feel great sadness as they prepare to part ways. 

Hoeksema served as a church visitor in Classis Grand Rapids East, representing the denomination to congregations that announced plans to leave the CRC. 

According to denominational procedure, the purpose of the visit is, in part, to dissuade churches from disaffiliating. Hoeksema said there wasn’t much arguing, though. 

“We are there to listen, to empathize with the difficulty of staying faithful to their discernment of God’s call, and to share what we know of the larger picture of what churches are doing,” he said. “We do not see our job as persuading churches to stay. We sometimes offer things to think about that haven’t been considered yet, and we ask probing questions to help church council members be clear in their thinking.”

First Church voted 143–16 in favor of disaffiliation.

Congregations staying in the denomination feel hurt by the separation too. 

Darrin Compagner, the pastor of Shawnee Park CRC, which is just about three miles from First Church, described the disaffiliation as similar to Velcro pulling apart.

“We have family, friends, colleagues, neighbors in the disaffiliating churches,” Compagner said. “The statements they make, the decisions they make all impact us.”

The historic importance of First Church adds to the pain too. Many other congregations have looked to First Church as an example. It led the fight to welcome women into leadership and was out front on social justice issues.

But at some point, the disconnect was just too great, Compagner said. 

“They thought they were taking the lead and the denomination would come around,” he told CT. “They presumed it would go like women in ordained office, and they were shocked when it didn’t.”

The 2022 synod vote was 123–53 for codifying the traditional views of sexual immorality. The 2024 vote was 134–50 against allowing congregational variance.

CRC general secretary Zachary King said he knows some people think that the denomination is forcing out First Church and others with different views on LGBTQ inclusion, but that’s just not true. Those congregations have moved out of alignment with CRC beliefs. 

“We think we have stood on the position the church has had for the past 2,000 years, and at least on paper we have tried to do that in a gracious way,” King said. 

The founding CRC congregation has not decided where it will go after finalizing its disaffiliation this spring. The church is considering several options, Jacobs said. It could become independent. It could join the Presbyterian Church (USA), a mainline denomination with a similar commitment to Calvinism. It could join the United Church of Christ, which includes many historic Reformed churches but has a congregationalist form of government. 

First Church could also join the Reformed Church in America, the denomination it left in 1857 to found the CRC. 

“But we are not going to make our decision on sentimental grounds,” Jacobs said. 

The final vote will take place on Sunday, March 2. Later that month, the church has planned an event called Night of Remembering. Jacobs said the planning team envisions it “as a time of storytelling and remembering all the good things about our 168 years in the Christian Reformed Church.”

Books
Review

The Meaning of Womanhood, in Whole and in Parts

How a “history of the female body” speaks to similarities and differences between the sexes.

A woman statue broken up into different parts of her body
Christianity Today February 13, 2025
Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: WikiMedia Commons

My friends and I talk about our bodies all the time. We ask for advice; we ask for healing prayer. Some of our ailments are more general: ear infections, stomach bugs, clogged sinuses, tight shoulders. But many are particular to our womanhood. Periods can be painful. Sex can be painful. There is pain while breastfeeding; there is relief when the tears caused by childbirth heal.

These conversations are intimate. But women’s experiences of their wombs and breasts are anything but private, argues the new book Immaculate Forms, a “history of the female body in four parts” by historian and classicist Helen King. Public understandings of the breasts, clitoris, hymen, and womb have shaped how women are perceived and how women perceive ourselves. 

King, an elected lay member of the General Synod of the Church of England, writes out of an interest in “how medicine and religion [have] worked together as gatekeepers over bodies.” The result of that interest is a sprawling compendium of quotations from gynecological handbooks, anatomical ephemera, and legends. Immaculate Forms is much too long and too uneven in its analysis of these texts, but it engagingly advances a couple of interrelated theses. 

The first, and strongest, is that beliefs about bodies have “real-life implications for the people whose bodies they claimed to describe.” Now-discarded theories about blood flow, body heat, and a “wandering womb” have determined how women’s illnesses were diagnosed and treated through the centuries, with prescriptions of cold baths, scent therapy, and even “leeches applied to the labia.”

Medical hypotheses also shape social realities. Does the clitoris play a role in procreation, or is it solely for pleasure? Our answers influence norms around the “importance” of female sexual experience and the role a woman is imagined to play in conceiving her children. How necessary is a torn hymen in defining virginity? Answer “very” to that question and you’ll get bridegrooms displaying bloody sheets as proof. Are breasts for admiration or for nourishment? There’s a bigger question beneath that one: How can women be both lovers and mothers?

These debates run through the historical material King dusts off and details; she’s as able a guide to Hippocrates and Aristotle as she is to novels, myths, and manuals. If anything, Immaculate Forms suffers from overanalysis, an overflow of dates and names. But that’s not necessarily a problem for a reader in need of context, unfamiliar with the four-humors theory or ancient surgical practices.  

When King turns to Christianity, though, her analysis isn’t too deep; it’s too shallow. That’s unfortunate, since many of the materials she cites—particularly regarding Eve and the Virgin Mary—are as fascinating as they are bizarre and occasionally upsetting. King includes stories of saints drinking Mary’s breast milk, early-church theologians and poets musing over the mechanics of a virgin birth, and theories about Eve’s egg count. She discusses post-Fall pain in childbirth and troubling accounts of clitoridectomies.

Too often, the conclusions King draws—from these texts and from the Scriptures she quotes—are oversimplified at best, glib at worst. Take, for example, her assertion that “Christianity praised breastfeeding,” rooted in a single 17th-century child-raising pamphlet and the prevalence of artwork depicting Mary feeding her infant. Or her comment that “the Judeo-Christian story of Eve make[s] clear that women are an afterthought to Creation,” judging from the order of events in Genesis. King is clumsy and inconsistent on complicated theology about the interplay between body and soul, Christ’s divinity and humanity. She includes asides—like the way “Christianity … queers its own imagery by thinking of Jesus as having breasts” and “the idea that Jesus had a hymen”—that feel like unnecessary provocations rather than helpful lines of inquiry. 

King’s quips aren’t always incorrect, per se. But they’re less convincing when they seem to flow from an underlying animosity. Christianity, she asserts, has a “long history of seeing women as physically inferior.” While the religion has “had to manage the centrality of a womb in its foundation story, Christian writers still found ways to use this to denigrate women,” she laments. “In the 1990s, conservative Christian groups in the United States created ‘purity culture,’” she explains, “which expected everyone to abstain from sexual activity before marriage.” (The phrasing of this sentence implies King’s scorn not just of that culture, but of chastity itself.) “Despite the revolutionary tenor of the words of the Magnificat attributed to her,” she observes, “Mary can come across as a surprisingly empty character. The focus is on her submission to God.” Here, submission implies repression.

In her introduction to Immaculate Forms, King acknowledges that “women’s bodies and blood were never out of reach of the Jesus of the Bible” and that Christianity’s basis “in a man born of a woman means that it has always had at least the potential to see bodies in a positive way.” But by the conclusion, she is reiterating that men are “the human default” for Christianity, that “Christianity has never lived up to what it promised in terms of a positive view of human bodies in general, nor the body of the believer in particular,” and that Christian ideas about women’s bodies “have always been tied up with patriarchy.” 

These lines comprise a second thesis: Christianity has never benefitted women or their bodies. It’s a thesis that takes the significant pain women have experienced at the hands of the church as an inevitability, not the painful result of sin. At the same time, it’s a thesis that disregards how the church has dignified us as women, valuing us not for our bodies’ ability to produce heirs but for our participation in the body of Christ. “There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus,” writes Paul in Galatians 3:28. This is a radical declaration of equality, not patriarchy.

The Galatians verse was top of mind as I parsed King’s third thesis—the most interesting and relevant to our contemporary debates about gender and sexuality. “Understanding of these four parts [breasts, clitoris, hymen, and womb] has changed over time—positing at some times that women are basically the same as men, at others that they are entirely different,” she writes. “Neither a blanket insistence on difference nor an enthusiastic embrace of similarity is helpful for women.” 

I think that’s exactly right. When women are classified as a strange human subtype, ruled by voracious wombs and swollen clitorises, spurting milk and falling into fits, then they’re “other,” treated with suspicion and even disgust. But when they’re proclaimed no different from men, they’re also done a disservice: Medicines are measured incorrectly. The symptoms of heart attacks aren’t noticed. 

Despite her book’s framing as “a history of the female body,” King questions whether “any of my four parts [are] necessary for someone to be a woman.” I take her point. Women have mastectomies; women have hysterectomies. Those women are still women. Identifying gender has never been as easy as running down a checklist of body parts. A small percentage of people are born intersex. Hormone levels vary from woman to woman and man to man. Some people experience the pain of gender dysphoria. 

And yet Immaculate Forms reads less as an argument for sex and gender’s irrelevance or inscrutability than an argument for their importance. Though King insists that “sex and gender identity have never really been clear from the body,” she’s presented an entire book about sexed body parts—womb, breasts, hymen, clitoris—that shape gendered experience.

King encourages readers to think of sex and gender “as a spectrum,” evidenced by the fact that “men have breast tissue, which can sometimes produce milk.” She also suggests that “the clitoris can be seen as a female penis” and that “Christian legends, too, included male pregnancy.” (To support this latter claim, she cites a single medieval poem about Saint Anne’s origins and speculates about Adam “as a pregnant man” because “his body opened to produce a new person.”) But her book is first and foremost a book about women, as people not limited, diminished, or “worse than” because of their bodies but irrevocably shaped by them nevertheless. Note the group chats between me and my friends.

Just as Scripture does not endorse breastfeeding over infant formula, it does not set objective standards for hormone levels or weigh in on delivery-room decisions about determining the gender of intersex babies. What it does “endorse” is that physical bodies matter. Male and female, God created us. And both difference and equality have their place for a people who are one in Christ.

Kate Lucky is senior editor of culture and engagement at Christianity Today.

News

Ukrainian Christians Plead with Trump Administration 

“We are looking not just to end the war, but we need a just peace.”

A Ukrainian man surveys the ruins of a Baptist church destroyed in the Russian invasion.

A Ukrainian man surveys the ruins of a Baptist church in Kostyantynivka. More than 600 religious buildings have been damaged since the Russian invasion.

Christianity Today February 12, 2025
Madeleine Kelly/SOPA Images/LightRocket via Getty Images

Ukraine sent its largest-ever delegation to Washington, DC, last week to rally support for more military defense and plead with Donald Trump not to pull the plug and make a deal that favors Russia. Pastors and religious leaders in the delegation fear that time is running out. 

“We know that President Trump is working on the new negotiations to help bring this war to an end,” said Igor Bandura, vice president of the Baptist Union of Ukraine. “We are here to pray, to advocate, to share our experience, and to remind the American people and American politicians that we are looking not just to end the war, but we need a just peace.”

American conservative and evangelical support for Ukraine has waned as the war has gone on and the Republican Party under Trump has grown increasingly skeptical of international alliances. Past efforts to shore up support for Ukraine among Republicans have yielded results, though, so the delegation remained hopeful, despite deep concerns.

The delegation included nearly 200 Ukrainian pastors, priests, politicians, and wounded soldiers. They traveled by train and car across Ukraine’s border with Poland last week to catch international flights, since airports in Ukraine have been shut down for three years. Hundreds more Ukrainians who live in the US crossed the country to join the delegation at events in Washington throughout the week.

Some of them attended the International Religious Freedom (IRF) summit and listened to Vice President JD Vance, who has adamantly opposed continued military aid. He didn’t directly speak to the looming US-led negotiations or explain why anyone should believe Trump’s claims he can swiftly end the war. 

But Vance did address the issue of religious liberty, which Ukrainian Christians think should be a critical factor for Americans questioning their support for Ukraine. 

“Part of our protecting religious-freedom initiatives means recognizing, in our foreign policy, the difference between regimes that respect religious freedom and those that do not,” the vice president told the crowd. “The United States must be able to make that distinction.”

The authors of Mission Eurasia’s latest report on Christian persecution strongly agree. They hope their presentations throughout the week convinced American leaders there is a clear distinction between Ukraine and Russia on this point. 

According to their report, which they shared with the US State Department and people attending the IRF summit, at least 47 religious leaders have been killed as a result of Russia’s invasion. More than 600 churches and religious buildings have been damaged. Russia expels pastors from the territory it controls and shuts down churches that aren’t Russian Orthodox.  

“Russians call us American agents, American spies, because we have a lot of Christian believers, brothers and sisters, here in the American Bible Belt,” said Pavlo Unguryan, a Ukrainian Baptist leader and a member of the delegation who has met with House Speaker Mike Johnson several times.

The fate of the war will matter a lot for religious liberty, according to delegation members. If America wants to stand against religious persecution, according to Baptist World Alliance leader Elijah Brown, it needs to stand with Ukraine. 

The future freedom of Ukraine may also determine whether people in Europe get to hear about Jesus. The country has more than 2,000 Baptist churches, Brown said, that would be threatened or at least limited by a Russian victory. 

“Prior to the war, they were the fastest-growing Baptist communities in all of Europe,” Brown told Christianity Today. “They’re at the heartbeat of gospel witness across Europe.” 

Delegation members also spoke of the horrors of the war and the tragic personal costs. Some, like Yaroslav Bazylevych, barely escaped death.

Five months ago, he said in a documentary shown in Washington, a Russian missile hit his home in L’viv, a city in Western Ukraine that was more than 500 miles away from the frontlines. Bazylevych’s wife and three daughters, ages 7, 18, and 21, ducked into a stairwell for safety.

But the stairway collapsed in the strike, and Bazylevych lost his entire family. They are 4 of the more than 12,000 civilians who have died in Russian attacks in the three years since the full-scale war began. 

“I would like Ukraine to receive a lot of help from Americans in order to overcome the Russian aggression,” Bazylevych said.

Members of the delegation told CT they were not opposed to a peace plan. In fact, some hope Trump will be successful at negotiating a deal to end the fighting. But they want a good deal and a good plan.

“For us, refugees from the Russian-occupied territories, a good plan is a fair plan,” said Mykhailo Brytsyn, a pastor who was expelled from his city by Russian troops. “ A fair plan is when Russia withdraws its troops from all occupied territories of Ukraine.”

Former Ukrainian president Petro Poroshenko, who plans to run for president again when the war is over, told CT he wants Trump to be decisive and believes he can make a real difference if he negotiates well. 

Poroshenko said he wanted to tell Trump that “we really count on you and we really trust you. … Your slogan, ‘peace through strength,’ is exactly what Ukraine now needs, and exactly what Russia now needs, and is exactly what the free and democratic world needs.” 

But the American president has not seemed especially interested in Ukrainian strength. Nor has he appeared to be moved by stories of religious persecution and oppression. Last week he commented that Ukraine could be surrendered to Russia but that the US might continue offering military support if there were some kind of financial arrangement. 

In an interview on Fox News, Trump said he wants “the equivalent of like $500 billion worth of rare earth.” Ukrainian president Volodymyr Zelensky seems willing to accept that. 

Ukrainian Christians, meanwhile, are praying, talking to leaders in Washington, and reminding themselves to trust God.

“As believers in Christ, we understand God controls history. He controls kings. He controls everything,” Baptist leader Pavlo Unguryan said. “So we are praying, we’re fighting, and we pray for wisdom for the new president and the new administration.”

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