Books
Review

Churches Shouldn’t Outsource Apologetics to Slick Conferences

When it comes to defending the faith, local congregations have long been the first line of defense.

Illustration by Alex Nabaum

I sat in a corner of the library with a stack of books, desperately wanting to find some shred of evidence to support my faith.

The Pastor as Apologist: Restoring Apologetics to the Local Church

The Pastor as Apologist: Restoring Apologetics to the Local Church

160 pages

$13.73

It was my first semester of college, and I was drowning in doubt. A few weeks earlier, I had been shocked to discover in a New Testament class that there were thousands of copyist errors in the biblical manuscripts. A psychology class had introduced me to Sigmund Freud’s claim that faith was a neurotic illusion. One of my textbooks listed a dozen parallels between pagan religions and Christianity. While searching for answers to these challenges, I ran across books by Carl Sagan and Bertrand Russell that multiplied my doubts.

Everything I read seemed to chip away at assumptions and beliefs I’d held since childhood.

When I mentioned my questions at my church, people seemed to be worried about the weakness of my faith. Yet no one was able to point me in the direction of any substantive answers. Despite my best efforts, my search for evidence quickly became a solo quest.

Somewhere along the way, I ran across the word apologetics for the first time. Discovering an entire genre of books that provided evidence for the Christian faith reset the direction of my life.

Apologetics texts by Josh McDowell, C. S. Lewis, Francis Schaeffer, and others showed me that my questions were far from new. To my surprise, the doubts that seemed so insurmountable when I first encountered them had been addressed many times before. This realization renewed my faith and made me determined to share this newfound evidence with as many people as possible.

Three decades later, I’m still grateful for the ways God worked in my life during my first lonely foray into apologetics. Yet even then, I wished my local church could have helped me more. After all, the apostle Peter’s command to “be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks” (1 Pet. 3:15) wasn’t given primarily to authors or conference speakers. This commission was addressed to local assemblies of believers, with elders, ordinances, complicated relationships, and everything else that makes the church so messy and complex and yet so beautiful (1 Pet. 3:21; 4:8–9; 5:1–5).

Today, attacks on the Christian faith are far easier to access than they were during my first year of college, but so are defenses. With such an abundance of apologetics resources now accessible in print and online, churches seem to be increasingly open to integrating defenses of the faith into ordinary practices of discipleship. At the same time, church members have become less and less inclined to flock to the sorts of conferences, headlined by superstar speakers, that dominated apologetics in the opening decades of the 21st century.

If Christians do begin to see their local churches as contexts for apologetics, this development will not be something new. It will be a retrieval of practices that are very old.

Ancient apologists such as Justin Martyr, Aristides of Athens, and Athenagoras presented the life of the church as primary evidence for the truth of the faith. Irenaeus, Augustine of Hippo, John Calvin, and many others pursued apologetics not as scholarly specialists but as pastors who were responsible for the spiritual well-being of ordinary Christians in local churches.

Resources like The Pastor as Apologist: Restoring Apologetics to the Local Church, a new book from pastors Dayton Hartman and Michael McEwen, give me hope that this venerable approach to apologetics might be making a comeback.

Hartman is lead pastor at Redeemer Church in Rocky Mount, North Carolina. He’s authored several books, including Church History for Modern Ministry: Why Our Past Matters for Everything We Do. McEwen serves as the pastor of Hickory Grove Baptist Church in rural Tennessee. Their goal for this little primer is to “reclaim the historic role and biblical mandate for the local church pastor as an apologist.” The authors’ love for the local church is evident on every page.

By presenting the pastor as an apologist, Hartman and McEwen are seeking to recover “an ecclesial approach” that intertwines the whole life of the local church with apologetic engagement. From the perspective of the authors, “parachurch ministries are wonderful tools that can and should exist in order to support initiatives of the local church, but they must never take the place of the local church or its scriptural mandates for engaging the world.”

Hartman and McEwen begin their defense with an appeal to Scripture. In the New Testament, they write, apologetics isn’t merely “a defense with our words, but also a defense with our whole selves.” Sometimes, as in 1 Peter 3:13–16, this defense requires Christians to correct misrepresentations of the faith. In other instances, it calls us to correct false teachings within the church, as in Jude 1:3. In both cases, apologetics is one of the pastor’s primary responsibilities. No wonder, then, that when the apostle Paul listed the qualifications of a pastoral leader, he included a capacity to defend sound teaching (Titus 1:9).

After laying this biblical foundation in the opening chapter, Hartman and McEwen offer a quick historical survey that highlights how Christian apologists throughout history have refused to separate their defenses of the faith from the life of the local church. As they observe, generations of ancient and medieval apologists recognized that “one of the best ways to engage and navigate hostile cultural environments is to ground apologetic engagement under the oversight and auspices of the local church.” Calvin’s Institutes of the Christian Religion, for example, is rightly recognized as a work in which Calvin developed a sustained argument that the Reformed faith was the historic faith of the church.

The book includes a useful chapter on apologetic preaching, especially as it emphasizes the resurrection of Jesus and the reliability of Scripture. The recommendations for using transcendental and cosmological arguments in preaching are somewhat less helpful than the sections on Scripture and the Resurrection. The cosmological argument, as the authors present it, defends God’s existence by pointing to the logical impossibility of an infinite regression of events that excludes an initial cause. The transcendental argument contends that the laws of logic must originate in a source that transcends the cosmos.

These arguments are cogent. And perhaps there are a few churches where a sermon that highlights the objective transcendence of logic would reassure members of God’s goodness in response to the problem of evil. I suspect, however, that there are far more churches where such arguments would leave listeners bewildered. I’m certain that when the authors themselves preach, they do bring their arguments down to the level of their congregations, but a few simpler examples of how to do this might have been helpful.

The closing chapter of The Pastor as Apologist provides pastors with a series of practical ideas for their churches. The authors point out that the most effective movements toward apologetics won’t occur because of large-scale conferences. Instead, churches will develop lasting apologetics cultures when leaders consistently “drip” defenses of the faith into a variety of contexts. These contexts include not only preaching but also member training, small-group discussions, and occasional events that provide opportunities for non-Christians to have their questions answered.

For all its virtues, The Pastor as Apologist is curiously brief and somewhat uneven. There are only four chapters. Taken together, they barely surpass 100 pages.

In my view, the authors’ defense of presuppositionalist apologetics is unneeded in such a short work. This method pushes back against philosophical categories that treat truth as a neutral category. As the authors argue, presuppositionalism regards “truth itself as distinctly Christian,” with all forms of thought reflecting “a duel between Christian and non-Christian philosophies of life.” Although discussions of differing apologetics approaches have their place, appealing to one in particular seems out of place in a basic primer. As a whole, however, the book is perfectly compatible with a range of apologetics methods.

Two appendices provide readers with a list of recommended resources as well as an example of how a church’s liturgy might function apologetically. The one titled “Liturgical Apologetics” is perhaps the most creative and useful portion of the entire book. There, the authors provide a step-by-step plan for developing an Easter service that engages non-Christians with a clear and winsome defense of the most central claims of the Christian faith. Reading this appendix, I found myself wishing that it might have been developed into one or two more chapters, with suggestions for other worship services throughout the year.

Despite its minor weaknesses, The Pastor as Apologist is a welcome work at a moment when apologetics training seems to be shifting from public debates and conference stages to local churches. Hartman and McEwen are correct to say that “for far too long churches have relied on professional apologists, slick websites, branded videos, and snarky memes to do the heavy lifting of engaging our world with a reasoned defense of the gospel.”

Decades ago, I wrestled with my faith in a tiny congregation with godly members who loved Jesus but who weren’t equipped to aim a struggling college student in the direction of any reputable evidence. I pray that future pastors and churches take the message of this book to heart. If they do, maybe future students like me will not find themselves on a solo quest for evidence. Perhaps they will discover their answers in the context of the church, this glorious and beloved bride for whom Jesus gave his life.

Timothy Paul Jones is chair of the department of apologetics, ethics, and philosophy at Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, as well as a preaching pastor at Sojourn Church Midtown in Louisville, Kentucky. He is the coauthor, with Jamaal Williams, of In Church as It Is in Heaven: Cultivating Multiethnic Kingdom Culture.

Books

She Wrote Love Stories. Then Her Marriage Ended.

How a romance author journeyed with God through an unwanted divorce.

Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Unsplash

Betsy St. Amant Haddox has built a career writing romance novels. But as a young mother, her own story took an unwanted turn when her husband packed his bags and left. She prayed for reconciliation, believing God would heal her marriage, but to no avail. In Once Upon a Divorce: Walking with God After “The End,” St. Amant Haddox candidly shares her personal journey. Writer Ericka Andersen, author of Reason to Return: Why Women Need the Church and the Church Needs Women, spoke with St. Amant Haddox about persevering through an unwanted divorce.

Once Upon a Divorce: Walking with God After "The End"

Once Upon a Divorce: Walking with God After "The End"

200 pages

$12.82

At the moment you knew your husband was actually leaving, what was going on within your head and your heart?

In one sense, I knew it was coming. I had been living on eggshells for a year, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But I was still caught off guard, because in the back of my mind I still wondered if it would actually happen.

After he told me, he immediately started packing a bag. Then I just hit the floor of my kitchen. I was hunched over, crying, and hardly able to breathe. But in that moment, God’s presence was there in a surprisingly tangible way. It felt as though I wasn’t taking in any oxygen, but God was literally sustaining me.

In the immediate aftermath of the separation, how did you and your husband differ in your thoughts about the future of the marriage?

Once he was out the door, I think he was done. But I was ready to fight—for him, for our marriage. So I gathered prayer meetings with fellow believers and friends who knew and loved him. At the same time, I held back from communicating directly, not wanting to argue or push him away.

Meanwhile, I was just begging God to tell me something. There were days I felt sure the marriage would be restored—and days when I wasn’t sure at all. Looking back, I think God led me through that time of questioning, listening, and surrendering to grow my faith and trust. Sometimes we don’t get those answers. And sometimes we mistake God’s voice for the voices of our own desperate hearts.

How would you assess your spiritual life during this period of waiting?

Because I had grown up in a Christian household, I was very familiar with everything you’re supposed to do, spiritually, when you’re going through a hard season in life. But I’m someone who likes answers and explanations. I almost feel like I can deal with any hard situation if I at least have information. But in this season, I had none of that.

Deep down, I was trying to reconcile God’s sovereignty with man’s sin, which is kind of a timeless theological question. If things really go the way God intends, as Scripture says, then how could he fail to put my marriage back together? Because it’s obvious, from Scripture, that divorce isn’t his plan for his children. I wasn’t angry, just genuinely confused.

At some point, the Lord released me from the burden of fighting for the marriage. I had to learn to surrender, to realize that just because God is sovereign doesn’t mean we’ll always grasp how he uses adverse circumstances in our lives to bring him glory.

In research for my own book, I found that divorcées and single moms are leaving the church at higher rates than other categories of women, in part because they don’t feel like they belong. How does that track with your personal experience?

From my perspective, getting divorced and then staying in your church is quite different from coming into a new congregation as a divorced person. I see the latter situation a lot, and in those cases I’ve seen the church try to provide love, help, and encouragement.

But when someone is established in a church and then goes through a divorce, it’s more common for the church not to know what to do. People get nervous, and they default toward a hands-off approach.

In my situation, the church didn’t really know what to do with me. The people there meant well, and I don’t have any hard feelings. But I do recall one staff member’s wife who asked me why I was fighting for a marriage with someone who didn’t want to be married anymore. At the time, I was in hardcore fight-for-my-marriage mode. And even though I didn’t know exactly what I needed, I knew it wasn’t an invitation to quit fighting. I didn’t have deep roots at this church, which made it easier to move elsewhere with a clean slate. I wasn’t trying to hide the situation, but I wanted to attend a church where at least some people weren’t aware of it.

How can churches better minister to people in your situation?

I don’t think there’s a one-size-fits-all answer. It depends on so many factors, like the individual needs of the person going through divorce. If you’re a single mom, for instance, then it really helps to be seen almost as a widow, because this takes away the stigma of having it assumed that you’re living in sin if you’ve chosen divorce.

It’s always hard, after all, to know someone’s full story. If you look at my court papers, for instance, you’ll see that I filed first. But I had to because I had been abandoned. You could look at those papers and conclude that I had initiated the divorce. But I was only trying to keep from going flat broke. So sometimes the first step is not worrying about who did, said, or initiated what.

And then, just show the love of Christ and ask what people need. Sometimes that need might be financial. Sometimes it involves practical things like babysitting or mowing the lawn. Those are the sorts of things I badly needed during my own experience with divorce, but never in a million years would I have thought to ask.

How would you describe your experience of getting remarried?

When you’re divorced, it’s tempting to believe that everything will be okay if you can only get married again. Logically, of course, you know that’s not true, because every marriage is a difficult matter involving two sinners.

One thing I wanted to emphasize in the book is not letting remarriage become your main goal. You can be completely fulfilled without it. It took me a while to get to that point. When my now-husband and I had planned our first coffee date, we both almost canceled. We were so tired of the try-and-fail relationships.

Over six years later, I’m grateful we’re still married. But remarriage is hard. Between you, there can be lots of baggage, trauma, and insecurity. But it’s definitely redemptive. I felt like our wedding ceremony was the most holy, anointed experience of my life. It confirmed God’s goodness and his redemptive work.

Overall, what is your message to women who find themselves in a situation similar to yours?

I want to tell them two things: First, you are not walking through this alone, even if you don’t have that friend or church community you wish you did. God still sees you, and he won’t turn his face because of the divorce label.

And second, going back to my “romance writer who got divorced” perspective: Know that this is just one chapter. It feels long and horrible, but it isn’t the whole story. Divorce doesn’t have to get the final say. Within the circle of loving family and friends—and especially within your walk with the Lord—you can enjoy a happily ever after.

Novel Reactions to a Focus on Fiction

And other replies to the January/February issue.

Abigail Erickson

It’s long been clear that CT readers are also book readers, and we see this especially around our January/February Book Awards issue. This year, we saw a particular outpouring of appreciation for fiction and our explorations of it in Ann Byle’s report “Christian Fiction (Finally) Has Issues” and Sara Kyoungah White’s article “Reading for the Love of the World.”

Many people wrote in to share their long love of Christian fiction and their edification from what Byle calls “a noticeable shift in Christian fiction away from safe sentimentality and toward messier characters and story lines.” Michelle McNeil of Nashville said, “I have been reading Christian fiction for 30-plus years and read or listen to about 100 novels a year. I’m so relieved to see the addition of harder topics, less Sunday school–style answers, and flawed characters.”

Some are still looking for improvement, though. “The best works of fiction being written by Christians are not being published by Christian publishers,” wrote @amy_mantravadi on Instagram. One of the subjects of Byle’s story (and a CT Book Awards judge), Sarah Arthur, replied to her: “I’m so glad that both trade publishers and Christian houses nominate titles for the CT Book Awards! Makes my job as a judge absolutely fascinating.”

Responders also resonated with White’s encouragement to be literary “pilgrims and sojourners in a culture where Christian stories are slowly fading or already forgotten.” Adding contemporary secular literature into one’s reading should be “done carefully and with discernment,” one Instagram user said, but “you do come to find that it is all connected,” added another. One subscriber who emailed a response also recommended processing such books in a discussion group.

Instagram users responding to our posts about these two articles also left plenty of book recommendations. So if you’re looking for more reading suggestions, head over to @ct_mag on the app and join the conversation!

Alexandra Mellen
Conversations editor

Christian Fiction (Finally) Has Issues

Many of us follow people on Instagram because they give closed-door guidelines—chapters to avoid if you don’t want explicit language/scenes. I love to read but have stayed away from Christian books. I want real-world stories!

@kalikalimann (Instagram)

Thanks for pointing out the upswing in clean mainstream fiction. Many of us have gone in that direction to reach a broader audience.

@heatherdaygilbert (Instagram)

Reading for the Love of the World

While I read widely, especially old classics, I rarely read contemporary secular literature, especially fiction, because I don’t trust authors with my time and mental energy. Sara’s article helped change my mind.

Jonathan Threlfall Concord, NH

This is also why it’s important to look at movies coming out of “non-Christian” society. The stories told reveal so much about our own perceptions of the world, fears, and desires. Recognizing patterns of hunger in non-Christian culture can help us understand where they’re at (they aren’t so different from us), have empathy, and respond in love with the fullness and truth of Christ.

@joni.elizabeth (Instagram)

Theology Is Not a Waste

We just watched the Super Bowl. Those players spend years preparing their bodies and minds for a four-hour game. We’re in a spiritual battle for the eternal lives of those around us. How can we not prepare?

Improv Missionaries (Facebook)

It would be bizarre if I thought that I could love my wife better by not knowing much about her. (I’d end up being in love with my own imaginary version of her rather than the real woman.) Same with God.

Michael A. Covington (Facebook)

American Christianity Is a Flourishing Forest

A confusion here between the core elements of historical, orthodox, biblical faith and the expressions of that in different contexts. You can’t have someone say, “Jesus is Son of God” and another say, “Jesus was merely a human” and then claim to have the same faith.

@Bobafrith1 (X)

The 2016 Election Sent Me Searching for Answers

Thank you for sharing Carrie Sheffield’s testimony. It was so uplifting and encouraging to read about our current political divisiveness playing a positive role in someone’s journey. I continue to pray and hope for more of this.

Kathy Erb Gaithersburg, MD

From the Archives

Christianity Today's books issue from February 26, 1971.
Christianity Today‘s books issue from February 26, 1971.

A yearly review of the Christian publishing market is an old CT practice, far predating the current Book Awards concept. In the magazine’s third calendar year, the February 17, 1958, issue included surveys of books about the Old and New Testaments and an overview of “Significant Theological Works” and the “Upturn in Evangelical Publishing.”

The practice expanded from there. A few years in the ’60s had spring and fall book lists (along with every issue’s regular reviews section). Editors starting in 1973 added deeper comments on “Significant Books” of the year.

In 1978, editor Donald Tinder wrote, “We intend the list to reflect the diversity of views, branches, and concerns within the evangelical movement, broadly defined. … The purpose of this list is to call attention to books that are rarely bestsellers but with which the reading Christian should be familiar.”

The first CT Book Awards appeared in April of 1990. It included both Critics’-choice and Readers’-choice Awards, with subscribers voting from a shortlist of the year’s best. Current senior books editor Matt Reynolds took the reins in 2011, and in 2014 he introduced the first Book of the Year (God’s Forever Family by Larry Eskridge).

These book lists and commentaries on the Christian publishing industry are still available to all our subscribers in our archives. And check out the archive of our Books & Culture magazine, which ran from 1995 to 2016.

Alexandra Mellen
Conversations editor

A photo of Rahil Patel sitting on a crate
Testimony

I Wanted a Bigger God Than My Hindu Guru Offered

As my doubts about his teachings grew, so did a secret fascination with Jesus.

Betty Zapata

I was born in Nairobi, Kenya. Shortly after, my family moved to England and settled in a leafy suburb near London.

My elder brother and I went to a good school. In Indian families like ours, education was a status symbol and an avenue toward long-term success. Although the school wasn’t Christian, we sang hymns every morning, prayed before lunch, and prayed again before leaving for home. Every Christmas I took part in the school’s Nativity play.

In the 1970s, Indian families who settled in the UK from East Africa had left a lot and lost a lot. But they didn’t want to lose their language and religion. To maintain their cultural identity, many families gathered at their local Hindu temple every weekend. I would meet almost everyone in the community over food, prayer, and worship.

At home, we had a whole room dedicated to the Hindu deities we believed in. Every morning, I went downstairs to pray there. Every evening, my family spent 30 minutes in front of the house shrine before dinner.

In my teens, my life changed radically. My parents were struggling to accept their way of life in the UK. There were constant arguments about status and wealth. These fights kept me in anxiety and fear.

I found solace and belonging in the temple, where I made friends and partook in activities like speechmaking, drama, and dance or simply cleaning, serving, and worshiping in front of images of various deities.

Our denomination had a guru, Guruji, who claimed to personify God himself. Whatever he said and did was regarded as divine. In 1988, when I was 16, he came to the London temple and watched me give a speech on ancient Hindu scripture.

Afterward, as I went to bow at Guruji’s feet, he said, “You have a great gift of speaking.” He invited me to become a swami, or Hindu priest, and join his movement. Immediately, my heart leapt, buoyed by a sudden rush of purpose and power.

At age 19, I left home for a monastery in northwest India. It housed 200 people from around the world. The training was intense. Every morning, we awoke at 4:30 for a cold-water bath. After meditating for an hour, we attended corporate worship. Then we carried out simple chores of cleaning or making garlands for the images. Later, we had classes on Hindu scriptures and other world religions, which lasted until late at night.

Those were exciting times. However, after my first month of training, an incident shook my foundations. I was upstairs in the temple, worshiping with the other priests. The bells were ringing, and the drums were beating. Just then, I distinctly heard a question whispered in my left ear: Have you made the right decision? Are you in the right place?

This shocked me, and I struggled for the remainder of the worship time. I told myself it was “maya,” the evil force of delusion in Hinduism, trying to disrupt my destiny. Still, I began having many questions and doubts.

All around me, I saw swamis who had worshiped and studied for decades without experiencing any meaningful change in their lives. Why, I wondered, after all this fasting, reading, and meditating, were they still given to anger, jealousy, or spite? I didn’t feel like I was changing, either.

A few years later, I was ordained into the Hindu priesthood and began wearing the saffron robes of sacrifice. With my shaved head and holy appearance, I embarked on a pilgrimage to sacred Hindu sites across India. I bathed in the Ganges and other rivers invested with spiritual significance, hoping to cleanse my sins and gain a sense of renewal. But again, nothing in my inner nature changed.

In 1997, Guruji directed me to settle at the London temple and develop congregations across Europe. I launched temples in cities like Paris, Lisbon, and Antwerp, and they grew quickly. My speeches gained recognition, and Guruji was impressed with my work. Frequent travel made me feel like a high-powered corporate executive.

One time in Rome, though, I stumbled onto something so authentic that it made me question this life of fame and success. I was sitting in the Sistine Chapel underneath Michaelangelo’s painting of the Last Judgment. I was already blown away by the artistry of the church, but the depictions of Jesus were especially striking. Thus began a secret fascination with the person of Jesus. During my travels, my eyes would find the cross of Christ almost instinctively.

A very different God began to etch in my heart—a God with more beauty and depth than Guruji or the images I was worshiping. I didn’t know his name, but I knew he wasn’t the god I was preaching.

Top: Rahil Patel’s personal Bible. Bottom: Patel’s church in Oxford, England.Betty Zapata
Top: Rahil Patel’s personal Bible. Bottom: Patel’s church in Oxford, England.

By 2005, my public speeches had taken a slight theological turn. I still spoke from Hindu scriptures, but I began speaking of a “much broader god” who encompasses all of humanity. I still didn’t know who this god was. It was frustrating.

In 2006, I broadened my search for truth and satisfaction by studying several great Hindu philosophers. I dove into Yoga and breathing techniques. In desperation, I even searched Western self-help books. But my search had hit a brick wall.

Meanwhile, all this spiritual unease was taking a toll on my physical health. By 2010, I was taking up to 40 tablets every day to treat various pains and disorders. That year I entered the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville for a 10-month stay. During weekends, I traveled to temples across America and continued to preach a “bigger” god.

After my recovery, I planned a visit to India to meet Guruji. But my doubts about his divinity intensified after a very senior swami informed me that the whole doctrine had been invented to bring structure to the movement. My heart sank further as I verified this claim with other leading figures.

Upon landing in Mumbai, I learned that Guruji was upset at my change in theology. He wanted to curtail my influence by sending me to remote villages in India. For the first time, I dared to resist, and a tense debate followed. Finally, with a deep sigh, I told Guruji I wanted to leave the priesthood.

Silence froze the room. After what felt like an eternity, Guruji exclaimed, “Fine! Go! Wherever you want to go, just go!”

I didn’t know where I would go, as my parents had moved away from London. A Hindu friend took me into his hotel in the city’s South Kensington neighborhood. Disappointed and hurt, I parked the whole idea of God and began searching for a job.

Weeks later, however, I was strolling down a road, lost in thought, when suddenly I saw a beautiful church. It was Sunday morning. As I entered the main door, God’s presence fell on me like a comforting blanket. At the same moment, I heard another unmistakable whisper saying, You are home.

I went upstairs and sat in a pew. I enjoyed the worship, and the sermon strangely made sense to me. I left the church with an excitement I couldn’t articulate. On that day, my heart said yes to Jesus, and I gave him my life.

I quickly realized, however, that I needed to undergo a lot of detox, both spiritually and emotionally. One of the hardest lessons early on was learning to rest in God’s love. As a Hindu priest, I had been accustomed to thinking I could only please God through spiritual effort. The transition from religion to relationship was very uncomfortable but beautifully rewarding.

By grace alone, I have come a long way in a short while. I am thankful that Jesus healed me from shame, guilt, resentment, and anger. Most of all, I am thankful that he kept knocking on the door of my heart, patiently, until it finally swung open.

Rahil Patel is the author of Found by Love: A Hindu Priest Encounters Jesus Christ. He is a speaker and tutor at the Oxford Centre for Christian Apologetics.

News

Why Your Favorite Theologians Are All Talking about Theological Anthropology

Attention to bodies and cultural conflict has brought attention to the question of what it means to be human.

Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: WikiMedia Commons

Christians have wrestled with a lot of big, new issues related to the body in the past decade—questions about sex, gender, racism, public health measures, end-of-life care, and even artificial intelligence. A growing number of evangelical theologians say the answers lie in the field of theological anthropology, the study of what it means to be human in light of God’s revelation.

“If you asked 10 systematic theologians in the US about the three most important doctrines we’re talking about today, I would be very surprised if you didn’t get all 10 of them saying ‘theological anthropology,’” said Marc Cortez, a theology professor at Wheaton College and the author of ReSourcing Theological Anthropology. “Almost all of the liveliest conversations we’re having in society, in theology, and in the church revolve around differences about what it means to be human and how we flourish as human persons.”

While theological anthropology has “dominated theological discourse for a while,” according to Cortez, the topic has taken on new relevance as a result of cultural shifts. This sense of urgency was visible at the Evangelical Theological Society (ETS) meeting in San Antonio in November, where theological anthropology was the 75th annual gathering’s designated theme. Every seat was taken at a session on Wheaton theology professor Amy Peeler’s new book Women and the Gender of God, with more people standing and sitting knee-to-knee in rows on the floor.

Evangelical theologians are taking topics that “we tend to think of as being more sociological,” Cortez said, and showing they are, in fact, “deeply theological.”

Some say the change is long overdue.

“What I’m really encouraged by is a trend toward paying attention to our bodies and not thinking of ourselves as just brains on a stick,” said Carmen Joy Imes, a Biola University professor and the author of Being God’s Image.

Imes points to the “critical mass” of women in evangelical institutions—including the installment of the first female president of ETS—as one reason for this shift.

“The brain-on-a-stick thing never really worked well for women,” she said. “We have too many bodily reminders of our humanity.”

Some were initially skeptical of “body theology,” since the progressive theologians who first began promoting it decades ago “were taking it in a much more relativistic way—in terms of how the body is fluid and dynamic,” according to Joshua Farris, author of An Introduction to Theological Anthropology and a fellow at the University of Bochum, Germany. “When you reject essentialism [the idea that human nature is fixed or stable with a shared set of core characteristics], I think you open up the door to all sorts of potential ramifications, in terms of how we use our bodies.”

Since evangelical academics began exploring the topic from a biblical and orthodox perspective, it has filtered down to the local-church level. Several books on the topic, including Kelly Kapic’s You’re Only Human and David Zahl’s Low Anthropology, brought theological anthropology to a popular audience. Moral questions are prompting a greater need for resources, and theologians say changes in technology will likely increase the demand for good evangelical work on these issues.

“We need robust theology as a source of knowledge to inform how we understand what it means to be human and how we interact with the rest of the world,” Farris said. “Theologians have something really important to say that philosophers and scientists do not.”

Another reason for the increased interest is that evangelical theology today is more engaged with science. The field has become more interdisciplinary, as theologians interact with contemporary developments in psychology, biology, and neuroscience. Some scholars in theological anthropology are seeking to develop a more robust doctrine of Creation and go around what S. Joshua Swamidass, author of The Genealogical Adam and Eve, calls the “impasse” over issues like the age of the Earth, evolution, and the existence of Adam and Eve.

The theological field is also prompted by the careful consideration of large, secular intellectual trends like the decentering of humanity.

“We’re moving away from an anthropocentric worldview, which is a long overdue corrective,” said Christa McKirland, a theologian at Carey Baptist College. “History shows that humans do not do well when they are in a position to dominate other creatures and creation.”

And yet, she said, “you might call me a ‘speciesist,’ because I think it’s critical not to lose the distinct importance placed on the human race.”

For McKirland, that emphasis is necessary if we accept the biblical idea that humans are created in the image of God and that God became human in the person of Jesus Christ.

She argues that if our understanding of humanness starts with those revelations, then we can “ground human flourishing in something deeper than specific debates about the human person.”

The biblical conception of the human being, evangelical theologians argue, counters secular notions about what we are and what we are for.

Establishing a baseline value and purpose for human life is “one of the goods theological anthropology has to offer the world,” said Daniel Hill, a Baylor University theologian. “The Christian doctrine of Creation pushes back on ‘me as just an acting thing’—that I receive myself in a certain sense before I become it. … And so, my value then isn’t in what I’m doing; it’s actually in this relationship of reception that I have with God.”

While theological anthropology is useful for answering ethical questions, scholars find it also raises other interesting and often complicated questions.

For example, if we Christians affirm that our bodies, with all their particulars, have been given to us by God, then we might reasonably ask which aspects of personhood will persist beyond death and into the new creation. Will our resurrected bodies possess the same traits they do in life—such as our race, gender, sexual orientation, or disabilities?

Some of the most contentious conversations in the field, in fact, revolve around human differences in a fallen world. There are “things we place in the diversity bucket,” said Cortez, and other things that belong in “the brokenness bucket.” It’s not always obvious which is which, though, and scholars debate the standards for discerning what aspects of human difference represent “legitimately different ways of being human in the world” and which are “manifestations of various kinds of brokenness” that Christians should try to alleviate.

These discussions exist “at the juncture of theological anthropology and moral theology,” said Fellipe do Vale, a theology professor at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School. They transcend the basic question of “What does it mean to be human?” and move into “What does it mean to be a good human?” he added.

Yet interest in these more “contingent aspects of being human”—such as race, gender, and disability—is a relatively recent development in evangelical theology.

“For a long time, especially in church history, people wouldn’t talk about them,” do Vale said. “I think these ‘dark-side’ issues only really get dedicated attention when they intrude upon our lives.”

Scholars hope their work will equip local churches and Christian leaders to respond theologically to some of the most pressing problems plaguing the public square today.

“I have never heard a sermon on sexual assault—and it’s in the Bible,” do Vale said. “Where’s the theological guidance for stuff like that that’s gonna impact, statistically speaking, a good chunk of your congregation?”

These and other issues will continue to be discussed by evangelical theologians at annual meetings—as well as in books and papers, seminars and lecture halls. And wherever these scholars gather, greater attention will be paid to the bodies that brought them there.

“We’re embodied, our bodies matter—our bodies are coming with us into the new creation,” Imes said. “That has implications for what we do with our bodies now and how we think about our bodies now.”

Stefani McDade is theology editor at Christianity Today.

Ideas

Passover’s Promises for My Children

When I married into a Jewish family, antisemitism hit home. Now, the holy day reminds me of our future hope.

Illustration by Monica Garwood

On October 7, 2023, my mother-in-law called.

“Have you seen the news?” she asked urgently. “Terrorists have attacked Israel. Where are the kids? Are they at home with you? Can you keep them home from school this week?”

She knows antisemitism all too well. Her husband is a Jew who traces his lineage back to the tribe of Levi. His ancestors immigrated to America from Poland and Russia in the early 1900s. They maintained their heritage and ancient faith through centuries of opposition, faithfully attending synagogue, reading from the Torah, and celebrating holidays such as Passover. They broke bread and drank wine in remembrance of when God rescued their people out of slavery in Egypt.

Today, my father-in-law is a Christian. As we break the matzoh, we remember Jesus, whose body was broken for us. As we drink the wine, we remember his blood poured out for the salvation of many. This meal, while it reminds us of our Savior who freed us from slavery to sin, is also a promise of what is to come. For the generations who have suffered, this meal is a reminder of God’s redemption. It gives us hope.

Though he rarely talks about it, my father-in-law has told us stories about his childhood growing up in Miami. His family went to synagogue every Saturday, and he and his Jewish friends attended Hebrew school five days a week. His father owned a grocery store in the 1950s and ’60s, working sunup to sundown every day except the Sabbath. He supported his family in a community where Jewish, Black, and Hispanic people were often unwelcome.

“I remember going to the beach and seeing signs on the bathroom doors that read, ‘No dogs or Jews allowed,’” my father-in-law told me. “I remember seeing swastikas spray-painted on some sites around town. At my father’s grocery store, he would sometimes receive antisemitic remarks from his customers. His grocery store was broken into over 30 times.”

Finally, his father was robbed at gunpoint and his uncle shot and killed—the motive unknown.

I used to find it surreal that such hatred has thrived in the US so recently. As a woman of English and Danish descent born in the 1980s, antisemitism seemed almost alien to me. I imagined racists as uneducated yokels, few and far between, who occasionally made themselves a nuisance on social media.

I never dreamed that Ivy League professors and Western world leaders would soon justify terrorism and rape—from Columbia University professor Joseph Massad, who described the Hamas attack as “awesome” and a “stunning victory,” to Michigan Rep. Rashida Tlaib, who was slammed by Democrat and Republican lawmakers alike for making antisemitic comments online.

“This attack on Israel will embolden them here,” said my worried mother-in-law over the phone. “The girls could become a target because of their last name.”

Though I found it hard to comprehend my mother-in-law’s warning, in the weeks and months following, I saw why she feared for them. Multiple Jewish synagogues, schools, and even private homes became targets of violence and vandalism. Protesters chanted, “From the river to the sea,” a phrase used by Hamas to promote the genocide of Jews and the eradication of Israel. Jewish people, including the elderly, were attacked in California and New York. University students have experienced antisemitism, harrassment, and assault. Vitriol online exploded.

As my heart breaks for the kidnapped and bereaved, and for the Palestinian children and civilians caught in the crossfire of this terrible war, I cannot ignore the burgeoning threat to my own family. It’s hard enough being a parent and worrying about internet safety, child predators, and playground bullies. Worrying about racism was something I’d never had to anticipate.

My daughters are all in elementary school. They’ve never been to synagogue, but we’ve taught them about Passover and Hanukkah. They love it when I prepare Jewish dinners and are fascinated by their grandfather’s Hebrew Bible. When their school hosted an international parade, they proudly waved the flag of Israel. The thought of someone harming them simply because of their heritage seems ludicrous.

But I’ve learned to never underestimate the insanity of evil. “The hearts of people, moreover, are full of evil,” writes the author of Ecclesiastes, “and there is madness in their hearts while they live, and afterward they join the dead” (9:3).

Thousands of years ago, God chose the Jews to be his people. Although it was a profound blessing and honor, they became an object of malice for other nations and ethnic groups and for the spiritual forces of evil.

“I will put enmity between you and the woman,” God warned the Serpent in Genesis 3:15, “and between your offspring and hers; he will crush your head, and you will strike his heel.” That promised offspring, that one who would vanquish Satan, is Jesus Christ, born a Jew.

For centuries since Eden, Satan has tried to thwart God’s promise through bloody wars, persecution, and genocide. He vainly hoped to annihilate Eve’s offspring, to prevent the coming of the one who would crush him. When Moses was an infant in Egypt, Pharoah ordered the murder of every Jewish baby boy. Nevertheless, the line of Christ endured.

After Jewish slaves painted their doorposts with the blood of a lamb, God passed over Egypt, judging their enslavers yet sparing his people. Later God instructed them to celebrate Passover—the day God passed over them, preserving the lineage of their coming Messiah.

When Jesus was an infant in Jerusalem, Herod again ordered all the Jewish baby boys in Bethlehem to be slaughtered in a vain attempt to kill the King of the Jews. Thanks to Joseph, Jesus survived. Our Messiah endured. Eve’s promised offspring had dodged the striking Serpent, at least for a few decades.

Thirty years later, Jesus was nailed to a cross, and Satan likely thought he had finally won. He probably imagined, in his twisted and prideful mind, that he’d defeated God. The Branch of Jesse, the promised Savior, was tortured, murdered, and buried in a tomb. But Jesus rose from the dead three days later, dealing a devastating blow to the Devil.

It was through the nation of Israel that salvation came into the world. It was Jewish hands that wrote down the bulk of the Word of God. It was to a Jewish girl that the Son of God was born. Today, the offer of salvation extends beyond Israel to the whole world.

Many will point to the political and cultural roots of this current war, and those roots do run deep. But the deepest root is a hatred birthed when God cursed the Serpent.

The dark underbelly of antisemitism, historic bloodbaths like the Holocaust, and vitriolic hatred of Jewish people border on nonsensical unless you understand them as demonic at the core. However grim the conflict may become in our world, this is first and foremost a spiritual war. Our enemies are native to the heavenly realms, and their cause is far older than the Gaza Strip (Eph. 6:12).

This world may not always welcome my children or others who are different. But the gospel reminds us to hope in what is unseen and eternal, not in what is seen and temporary (2 Cor. 4:18).

As my family gathers around the table to celebrate Passover, I think of all the Israeli families who are missing their loved ones. Never again will they drink the wine or break the bread together. Never again will they sit as a whole family around a table. Never again will they hold hands in prayer together.

But there is a promise of another Passover, the final Passover, where Christ will again break bread and drink wine with his disciples. One day, Jesus will return to pass over the whole earth. Every eye will see him, even of those who pierced him. His enemies will be judged, and his people will be freed from slavery to sin and the tyranny of death. All those with the blood of the Lamb on the doorposts of their hearts will be spared.

To us, Passover, which we now celebrate in the form of the Lord’s Supper, is more than a commemoration. When Jesus celebrated Passover with his disciples, he said, “Do this in remembrance of me” (Luke 22:19). And yes, we do remember Jesus’ body and his blood. But we also remember a promise. This is an anticipation. This is a waiting and a longing. This is a sign of the covenant that one day God will pass over the whole world, free us from oppression, and bring us into the Promised Land.

No longer will we wander in a spiritual wasteland. No longer will the enemies of God frighten, threaten, or harm us. No longer will evil seem to have the upper hand. Eve’s promised offspring, the King of the Jews and the Light of the World, will fill our universe with the splendor of his glory as we join him for the marriage supper of the Lamb.

Jennifer Greenberg is the author of Defiant Joy: Find the Hope to Light Your Way, Even in Darkness and Not Forsaken: A Story of Life After Abuse: How Faith Brought One Woman From Victim to Survivor. Speaking Out is Christianity Today’s guest opinion column.

Theology

The First Apostle’s Unlikely Witness

Mary Magdalene was a recipient of grace with a story to proclaim.

Illustration by Chloe Cushman

Save for Jesus Christ and his mother Mary, few biblical figures hold more prominence in the history of Christian art than Mary Magdalene. Paintings and sculptures favor depicting these two Marys not just because they appear frequently in the New Testament but because they play such pivotal roles in the life of Jesus.

Of course, Mary of Nazareth’s identity is uncontested. She is the young betrothed woman who conceived Jesus, God’s Son, and was present with her Son and his followers at various times throughout his earthly ministry, enduring to the end and beyond, when the Holy Spirit compelled the faithful to spread the news of his salvation.

However, the identity of Mary Magdalene has not been so clear. When we track her visual depictions across time, a richly complex and intriguing story emerges that ultimately raises a central question: Who was Mary Magdalene?

When Christian art directs our attention to this Mary, we quickly realize that there is no straight answer. As Diane Apostolos-Cappadona’s latest visual history reveals, Mary Magdalene has been many things to the church worldwide throughout the ages.

In fact, the 2002 exhibit “In Search of Mary Magdalene,” curated by Apostolos-Cappadona, featured over 80 works of art and objects depicting Mary Magdalene. Repeated patterns within art history associate her with long hair, an anointing jar, and nudity. She is depicted as the epitome of a penitent sinner and reformed prostitute, renowned for her fervent love of Christ and humility before him. She is recognized for her place at the cross and at the tomb in the garden; she is also remembered for her courageous missionary journeys as an evangelist and preacher.

Mary Magdalene’s portrayal gives insight into the church’s tradition of interpreting her story in the biblical text and the impact of medieval legends.

The Art Institute of Chicago recently hosted two paintings by the renowned Italian artist Caravaggio. One of them, Martha and Mary Magdalene (painted around 1598), illustrates the difficulties of discerning Mary Magdalene’s story.

In pairing Mary Magdalene with Martha, Caravaggio was following the sixth-century teachings of Pope Gregory the Great, who absorbed Mary of Bethany’s biblical references into the person of Mary Magdalene. At Gregory’s direction, Martha became Mary Magdalene’s sister and Lazarus became her brother in the medieval mind. By Caravaggio’s time, exegetical moves to distinguish Mary of Bethany from Mary Magdalene had developed into a Reformation-era controversy between Protestants and Roman Catholics. Were there two Marys in these passages or one? As Margaret Arnold’s work has shown, tensions between church tradition and sola Scriptura played out with Mary Magdalene.

Probing Caravaggio’s painting reveals another layer of complexity. Mary Magdalene looks into a convex mirror, which was a luxury item in the early modern period. Though we are overly familiar in today’s world with encountering our own reflections, that was not people’s experience then. Mirrors did not become household items until the 17th century; they didn’t begin replacing wall tapestries until the 18th century. Meanwhile, the convex mirror was associated with the distortion of the self, a reference to self-perception and the need to come to grips with human sin.

By pairing Mary Magdalene with a convex mirror, Caravaggio elicits themes of sin and penance, which had framed her story for centuries due to her association with the sinful woman of Luke 7. The conflation happens in this way: Mary Magdalene and Mary of Bethany are joined as one, and then the similarities in the anointing accounts—John 12:1–8, where Mary of Bethany anoints Jesus, and Luke 7:36–50, where an unnamed sinful woman anoints Jesus—cast this reputation of sinfulness upon Mary Magdalene.

Remembering Mary Magdalene rightly is no simple endeavor. Artistic images often reflect the confusion of traditional readings of the biblical text as well as layers of medieval legends that extended her story.

A more contemporary example: The multiseason series about Jesus’ life by Dallas Jenkins, The Chosen, rapidly generated buzz from its first episode simply by introducing the life of Jesus through two unlikely and often overlooked figures: Mary Magdalene and Nicodemus.

The growing interest in considering Mary Magdalene’s identity and significance should lead us to look again at the biblical text. She may not appear on every page in the Gospel accounts, but in the multiple times she does, she holds a prominent place as an eyewitness and recipient of grace.

Illustration by Chloe Cushman

The New Testament record creates a compelling picture of Mary Magdalene’s life and faith. Luke introduces her in this way:

Soon afterwards [Jesus] went on through cities and villages, proclaiming and bringing the good news of the kingdom of God. The twelve were with him, as well as some women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities: Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out, and Joanna, the wife of Herod’s steward Chuza, and Susanna, and many others, who provided for them out of their resources. (Luke 8:1–3, NRSV throughout)

Luke distinguishes her from the many other Marys as the one called “Magdalene.” Often, scholars had associated this title with a thriving fishing village on the west side of the Sea of Galilee, purportedly named Magdala for a tower present at its port in an earlier era (magdala means “tower” in Aramaic). People—and wealth—flowed in, promoting the area from a village to a true polis, a Jewish rival to the cities of the Decapolis. Recent archaeological discoveries have unearthed an affluent synagogue and Hellenistic baths.

Given what Luke says about Mary’s generosity, if she hailed from here, she was likely one of the people who benefitted from its wealth.

Despite her material bounty, however, her life experience also included a period of oppression. Because Mary is following Jesus, and since the Gospel writers are keen to show that Jesus is especially powerful in the skill of exorcism, it follows that he likely cast out the demons from her. She, along with the other women who were traveling with him, had been healed from various maladies, both spiritual and physical.

In another instance in Jesus’ ministry when those healed wanted to go with him, he refused. He sent them back to their homes (Luke 8:38–39; 14:4). But to these many women, he had said yes.

The extent of Mary Magdalene’s healing sets her apart. In his teaching elsewhere, Jesus describes a person with seven spirits to exemplify a desperate situation (Luke 11:26).

A number of completion, seven indicates that the demons had invaded Mary’s whole life. If the encampment of one spirit brings terror, seven would be nearly unimaginable. Mary stands, then, as an example of one to whom much has been given in her healing. Consequently, of her much is required (12:48).

She amply fulfills her debt of gratitude to Jesus. As he is traveling through the cities and the villages preaching the good news about the kingdom of God, she is there with him, and she is the first among the named women. This is one of the clear places in the New Testament where our vision of Jesus’ followers is expanded to include more than the 12 disciples. They are there, but they are not the only ones. The circle is wider.

To show their gratefulness, Mary and the other women serve the Jesus movement out of their possessions. If anyone ever wondered how Jesus and his 12 disciples survived when they had left their jobs, this is part of the answer. These women helped pay the bills. Over the course of his many travels, they bankrolled, observed, and participated in his ministry.

Readers might expect Luke to mention them because he has a tendency to indicate the presence of women alongside men (Luke 23:27, 49), but Matthew and Mark also point out the mixed-gender group of followers. Both Evangelists mention the women who followed Jesus from Galilee to Jerusalem, ministering to him on that lengthy journey (Matt. 27:55–56; Mark 15:40–41).

In all three references, Mary Magdalene is mentioned first. She was one of Jesus’ longtime and deeply committed followers. She had a story to tell about what her Lord had done for her. Because she continued to follow Jesus through the end of his life, her eyewitness account included the events that changed the world. She was present to observe his death, burial, and resurrection.

Matthew, Mark, and Luke indicate that a group of women stands watching at a distance when Jesus is crucified (Luke 23:49; 24:10). Mary Magdalene’s name appears first in both Matthew’s and Mark’s lists of the women. While they have neither fled nor denied Jesus as some of the other disciples have, watching from afar would not afford Jesus any comfort. Interpreters have wondered if the Evangelists are evoking Psalm 37:12 in the Septuagint (Psalm 38:11 in our Bibles), where a sufferer’s difficulty is compounded when his friends and family keep their distance.

According to John’s account of the Crucifixion, however, Mary does not stay in that location: “Meanwhile, standing near the cross of Jesus were his mother, and his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene” (John 19:25, emphasis added).

At some point, she moves from a distance to be near Jesus, near enough that she can hear him speak. Since he is being crucified as a pretender to the throne, being associated with him can come with some cost. We know that early Christian women were imprisoned and persecuted for their faith—Romans 16:7 mentions Junia’s ordeal, and a second-century letter from the Roman governor Pliny to Emperor Trajan mentions two female deacons who were questioned and tortured. Mary is bold enough to risk being present to comfort Jesus as well as his mother.

All the Gospels indicate that Mary continues to be present after Jesus dies. She follows the short distance from the cross to the tomb to see where Jesus’ body is laid (Luke 23:55). She is willing to watch what is often the most difficult part of a loss: the moment when death seems final, the placing of the person into their resting place, when dust returns to dust.

After honoring the rest of the Sabbath, Mary and the other women return to that tomb so they can anoint Jesus’ body with perfume and spices. To anoint a corpse with oil was common, but spices indicated something special. It seems that Mary and the other women who had been providing for Jesus financially continued to do so, along with Nicodemus (John 19:39). Readers see the deep commitment of those who were willing to do this task.

In being willing to care for him for that final time, Mary and the other women witness the most definitive moment of Jesus’ human life. When they return to the tomb, they do not find Jesus’ body. Instead, heavenly beings in dazzling white comfort them in their shock, remind them that Jesus had predicted just this event, and compel them to go tell the other disciples the news of his resurrection (Matt. 28:5–7; Mark 16:6–7). Then Jesus himself meets them in his resurrected state and commissions them to proclaim this to the other followers (Matt. 28:10).

Mary Magdalene is the only one of these women named in all four Gospel accounts, which means that every Evangelist believed she was important enough to include by name. Mary was present with Jesus in his ministry, death, and resurrection, and he told her to tell that story. For this reason, she has been remembered in Eastern and Western Christianity as the first apostle.

Mary Magdalene’s witness to the tomb and beyond speaks of God’s immense redemptive power that delivered her from seven demons. She also testifies to God’s sustaining power, which she accepted, to grant her the faithful ministry of presence throughout key moments of Jesus’ life. She was then faithful to proclaim the world-changing good news about him, having been commissioned by Jesus himself to do so.

In fact, in Luke’s sprawling narrative of the birth of the church, Mary Magdalene seems to be included among those who are commissioned to tell the Good News, not only to the other disciples but also to all people. In Luke 24:33, the 11 disciples and their companions are gathered, which would include Mary Magdalene and the other women who have returned to testify to his resurrection (vv. 9–10). Then Jesus appears and says to them all, “You are witnesses of these things” (v. 48).

Witnesses are people who have seen so that they can tell. Jesus instructs them to wait for the coming of the Spirit, which Luke makes clear falls upon both male and female servants of Jesus (Acts 2:17–18). When describing the post-Resurrection events in his sermon at Antioch of Pisidia, Paul summarizes, “For many days he appeared to those who came up with him from Galilee to Jerusalem, and they are now his witnesses to the people” (Acts 13:31, emphasis added).

Because Mary came up with him from Galilee to Jerusalem—because he appeared to her resurrected—she is now one of his witnesses to the people.

Her consistent faithfulness might very well be reflected in her name. Recent conversations among New Testament scholars, propelled by the work of Elizabeth Schrader Polczer, have wondered if “Magdala” describes not her hometown but instead her character. She is a tower of the faith, steadfastly pointing the way to the one who delivered her and gave her a mission. The church too has recognized the significance of her name in this way, though this has not always been remembered.

God gives all followers of Jesus the challenge to embrace the power of the Spirit to emulate Mary’s faithfulness in both deed and word. Once again, the revelation of Scripture declares to us that God does not intend to work in this world to the exclusion of women.

The prevalence of her depiction in Christian art displays both an appreciation of the pivotal role she plays as well as some of the confusion about her identity. The Bible never names the nature of the demons who afflict her or the nature of the sin of the unnamed woman in Luke 7 with whom she has been associated. To think of her as a prostitute is to read into and beyond the biblical text.

But Caravaggio’s mirror is not wrong. She was caught in the web of sin, afflicted without and within by the powers of darkness—as are we all—and in need of the Savior, Jesus Christ.

Despite the confusions through the centuries, the answer to the question “Who was Mary Magdalene?” is clear. She is a redeemed sinner whom the Spirit of God empowered to follow Jesus and whom Jesus himself commissioned to tell the good news of his return to life on Easter morning.

As we encounter her image, let us use it as a mirror to see ourselves and what we, by God’s gracious power, can become: apostles, sent to tell the good news of the Resurrection.

Jennifer Powell McNutt is the Franklin S. Dyrness Chair of Biblical and Theological Studies at Wheaton College and the author of The Mary We Forgot (Brazos Press, October 2024).

Amy Beverage Peeler is the Kenneth T. Wessner Chair of Biblical Studies at Wheaton College and the author of Women and the Gender of God.

Cover Story

Will ‘Complementarianism’ Survive?

I want to continue to call myself a complementarian. But we need to reclaim the term.

Illustration by María Jesús Contreras

Is there a future for complementarianism? I don’t mean whether the God-ordained concept of complementarity between men and women will itself continue to exist—those of us who hold to the principle of equality and distinction between men and women understand it to be grounded in Scripture itself. Rather, I’m speaking of complementarianism as a specific movement, a coherent framing of some of those biblical convictions.

I’d very much like to be able to continue describing myself as complementarian by conviction, believing that Scripture prescribes particular roles for men and women in the church and in the home. But in recent years, the increasing cancellation, co-option, and cannibalization of complementarianism as a term has led me to question whether I will continue to use it to describe my beliefs.

Since the word complementarianism was first used in the late 1980s to describe or frame the theological beliefs I hold, the concept has been subject to much critique. Now as Christians, we should not fear inquiry but embrace healthy and respectful criticism. It compels us to interrogate our thinking, identify our unspoken assumptions, and grow in our understanding and knowledge of God.

But cancellation is different. Cancellation doesn’t simply say, I think you are wrong, and here’s why. It says, You don’t deserve to exist. There is no place for you here. And unfortunately, an increasing number of opponents of complementarianism are choosing to leapfrog over critique to land on cancellation. Indeed, many newer and younger commentators now typically condemn all expressions of complementarianism—in every time and in every place—as being inherently abusive and intolerable.

I share in the lament expressed by many of these sisters and brothers. I grieve that complementarian theology has been misused and abused by its self-proclaimed proponents to the deep detriment and harm of others, most notably women. I prayerfully long for repentance and recommitment to what I am persuaded is the biblically faithful and fruitful teaching of the complementarity of men and women.

However, many now see the concept of complementarianism as fundamentally incapable of being anything other than harmful to women, with no place for it in the contemporary church. But this means there is no place for complementarian women such as myself in the church.

I hold a doctorate in theology and have extensive experience in ministry leadership as well as the respect and support of countless male complementarian colleagues. When I seek to offer my own experience and credentials as evidence that complementarianism is in fact capable of uplifting and honoring women, I have been informed that it is simply impossible for complementarianism to have produced such positive results, and so I must not in fact be complementarian.

How is it possible for complementarianism to have a meaningful future when its opponents deny that it should even have a present?

Yet cancellation is not the only thing imperiling complementarianism’s future. The theological framework is also being co-opted by those who hold a far more restrictive view about gendered relationships and roles and seek to flatten out any differences between complementarianism and patriarchalism (the societal rule of men). But complementarian theology is not the same as patriarchal ideology. Those of us committed to complementarianism’s defining theological principles can spot the differences immediately.

Written in 1987, the founding document of complementarianism—the Danvers Statement—insists on the equal personhood of men and women. It also recognizes that scriptural distinctions exist and lays out the Bible’s teaching on the godly expression of those distinctions within the home and the church. It calls women to exercise their God-given intelligence, to not be servile, and to proactively make God’s “grace known in word and deed.”

This is in direct contrast to those who speak of men and women as unequal in being, extend male headship beyond marriage and the church to all areas of society, claim there is no place for women in theological study (or even higher education more generally), encourage husbands to determine what Christian books they will and won’t permit their wives to read, and suggest there is no legitimate ministry for women outside the home. This is not complementarianism.

To their credit, many proponents of patriarchy know this. To their mind, complementarianism is too passive. It doesn’t go nearly far enough. And yet despite this, complementarianism is increasingly being hijacked by this distorted and repressive ideology.

When there is no recognized public distinction between these two contrasting viewpoints, how can complementarianism stand on its own terms? How can it continue to have genuine meaning into the future?

In addition to cancellation and co-option by outsiders, the third and likely greatest present danger to complementarianism’s future is cannibalization from within.

Such cannibalization occurs when adherents insist on redefining complementarianism beyond the foundational theological principles in the Danvers Statement. Yes, different individuals, churches, and ministries will come to different conclusions about the application of those principles.

However, the peril of self-destruction presents itself when such interpretations are defined as the only faithful form of complementarianism. It occurs when no allowance is made for differing conclusions that are still grounded in and consistent with complementarianism’s defining theological affirmations.

Cannibalization also happens when self-professed complementarians eagerly refute any hint of feminist thought while being apparently content to overlook outright misogyny. I recently watched as a tweet from a self-described Christian feminist woman was subjected to a vitriolic pile-on from certain complementarian quarters while a viral video that asserted women are biologically less capable of rational thinking than men was greeted with near silence from the same camp.

When we complementarians are selective about the biblical principles we will and won’t uphold, we participate in our own destruction. How is there to be a future for complementarianism if we, its adherents, won’t comprehensively and consistently uphold what we say we believe?

I don’t know if complementarianism as we know it has a future. But I do know it will only have one if complementarian Christians are willing to consistently demonstrate—in both word and deed—that those who judge it (and us) incapable of bearing any good gospel fruit have it wrong; if we are willing to unapologetically denounce unbiblical and misogynistic teachings about men and women; and if we are willing to hold ourselves accountable to our theological principles, both by refusing to go beyond them and by settling for nothing less.

If complementarianism is to have a God-given future, then it will require both its male and female adherents to proactively invest in that future and to do so in actual complementary partnership with one another. Therein lies the challenge, but also the opportunity: to model what it really means that God has created men and women to bear his image together.

We have the chance to reiterate the central role that God has been pleased for women to play in the unfolding storyline of Scripture (such as in Luke 24:1–12) and to enact the kind of wonderful ministry partnership we see between men and women in Romans 16.

And we have the opportunity to imitate and so honor our Savior, who always treated women with enormous dignity and respect, who called them to find life abundantly in him, and who urged them to invite others to do the same.

Danielle Treweek is the author of The Meaning of Singleness: Retrieving an Eschatological Vision for the Contemporary Church and the diocesan research officer for the Anglican Diocese of Sydney.

Cover Story

Egalitarianism Is More Than a PR Statement

Are churches moving to an egalitarian model truly embracing female leadership?

Illustration by María Jesús Contreras

Imagine that it’s a Sunday morning and a church is getting ready to announce its transition to an egalitarian model and commit to include women in pastoral leadership. The leadership gathers behind the stage to pray and review their communication strategy before the service begins. The pastor who will be sharing the news from the pulpit paces, with a burning question filling his mind: How will the congregation respond to the announcement?

The months leading up to this day proved to him that on matters of women in ministry, his congregation was not of one mind. Yet he is convinced that embracing an egalitarian approach is the way forward for his church, so he gathers his strength, steps into the auditorium, and delivers the news.

The statement goes well, all things considered. The congregation doesn’t cheer, but no one boos or walks out the door—and that feels like a win. Everything seems to be under control. The service ends without much tension, and the pastor along with the rest of the leaders breathe a sigh of relief.

This, of course, is an imagined scenario. But it’s not vastly different from what happens in reality when previously complementarian churches transition to egalitarian models: Oftentimes the people involved in the process are so exhausted from all the work it took to move the church to an egalitarian ministry philosophy that changing the church’s official statement on women seems to be the victory, the destination at the end of a long road, when it is just the beginning of an arduous journey.

Every church handles this process differently. What’s undeniably true in all situations is that no matter how careful and intentional a church might be in its approach to this transition, the process is lengthier and more challenging than anticipated. It’s usually painful and it’s inevitably messy. As a result, many communication strategies inadvertently prioritize messaging (like proper apologetics and careful articulation of a position) and damage control, significantly limiting the energy and focus required to properly set up women to thrive.

As someone who has been caught in the middle of these transitions, I can say two things are usually true: First, often good-hearted people are driving these efforts, doing their best with the resources available. Second, sometimes those well-intended efforts result in a lot of pain.

While no church can navigate this journey perfectly, it is possible to mitigate the hurt and frustration that often ensue. I offer a few suggestions for church leaders to consider—pitfalls to watch out for—whether they’re beginning the egalitarian journey or reevaluating their church’s posture toward women. With more women becoming preachers in recent years than in previous decades, it is imperative we continue to talk about how to make these transitions well.

One of the most common pitfalls for newly egalitarian churches is thinking that a statement on women changes everything. This couldn’t be further from the truth. While an official position on women may have changed, generally the systems and values undergirding a church’s culture remain the same. Decades of tradition continue to be at play. Long-held assumptions and expectations placed upon women remain intact, adding layers upon layers of complexity and challenges for women to navigate.

Women who might think they have new leadership opportunities available to them find themselves bumping into invisible barriers and tripping over unspoken rules without knowing they were there in the first place. In contexts like these, the women appointed to new or higher positions of leadership are set up to fail.

How can we mitigate this? A good place to start is to consider how your church’s current context—not your statement on women—supports (or undermines) the inclusion of women in your congregation.

A few guiding questions are helpful here: Can we think of specific traditions, assumptions, or expectations around women that might be at play in our staff culture? Are there any mechanisms in place to identify the value systems or structures that may be dated or in need of attention? Have we considered how our hiring practices and employee manuals might be impacted by a new position on women (for example, what would maternity leave look like for a lead pastor)? What would it look like for our church to fully include women at all levels of leadership and influence?

Another common pitfall for churches is thinking that by appointing one woman to a specific leadership position, all women are now represented and included. This is especially common in the area of preaching. In many instances, once a church has found a female preacher it trusts, not a whole lot of effort is made to include more women in the mix. After all, they can now say that “women preach at this church.” But is that a truly accurate statement?

Time and time again, when I walk into formerly complementarian churches and ask if women preach there, the answer is some version of this: “Oh yes, Kimberly preaches all the time.” What’s embedded in that sentence—and can be easily missed—is the fact that Amber (who happens to be trained in preaching) doesn’t preach there; neither does Sarah, Tara, or Michelle. Kimberly is the one woman who preaches at that church. That a woman preaches at all is something to celebrate, no question about that. But there is a world of difference between a church where Kimberly preaches and a church where women preach.

What would it look like to have a full-fledged vision for female preachers in our churches? Are there areas besides the pulpit where one woman might be carrying the banner of all womanhood? As churches look at their current female staff, are there any perspectives, ethnic backgrounds, or life experiences that may not be represented?

A third pitfall, and perhaps the most painful one, is failing to understand the emotional toll that these significant church transitions take on women. Knowing that the ultimate goal of these discussions is to determine what us, women, can or cannot do based on our gender is especially difficult for me. Who I am as a woman, as a female preacher and pastor, is profoundly connected to the discussion. For many of us, these conversations are deeply personal and fully embodied experiences.

Moreover, there are times when we are asked to share our personal experiences with the male staff and elders. Hopefully this is a genuine effort to listen and try to understand our experience, but many of these conversations end up being one-sided. We share our personal experiences and pain—and they don’t.

When these dynamics are in place, the playing field is not level. This only exacerbates the pain some of us have been carrying long before these conversations started and reopens the very wounds the church is trying to mend. Once the decision has been made to officially move in an egalitarian direction, most of the leadership’s efforts turn to apologetics, biblical grounding, and the careful articulation of the position paper, and not enough attention is given to the women who get caught up in the middle of it all.

Churches that want to truly move to an egalitarian model should ask themselves: Are we aware of the particular ways that one-sided conversations have affected, and perhaps continue to affect, the women serving at our church? Do we have male and female advocates whose main role is to intercede and pray for women—to support them and look out for them on an ongoing basis? What would it look like to implement guidelines to ensure the conversations between men and women are mutual and fair? Is there opportunity to create clear pathways, safe spaces, and resources for men and women to voice their spiritual and emotional needs and struggles? How often will church leaders revise their stance and approach to women in ministry?

The chief question of all is this: Is our church truly committed to including women in the life of the church and to creating pathways for them to exercise the full extent of their giftings? The answer to that question will inform the answers to all other questions about women in church leadership.

The journey won’t be perfect and churches will make mistakes, but the way church leadership approaches every conversation, every announcement, and every situation will make all the difference in creating a space where all women and men can thrive and use their giftings together with mutuality and respect. The key word here is intentionality—not perfection. Loving, genuine, and ongoing intentionality will always go a long way.

Gaby Viesca is the director of programs at Missio Alliance and is chair of the evangelical studies unit at the American Academy of Religion. She has worked in full-time pastoral ministry in Israel, Mexico, and the Pacific Northwest.

Cover Story

Complementarian at Home, Egalitarian at Church? Paul Would Approve.

The biggest New Testament passages on gender roles may have more to do with marriage than ministry.

Illustration by María Jesús Contreras

C hristianity Today once featured a cartoon depicting the apostle Paul arriving at Corinth and saying rather meekly, “I see you received my letter.” Greeting him on the road is an angry mob of women holding placards reading “Women of Corinth unite” and “Paul the apostle is a male chauvinist pig.” It is an amusing picture, but its sentiment is far from the truth. For his time period, Paul’s letters were radically liberating and dignifying for women, who had few rights in eastern Greco-Roman culture.

Paul’s teachings about women have sometimes been misunderstood and misapplied in ways that are denigrating to women. For example, rather than giving attention to Paul’s emphasis on the husband’s obligation to put his wife’s interests well ahead of his own, people have often misconstrued Paul’s comments on wifely submission as a charge to husbands to make their wives submit; as permission for husbands to boss their wives around; or as justification for meanness, abuse, or even violence against women.

Related to their views on these and other texts regarding marriage, evangelical churches continue to be sharply divided on the question of the role of women in church leadership. They have often polarized on a spectrum, with complementarians (those who believe there are distinct, complementary roles for men and women in marriage, church, and sometimes society) on one side, and egalitarians (those who deny there are distinct roles for men and women) on the other.

Despite the regrettable divisiveness that has sometimes resulted from these differences, some evangelical churches have decided to respect the strengths of both views and focus on the deeper unity between complementarians and egalitarians. As just one example of that unity, most complementarians and egalitarians celebrate the inherent worth and giftedness of women. They know that women fully share with men in the image of God (Gen. 1:27) and that men and women are joint heirs of the redemption wrought by Jesus Christ and cobeneficiaries of the outpoured Spirit of God and his gifts (Acts 2:17–21).

Further, most complementarians and egalitarians believe that the Bible enjoins both men and women to exercise their spiritual gifts for the upbuilding of the church (1 Cor. 12:7). This includes, in many circumstances, teaching the Word of Christ to all, regardless of gender. For example, Paul exhorts believers to “let the word of Christ dwell in you richly as you teach and admonish one another with all wisdom, and as you sing psalms, hymns and spiritual songs” (Col. 3:16, NIV 1984). Nothing in the context suggests that Paul has only men in view as those who should “teach and admonish.”

To this text could be added many others (such as Hebrews 3:13 and 5:12), including descriptions of women who taught spiritual truths to men in various private or less formal contexts, such as Abigail, who rebuked David in 1 Samuel 25, or Priscilla, who with her husband, Aquila, corrected the defective theology of Apollos in Acts 18:26.

Most complementarians are persuaded that 1 Timothy 2:12 (“I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she must be silent”) prohibits women from teaching men in specific situations, such as a pastor or elder within a church setting. But many complementarians, like egalitarians, would not object to a woman teaching physics to male students at a local university, or a female boss teaching a male employee how to do his job, or even a wife teaching her husband how to update his computer.

Similarly, most complementarians, like egalitarians, would not object to a woman prophesying (differences in how this is understood notwithstanding) or praying out loud in church (1 Cor. 11:5; 14:3), the content of which may be packed with profound theological insights. Likewise, complementarians and egalitarians affirm women who compose or sing songs in church that aid worship and reinforce biblical truths, or who author scholarly biblical commentaries from which male pastors and others can learn.

In fact, both groups agree that women like Deborah (Judges 5), Hannah (1 Sam. 2), and Mary (Luke 1) were inspired by the Holy Spirit to write various portions of Holy Scripture. Through their writings, these women have taught both men and women with inerrant authority down through the ages.

Complementarians and egalitarians are not as divided as some think. Their main difference concerns only the very narrow issue of the right of women to teach and lead men within the church with what may be characterized as an intermediate level of authority (below that of the women whose inspired words were incorporated into Scripture, but above that of the praying and prophesying women of 1 Corinthians 11).

Christians of both persuasions, and those in between, have a profound loyalty to Jesus Christ and his Word and are convinced that their viewpoint is demanded by Scripture. Their common loyalty to the Word of God constitutes a deeper unity that should enable a generosity of spirit toward those who may differ in this current debate.

Complementarians and egalitarians may achieve greater understanding and mutual respect by learning more about three key biblical texts that are most often cited in support of the main points of contention related to gender roles with respect to church leadership: 1 Timothy 2, 1 Timothy 3, and Titus 1. The challenges regarding the interpretation of these texts may encourage greater forbearance toward those who hold a different view from one’s own.

The first passage, 1 Timothy 2:12, is translated in the NIV 1984 version as “I do not permit a woman to teach or to have authority over a man; she must be silent.” If this is read without regard to context, it appears to prohibit any woman from teaching any man anything or having any position of authority over any man. Women must “be silent.” Based on its wider context, however, most interpreters limit the application of this directive to ecclesiastical settings, especially public corporate worship.

Egalitarians often argue that Paul intended the prohibition to be only a temporary measure based on the fact that women were typically less well educated than men. Perhaps also the women in Ephesus, where Timothy was ministering, may have been susceptible to certain false teachings or were themselves promoting the false teachings that the resurrection had already taken place (2 Tim. 2:18) and hence there is no more marriage (1 Tim. 4:3; Mark 12:25).

Some egalitarians also view Paul’s wording of “I do not permit” as indicative of the temporary nature of these requirements. In any case, now that women are as well educated as men and since that dangerous heresy is no longer a threat, Paul’s prohibition may no longer apply.

Complementarians usually agree that some aspects of Paul’s admonition may be temporary or culturally relative, such as the prohibition against “braided hair” a few verses prior, but they insist that this cannot be the case for 2:12 since Paul grounds it in creational norms based on the relationship between Adam and Eve (1 Tim. 2:13–15). This conviction regarding the permanence of 1 Timothy 2:12 seems persuasive, but on closer examination, the appeal to Adam and Eve implies that what Paul intended was not a prohibition about gender roles but rather a prohibition about marriage roles—how a wife and a husband should relate to each other.

As Paul correctly recognizes, Gen. 2:24 is explicit in its conclusion that the account of Adam and Eve defines the marriage relationship where the two become “one flesh.” Adam committed himself before God to love and care for his wife, Eve, just as he loves and takes care of his own body. Paul builds on this understanding with his “head-body” metaphor for marriage in Ephesians 5:29–30: “After all, no one ever hated his own body, but he feeds and cares for it, just as Christ does the church, for we are members of his body.”

Also, in Ephesians 2 Paul quotes Genesis 2:24 about how the two become one flesh, proving that the Genesis text is the inspiration for his use of the head-body analogy. Building on the Old Testament’s frequent use of the marriage analogy for God’s relationship to Israel (Isa. 54:5–8; Ezek. 16), Paul then uses the head-body imagery to show Christ’s love for the church, which is his body.

Therefore, when Paul speaks of Adam and Eve, as he does in 1 Timothy 2 and Ephesians 5, he is not using Adam and Eve as a model for how all men should relate to all women (gender roles), but rather as a definitive model for how a husband and wife should relate to each other (marriage roles), just as Genesis 2:24 stresses.

It is important to recognize that in Greek the terms for man (anēra) and woman (gynē), which are used in 1 Timothy 2, are, in fact, the normal terms for “husband” and “wife.” Sometimes a definite article or a pronoun helps indicate which meanings are intended, but mostly it is the context that allows translators to know for sure.

Although many English Bibles translate verse 12 with woman and man, it is far more likely, given Paul’s emphasis on Adam and Eve, that it should be translated as it is in, for example, the Common English Bible (2019): “I don’t allow a wife [gynē] to teach or to control her husband [anēr].” Not surprisingly, Martin Luther, well before modern feminism, already recognized that 1 Timothy 2 refers explicitly to husbands and wives, not men and women in general.

Three other considerations support the marriage interpretation of 1 Timothy 2:12. First, within the rest of Paul’s writings, the word anēr (for “man” or “husband”) occurs 50 times in close proximity to gynē (the word for “woman” or “wife”), which appears 55 times within 11 distinct contexts. In every case, these terms bear the meanings “husband” and “wife,” rather than “man” and “woman.”

Second, the detailed list of immodest eye-catching clothing and jewelry prohibited in 2:9 parallels similar lists of disapproved adornment in other Greco-Roman texts in the New Testament period. Adherence to these prohibitions is evidence of good behavior and modesty in wives, rather than women in general. So Paul seems to be already thinking in terms of husbands and wives.

Third, extensive thought and word parallels exist between 1 Peter 3:1–7 and 1 Timothy 2:8–15. Peter explicitly acknowledges that he read Paul’s letters (2 Pet. 3:15), and it is universally agreed that 1 Peter 3 refers to marriage. If one allows Scripture to interpret Scripture—that is, if one allows what is clear to assist in the interpretation of what is less clear—the presence of so many striking parallels between 1 Peter 3 and 1 Timothy 2 creates strong support for the interpretation that 1 Timothy 2 likewise concerns marriage roles rather than gender roles.

Of course, the mandates in 1 Timothy 2:11–12 still need clarification about what exactly is intended, even if it seems likely that these verses concern the relationship between a wife and her husband: “A wife should learn in quietness and full submission. I do not permit a wife to teach or have authority over her husband; she must be silent.” It helps to recognize that elsewhere, the Bible requires men or all people involved to be “silent” (1 Thess. 4:11; 2 Thess. 3:12; 1 Tim. 2:2).

Based on examples like these, the demand to be “quiet” or “silent” can mean—depending on the context—an end to unwelcome, disruptive, or negative speech (arguing, complaining, harping, nagging), not necessarily absolute silence (1 Pet. 3:1).

Paul’s prohibition of a wife teaching her husband seems strange, especially given the Bible’s positive report of the remarkable wisdom of many women, including cases when they correct their husbands (Judges 13:23) or where God instructs a husband to do what his wife tells him (Gen. 21:12). In this text, “to teach” is paired with a rare Greek word that is sometimes translated “to exercise authority over,” but it can also be translated into terms that suggest abusive authority such as “domineer,” “control,” or “boss.” The church father John Chrysostom, in a homily on Colossians, uses the same word when he warns a husband not to “be domineering over” his wife.

Based on examples like this, the Common English Bible translates 1 Timothy 2:12 as “I don’t allow a wife to teach or to control her husband.” This translation suggests that the word often translated as “teach” may have its less common but recognized pejorative sense of “instruct,” “lecture,” or “order,” as it does, for example, in Matthew 28:15. Accordingly, Paul’s statement may be more adequately translated as “I do not allow a wife to lecture or boss her husband, but to be quiet.”

The mention of “submission” on the part of wives in 2:11 strikes some readers as demeaning, but what seems to be intended is a receptive disposition, a willingness to listen and be persuaded as needed, not mindless obedience. It helps to recognize that other biblical texts require all persons, male or female, to be submissive to all governing authorities (Rom. 13:1, 5; Titus 3:1; 1 Pet. 2:13–14) and even just to those who are older (1 Pet. 5:5).

Both 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1 insist that candidates for overseers, or elders, should be “the husband of but one wife.” This instruction cannot be seen as disqualifying for the issue of women holding church office, however, because the Bible almost universally expresses generalizations, laws, and norms from a conventionally androcentric, or male, point of view.

For example, each of the Ten Commandments is worded in Hebrew as if it were being spoken to men only (for example, in Hebrew all the you forms are masculine singular), including the 10th commandment, which insists, “You [masculine singular] shall not covet your neighbor’s wife” (Ex. 20:17). Readers have always correctly understood, however, that this and every other commandment applies equally to women.

The same androcentric language is used for every job description seen in 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1. This is the case even when there is clear evidence that the office in question did in fact permit women, even if they were less common in that role. For example, we know that there were legitimate female prophets, such as Miriam (Ex. 15:20), Deborah (Judges 4:4), Huldah (2 Kings 22:14), and Anna (Luke 2:36). But the job descriptions for a “prophet” found in Numbers 12:6–8, Deuteronomy 13:1–5, and 18:14–22 are written as if they could only apply to a man. The androcentric language to describe a legitimate prophet of the Lord in Numbers 12 is especially striking, since the only prophet in the immediate context is Miriam.

If there are other biblical texts that prohibit women from serving as an elder, 1 Timothy 3 and Titus 1 would not disagree with them. But the androcentric language of these passages does not provide an adequate basis for assuming that there was such a prohibition. Perhaps something that suggests the possibility that New Testament churches included both spiritually mature women and spiritually mature men is the New Testament’s choice of the term “elders” to refer to those leaders (see Acts 14:23; 1 Tim. 4:14; 5:17; Titus 1:5; and 1 Pet. 5:1).

The very first occurrence in Scripture of this term, with its more common sense as a reference to persons of mature age appears in Genesis 18:11, where it refers to a mature man and mature woman: “Now Abraham and Sarah were elders well advanced in years” (author’s translation).

Historic evangelicalism has considered other secondary issues like baptism, church polity, or the ideal style of worship music as important and worthy of prayerful examination but not of divisive obsession. There should be no excuse for followers of Christ to disparage or disfellowship one another over secondary issues.

This generosity of spirit ought to apply to the current debate over gender roles in church leadership. It should not be necessary even as a practicality for there to be any separation between followers of Christ who hold one view versus those who hold the other. Both egalitarians and complementarians should be able to thrive happily in the same church, regardless of the approach favored by its leaders.

Even though egalitarians welcome competent women to serve as elders or pastors, they recognize that no text in Scripture requires there to be a female elder or pastor in their church.

Similarly, complementarians should be able to attend a church where women serve as elders or pastors. Naturally, complementarians would not encourage or vote for any women to serve in these leadership positions.

Nevertheless, it would never be a sin for the complementarians in a church that has female elders or pastors to learn or heed directions from those elders or pastors, as long as whatever those female leaders preach or direct is faithful to the Word of God. For example, if a female elder directs the congregation to open a worship service by singing “Amazing Grace,” the complementarians in the congregation should not hesitate to sing that hymn because it would not be a sin to comply with such a directive.

Any discussion or teaching on gender roles and marriage roles should be open to correction and be as generous and respectful as possible toward those who hold a different view. May the Lord guide us all to continue to search out the Scriptures and teach us to love one another with greater humility and forbearance.

Gordon P. Hugenberger is senior professor of Old Testament at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary and former senior minister of Park Street Church in Boston.

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