News

Israeli Archaeologists Find First Purple Fabric from King David’s Era

Researchers recreated the ancient dyeing process with mollusks.

Christianity Today February 5, 2021
Fabric: Photo by Dafna Gazit, courtesy of the Israel Antiquities Authority / Workers: Photo by Hai Ashkenazi, Courtesy of the Central Timna Valley Project / RNS

The color purple appears several times in the Bible, usually in a robe draping one of the kings of ancient Israel. But the search for an authentic artifact dyed the royal color from the time of King David has always proved elusive.

That changed this week, after researchers from the Israel Antiquities Authority, Bar Ilan University and Tel Aviv University said they had identified pieces of fabric dyed “true purple” dating to the 10th century BCE, when the Hebrew Bible says David and Solomon ruled in Jerusalem.

“This is the first piece of textile ever found from the time of David and Solomon that is dyed with the prestigious purple dye,” Naama Sukenik, curator of organic material at the Israel Antiquities Authority, said in a joint statement.

The three scraps were among several discovered by archaeologists in recent years in the Timna Valley, the site of a vast ancient copper mining operation in southern Israel. Direct carbon dating revealed that the fabrics hark back to about 1000 BCE.

Timna was likely part of the kingdom of Edom, bordering the kingdom of Israel to the south. The biblical Book of Samuel relates how David and his army battled and conquered the Edomites.

The Old and New Testaments mention that David, Solomon, and the priests of the Jewish Temple, as well as Jesus some centuries later, all wore purple garments, and according to ancient sources, purple textiles were highly valued and a symbol of nobility.

Sukenik said that the vast majority of the ancient textiles excavated by archaeologists around the world were dyed with colors derived from plants. But the purple dyes in the Timna Valley find were made from another source: the secretions of mollusks.

“The use of animal-based dyes is regarded as much more prestigious, and served as an important indicator for the wearer’s high economic and social status.”

The remnants of the purple-dyed cloth that archaeologists unearthed at Timna “are not only the most ancient in Israel, but in the Southern Levant in general,” she said. The only other true purple-dyed textiles found in the region were from the Roman period: two from Masada and three from a cave in the Judean Desert.

To determine which mollusk species produced the dyes found on the Timna textiles and how the various hues were created, researchers identified dry molecules belonging to specific sea mollusk species.

Zohar Amar, a professor from Bar Ilan University, traveled to Italy, where mollusks are a favorite dish and therefore plentiful, to help reconstruct the precise origin of the dyes. The process “took us back thousands of years, and has allowed us to better understand obscure historical sources associated with the precious colors of azure and purple,” Amar said.

The researchers, who published their findings in the journal PLOS ONE, believe that in order to produce the vivid purple and azure (tekhelet) dyes worn by King David and Jesus, biblical-era dyers had to extract tiny amounts of dyestuff from thousands of mollusks, and then exposed it to varying amounts of light. More light produces azure; less light, purple.

Discovering ancient textiles made of perishable organic materials such as wool is exceedingly rare because they decompose quickly. The arid conditions at Timna preserved the fabrics.

As a result of the region’s bone-dry climate “we are able to recover organic materials such as textile, cords and leather from the Iron Age, from the time of David and Solomon, providing us with a unique glimpse into life in biblical times,” said Erez Ben-Yosef, an archaeologist at Tel Aviv University. “The state of preservation at Timna is exceptional.”

Although archaeologists have not found any permanent settlements in Edomite territory, Ben-Yosef said, the fact that the textiles were discovered there indicates that the nomads who resided there lived in a “stratified society” and that some people must have had elite status and wealth.

The research at Timna “has showed us that even without such buildings, there were kings in our region who ruled over complex societies, formed alliances and trade relations, and waged war on each other.”

A nomadic society “was not measured in palaces and monuments of stone,” he said, but in items that were valued at the time.

Ben-Yosef said this insight can be applied to the kingdom of David, which archaeologists continue to search for. Many believe that excavations conducted near the Old City of Jerusalem have unearthed the palace. Others are less certain.

If the buildings excavated in Jerusalem were built by someone other than David, there is no need for despair, Ben-Yosef said. “The wealth of a nomadic society was not measured in palaces and monuments made of stone, but in things that were no less valued in the ancient world,” like purple dye.

“David may not have expressed his wealth in splendid buildings,” he added, “but with objects more suited to a nomadic heritage such as textiles and artifacts. It is wrong to assume that if no grand buildings and fortresses have been found, then biblical descriptions of the United Monarchy in Jerusalem must be literary fiction.”

New & Noteworthy Fiction

Chosen by Hannah Vanderpool, novelist and teacher.

The Buried Giant

Kazuo Ishiguro (Vintage Books)

Set in post-Arthurian England, The Buried Giant is a tale of adventure, mystery, and magic featuring an elderly couple who set out on a dangerous journey to visit their long-lost son. Their chief problem is that they can’t recall most of the details of their shared past—and their forgetfulness seems less like the result of old age and more like purposeful enchantment. A story of fidelity, loss, and the power of forgiveness, the novel reads like a fairy tale but tackles deep moral and philosophical questions while affirming the power of love.

These Nameless Things

Shawn Smucker (Revell)

Written as a mirror to Dante’s Inferno, These Nameless Things is an atmospheric story about what it’s like to live under the weight of personal guilt. The main character, Dan, finds himself among a motley crew of escapees from a mountain they associate with horror and torture. Though he no longer suffers at the hands of his captors, Dan hasn’t found peace, since he’s vaguely aware that he’s guilty of crimes he can’t quite remember. The story, though dystopian in flavor, is ultimately deeply hopeful and reminds us of the beauty of forgiveness.

And the Mountains Echoed

Khaled Hosseini (Riverhead Books)

Set in Afghanistan, And the Mountains Echoedweaves several seemingly disconnected stories together, moving back and forth in time from 1952 to 2010 to paint a picture of a conflicted and beautiful country. The book pierces straight to the heart with tender prose, allowing readers a glimpse into what it means to be both an Afghani native and an expatriate living in the United States. All of Hosseini’s novels offer Western readers a more nuanced understanding of Afghanistan, and this one is no exception. Warm but unflinching, it portrays the ways in which humans are essentially the same all over the world.

Books
Review

Is ‘Authenticity’ Enough for Christian Apologetics?

Appeals to nonbelievers should go beyond pure rationality, but they shouldn’t go beyond the bounds of Scripture.

Christianity Today February 5, 2021
Illustration by Mallory Rentsch / Source Images: Ololade Masud / Pexels / Aaron Burden / Unsplash

Justin Bailey’s Reimagining Apologetics: The Beauty of Faith in a Secular Age highlights a problem that plagues certain forms of Christian persuasion: the failure to take imagination seriously. For some Christians, apologetics is a matter of dry-as-the-desert technical arguments—or of intellectually arm-wrestling non-Christians into submission. Add an evangelical ethos hopelessly enamored with perpetual culture-warring, and you have a profound problem in much current Christian witness.

Reimagining Apologetics: The Beauty of Faith in a Secular Age

Reimagining Apologetics: The Beauty of Faith in a Secular Age

IVP Academic

272 pages

$17.37

Bailey begins by noting that, according to philosopher Charles Taylor, we live in a world (a “social imaginary”) where everyone assumes that ultimate answers lie within. We follow what resonates with our inner life. Therefore, the wise apologist who wants to reach a non-Christian engages not with what is (externally, objectively) true, but with what (internally, subjectively) moves him or her emotionally and aesthetically. Not truth, but beauty. Not rationality, but authenticity. The key lies with the imagination. We must provide space, Bailey writes, for non-Christians to “feel their way into faith.”

After providing a brief philosophy and theology of the imagination, Bailey turns to novelists Marilynne Robinson (of Gilead fame) and George MacDonald (who inspired C. S. Lewis) as models of what such engagement would look like. They created imaginary worlds that allowed non-Christians to see through the eyes of faith. He then applies his findings to apologetical method based on a threefold model of the imagination: sensing, seeing, and shaping. Sensing prioritizes the aesthetics of belief, emphasizing what non-Christians would find beautiful and believable. Seeing invites them to try on a Christian vision—a larger, “thicker” view of reality. Shaping invites them to a “poetic participation” that encourages them to situate their own life-projects within God’s redemption project. By suspending the question of truth to pursue beauty and imaginative resonance, Bailey argues, apologetics will appeal to those alienated from God but seeking authenticity.

Authenticity and Authority

This is a sharply written, well-researched proposal for a new way of doing apologetics. Those who haven’t studied apologetics may find it slow going in places, but don’t let that deter you. Bailey provides plenty of vivid illustrations and examples. And, in the main, his point is correct. Many conservative Christians, and apologists in particular, have been culturally tone-deaf and have made themselves (ourselves) an obnoxious presence that few non-Christians are interested in engaging. But Bailey’s book is part of a growing movement, in apologetics, that emphasizes beauty and imaginative resonance. Sound missiology seeks to contextualize the gospel in ways that make sense to a particular people group. In this case, the target group is those of our own culture alienated from Jesus.

That said, I do have concerns. There is always the risk that contextualization will lead to a compromised message—a gospel “gone native,” paganized in translation. Bailey is well aware of these risks, but I am concerned he never fully reckons with the risks of contextualizing the gospel to the particular social imaginary that prevails in today’s Western world. Authenticity necessarily places the self first and foremost, judging all beliefs and lifestyles by the standard of “What feels right for me?” As Bailey writes, we all must take “authentic ownership of our lives,” and the job of apologetics is to help create capacious (a favorite word of his) spaces in which non-Christians can create something attuned to the beauty that God has created, in which God is somehow present, beckoning them forward.

But what if the point of Scripture is that our lives are not our own? What if we have no “authentic ownership of our lives” but are rather called to turn our eyes away from ourselves to God and others, whom we are to love and serve? Can we simply combine authenticity with taking up one’s cross and losing one’s life (Matt. 16:24–26)?

Bailey seeks to guard against selfishness by countering that apologists should offer non-Christians a “thicker” version of authenticity to broaden the narcissistic horizons of “thin” authenticity. Thick seems to mean, by turns, self-giving, theologically deep, or grounded in the biblical “theodrama” of the New Testament. It seems to serve as a substitute or marker of biblical authority, but without the sharp edges that would shut down a nonbeliever’s imaginative and aesthetic search for a faith that resonates with their experience.

If I had to pinpoint a central cause for concern in Reimagining Apologetics, it would be the author’s stance on biblical authority. Though Bailey affirms biblical authority occasionally, it is de facto marginalized in his actual methodology. He never truly allows the Bible to delimit the imaginative space legitimately available to the non-Christian in his or her exploration. Why? Because when appealing to those seeking authenticity, beauty must be considered as separable from truth in the interest of not disrupting the fragile “feeling into faith” process. In fact, Bailey decries what he calls contemporary apologists’ “fixation on truth.”

This has specific consequences for faith. Both of Bailey’s apologetical role models, MacDonald and Robinson, denied that God would eternally punish anyone who rejected him. They were unable to quite believe in a God who was less generous and gracious than they imagined him to be. And Bailey never corrects them, as if conforming God to our imaginary image of him is somehow justified. This is treacherously close to inviting non-Christians to violate the first and second commandments and presenting that as a genuine life of faith. Even for the most mature Christians, the way God is portrayed in the Bible won’t always appear beautiful or good. The real journey of faith involves spiritual wrestling to conform our imaginations to the reality of his person and character as revealed in Scripture. Submitting one’s imagination and will to someone else is always a struggle, but Christians simply don’t have the license to do otherwise and call it genuine (“authentic”) faith.

Submitting to another’s authority is anathema to the ethos of authenticity. Again, Bailey understands this, noting that we must orient and “reframe” the non-Christian’s quest within God’s project, but I am unconvinced that he quite squares that circle. In essence, he is using the textures and channels of authenticity (what resonates with the seeker) to move seekers past and out of authenticity toward the willing, joyful acceptance of an authority and life-direction not their own. But I remain unsure that Bailey even acknowledges the contradiction, assuming instead that, at its best, Christian faith dovetails seamlessly with the yearning for authenticity. Sometimes it doesn’t, and we need to figure out how to guide non-Christians into recognizing that. Reimagining Apologeticsgives us precious little guidance here.

Competing Authenticities

Further, we live in a world of multiple competing authenticities. Simply showing the Christian vision’s “thickness” will not suffice. Tara Isabella Burton’s recent book Strange Rites: New Religions for a Godless World explores a dazzling array of “intuitional” religions that have lured people away from traditional religions in the age of the internet, with examples ranging from online fan cultures to occult and “wellness” movements to political ideologies left and right. All of these communities are super “thick” in the imaginations of their adherents . They resonate profoundly within the minds and lives of their followers. How are we to differentiate between competing thick imaginative visions?

This is where “presuppositional” apologetics, which posits Christian faith as the basis for all thought, gives important guidance. Bailey dismisses it in one footnote as a form of Scriptural “foundationalism” focused not on rational truthfulness, like classical apologetics, but on biblical truth. This struck me as both unfair and curious, given that his own imaginative apologetics (sensing/seeing/shaping) bears a striking structural resemblance to the presuppositional argument: trying on the non-Christian’s perspective, showing how it falls apart, then inviting the non-Christian to see reality through Christian eyes.

Bailey is right. Apologetics needs the imagination. But let us use it within the bounds of Scripture, which alone can sort between competing authenticities.

A few years ago, I taught a college student who confessed to me that my class convinced her she wasn’t a Christian. Intrigued, I asked to discuss her revelation over coffee. She told me she used to pray, and she figured this kind of behavior—carried out in one of the world’s most atheist countries (Czech Republic), no less—marked her out as a Christian. But that changed when she took my comparative worldviews class, which starts with Christian theism. She learned that God isn’t a vague idea but a person with specific traits and desires. She didn’t like that at all, and so she stopped seeing herself as Christian.

We talked, and I tried to persuade her both that God exists and that this was something to celebrate. I’ve always felt strange about that exchange. On the one hand, that outcome seemed inevitable: God is who he is, and I couldn’t have denied that in my teaching. On the other hand, it felt like I was doing the opposite of what I should have done. Had I read Reimagining Apologetics before those conversations, I would have spent more time exploring why she prayed, how it made her feel, and what resonated with her about connecting with God.

Many who read this book will feel provoked. But Bailey also gives us much to chew on, and much to learn.

Ted Turnau teaches culture, religion, and media studies at Anglo-American University in Prague, Czech Republic. He is a co-author of The Pop Culture Parent: Helping Kids Engage Their World for Christ.

News

The National Prayer Breakfast Isn’t the Only Time Politicians Pray Together

The Christian calls for unity by President Biden and members of Congress continue at weekly bipartisan gatherings.

Christianity Today February 4, 2021
Courtesy of 2021 National Prayer Breakfast

Politicians from both political parties came together to testify to the work of God in the country and pray for reconciliation on Thursday, just like they do every week, only this time their prayers were televised on C-SPAN.

The National Prayer Breakfast represents the most public-facing display of the regular bipartisan prayer meetings that take place in each chamber of Congress. Due to the pandemic, the annual event was held virtually for the first time in history, and the politicians’ petitions for unity felt more critical coming less than a month after the divisive uprising at the Capitol where they work.

The recent hour-long presentation consisted of pre-recorded clips from President Joe Biden, several former presidents, and members of Congress. They appealed to Christian teachings on neighborly love and reconciliation to get the country through political divisions and the burdens of the coronavirus crisis.

“For me in the darkest moments, faith provides hope and solace,” said Biden, who referenced one his favorite quotes, philosopher Søren Kierkegaard’s line that “faith sees best in the dark.”

“It provides clarity and purpose as well. It shows the way forward, as one nation in a common purpose: to respect one another, to care for one another, and to leave no one behind.”

The president urged the country to see each other—especially the hungry, the needy, the dying—as fellow Americans rather than as Republicans and Democrats. Other participants likewise emphasized a spirit of bipartisanship, rooted in their convictions around a common humanity before God.

The four co-chairs of the event— Sen. Tim Scott, Sen. Chris Coons, Rep. John Moolenaar, and Rep. Tom Suozzi—convene weekly prayer breakfasts where members of Congress share prayer requests, reflections, hymns, and their testimonies.

“Our nation today more than ever needs to see a bipartisan coalition of believers, believing in America, our God, and frankly, all of you, our country,” said Scott, a Republican and evangelical from South Carolina.

Every president since Dwight Eisenhower has attended the National Prayer Breakfast, put on by the Fellowship Foundation, also called the Fellowship or the Family. The Christian organization brings together Capitol Hill influencers for prayer and fellowship outside the constraints of political obligations. (The National Prayer Breakfast is not the same as the National Day of Prayer, which is acknowledged every May by presidential proclamation, or the Easter Prayer Breakfast, a White House tradition President Barack Obama began in 2010.)

Coons, a lifelong Presbyterian with a degree from Yale Divinity School, said the National Prayer Breakfast “recognizes the teachings of Jesus but is not limited to Christianity.” Nearly 9 in 10 members of Congress (88%) identify with a Christian tradition, compared to 65 percent of the country overall.

Some have scrutinized the Fellowship Foundation over the years for its secrecy and raised concerns after last year’s National Prayer Breakfast turned political, with former President Donald Trump touting his acquittal during his remarks.

It’s the second year in a row that the event fell the same week as impeachment proceedings. In 2020, Senate chaplain Barry Black told CT that even during politically challenging seasons, like impeachment trials or government shutdowns, members of Congress continue to unite in prayer.

“I see God at work in the fact that every week senators come together for a prayer breakfast,” the chaplain said. “I see God at work when I see every week senators coming to a Bible study, again both sides of the aisle. … As chaotic as things may seem sometimes, I see God at work in the level of civility that we somehow seem to manage in spite of how polarized our nation is.”

The gatherings have continued virtually during the pandemic.

“It’s a different way to do it, but the same faithful God who is at work around us and through us,” said Sen. James Lankford, a Republican and Baptist minister from Oklahoma. He read from 2 Corinthians 5, likening Christian politicians to those in the early church charged as Christ’s ambassadors, entrusted with the ministry of reconciliation.

“Help us to be reconciled. Help us to see each other as you see us,” Lankford prayed. “Give us unity through the challenges to be able to answer the hard questions that we have to face together.”

Democratic Sen. Kirsten Gillibrand of New York mentioned how much she missed in-person worship and singing, calling it one of the hardest impacts of COVID-19 and saying, “This prayer breakfast gives us a chance to share in that national fellowship.”

Suozzi, a fellow New York Democrat, said the event brought participants together to remember the call to to love their neighbors and their enemies, “one of the biggest challenges we have right now.”

Thursday morning’s presentation included historical clips spanning from Ronald Reagan in 1984 to Trump in 2017, as well as new statements from former presidents Jimmy Carter, Bill Clinton, George W. Bush, and Barack Obama.

“Prayer is the language of reconciliation,” Bush said. “It has the vocabulary of grace, love, and peace our nation needs to move forward together.”

Ideas

Dispelling the Smog of Falsehood and ‘Fake News’

Staff Editor

Old-fashioned preaching and discipleship can confront the conspiracies that threaten how we know truth.

Christianity Today February 4, 2021
Illustration by Rick Szuecs / Source images: Samuel Corum / Stringer / Brent Stirton / Staff / Getty

Some of the rioters who stormed the US Capitol in early January chanted their demand to “hang Mike Pence.” But some likely thought the former vice president was already dead.

In fringier corners of former President Donald Trump’s base, particularly those influenced by the QAnon conspiracy theory, there’s a rumor that Pence was executed by a Trump-run military tribunal last year. So were the Obamas, the Clintons, President Joe Biden, and Chief Justice John Roberts. News reports showing them apparently reacting to current events, the story goes, are simply computer-generated. Or maybe holograms. Or actors? Or clones!

This is, of course, absurd. It’s also utterly unassailable: We can’t take Biden around for a doubting Thomas routine with every conspiracy theorist. Even if we could, there’s no external proof this sort of theory cannot account for and dismiss.

But most remarkable about this belief is that some significant portion of the people who hold it would describe themselves as evangelicals. Their social media bios are festooned with phrases like “conservative Christian,” “Bible-believing Christian,” “fighting for faith,” “John 3:16,” “God-fearing,” “Christian, wife, and mother.” They share Bible verses, sometimes in the same post as their conspiracy theorizing. They express faith that God will accomplish the overhaul of American governance of which the imagined executions are just one part. They might go to church—maybe your church.

Most politically engaged Americans generally, and Christians specifically, don’t believe anything quite so wild. But this theory about high profile executions is not quite the aberration we might hope. “[I]n my experience and in my conversations among pastors, we are growing more and more alarmed by the prevalence of belief in conspiracy theories and far-fetched political ideas, especially since the election,” said Daniel Darling, who is a pastor, the senior vice president of National Religious Broadcasters, a CT contributor, and author of books including A Way with Words: Using Our Online Conversations for Good.

Darling’s perspective, which he shared with me in an email interview in January, is backed up by new survey data from Lifeway. Fully half of Protestant pastors in America say they “frequently hear members of [their] congregation[s] repeating conspiracy theories they have heard about why something is happening in our country,” that poll found. The trend seems to be strongest, said Scott McConnell, executive director of Lifeway Research, “in politically conservative circles, which corresponds to the higher percentages in the churches led by white Protestant pastors.”

“With most pastors I talk to, it’s a fraction of their congregations,” Darling told me, “perhaps among the most politically engaged or the most plugged in online. And yet it is enough of an element that it has many pastors worried,” he continued, especially about “how captive many [Christians] are to their preferred media outlets, which are growing more and more extreme, and how seemingly resistant many are to hearing reasonable rebuttals.”

The effect is an epistemic crisis, and it is not exclusively a fringe phenomenon. The subtler lie can be the strongest—“If you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall!” (1 Cor. 10:12). This crisis is more than a pressing political problem; it’s also an urgent matter of Christian discipleship, for Christians are supposed to be people of truth (John 8:31–32).

Epistemology is simply the study of knowledge: What do we know and how do we know it? What are trustworthy sources of knowledge? Is the world really as we perceive it? If truth exists (as Christians affirm), can we access it rightly? We are in an epistemic crisis because our answers to these questions in the public sphere are a disastrous mess.

An epistemic smog is pouring into our homes and our heads via autoplay and infinite scroll.

The last five years of American politics have been a time of “alternative facts” and “truth [that] isn't truth.” Accusations of “fake news,” some fair and some cynically slanderous, fly fast and thick. Mainstream media outlets are rejected for being flawed or biased (an oft-deserved critique!), but the pseudonymous digital rumor-mongers rising to replace them are worse. Too many on the Right embrace “dreampolitik”—if it feels right, believe it—while among too many on the Left, a totalized emphasis on personal experience as a mediator of knowledge renders communication impossible across the lines of identity. The upshot is we’re certain about things that don’t warrant certainty and doubtful of basic facts. An epistemic smog is pouring into our homes and our heads via autoplay and infinite scroll.

I wanted to talk to Darling because I think I can describe this problem well. I certainly know it when I see it, including—to my dismay—in my own family. But I commonly feel at a loss as to what to do about it. I know what it looks like in my life to practice what Graeme Wood at The Atlantic called “mental hygiene” (which I would say is a spiritual hygiene, too). “The struggle is internal, and familiar to all who consume media,” Wood wrote, and for me it has meant limits—too often broken—on the time and content of my media consumption, as well as a daily routine that includes reading Scripture before my phone.

But what about other people, people who may not even recognize the epistemic crisis exists? I can’t impose my limits and routine on them. G. K. Chesterton in Orthodoxy advised against arguing with the conspiracy theorist, recommending instead to give him “air,” to show there is “something cleaner and cooler outside the suffocation of a single argument.” But what does that look like in the age of smartphones, when an endless font of controversy and confusion is always in our pocket?

Public commentary—like this very article—can only do so much, Darling told me. It serves “a purpose,” he wrote, “but this has to be solved relationally” and in the local church. Too “many evangelicals are catechized more by their favorite niche political podcast and pundits and politicians” than by the Bible, he continued, a characterization which I suspect might be unwelcome, but which is indisputable if we consider the time allotted to each.

“So perhaps pastors need to return to this kind of old-fashioned preaching that warns against bad influences and urges us to ‘renew our minds’ (Rom. 12:2) with Scripture,” Darling said, while including in their discipleship practices “a sustained and nuanced emphasis on what it means to engage politics in a healthy way.” Churches can use small groups, recommending reading, research, and podcasts, as well as classes to train and encourage members. To fail to address political engagement and content consumption, Darling argued, means “ceding that ground to the fear merchants and media conglomerates who trade eyeballs for profit.”

And all this must happen in the context of Christian love: in friendship; in prayer and fasting and spiritual warfare (Eph. 6:10–18); in “bear[ing] with each other and forgiv[ing] one another” (Col. 3:13). We may not be able to argue people out of epistemic crisis—but we can appeal, Darling concluded, to Christian virtue and mission, asking questions like: Is this really worth our time and energy? Does it help us “to live a life worthy of the calling [we] have received” (Eph. 4:1)? Does it turn anyone’s mind toward Christ? We needn’t believe in Clone Biden for the answer to be “no.”

Bonnie Kristian is a columnist at Christianity Today.

News

CT Media Presents: The Harvest

The story of Marisol and Joel Lopez, a couple who find Christ’s love in the midst of field labor.

California’s San Joaquin Valley not only boasts 17 billion dollars in annual revenue, it’s also home to over 100,000 laborers. The Harvest, a documentary produced by CT Media, follows the story of Marisol and Joel Lopez, a couple who discover the transforming love of Christ in the midst of their challenging life as migrant workers in the valley. To learn more about migrant farm workers, read this report by Bekah McNeel:

This short film was part of CT’s December 2020 issue, which explored the many ways God is at work through the global church, bringing light and life, hope and healing in the age of the pandemic. Find more at MoreCT.com/globe.

What Is Christian Nationalism?

An explainer on how the belief differs from other forms of nationalism, patriotism, and Christianity.

Christianity Today February 3, 2021
Illustration by Mallory Rentsch / Source Images: Cameron Smith / Mohammad Aqhib / Unsplash / Reza Estakhrian / Getty Images

You’ve probably seen headlines recently about the evils of Christian nationalism, especially since December’s Jericho March in Washington, DC, and since a mob of Trump supporters—many sporting Christian signs, slogans, or symbols—rioted and stormed the US Capitol building on January 6.

What is Christian nationalism, and how is it different from Christianity? How is it different from patriotism? How should Christians think about nations, especially about the United States? If nationalism is bad, does that mean we should reject nationality and national loyalty altogether?

What is patriotism, and is it good?

Patriotism is the love of country. It is different from nationalism, which is an argument about how to define our country. Christians should recognize that patriotism is good because all of God’s creation is good and patriotism helps us appreciate our particular place in it. Our affection and loyalty to a specific part of God’s creation helps us do the good work of cultivating and improving the part we happen to live in. As Christians, we can and should love the United States—which also means working to improve our country by holding it up for critique and working for justice when it errs.

What is nationalism?

There are many definitions of nationalism and an active debate about how best to define it. I reviewed the standard academic literature on nationalism and found several recurring themes. Most scholars agree that nationalism starts with the belief that humanity is divisible into mutually distinct, internally coherent cultural groups defined by shared traits like language, religion, ethnicity, or culture. From there, scholars say, nationalists believe that these groups should each have their own governments; that governments should promote and protect a nation’s cultural identity; and that sovereign national groups provide meaning and purpose for human beings.

What is Christian nationalism?

Christian nationalism is the belief that the American nation is defined by Christianity, and that the government should take active steps to keep it that way. Popularly, Christian nationalists assert that America is and must remain a “Christian nation”—not merely as an observation about American history, but as a prescriptive program for what America must continue to be in the future. Scholars like Samuel Huntington have made a similar argument: that America is defined by its “Anglo-Protestant” past and that we will lose our identity and our freedom if we do not preserve our cultural inheritance.

Christian nationalists do not reject the First Amendment and do not advocate for theocracy, but they do believe that Christianity should enjoy a privileged position in the public square. The term “Christian nationalism,” is relatively new, and its advocates generally do not use it of themselves, but it accurately describes American nationalists who believe American identity is inextricable from Christianity.

What is the problem with nationalism?

Humanity is not easily divisible into mutually distinct cultural units. Cultures overlap and their borders are fuzzy. Since cultural units are fuzzy, they make a poor fit as the foundation for political order. Cultural identities are fluid and hard to draw boundaries around, but political boundaries are hard and semipermanent. Attempting to found political legitimacy on cultural likeness means political order will constantly be in danger of being felt as illegitimate by some group or other. Cultural pluralism is essentially inevitable in every nation.

Is that really a problem, or just an abstract worry?

It is a serious problem. When nationalists go about constructing their nation, they have to define who is, and who is not, part of the nation. But there are always dissidents and minorities who do not or cannot conform to the nationalists’ preferred cultural template. In the absence of moral authority, nationalists can only establish themselves by force. Scholars are almost unanimous that nationalist governments tend to become authoritarian and oppressive in practice. For example, in past generations, to the extent that the United States had a quasi-established official religion of Protestantism, it did not respect true religious freedom. Worse, the United States and many individual states used Christianity as a prop to support slavery and segregation.

What do Christian nationalists want that is different from normal Christian engagement in politics?

Christian nationalists want to define America as a Christian nation and they want the government to promote a specific cultural template as the official culture of the country. Some have advocated for an amendment to the Constitution to recognize America’s Christian heritage, others to reinstitute prayer in public schools. Some work to enshrine a Christian nationalist interpretation of American history in school curricula, including that America has a special relationship with God or has been “chosen” by him to carry out a special mission on earth. Others advocate for immigration restrictions specifically to prevent a change to American religious and ethnic demographics or a change to American culture. Some want to empower the government to take stronger action to circumscribe immoral behavior.

Some—again, like the scholar Samuel Huntington—have argued that the United States government must defend and enshrine its predominant “Anglo-Protestant” culture to ensure the survival of American democracy. And sometimes Christian nationalism is most evident not in its political agenda, but in the sort of attitude with which it is held: an unstated presumption that Christians are entitled to primacy of place in the public square because they are heirs of the true or essential heritage of American culture, that Christians have a presumptive right to define the meaning of the American experiment because they see themselves as America’s architects, first citizens, and guardians.

How is this dangerous for America?

Christian nationalism tends to treat other Americans as second-class citizens. If it were fully implemented, it would not respect the full religious liberty of all Americans. Empowering the state through “morals legislation” to regulate conduct always carries the risk of overreaching, setting a bad precedent, and creating governing powers that could be used later be used against Christians. Additionally, Christian nationalism is an ideology held overwhelmingly by white Americans, and it thus tends to exacerbate racial and ethnic cleavages. In recent years, the movement has grown increasingly characterized by fear and by a belief that Christians are victims of persecution. Some are beginning to argue that American Christians need to prepare to fight, physically, to preserve America’s identity, an argument that played into the January 6 riot.

How is Christian nationalism dangerous to the church?

Christian nationalism takes the name of Christ for a worldly political agenda, proclaiming that its program is the political program for every true believer. That is wrong in principle, no matter what the agenda is, because only the church is authorized to proclaim the name of Jesus and carry his standard into the world. It is even worse with a political movement that champions some causes that are unjust, which is the case with Christian nationalism and its attendant illiberalism. In that case, Christian nationalism is calling evil good and good evil; it is taking the name of Christ as a fig leaf to cover its political program, treating the message of Jesus as a tool of political propaganda and the church as the handmaiden and cheerleader of the state.

How is Christianity different from Christian nationalism?

Christianity is a religion focused on the person and work of Jesus Christ as defined by the Christian Bible and the Apostles’ and Nicene Creeds. It is the gathering of people “from every nation and tribe and people and language,” who worship Jesus (Rev. 7:9), a faith that unites Jews and Greeks, Americans and non-Americans together. Christianity is political, in the sense that its adherents have always understood their faith to challenge, affect, and transcend their worldly loyalties—but there is no single view on what political implications flow from Christian faith other than that we should “fear God, honor the king” (1 Pet. 2:17, NASB), pay our taxes, love our neighbors, and seek justice.

Christian nationalism is, by contrast, a political ideology focused on the national identity of the United States. It includes a specific understanding of American history and American government that are, obviously, extrabiblical—an understanding that is contested by many historians and political scientists. Most importantly, Christian nationalism includes specific policy prescriptions that it claims are biblical but are, at best, extrapolations from biblical principles and, at worst, contradictory to them.

Can Christians be politically engaged without being Christian nationalists?

Yes. American Christians in the past were exemplary in helping establish the American experiment, and many American Christians worked to end slavery and segregation and other evils. They did so because they believed Christianity required them to work for justice. But they worked to advance Christian principles, not Christian power or Christian culture, which is the key distinction between normal Christian political engagement and Christian nationalism. Normal Christian political engagement is humble, loving, and sacrificial; it rejects the idea that Christians are entitled to primacy of place in the public square or that Christians have a presumptive right to continue their historical predominance in American culture. Today, Christians should seek to love their neighbors by pursuing justice in the public square, including by working against abortion, promoting religious liberty, fostering racial justice, protecting the rule of law, and honoring constitutional processes. That agenda is different from promoting Christian culture, Western heritage, or Anglo-Protestant values.

Paul D. Miller is a professor of the practice of international affairs at Georgetown University and a research fellow with the Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission.

Pastors

In Essentials, Unity. In Conspiracy Theories, Truth.

Political divides are pushing US pastors back to the core convictions of their faith.

CT Pastors February 2, 2021
Shana / Lightstock

Before the January 6 uprising at the US Capitol put the country’s unrest on display, many evangelical leaders in the US saw signs of the escalating tensions from their own pulpits, deepening their call to preach and teach a gospel that puts God over country.

Nine months ago, Texas pastor Brian Haynes got a text message from a member of his congregation who noticed fellow believers sharing conspiracy theories online and felt “overwhelmed by the amount of fear and disunity.”

Haynes, lead pastor of Bay Area Church outside Houston, wrote a 500-word response and posted it on his blog. When the post got 200,000 views in a matter of days, he realized just how big the issue had become.

“I’ve really had to seek wisdom for it. As a shepherd, how do I love these people who I think are believing something that is a lie?” said Haynes. “It’s been very exhausting for pastors. You either just said, ‘I’m not dealing with it,’ or you leaned into it. I’m leaning into it.”

He has had conversations with members of his 1,500-person congregation about COVID-19, masks, and Dr. Anthony Fauci; Southern Baptist leadership and Russell Moore; and QAnon and the presidency. He’s also addressed misconceptions in his preaching and teaching.

And over the past year, Haynes’s approach to pastoring has been transformed. Basic convictions that he believed all along—about leading people who agree on the essentials even if they differ on other issues and prioritizing an eternal perspective—became paramount.

“Kingdom has become forefront for me. I would’ve always winked at kingdom thinking, but now I realize we really have to have our eyes set on King Jesus,” he said. “If we’re kingdom-focused, and we have a King that lasts forever and a throne that lasts forever, then transitions of power and politics, and masks or no masks, all that stuff shouldn’t throw us. It might bother us or frustrate us, but we should be the calm in the room.”

Pastors will tell you that ministering across political divisions—something the church has been charged with since the days of Paul—is practically part of their job description. But that responsibility took on new weight and urgency as America’s political landscape shifted over the past year.

At the Washington, DC, Christian Reformed Church, the shift in the political tenor hits close to home in a congregation filled with Christians who work with and for the government.

Pastor Meg Jenista Kuykendall spent the afternoon of January 6 getting in touch with church members who live and work on Capitol Hill to ensure they were safe. She’s spent many mornings calling and praying with congregants whose jobs or agencies were threatened by changes under the previous administration.

While Jenista Kuykendall has not had to address conspiracy theories within her church, their hold among the larger body of Christ still hurts. It’s hard to hear people malign or twist the work of the government when she can see firsthand the faithful public servants who feel called to Washington to serve the common good.

“We are not immune from the fractured relationships across ideological divide, and I am defensive when I see those snide, dismissive comments directed by Christians in other parts of the country at Christians in my congregation,” she said.

The recent concerns over Christian nationalism and its role in the Capitol attack focus on the political rancor at a national level, calling on the church and country at large to work toward the buzzword of “unity.” But the divides do not show up uniformly across congregations, putting individual pastors in the position of assessing how to respond.

“Pastors have the responsibility to have those conversations with church members. What the members of my church need to hear might be different than what your church needs,” said Jonathan Leeman, editorial director of DC-based 9Marks and author of How the Nations Rage. “Jesus set it up that way.”

Leeman said the forces fueling the Capitol attack were a “crescendoed version” of the kind of political division the church has always faced and strived to overcome. “It goes to the heart of political disagreement among the saints in general: Is this an issue which I can disagree and still come to the Lord’s table with them?” he asked. “Disagreements between Christians become divisive when we don’t make a distinction between ultimate things and important things. Satan loves to tell us that the political things that divide us are the most important things in the world.”

Polarization in America and its churches has been growing for decades, with the Trump presidency and the coronavirus pandemic adding to the tensions at “purple churches,” whose members span political parties. Being in such church contexts is not an instant fix to change minds or overcome divides, but experts say it is helpful for bridge-building over the long term.

“It’s not just about [addressing politics in] a sermon series or a Sunday school class,” said Kaitlyn Schiess, author of the Liturgy of Politics. “You can have conversations in a low-tempo, Scripture-centered environment, rather than in a heated political context. You might be waiting a year to have that conversation.”

Rick Langer, a former Evangelical Free Church pastor and director of the Winsome Conviction project at Biola University, approaches differing convictions in the body of Christ as “not a bug but a feature” and part of God’s intention for his people.

The project coaches Christians toward “tracing” and “thickening” their convictions—looking for common ground at the heart of issues and better understanding why others come to different conclusions. But lately, certain conspiratorial thinking and distorted views of truth and reality have posed a new challenge.

“The Winsome Conviction project is more concerned with how we talk about our different convictions than speaking a prophetic word against a particular kind of personal persuasion, so this is a little bit at odds for me,” he said. “But I feel like at this moment I can’t but say, ‘Look, this isn’t just another different viewpoint. There’s something that’s going off the rails here.’”

He worries about distrust, confirmation bias, and the slipping authority of absolute truth. It’s become even more crucial that Christians in the center work toward getting along better while being willing to address distorted claims being made on the edges.

“There’s some calling out and then there’s a huge realm of occupying the respectful mutual territory,” he said.

The claims in question include beliefs about the threat of the coronavirus, the outcome of the 2020 presidential election, and the validity of QAnon (a movement that believes former President Donald Trump will reclaim government power from sex-trafficking liberal politicians and celebrities).

“We’re the people who should be able to say when some things are true and false,” said Schiess. “We can have disagreements about presidents and policies, but to act as if a totalizing narrative about good and evil in the world is not a threat to the gospel and the Christian community?”

In the weeks after the election, Schiess recalled how navigating difficult political conversations with their families had been the top prayer request from women in her community. “I’m so dang proud of them for wading into hard conversations because they know it’s worth it, and for doing it with grace,” she said.

The influence of conspiracy theories cropped up in questions to leadership, prayer requests, and social media posts, particularly over the past year, so much that half of US pastors say they frequently heard conspiracy theories from their own congregations, per a Lifeway Research survey.

That statistic holds without significant differences across church traditions and regions of the US. Pastors of large congregations, though, were most likely to notice the issue—61 percent of pastors leading congregations over 250 people say they picked up on conspiracies compared to 49 percent of pastors overall.

Because of their size, bigger congregations are also more politically diverse and therefore less likely to discuss politics, according to megachurch researcher and Hartford Seminary sociologist Scott Thumma.

It’s a tricky dynamic. For some pastors, steering away from explicit political issues is a way to avoid conflating faith with a certain party or position, challenging congregants to focus on their identity in Christ rather than political stances. But Christians have also seen how a lack of discipleship around political issues has made way for outside influences that can distort views of God.

“A significant challenge moving forward is going to be getting pastors to stop abdicating their responsibility for discipling the public life of their church members. Too many pastors take pride in saying, ‘I don’t preach about politics,’” said Jenista Kuykendall in DC. “But what I hear in that is an abdication to take responsibility for the discipleship of Christians who vote and protest and sign petitions and serve on local school boards … if we don’t talk about what it means to love God in public, there are 24-hour channels and blogs and conspiracies that will gladly speak out over our silence.”

At Grace Church in Dover, Delaware, senior pastor Kenneth Foster agrees politics cannot be ignored. His 350-person Presbyterian Church in America congregation spans conservatives, liberals, and libertarians.

It’s also an intentionally multiethnic church. Foster believes their robust theology around the ministry of reconciliation has helped keep Grace Church on common spiritual ground even when they disagree on politics.

“Our faith rests in Jesus Christ. What I try to talk about is the unity Christ died for and him being the one who removed hostility in breaking down the wall between Jew and Gentile,” said Foster, who became Grace’s first black senior pastor last year. “Most of our folks understand the vision of the church well enough that they don’t see it as something to be sacrificed” over politics.

He also relies on the liturgy to lead the congregation in lament as they mourn incidents of violence in the country and pray for the work of the country’s politicians. “One of the things that helped with responding without being overly angered or overly nationalistic is that we’re in constant prayer for our leaders,” he said.

The liturgy—along with Scripture and church history—reminds Foster that unity and peace in God has the power to change a people. He turns to examples from the Book of Romans and the witness of Lemuel Haynes, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Martin Luther King Jr.

“Although the situation has worsened,” he said, “there’s a greater opportunity to project hope.”

Haynes, in Texas, is focusing on the church’s role as peacemakers, ambassadors of heaven called to broker peace here on earth. But before Christians can become a model of bridge-building and unity, they have to return their focus and ultimate priority to the one who unites them.

News
Wire Story

Rick Warren Apologizes for Saddleback Clip With ‘Demeaning’ Asian Caricature

Asian American Christian leaders reiterate concerns over using stereotypes as punchlines in Sunday school curricula.

Christianity Today February 2, 2021
Paul Kagame / Flickr

Saddleback Church pastor Rick Warren has apologized for a children’s Sunday school curriculum video that used Asian culture stereotypes to teach kids about the Bible.

The video has been removed, but Michelle Ami Reyes, vice president for the Asian American Christian Collaborative, on Twitter described it as using Asian culture “as a prop for slapstick humor.” The video, she said, blurs and dishonors “distinctions and categories of Asian culture.”

In it, she said, a pastor wears a Chinese shirt, makes Kung Fu sounds and pretends to make sushi that he then spits out.

“There are layers to the problematic appropriation and use of Asian culture elements for slapstick humor here. This kind of humor only works because it’s deprecating. But you cannot appropriate and deprecate on someone else’s culture for your own personal comedy,” she tweeted.

Warren, in a statement issued Sunday, apologized and said he was upset and embarrassed by the racially offensive content of the video. It was immediately taken down, he said.

“My instant fear was that the thousands of Asian American children who are a part of our church family would feel made fun of and that their families and so many others would rightfully be offended,” Warren said in the statement.

Warren said the video showed a former Saddleback Church kids’ pastor dressed as an Asian martial arts sensei “in an attempt to teach Bible truth.”

Although the video was posted this weekend, Warren said it was created four years ago.

“This is the very kind of cultural and racial insensitivity that we’re trying to eradicate in our church family,” he said. “It’s unchristlike, demeaning, and it’s never appropriate to use a stereotype to teach.”

https://twitter.com/Saddleback/status/1356068599505424386

Some have responded well to Warren’s apology on Twitter, saying his words were genuine and thoughtful. Others were reminded of a photo he posted on Facebook in 2013 that depicted a Red Guard during China’s Cultural Revolution.

“The typical attitude of Saddleback Staff as they start work each day,” the caption read. Several Asian American Christians found that post distasteful, including writer Sam Tsang who took the issue to his blog.

Warren initially said people missed the irony, saying in a Facebook comment: “It’s a joke people! If you take this seriously, you really shouldn’t be following me!” He later took the photo down and apologized on the comments section of Tsang’s blog.

This also isn’t the first time children’s ministry material has been called out for its use of cultural stereotypes.

Vacation Bible school curricula have often used themes based in foreign countries, but these programs have been facing heavier scrutiny as awareness and sensitivity around cultural appropriation increases.

In 2013, former president of Lifeway Christian Resources Thom Rainer apologized for a 10-year-old Asian-themed vacation Bible school curriculum, dubbed “Far Out Rickshaw Rally — Racing Towards the Son,” that was criticized for promoting racial stereotypes, according to the Baptist Standard.

The curriculum package, the Baptist Standard detailed, “came in a tin shaped like a Chinese-food take-out box, and the chorus to its theme song alluded to a scene in the 1984 movie The Karate Kid.”

In 2019, Christian publisher Group Publishing faced pushback for its Africa-themed children’s Bible school curriculum that, according to Faithfully Magazine, had children pretending to be Israelite slaves and mimicking an African dialect with “clicking” sounds. Group Publishing revised and apologized for the curriculum.

Warren, in his statement, said the church has put a process in place “to ensure that any curriculum that might be insensitive, hurtful, or demeaning never sees the light of day.”

Meanwhile, Reyes advised churches to hire sensitivity readers and consultants for church resources.

“Better yet, don’t include segments that make fun of other people’s cultures at all in your teaching materials. It’s disrespectful and dishonoring,” she said.

Church Life

How American Politics Complicates Evangelicalism in the UK

Facing Brexit fallout and COVID, the head of the country’s Evangelical Alliance is eager to shift attention back to their mission.

Christianity Today February 2, 2021
Leon Neal / Getty Images

For the past four years, the leader of the United Kingdom’s Evangelical Alliance faced several major national challenges: Brexit divides, religious liberty concerns, dramatic demographic shifts, a pandemic, and political baggage that made its way across the pond.

Since white American evangelicals became known as some of former US President Donald Trump’s biggest supporters, Gavin Calver saw media in his own country conflate them with the Christians his organization represents. Calver had to work even harder to educate others about the broad array of evangelicals in the UK, who don’t fully align with any single party or politician.

“I can find myself tweeting about a food bank serving in Bradford, only for someone on the other side of the world to lambast me for being a Trump supporter,” Calver wrote in a reflection that ran on Inauguration Day in The Times of London. “How did it come to this? How has the word evangelical been so politicised?”

The end of Trump’s presidency last month means Calver’s job can again focus on the mission of evangelicals in the UK—currently under its third coronavirus lockdown—without having to untangle their message from American political associations.

“I can’t pretend it’s not easier now to say ‘I’m Gavin, I’m an evangelical Christian,’ and for that to not immediately link me to politics of a nation I’ve never lived in, I’ve never voted in, and I have no plans to move to,” the Evangelical Alliance CEO said in a recent interview with Christianity Today. “People were desperate to get back to an evangelicalism that is liberated from bondage to other things, and actually focuses on the main thing, which is making Jesus known together.”

Calver has close ties to the United States. Until recently, his parents were pastors there, and his father, Clive Calver, once led World Relief, the humanitarian arm of the US National Association of Evangelicals. But he has seen how the political approaches by evangelicals in the two countries have clashed for decades; while the Religious Right made way for American evangelicals’ steady Republican support, British evangelicals have more representation across the three major parties and focus on issues over affiliation, according to Calver.

Misunderstandings over the evangelical term got exaggerated as UK media attention turned to the American president, but some of the confusion has been there all along; the faith is not as “mainstream” as in the US, he said.

Last week, Gavin Calver spoke with CT about the shared history between the evangelical communities in the UK and the US, how Trump has affected their close relationship, promising opportunities amid another COVID-19 lockdown, and what Brexit means for the unity of the British church.

How would you describe the historical relationship between US and UK evangelicals?

Our two nations have a special relationship on so many levels, and the church shares that too. Personally, the one that most comes to mind was when the late great Billy Graham came over for a couple of tours. My grandpa at the time was the chairman of a couple of his European tours. I remember as a little boy being at Crystal Palace or Wembley Stadium and seeing loads of people come to the front to give their lives to Jesus.

The ministries of Rick Warren or Tim Keller have had profound impacts in this nation, and the ministry of someone like the great late John Stott would have had a huge impact in the US. Ministries like Alpha that have worked really well in the UK worked well in the US, and the Purpose Driven Life stuff that came out of Saddleback a while ago worked well in the UK as well.

How did American evangelical support of Trump affect evangelicals’ reputation in the UK?

The problem was this word evangelical was connected to something that we had very little influence over and no control upon. In the media, they would talk about evangelical Christians doing X, Y, and Z as in the US. That by association made it look like we were the same people with the same ideology and the same everything.

Now, don’t get me wrong. We’re brothers and sisters. That’s important that we hold to that, but we’re a million miles away politically at times. It was a struggle to lead something here in the UK that was seen in the light of Trump. What Trump stood for by association the media caricatured us as standing for and, with the greatest respect, that often was not the case.

Would you say Trump’s presence and the American evangelical support for Trump tested this historically strong relationship between the two communities?

It created that awkward moment at a family dinner party where there’s something you can’t talk about because it’s just going to lead to a complete disagreement. I know that from my own experiences of visiting the US and having family there that it causes a tension in families that we don’t really understand here. Politics are important, but they’re not at any point some kind of demigods in our society here in the United Kingdom. The absolute wedding of politics and faith was not helpful when trying to have rational conversations.

Back in 2019, Franklin Graham planned a number of crusades in the UK. Multiple entertainment arenas canceled them after LGBT activists organized against his coming. How have you made sense of this situation?

The issue for us in the United Kingdom is the religious liberty issue of the “cancel culture,” that you’re not allowed to hold that kind of event in a venue. But the church was very much divided as to whether it supported or didn’t support Franklin coming. The pandemic led to an outcome in which he couldn’t come. But now it will be interesting to see what happens in some of the legal cases around freedom of religion that are going to be taking place with those venues that wouldn’t have them.

Franklin Graham’s relentless support of Trump certainly didn’t help in the UK lens. But once the venues were canceled and COVID stopped it from happening, the issue now is: What are the religious liberty consequences, if any, going forward here? That’s significant to every evangelist that wants to speak about Jesus in any public setting in the UK.

How has the UK church responded to the pandemic?

We’ve got a change in spiritual temperature. For years the church has been answering questions the world wasn’t asking, but since the pandemic, 25 percent of the population of the UK has to been to church online at least once. Normally only 5 percent of the population goes to church. We’re calling it mortality salience, which is an awareness of your own fragility. You might die one day, so you start asking the big questions.

There’s been a change in style. We’ve gone from not thinking we could do online church to doing it amazingly. There’s been a changing cultural narrative. In my role at the EA before the pandemic, I’d be asked my views on abortion or same-sex marriage or something else to try to caricature you as what the media wanted to see you as. Since the start of the pandemic we’re asked, “How are you going to help rebuild the society socially and spiritually?”

Have any churches been able to meet in person in the UK during the pandemic?

On and off. We’re in our third lockdown now. In the first lockdown churches couldn’t meet. In the second some could. In this one, you can within certain limitations, so some are. We’ve got a different situation here too than in much of the US. It’s much stricter here. We’re very much obeying the rules we’re given, and masks are not controversial here. You wear a mask because you love your neighbor and you want your neighbor to live for longer.

I’ve preached more times than ever before in my life, but I’ve seen less of people. When I have preached in a building, it’s been slightly odd; you have to wear a mask; you can’t sing in church. The church has never closed; we’ve just changed our style.

How has Brexit already begun to change how evangelicals do ministry, both domestically and in Europe overall?

It’s too early to talk about how it’s particularly changed, seeing as Brexit only fully happened about four weeks ago. The challenge for the UK evangelicals is not to become an island. You could ask, how could we evangelicals vote on Brexit? Probably as the nation voted, which is 52 percent in favor and 48 percent against.

Nationalism doesn’t really have a place in evangelicalism for me. We’re citizens of the kingdom of heaven; therefore, we need to make sure we look outwards to Europe and also look inwards to make sure that we’re being open. The church is the only organization in the United Kingdom and in Europe and in the USA that can potentially get everyone in the same place on the same team, loving one another and reaching out.

My church did men’s curry nights. We had 15 men at the curry nights, 14 nationalities. The guy who runs the curry house system said, “What on earth are you?” I said, “What you think we are?” He says, “I think you’re the church. No other group in this community can get this diverse group of people around the same table, eating together, laughing together, and being together.” The church can do something the world can’t do.”

In this season, when Britain and the United Kingdom could become like a little UK again, looking inwards, let’s look outwards. There’s no British people in heaven, just brothers and sisters celebrating for eternity.

Last year, Northern Ireland legalized abortion and same-sex marriage. Was this something that you anticipated?

We knew these challenges were coming. Obviously, we disagree with both of those decisions by the government there. We put up a good fight, but, in the end, the secular tsunami won out. However, it doesn’t mean that we don’t continue to advocate for what Scripture says and don’t continue to work with the powers that be on issues that are important like this.

The United Kingdom is a challenging landscape. It is an increasingly secular one. Whatever happens that’s really wonderful between now and the end of time, whatever happens that’s really horrible and difficult between now and the end of time, we know, at the end of the story, Jesus wins. Therefore, in the middle, we hold firm. We stand firmly on his word, and we do what we can to make him known.

What type of impact are African and West Indian believers having on the UK church in recent decades?

Absolutely huge. A quarter of UK evangelicals are not white. If you go into London, which is the place in the United Kingdom where the church has been growing by far the fastest, half of those who go to church in London aren’t white. For many years, United Kingdom sent missionaries all over the world. I’m just so grateful that many have been sent back in reverse mission.

We are grateful for it. One of the perhaps potential differences in the UK is the way that ethnicities and nationalities and different groupings of people all live together in such harmony and togetherness and unity.

Can you elaborate?

One of the most important works of the Evangelical Alliance is our One People commission led by my friend and brother Yemi Adedeji. The One People commission exists to celebrate our unity across ethnic diversity. We are used to, in this nation, very much living together. Churches are often multicultural and we are doing fairly well in that space, but there’s still a lot more work to be done. At the Evangelical Alliance, one of our main things to make sure is that we’re calling for unity, we are working our relationships together, and that brother- and sisterhood goes beyond human divides.

Certainly, in the light of the murder of George Floyd and the Black Lives Matter marches in the US, the reaction in the UK was significant and necessary, but it did feel like we were starting from a different place as well. Let’s not be naïve or foolish enough to think that the UK church in the UK itself don’t have problems with racism. They do. But it feels like on this issue that we are further down the track towards working out what it really means to be a united society that’s fair for all. But we still have a long way to go.

What are the types of issues that pose a challenge to church unity in the UK?

Brexit’s been an issue. if you said to me, 10 years ago, “Is the UK’s involvement in Europe a potentially divisive issue for the church?” I would have said, “That’s so silly. How could it be?” Then suddenly you’ve got a referendum, and you realize the church is as split as the nation. We’ve got our own wounds to recover from, and we’re trying to do that and we’re trying to say that what unites us in Christ is so much more important than what divides us.

At the Evangelical Alliance, we're saying this is our family, and it's important we bring them together.

We also want to be involved in wider acts of Christian unity as well, but the tribe that I’m part of is the evangelical one.

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