Perkins, a man who had actually reconciled with the murderer of his brother, said that he had recently finished speaking at a church when a young woman approached him. She said something like this, “My grandmother supported segregation, but she was a dedicated Christian who was nice to everyone.”

Perkins replied, “Well, your grandmother was a bigot!”

Sometimes being a nice Christian isn’t enough when you’re contributing to injustice. Being nice doesn’t undo the degrading of another person.

I write this dressed in clothing that may have been made by poorly treated workers on a computer that was almost certainly manufactured by workers who were overworked and underpaid. Am I part of the problem? How can I doubt that?

I some days wonder if I have any integrity to speak of justice. I try to do things here and there to serve the poor, and I still struggle with the fact that I profit from injustice. However, I’m doing a few things to address injustice where I’m at, and one of the areas where I feel called to speak is with inequality and women. I write this as someone trying to undo a few wrongs, even if there is much that remains to be done.

Where I’m Coming From

I want to begin by explaining that I believe women are created to be fully equal to men. I know there are some Christians who disagree with that, saying that God created a kind of hierarchy. I used to belong to that camp, but I don’t any more. I’m not going to argue points.

I only want to say that I am one of many Christians who believes in gender equality because I find that the most compelling way to read scripture. I tried the other way, and too many passages from scripture fell apart in the process, forcing me to pick and choose which ones to take “literally.”

That’s just my story and my perspective. I believe the Bible makes men and women equal in the image of God. I understand that some followers of Jesus disagree with me.

What I Hear

When I hear someone argue that the Bible makes women somehow unequal to men, there really isn’t any way to dress up that perspective for me. As a former member of that camp, I understand there’s no malice intended. I know there’s a simple desire to obey the Bible.

Some even try to be nice about it.

Whether nice or judgmental toward me, I keep hearing the same thing: injustice. Saying that women are anything other than what God made them to be smacks  me as flat out wrong. There are two irreconcilable perspectives here.

We can’t find middle ground. Women are either fully equal to men in God’s created order or they’re not. Even if I hear nice words coming from those who deny that equality, I still hear injustice. I can’t help that.

How I React

Though I understand that few, if any, people who “downgrade” women are malicious in their intent, I still find myself reacting strongly with waves of heartbreak and anger. It’s hard to fight back these feelings as I hear someone tell a woman she is somehow less in the sight of God—even if it’s dressed up “nice” as a different calling.

I know that we can’t make a one to one correspondence with racism here. I’m not out to paint anyone as a villain. However, anyone denying the equality of women believes in something that is unjust in my reading of scripture, and it devastates me in so many ways.

In writing all of this, I hope I can at least explain why these discussions about women and ministry and women and equality become so emotionally charged. Both sides really do want to remain true to the Bible. I have no doubt in my mind about that since I’ve belonged to both camps here.

However, I can also sense that those who support full equality have an edge, even a chip on their shoulders that isn’t always understood. We aren’t just having a theology debate here. We’re talking about the something so deeply personal and powerful for half of the people on this planet. This is a matter that can literally alter the life choices of thousands if not millions of women. This is an issue that ties into personal worth as much as it does to ministry and theology.

I don’t think those who quote scriptures about women remaining silent understand the hornet nest they’re stirring up. I’m not saying we can’t have these discussions, but I think we should only enter into them with two things in mind:

• A full commitment to actually having a discussion where we share our stories and how we arrived at our beliefs rather than fighting to convert one side to the other.
• An understanding that so much is at stake for those who believe in equality—enough that it may be hard to keep a cool head.

Equality for women is one of those issues where I’m continually reminded that the internet is a terrible place for discussion and debate. I hope each side continues to recognize that God is working among them. I hope discussions continue to happen in the appropriate forums. I hope that we can build more understanding.

At the same time, we’re arguing over a matter of justice—at least one side of this debate is. The stakes are high. Denying the equality of women with a nice, rational argument stings every bit as bad as a caustic remark. That’s just the reality we have. May God give us wisdom and grace to know when to keep our comments to ourselves and to dispense grace and peace instead of conflict.

Giving up on any hope of making a profit had a way of sharpening my focus, training my heart to think beyond bank accounts, page views, and marketing platforms (though I will see a few benefits along these lines in the long run). Giving a book away is all about a passion for an idea, believing in my message to the point that I’m willing to share it as widely as possible at any cost.

I didn’t hold back with my latest E-book project. I created something that has value. Even a free book shouldn’t be a waste of someone’s time. I offered readers a chance to buy it for $.99 because I wanted to both provide a simple download option and a chance for them to support my work. However, the free download links on my site provided the same ideas and the same format.

Part of my motivation for this latest adventure in publishing had to do with helping to clean up a really big mess—a mess that I’ve contributed to over the years—divisions among Christians.

As I’ve shared my thoughts on unity and processed how we can make things better on this blog, a central idea emerged. It was not only worthy of an E-book, it was important enough to give it away.

I don’t plan on giving all of my books away this widely, but I know that I’ll do it again. It has been a refreshing reminder that storing up treasure in heaven and blessing others can sometimes fall aside, neglected while I try to build up financial security. Sometimes we have callings to fulfill and wrongs to set right.

Sometimes I need to try something new—something that doesn’t quite make sense but feels just so right that I can’t resist the call of adventure.

This post is part of Bonnie Gray’s Thursday Faith Jam. Visit Faith Barista today to read more stories about adventure.

The Bible is full of people who were just like us. It was written by people just like us. The details are there, tucked away in the spare prose and poetry. The trouble is how to unlock those details so that we can relate to the people in the Bible and sort out what it means for us.

We’re not used to reading books like the Bible. There are a lot of ways that’s true, but one obvious detail is that the Bible wasn’t typed on a computer with infinite pages. The writers of the Bible couldn’t pick up legal pads at Staples or drop off a manuscript at a printing press.

The Bible was written on scrolls—precious, limiting scrolls that could only hold so much. Long-winded writers need not apply for writing the Bible.

These authors were masterful in their economy of words. They distilled stories down to the most important details. If we see something in the Bible, no matter how small the detail, we need to ask, “Why is this here?”

This one question will help you dig into the backstory and the implied situations described in each story.

There are lots of other really good questions that will help you study Bible. However, this one question:

• Forces us to slow down
• Helps us read carefully
• Places us in the events recorded with new eyes

If we can answer the question, “Why is this here?” we may be able to figure out what the Bible has to say to us. We may find hidden treasures. We may even find out why we’re here.

SPOILER ALERTS!!!

Who wants to read a book with all of the underlining, stars, and exclamation points already inserted? And then you need to pay an extra $3 or $4 for lousy media mail shipping which ensures you’ll probably get the book sometime in 2013. If there’s still a scrap of the cover left on it, you’ll be lucky.

Sighing, you realize that it won’t be much cheaper to pick up the E-book version of Coffeehouse Theology for $7.99, and then you’ll be robbed of seeing the beautiful cover art. This is worse than a Catch 22. It’s like a Catch 44—twice as bad.

My Insanely Awesome January E-book Offer

But wait, there is hope. What if I told you that you could download every major book I’ve written for between $3.99 and $4.99??? Would you question my ability to do basic math? Though I wouldn’t doubt that, I’ve worked on these numbers for days now, and I keep coming up with $3.99 or $4.99.

The trick is that this super-awesome, mathematically impossible feat of book discounting is only good for the month of January. Here are the links you need to pick up all three of my books:

• Coffeehouse Theology is $2.99 at NavPress
• Divided We Unite: Practical Christian Unity is a free download (optional $.99)
• A Path to Publishing is $.99

Thanks for checking out my work. And believe me, this is a fun way to get my writing in front of lots of people, so please do share these offers with your friends who are curious about how theology works, wrestle with Christian unity, or dream about publishing a nonfiction book. You’re not robbing me by passing this offer along to as many people as possible.

And speaking frankly, even if you did rob me, I’m so bad at math I wouldn’t notice.

I doubt we would make it to the meal, which would be rather sad since we always have pierogies on Christmas Day.

I don’t have any intention of trying this out. Rather, I write this in order to follow up on last week’s post about Christian unity and the idea that we can remain united despite our divisions.

The more I think about families, the easier it is for me to believe that meaningful Christian unity can be possible today despite the fragmented nature of Christians. It’s true that most of us know the right answer on paper: we are united by the bond of Jesus. Believing that statement when someone holds a belief that seems to run counter to the Bible or acts against the spirit of love requires a bit more faith than we can muster some days.

When I think of the differences in my own family and our ability to gather every year for great parties that have no shortage of love, I’m hopeful about Christianity. Many of us are already experts at living at peace and unity with family despite major differences.

We know how to avoid sensitive topics.

We know how to focus on what joins us together.

We know how to show an interest in others who are quite different from us.

There have been days when I’ve despaired about Christianity and the ways we are hopelessly fragmented. However, this morning, I am hopeful.

Even now we are all looking forward to the birth of Jesus, celebrating his coming among us and the arrival of God’s salvation. We all struggle with materialism. We all have long to-do lists before we can celebrate the holidays.

When we sit down to pray, seeking God amidst busy days and tasting the joys of his presence, we are all connecting to the same Father who loves us. As we tap into the peace and love that comes from our one Lord, may he share with us his passionate love for his people.

The basics remained the same, but over that time my perceptions of the church, salvation, the mission of God, the ministry of the church, and my own life calling passed through a major, major overhaul. I don’t know if you’ve ever done major renovations on a house before, but much like house renovations, my faith renovations were not pretty.

I was angry, frustrated, and disappointed at various times. I had a hard time tolerating those who remained rooted with their faith in tact. Sometimes I struck out at them, and sometimes they struck out at me for asking unsettling questions.

I’m now in a season of relative stability, rooted in a take on God that fits my limited perspective. As I look back over the past nine years of transition, I can see how others around me are in similar seasons of being either rooted or transitioning.

• Some have been disappointed by Christianity for various reasons and left the faith.
• Some have switched from one denomination to another.
• Some are still wandering.
• Some have found loving Christian community in new places that had previously been off their radar.

If we hope to keep the unity of Christ in the midst of our divisions, we need to understand these seasons. Besides our divisions over beliefs and practices, we can also divide over our seasons of belief.

At the risk of oversimplifying things, here are three seasons I have observed:

The Rooted Season of Faith

Many of us are in a rooted season in our faith where we have a certain level of comfort with our understanding of the Bible, our spiritual practices, and the ways we serve others. Those who are rooted need to be aware of welcoming those who are sprouting in their faith and have yet to find their place, while also remaining patient with those who are being transplanted.

The Transplant Season of Faith

For some of us who have been rooted in one spot for a while, sometimes the old answers and ways of doing things stop making sense. We all have our different reasons for pulling up our roots and moving elsewhere, though sometimes wider trends emerge.

Transplants are often in vulnerable positions, as they don’t feel like they fit anywhere, their beliefs have been shaken in some way, and they may be hurting enough to become combative. The hardest thing for a rooted person is patiently loving an argumentative transplant. I reached a point during my own transplant process that I actually couldn’t go to church for a season because I wasn’t in a healthy place to deal with it.

Besides spreading conflict, another problem with transplants is they sometimes rush into something new without dealing with their previous hurts and disappointments. I saw this a lot with folks who were disappointed by the church and then jumped right into house churches or emerging churches without seeking healing first.

The Sprouting Season of Faith

On the opposite end of the spectrum from the more jaded transplants are the sprouts, Christians who are still enthusiastic about their faith. The danger with sprouts is transplants can snuff out their zeal with their grievances, while those who are rooted may fail to reach out to them and nurture them in the faith.

A sprout can wither easily and get trampled down if it isn’t guarded with care. Sprouts will have lots of questions and they may feel overwhelmed by the maturity of those with deep roots. Those who are rooted must make sure they protect the sprouts from storms and hard times, ensuring they receive the nourishment from God they need so badly.

Besides different beliefs and practices, Christians differ with their seasons of faith. I’m sure there are folks who would claim to be hybrids or something different altogether, but these three seasons keep coming up for me. When we understand the seasons of faith of those in our communities, we’ll be able to love them right where they’re at today.

Do these seasons of faith make sense to you?

Have you passed through a season of transition or of being rooted?

I remember the look on my coach’s face as I threw one ball after another—as in, the opposite of a strike. He mixed a “Why me?” sort of despair with a tinge of amusement—perhaps it had to do with the absurdity that his starting pitcher couldn’t throw a strike in a play off game.

The stakes weren’t exactly high in the grand scheme of things. I was pitching in an eighth grade baseball game, but for me, it was one of the most humiliating moments of my life. I remember hitting rock bottom as my coach made an audible snide remark about me as yet another batter trotted to first base.

We often see coaches walk out to the mound to advise struggling pitchers in the majors. As much as I hated my coach at that moment, I just wanted help. What was I doing wrong? I’d practiced over and over again to the point that I knew how to throw strikes. A pre-game panic attack had thrown me into a tailspin, and I didn’t know how to salvage my form.

Looking back, I can see that my problems started long before that game. Our coach didn’t really teach our team all that much. He could hit ground balls and fly balls in practice, but I had to teach myself how to throw a fastball, slider, and changeup. I even taught myself how to throw  a knuckle ball.

Previous to that playoff game, I just showed up and pitched. My coach literally taught me nothing. He didn’t invest anything in me, and when I fell to pieces, he just stepped back and watched.

My step-dad was the one person who actually invested anything in my young, short-lived baseball career in Jr. High. He taught me a few things about how to hit, and his lessons paid off. In one game he stood behind the batting cage and said, “Think of that pitch as a big grapefruit.”

It never occurred to me that baseballs could be compared to grapefruits. How does that help anyone? I’d think that a grapefruit would just explode on contact into a sticky but delicious snack. Humoring him, I told myself that the incoming pitch was, in fact, a large grapefruit.

In those seconds, I no longer saw a tiny, spinning baseball with red stitches. I saw an enormous yellow grapefruit that had been lobbed before me and was just begging to be clobbered. I swatted that ball with everything I had, sending it way beyond the centerfielder. I remember my step-dad yelling, “Yes!” as I took off for first base.

It felt good to have his support at that moment, something so different from that other time on the pitching mound when I couldn’t throw a strike. Someone wanted me to succeed. He invested in me, stood with me in my moment of challenge, and celebrated when I succeeded.

I write all of this not by way of publicly chronicling my stellar baseball career. I assure you, these are the highlights—save for the one game where I really got my knuckleball going. I wanted to talk about the feeling you get when someone is supporting you and working hard to help you succeed.

To say that God isn’t like a Jr. High baseball coach ventures toward the obvious, but I honestly think that I sometimes turn God into this smug, wait-and-see coach who is just watching us fall apart from the sidelines. God wants us to succeed because he expects that of us, but it’s tempting to think that he could take us or leave us depending on our performance.

God doesn’t want failures… or does he?

I had already made up my mind to write about this topic today, and then I read Ezekiel 18 this morning. Check it out. It’s a beautiful statement by God about wanting his people to succeed, forgiving them when they fail, and welcoming them back.

God is deeply invested in you and me because he is passionate for his people—even if we fail. His Spirit is here with us because he’s with us in the game. He’s empowering us, cheering us on, and dusting us off when we fall and sulk back to him.

We can go back to God after we fail because he’s right there with us, hoping that we’ll come to our senses and turn our “no’s” into “yes’s.” As long as you have today, your “no” does not have to be final. Your fail does not define you.

Stop looking at your failure. Look up to God because he’s leaving the sidelines where you expected to find him. He’s coming out to help you.

I like to play the part of the menial slave who just focuses on one big project: washing the apples, cutting the apples, etc. My wife is far better suited for the supervision and “big picture” part of canning. She’s good at reading recipes and devising a plan.

I’ve never been good at following recipes. I usually forget something. Knowing this tendency, I could stand in front of a cook book for hours trying to make sure I got it right. If I was in charge of making the applesauce by myself, there’s a chance I could still be standing in front of the cookbook today.

When you’re canning something, you need to follow the instructions carefully to ensure everything stays sterile and that you cook your fruit/vegetables enough. The instructions are important, but the nourishment comes from putting them into practice and making something. No actions, no applesauce, no matter how well I think I understand the instructions. In fact, the instructions aren’t doing me much good without the applesauce they’re supposed to produce.

Theology often needs more applesauce.

That is to say, if theology provides us some critical instructions and guidelines relating to the nature of God, they’re only useful to the point that we actually meet the God we learn about. Our nourishment is knowing God and doing his will—it’s like eating a warm loaf of bread.

For all of my pouting about following recipes, the irony is that I often prefer just reading theology over putting it into practice. I’m malnourished because I miss out on God’s sustaining presence. If I’m not producing fruit that will last—or fruit that is “preserved”—there’s a chance that I’ve put too much value on learning “about” God rather than living “with” God.

Recipes are useful for pointing us in the right direction. We need good recipes just like we need good theology, but if the recipes don’t lead to something substantial and life-changing, we’re probably just starving ourselves.

I take my metaphors to their natural conclusion, which I feel is my warrant as a writer. So, when someone says, “I go to church to get fed,” I can’t help thinking of a baby sitting in a high chair with his mouth open and someone stuffing food into it. Fussing and spit up is part of it.

That metaphor of being “fed” at church has been a powerful one. When Willow Creek Community Church  conducted their church-wide study called Reveal, they discovered that they needed to help their people become “self-feeders.” In other words, mature Christians had grown too dependent on being spoon-fed truth. Church was not a self-serve buffet, but rather a series of high chairs.

We need teaching and instruction, especially if we’re young in the faith. The Bible is tricky, but we also need to learn how to pray and serve others.

Have we possibly associated church too closely with being fed spiritual truth to the exclusion of some other important things?

And related to that, How responsible should mature Christians be for their own instruction in the faith?

The difference between now and most other times in Christian history is that we have access to incredible resources such as books, blogs, online videos, and podcasts. We have accessible commentaries, study tools, and hundreds of trained teachers publishing books that will crack open the Bible for us.

There are some amazing books being published by seminary professors right now that languish in obscurity between the academy and the church because they’re a little technical at times. Make no mistake, teaching yourself is hard work.

I’m not trying to say that pastors preaching sermons are unnecessary. Rather, I wonder if it’s time to reimagine what being “fed” could look like and whether we focus so much on being fed that we forget about the other things that our churches could do. In the process we can take a lot of pressure off our pastors and allow them to focus on ensuring we are becoming spiritually healthy, living as obedient disciples, and serving others where needed in our communities.

I personally know that it’s much easier to spend ten hours pouring over a commentary because Paul said truth is important. However, I’m not quite as fast to jump to the aid of the poor in my community for a few hours, even though we see examples in Acts of the early church providing for orphans and widows, to say nothing of James.

Focusing on teaching truth is pretty easy for folks like me, especially those of us who enjoyed seminary. However, teaching and instructing is just one part of the larger picture. In addition, it may be possible to still do it well without reinventing the wheel.

I’ll be honest, I’m not a lover of sermons. There have been sermons that changed my life, but I think there could have been many, many more life-changing sermons if the pastor stopped talking after fifteen minutes and we focused on putting it into practice as a community. In other words, it’s good to teach that Jesus delivered people from evil spirits, but I’m just as interested in taking time on Sunday to pray for people who feel tormented by temptation.

Each denomination has its strengths when it comes to teaching and preaching. I come from a background that was heavy on teaching, so I’m writing from that perspective—hoping for a little more practice and a little less head knowledge when I gather with believers in community.

I’m aware that we need diversity and that my experience will differ from others. I’m also aware that these are big, systemic and tradition-based matters I’m raising today. Change, if it ever happens, would be slow.

However, I think we need to step back and imagine some new possibilities:

What could it look like if we took some of the teaching pressures away from our pastors and placed it on ourselves?

How could we ensure that teaching still happens?

Would our pastors be able to minister a little more effectively with less teaching responsibilities?

A few weeks ago, I decided to take action. I wasn’t facing anything life threatening or uncomfortable, but I was in a situation that made it really easy to face that fear. The freak out was pretty awesome: sweaty palms, beating heart, short breaths. I was a ball of fun at close quarters in the elevator that day.

And then something changed. I gained an understanding of the actual source of my fear, and I realized that I’d completely mischaracterized it. It wasn’t quite as bad as I thought, even if it still kind of freaks me out.

By staring into my fear, I discovered a weak point in its defenses, and you’d better believe I’m praying into that weak spot with everything I’ve got.

On Becoming Less Fearful

I had a chat with some classmates at my 10-year college reunion, and one guy asked how we’ve changed over the past 10 years. One friend said that he is now less fearful after working through so many hard times at his first job. He cares far less about what people think of him, and he is far more confident as takes risks and pursues challenges.

In a sense, his first job blasted him with so many sources of stress and anxiety that they soon lost their power. He saw them at their worst, and he realized that God was able to sustain him.

There are real things to fear in this world, but so much of what we fear is insubstantial, lacking teeth. The substantial parts of our fears may knock us around when we face them, but God is able to deliver us because Jesus is Lord over all.

Facing our fears often seems like a terrible at idea in the thick of things. However, we’ll never have a chance to experience God’s power and deliverance unless we own our fears and let him begin working in us.

I have found that deliverance is often a process, a series of stumbling steps forward. As I discovered in the elevator that day with my nervous faith, God can break through and begin to heal us when we face our fears.