Natalie Burris

If not biblicism, then what? Christian Smith and the christological hermeneutic

Christian Smith's The Bible Made Impossible argues Scripture isn't meant to be a handbook.  In fact, in Chapter 5, Smith purports that doing so is not a truly evangelical reading of Scripture.  Although biblicism looks like a "high view" of Scripture, it actually ends up demeaning the Bible.

If the gospel--the evangelion--is that God is reconciling the world to himself in Christ, we must go beyond viewing the Bible as a user's manual, even if it's considered divinely-inspired.

So what, then, is a truly evangelical way to read the Bible?  It 

confronts us with a particular story and message that, if taken seriously, blow the doors off every assumption, outlook, and experience that we have ever had apart from Jesus Christ. The evangelical message of scripture shakes loose from us every misguided and idolatrous preconception about everything, literally everything, that we thought we knew, and then begins to rebuild us in light of the singularly radical fact of who God really is and therefore who we really are in relation to God and what he has done for us. The good news of the gospel of Jesus Christ is the most important thing we will ever need to hear and know, and it has the power to reframe and transform everything else.

Distilling this idol-crushing collection into a handbook neuters Scripture, turning it into the "security, certainty, and protection that humans naturally want" and a means to "facilitate the kind of secure, stable, and therapeutically satisfying lives we wish to live." 

Smith offers an alternative to biblicism: viewing Christ as the purpose of, center, and interpretive key to Scripture.  So, "every narrative, every prayer, every proverb, every law, every Epistle" must be read only in light of Christ and of God reconciling the world to himself through Christ.

Rather than basing the Bible's true-ness on modern standards of knowledge and a perfect jigsaw puzzle, a Christ-centered approach points toward "a common Christian mind" about what the Bible teaches.   

The Bible is not God's highest self-revelation.  Christ is.  The Bible is not the end - it's the means to an end in Christ.

Smith quotes several theologians who have discussed this christocentric hermeneutic, but I liked evangelical theologian Donald Bloesch's portrayal:

The object of our faith is not the church or the scriptures, not even our experience of Jesus Christ. It is Jesus Christ himself, but Christ testified to in Scripture and proclaimed in the church.  [...] The Bible comes alive when it is read in light of the cross of Christ. [...] [T]he text does not yield its full meaning until we see it in its theological relation to the wider context—the sacred history of the Bible culminating in Jesus Christ. [...] [T]he salvific content of Scripture is God’s self-revelation in Jesus Christ.  What makes Scripture authoritative is that it focuses on Christ, [and] while fully acknowledging both cultural and theological diversity within Scripture, the Reformers held to its overarching unity.  One of their key principles was that "the whole of Scripture presents Christ everywhere."

What about issues on which Christians still need guidance, like gender roles and childrearing, or weightier issues like baptism and eschatology?  Smith proposes that the local church should work out these issues.  Rather than expecting the Bible to literally give us these answers, we are to view particular issues through the christological lens the Bible provides us.  

Does this particularist way of working out the details dangerously make the Bible reader the sole arbiter of truth?  Asking this question implies biblicists are able to "rise above" making themselves arbiters of biblical truth.  Human subjectivity is necessarily involved in biblical interpretation.  Moving away from biblicism simply acknowledges this fact and brings it out into the open.  How else are we to discern truth without involving our own subjective understandings?  To temper this problem, I would add that allowing community (over against individualism) and marginalized voices (women, people of color, the LGBTQ community, the global south) are important.

Smith anticipates a biblicist objection: everything we know about Christ comes from Scripture, so where is the christological hermeneutic's starting point?  Smith notes this critique reduces our faith to the Bible's "paper and ink" and is an "overly rationalistic, modern approach."  We need to leave room for the Holy Spirit.

At the chapter's closing, Smith encourages evangelicals to reconsider Karl Barth, as he provides a robust christological framework for biblical interpretation, moving us away from bibliolatry.  As a result, I've added a Church Dogmatics outline to my wishlist...

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Mohler and MacArthur are not part of a long line of church leaders defending creationism

Southern Baptist Archbishop Al Mohler (thanks to Slacktivist for that term) uses dramatic rhetoric when arguing against evolution.  He stated Christians "now face the undeniable truth that the most basic and fundamental questions of biblical authority and gospel integrity are at stake."  Evangelical Archbishop John MacArthur also employs dramatic language. 

Mohler and MacArthur place themselves in a long line of Christians who have defended six-day creationism.  Their language makes one think the church has always supported a literal creation account.  To reconcile Scripture and evolution, then, would be the church's first--and dramatic--capitulation to "secular" thinking.

But throughout history, not everyone affirmed six-day creationism.  Not all church fathers furthered a dichotomy between Scripture and science.  The origins issue was not the controversy some have made it today; in fact, it was often a non-issue. 

Robert Letham's Westminster Theological Journal article, In the Space of Six Days: The Days of Creation from Origen to the Westminster Assembly, argues that some church fathers did not spend time defending a literal Genesis reading.  To counteract some modern church leaders' misconceptions, here are some thoughts from Letham's article, which I read for my human origins class in college.

Third-century Origen didn't believe in a literal six-day creation, as it is impossible to interpret the creation account literally when the sun wasn't created until the fourth day, per Genesis 1.

Augustine believed in a simultaneous creation, so Genesis' days were actually one day repeated seven times.  "God accommodated himself to the capacity of weaker intellects and presented creation as if it were a process" (157).  

Up until the 1200's, most exegesis centered on the perfect number of creation's days and debates about when angels were created.  Whether creation occurred in six literal days wasn't important.

Calvin's Genesis commentary doesn't discuss the days of creation, which Letham thinks is significant in itself.  Like Augustine, Calvin believed in divine accommodation.  God accommodates his works to human capacity, to our level, "speaking to us in the prattling babble of baby-talk" (166).

Calvin believed Genesis did not teach astronomy or other sciences.  He didn't dismiss science, but valued it.  To Calvin, Genesis was written in a popular style for ordinary people, while astronomers dealt with more complex knowledge.  Astronomy was "very useful to be known: it cannot be denied that this art unfolds the admirable wisdom of God" (167).

None of the sixteenth-century Reformed confessions state earth was created in six literal days.  It was simply not an issue in the Reformed church at that time.

Moving on to English Puritans up until the Westminster Assembly, Letham says their theology has a "virtually complete absence of interest in creation" (173).  They never attempted a serious interpretation of the creation accounts - it was not a matter of controversy.

If the creation account is clear-cut and vital to the gospel message, why were there so many divergent interpretations--or none at all--pre-Westminster Assembly?  When Mohler and MacArthur defend a literal reading of Genesis, they fail to realize they're defending a relatively new interpretation, which differs from early church fathers' interpretations.  "Claims that a literal reading of the days of Genesis 1 is obvious fall down when the history of interpretation is taken into consideration" (174).

Even past North American Christians would disagree with Mohler and MacArthur: Mark Noll points out in The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind that theologically conservative Christian and Harvard botanist Asa Gray was the person most active in bringing Darwinism to the U.S.

Lastly, those who reject evolution and read Genesis literally still selectively interpret based on scientific developments.  Genesis 1:6-8 states:

And God said, "Let there be a vault between the waters to separate water from water."  So God made the vault and separated the water under the vault from the water above it.  And it was so.  God called the vault "sky."

Thanks to modern-day astronomers and space exploration, we view this separation of waters as an ancient Near East understanding of the atmosphere.  Hardly any literalists today believe an ocean is above the sky, because science and simple observations prove otherwise.  Why, then, do literalists insist those who accept evolution disrespect the gospel's integrity?  Aren't literalists also allowing "secular science" to influence their interpretation of Genesis 1:6-8? 

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Recommended blog reading

I've added some great blogs to my Google Reader these past few months, so I thought I would share a few:

so much shouting, so much laughter - Suzannah writes about faith lived out.  I appreciate her posts on non-violence, living simply, and women in the church.

Are Women Human? - An amazing blog!  I think Grace is my brain-twin, as she discusses race and gender in the church, and even the book Divided by Faith.  

Experimental Theology - Am I the last person to have heard of Richard Beck's blog?  In case I'm not, Richard is a psychology professor at Abilene Christian University and blogs about various issues in the Christian faith.

mama:monk - I also feel like Micha is my brain-twin.  She grew up Southern Baptist and is now a Christian feminist who has fallen in love with monastic and contemplative practice.

Jenny Rae Armstrong - Jenny grew up as a missionary kid, and now shares challenging thoughts on women's issues in the church and social justice.

Joy in this Journey - Joy writes honest, open, and thought-provoking posts about women in the church, grieving, and how complacent North American Christians can address poverty.

Laura Ziesel - Laura is a seminary student who blogs about gender and miscarriage, and also offers incisive critiques of North American Christianity.

Native Appropriations - Adrienne counters stereotypes and misuse of indigenous cultures.

New Ways Forward - A seminary student, Mason shares about theology, Scripture, and his faith journey.

Be the Change - Dianna has an M.A. in English from Baylor, and her incredible blog explores gender and the church.

Once I'm done with the bar exam next summer, I hope to interact and comment more on all of these thoughtful, well-written blogs.  

Has anyone else found any excellent blogs lately?  Please share!

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Is a white girl worth more than a black girl? Chicago-area news outlets think so

In a very affluent Chicago suburb, a fourteen-year-old white girl was recently killed when she walked in on an intruder in her home.  The man who allegedly stabbed her is a black south-side Chicagoan.  I don't watch local TV news, but both the Tribune and the Sun-Times newspapers have reported extensively on this murder.  

My heart goes out to the young girl's family, as their grief must be gut-wrenching.  My critique of the news media's bias against people of color is not meant to minimize this family's pain.  However, I'm amazed at how much attention the murder of a suburban, affluent white girl has received, as compared to the murders of black young women that occur on Chicago's south side.

Although the suburban murder occurred on October 27, one angle of the incident is reported almost daily, and enjoys a front-page online link.  There were detailed reports about the funeral, the victim's tennis team rallying to honor their teammate, and the neighborhood's efforts to strengthen its watch program.  Weeks later, the Tribune has analyzed the suspect's mental health history.

I understand that a murder in a wealthy suburb is an unusual thing, and that the news outlets are reporting more prominently because they know these stories will garner more pageviews and TV viewers.  But I found several other equally-unusual and heartbreaking stories about young black women who have been killed, and aside from the initial news report, it seems there is no follow up on their murders.

In one instance, a pregnant teen begged for her life before being shot in the head.  In another, a six-year-old girl was shot while at a sleepover, even though the house was on a peacful block of its south-side neighborhood.  With yet another, we just get a cursory report of a seventeen-year-old girl being shot in the chest, with no other details.  If these victims would have been white residents of wealthier neighborhoods, I wonder how differently the media would have reported on these tragic events.

Rarely do we get follow-up reports on the memorial service, the community's grief, the victim's classmates, or the suspect's past when a person of color is murdered.  Simply looking at the news reports sends the message that an affluent white young woman's life is more valuable than a low-income, black young woman's.  The white girl's death is presented with many dimensions, as it affects her family and community, while the black girls' deaths are one-dimensional.  

The white young woman's death also appears to be more personalized.  In one report about the suburban girl's murder, a (presumably white?) policeman remarked he imagined he was searching for his own daughter's murderer.  There are no such sentiments expressed in articles about the young black women.  

Sadly, just as prosecutors are more likely to seek a death sentence when the victim is white, as opposed to a person of color, I suppose other parts of our society--both media outlets and their audience--find a white person's murder more noteworthy.  Any thoughts?

8 year blogiversary

The other day I realized I published my first-ever blog post eight years ago this month.  I'd never even heard of blogging before, but decided to start after my roommate began posting on her LiveJournal.  

How I cringe when I read my first posts!   The bulk of what I wrote consisted of song lyrics and sermon notes from my Reformed, complementarian church's college group.  I used to sign off with the Bible verse I had read in my daily devotion, too.  

Facebook and Twitter didn't exist yet, and it was rare to even find other women online who also had blogs about faith and politics.  How things have changed...

The enthusiasm and naivete are pretty entertaining, and I'm sure I'll look back at the "2011 me" with amusement as well!  

I haven't deleted my old posts, though.  It's actually fun to read through and detect the changes in my beliefs.  It's easy to see I was slowly learning a more generous worldview through anthropology.  I'm glad I have a record of that, even if it's public.  I also cherish the fact that my dad commented on several of my posts.

A few months ago, Kristen mused about blogging over a long period of time, and says it much better than I could ever convey:

You can say that blogging is narcisistic. You can say that it is solipsistic. You can say that bloggers often hide behind a fake persona, or project idealized versions of themselves to the world. Yes, yes, yes, I say. I would have to regretfully agree with you on all these points. 

But when you say that blogging is a futile waste of time, then you've gone too far.

I have been blogging now for around seven years. My early posts embarrass me, but I leave them up as a reminder of all the ways I have changed. I hope I've become a little less enthusiastic, a little less gauche. And over the last three or four years, I have often played with the idea of shutting it down. We have twitter. We have facebook. What's the point in a blog?

The point is the friends that I have made.

I've broken all "the rules" about good blogging.  My posts are way too long.  I don't post on a regular schedule, have "giveaways," or offer those bolded comment prompts at the end of every post.  

But personally, it's been a great outlet to share what I've learned in classes, help improve my writing, and crystallize my thoughts.  And I'm thankful for the blog-friends I've made.  I really appreciate that you read and put up with my rants and raves.  I also treasure the emails and in-person conversations that have resulted.  Thank you for reading and interacting.

Here's to another eight years! 

Are you an insider in the church? What's your responsibility?

Last week I mentioned I've been introduced to critical race theory, which I learned about through a seminar that fulfills my final legal writing requirement.  I've attempted to translate this critique to the evangelical church context because I think white evangelicals could benefit from taking a closer look at the church's structures and established behaviors.

Sociologist and African-American studies professor Patricia Hill Collins produces truly challenging work in this field.  While reading her analysis of black women sociologists' experiences in Learning from the Outsider Within: The Sociological Significance of Black Feminist Thought, I couldn't help but think of women (of all races) and people of color (of all genders) in the evangelical church.

(A quick clarification: when I mention that white male dominance in the church results in both racial and gender discrimination, I don't think a white woman experiences the same discrimination as a person of color, for example.  I don't want my references to both race and gender to come across as equalizing all groups' experiences.  Similarly, I don't want my references to "women and people of color" to render women of color invisible.  Language can be a minefield sometimes!)

Collins describes the field of sociology as a community of practitioners.  The "group insiders" have similar worldviews: they graduated from the same schools and have similar class, racial, and gender backgrounds (middle- to upper-class white males).  

These men end up defining the group's values, behaviors, and culture.  Their shared experience produces a "taken-for-granted knowledge," which becomes "thinking as usual" (27). 

Deciphering the "unwritten grammar of conduct and nuances of cultural idiom" requires an immersion similar to what's required in cross-cultural immersion (26).

To become insiders, then, black women sociologists must assimilate to foreign views.  White males are the dominant group, so of course the sociological worldview reflects white male concerns.  But most white males have not intentionally kept out non-whites and non-males.  Instead,  their dominance is tacit or de facto.  They simply follow natural patterns of behavior rather than engage in blatant racism or sexism.

As a result, outsiders are more likely to remain outsiders, because they don't want to simply assimilate to what the dominant insiders decide is most important.  Outsiders begin to question the taken-for-granted thinking as usual.  They point out what are labeled neutral observations or interpretations are actually influenced by white male subjectivity, and tend to place "the other" on the margins.

I appreciate Collins' emphasis on the de facto nature of dominance and that insiders are simply following natural patterns .  I hope I've never made anyone feel this way, but perhaps white males get defensive or feel attacked by the critique that women and people of color are marginalized in the church.  

My critique doesn't mean I think white Christian men are intentionally excluding non-whites and non-males (well, aside from complementarians who only allow male leadership, I suppose).  Rather, I critique those natural impulses to congregate with, converse with, and read only white middle-class men, which then results in believing white, middle-class, male-centric values and behavior are the norm in the church.  The challenge becomes unmasking this nuanced, unwritten grammar of conduct.

A common response, in the gender context, is that conference organizers and search committees can't find enough women to agree to speak, sit on a panel, or join their staff.  That's understandable.  However, the lack of qualified and willing women should sound the alarm that, institutionally and structurally, insiders have been tacitly unwelcoming to outsiders.  

It goes beyond ensuring more women and people of color are in seminary and are encouraged to lead.  Challenging "thinking as usual" requires us to carefully examine who we're reading, networking with, and allowing to shape our thinking.  For example, I did a quick google search the other day after I re-read the parable of the talents, looking for commentary or interpretations of this text.  All of the top search results produced commentaries exclusively by European or North American men, such as John Calvin and N.T. Wright. 

We're missing out by not pushing against the white evangelical church's natural patterns and homogeneity.  We have a wealth of resources in those we've relegated to the margins.  

Rather than get defensive if an outsider questions the dominant worldview, why not look around to see if we've surrounded ourselves with only those who belong to our class, race, and gender?  (Or, if we have welcomed outsiders, are we only "allowing them space" on our own terms?) 

And perhaps many ideas about Scripture and church we've taken for granted are actually more a result of our shared insider status than anything else.  Any thoughts?

More problems with Biblicism

Chapter 4 of The Bible Made Impossible provides more problems with biblicism, beyond Chapter 3's epistemological and sociological problems. 

Scripture gives direct commands many biblicists ignore, such as "greet one another with a holy kiss," or "wash one another's feet."  While many Christians greet with a kiss due to culture, and some perform feet-washing, biblicists generally do not follow these commands.  

Meanwhile, biblicists feel strongly about pre-marital sex and abortion, yet Scripture lacks direct instructions about these issues.  Biblicists may respond that these explicit commands are culturally rooted, thus not applicable today.  But biblicists do not fairly and consistently appeal to cultural relativism, which undermines biblicism. 

This is why I took issue with complementarians and biblical gender roles.  Smith asserts interpretation ends up an ad hoc process (perhaps much like gender roles):

Various biblical commands are relaxed or tightened without a clear underlying rationale or justification, depending significantly, it seems, on the particular cultural and political interests and discomfort of those doing the relaxing and tightening. In other words, biblicists very often engage in what we might call “uneven and capriciously selective literalism.” Sometimes the Bible says what it says and must be obeyed. Other times the obvious meaning of the passage is relativized by historical and cultural considerations. And it is often not clear for any given interpreter or across different interpreters which is which, when, and why.

Smith then cites to troubling passages, on which hardly anyone attempts to sermonize (Phineas, anyone?).  For example, Paul furthers an ethnic stereotype in Titus 1:12-13: "Cretans are always liars."  It's difficult to find a take-home, prescriptive message from these puzzling passages.  

Another interesting point is that biblicists use circular logic when using Scripture to validate its own authority.  If this isn't problematic, what Scripture says about itself does not validate biblicism.  To make the Bible support biblicism, dubious logic is required, along with an anachronistic view of Scripture.

Smith echoes what Timothy Beal points out in The Rise and Fall of the Bible: the early church had a different understanding of what "the Bible" was.  When referring to "Scripture," they meant what is now the Old Testament.  The New Testament didn't exist yet.  

So, while the New Testament described Scripture as God-breathed, it's quite the leap to assume "the Bible, down to the details of its words, consists of and is identical with God’s very own words written in human language. Those are not necessarily the same thing."  That biblicism cannot be supported by the Bible "suggests sociologically that biblicism is actually not driven by its purported, manifest interest, but by other latent concerns, motives, and interests[.]"

Smith's last point is that biblicism sets up young believers for crises once they realize biblicism is untenable.  When non-biblicists point out problems, young Christians may not know how to respond.  Sociologically, once they're outside of their homogeneous tribe and in college, these young believers may feel they must reject their faith outright.  Biblicism sets up expectations that are impossible to meet.  

Biblicism "not only makes young believers vulnerable to being disabused of their naive acceptance of that theory but it also often has the additional consequence of putting their faith commitments at risk."  It's ironic that a sect of Christianity that purports to take faith and the Bible so seriously sets up its young people for failure when they experience the world for themselves.  

This reminded me of my first year of college, an experience I shared here a few years ago.  At a "secular" university with liberal professors, I joined two campus Christian organizations: 

...both groups tended to have a “those-evil-professors-will-taint-your-mind” mentality toward the university. They were simply diametrically opposed to the university, and the prevailing attitude was that of blanket rejection of anything not explicitly conservative, evangelical Christ­ian. [...] In our Bible studies and Friday lunches, we were taught sys­tem­atic, care­fully laid-out answers to the criticisms that “those professors” were going to level against our faith...

So, I hunkered down in political and theological conservatism in my first year of col­lege, holding tightly to my beliefs. I was certain that I was biblical and right, and my faith grew into a reaction­ary one. ...[T]hings were black or white, good or bad, Christian or non-Christian...

...I immediately labeled as non-Christian anyone who didn’t fit my conception of “Christian” (meaning conservative, evangelical...Republican). Therefore, I blocked off any learning from people I had labeled, building up my defenses so my faith couldn’t be jeopardized. 

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The church's call to struggle against white privilege

They [African-Americans] don’t want to work. . . . You go downtown and you see some of these apartments, low-income housing. It’s trash. I mean, they don’t care and then they complain. Well, get off your duffer and do something. Make a better life for yourself. Clean up your house, pick up your trash, get some kind of job. (a white evangelical on p. 102, Divided by Faith).

This semester, I've been introduced to critical race theory ("CRT"), which proposes, as Jim-Crow-era racism is gone, that whites have replaced it with subtle justifications of our structural dominance.

Implicit in the definition of a good, civic-minded American is conforming to white culture (yet remember whiteness and all racial categories are social constructs).  

Whiteness is the norm - taken for granted, invisible, maintained through whites' economic dominance.  Success and the status quo are conflated with whiteness.  This is why some whites ask, "Where is white history month?" in response to black history month, unaware every month celebrates white history and culture.  Or, why only "non-accented" "standard" English is acceptable in politics or the workplace.

Hiddenness and dominance mean whites promote individual solutions.  Are you poor?  Work harder!  Don't have children you can't provide for!  These solutions are color-blind and seem obvious to whites, so whites perceive disadvantaged people as not conforming to "simple" solutions.  Whites assume everyone has equal opportunity to succeed.  This is just one aspect of CRT - it has been applied to law, education, and more.

Because I want racial reconciliation in the church, I was thrilled to discover a CRT analysis of Michael Emerson and Christian Smith's Divided by Faith: Critical Whiteness Theories and the Evangelical "Race Problem:" Extending Emerson and Smith's Divided by Faith.  Eric Tranby and Douglass Hartmann argue that understanding evangelicalism's race problem allows a better understanding of America's race problem. 

Divided by Faith proposed white evangelicals are not more racist; rather, they hold more tightly to individualism and anti-structuralism.  White evangelicals strictly apply meritocratic principles. Although evangelicals believe in equal opportunity for all, they can't see one's plight could be determined by anything other than merit and hard work.  Such merit-based, individualist views demonstrate white evangelicals and non-evangelical white Americans "ladle from the same kettle” (342).

With CRT, Tranby and Hartmann find white evangelicals' individualism more harmful, not only because it ignores structures, but also because it allows whites to justify the status quo (Id.).  Evangelical and non-evangelical whites make the very cultural practices that privilege whites over others seem natural (Id.).  

White evangelicals' beliefs make marginalization of people of color seem normal, and they become blind to the racism lurking underneath.  These invisible cultural norms impede meaningful change.  Whites have no idea white behavior marginalizes people of color.

CRT shows the U.S. church's failure to be a subversive, countercultural, privilege-destructing presence.  Rather than unmasking and repenting of it, the church often reinforces white privilege.  Because white evangelicals' attitudes are no different from white Americans', the church has not thoughtfully critiqued what politicians and other cultural forces tell us.

In applying CRT to Christians' racial attitudes, I wondered if I'm uncritically accepting CRT without using Scripture to develop a response to racial injustice.  However, I do think Scripture addresses the racism lurking under the surface, and commands a response to it.  Ephesians 6:12 calls Christians to struggle against authorities and spiritual evil forces.  And Colossians 1:16-20 says:

For in him all things were created: things in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or powers or rulers or authorities; all things have been created through him and for him. He is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning and the firstborn from among the dead, so that in everything he might have the supremacy. For God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in him, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether things on earth or things in heaven, by making peace through his blood, shed on the cross.

We've relegated this struggle to nebulous demons or to what some feel is persecution of Christians.  However, what if the invisible privilege that white Christians unwittingly accept means we're called to struggle against far more complex and hidden powers? 

Brian J. Walsh and Syliva C. Keesmaat, in Colossians Remixed: Subverting the Empire, say Greek words like throne, dominion, and power signify not only spiritual things, but "what Walter Wink calls the 'legitimations, sanctions, and permissions that undergird the everday exercise of power'" (Id.).  Walsh and Keesmaat assert these verses refer to the "very shape of life in the empire" and "dynamics of daily life" (92).

White Christians take for granted our privilege and exert it as an "everday exercise of power,"  failing to recognize its effects on people of color.  Perhaps invisible white dominance, reinforced through the status quo, is a power that Scripture commands us to confront, which has also been reconciled through Christ.

The above Divided by Faith quote illustrates the church has done little to confront harmful beliefs that African-Americans "don't want to work."  Also, when common white evangelical solutions only entail "getting off your duffer and doing something," perhaps we've failed to struggle against hidden forces of white privilege.

Any thoughts?  What would confronting the power of white privilege look like in practice?

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