Natalie Burris

Pro-life evangelicals and prior inconsistent statements

The Gospel Coalition blog recently rounded up some evangelical leaders' calls for civil disobedience. Requiring religious employers to provide health insurance that covers contraception (regardless of who actually pays for it), is effectively forcing pro-life Christians to violate their conscience. These evangelicals claim that some of the drugs to be covered are abortifacients.

Such violation of religious liberty will not stand.  These men, along with the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, are so concerned about human life that they will not tolerate even the most remote connection to birth control that results in the ending of even the most basic forms of human life.  Innocent, defenseless lives are at stake here.

Chuck Colson says he loves his country, "but I love my God more . . . I've made up my mind---sober as that decision would have to be---that I will stand for the Lord regardless of what my state tells me."  

Rick Warren so bravely proclaimed, "I'd go to jail rather than cave in to a govement mandate that violates what God commands us to do."  

Richard Land and Barrett Duke wrote an impassioned call to Christians to oppose this measure, which is an "affront to all people who are pro-life" (emphasis added).

I'm in my last semester of law school, and have been trained to impeach witnesses up on the stand because of a little something called a "prior inconsistent statement."  Our justice system is so concerned with the credibility of witnesses that we have carved out an exception to hearsay rules, which normally prohibit out-of-court statements, so that those words can be used against witnesses if they make previous inconsistent statements.  Once the witness is confronted with the inconsistency, she is impeached and her word is no longer credible.  

To me, Colson, Warren, and Land have lost credibility based on their prior inconsistent statements about their support of innocent, defenseless human lives and whether they would put the state before their faith in God.

In 2003, when the Bush administration was preparing to pre-emptively invade another country, many evangelical leaders offered their support, or at least helped justify, this military action, which resulted in over 100,000 documented Iraqi civilian deaths.  When allegations later surfaced that the U.S. military was using an especially heinous form of torture on prisoners of war, some evangelical leaders again stepped up to help justify torture.

Chuck Colson reasoned that "if a competent authority honestly believed that [torture] was the only way to get information that might save the lives of thousands, I believe he would be justified."  Yes, this is the same Chuck Colson that you just read about above, who proclaimed that while he does love his country, he wouldn't let his state get in the way of his stand for the Lord.  

Rick Warren, in 2008, performed some post-hoc rationalization for the Iraq invasion, despite the Bush administration's later-disproved reasons for invading in the first place: "whether or not they found weapons of mass destruction in Iraq is beside the point."  Yes, this is the same Rick Warren who valiantly rails against a government who makes us violate God's commands.

Richard Land stated in 2006 that the Iraq war "was just; I think it was one of the more noble things we've done."  Yes, the same Richard Land who, as we saw above, so passionately protested against government action that is an affront to people who are pro-life.

None of these men offered such an unequivocal statement in support of innocent, defenseless human lives when the U.S. decided to invade Iraq and later sanction torture.  No one called for civil disobedience when reports started pouring in of civilian deaths, or of the U.S.'s best and brightest being blown up by roadside bombs, or of those same best and brightest being driven to suicide once they're home, or of the estimated 900,000 Iraqi women who are now widows.

Such duplicity disgusts me.  I know no one is perfect and that stances change, and I'm certainly not claiming to be perfect.  But such pompous calls for civil disobedience simply make my stomach turn.  I can't help but think of the death and destruction in Iraq that was abetted by some U.S. evangelicals.  The juxtaposition doesn't sit well with me, and I have a feeling it doesn't sit well with many other people in my generation.  

If you want to make valiant, impassioned, public calls to put your faith in God before your obedience to the government, at least be consistent.  Because if not, even an inexperienced law student would have you impeached on the stand in a heartbeat.

Wheaton problems, evangelical problems

It wasn't until my senior year at Wheaton, in 2005, that my friends and I signed up for Facebook.  "Status updates" weren't yet an option.  Twitter wasn't even launched until after I graduated from Wheaton.  This means that my peers and I didn't have an instant social media forum to share our opinions.

Even in our oh-so-ancient pre-Twitter era, we still found a way to communicate, converse, and share opinions on campus, but I bet the advent of smartphones and easily-accessible social media has dramatically changed how information flows in such a tight-knit community.  One such change is students tweeting during chapel services, using the #chapeltweets hashtag.

Each February, usually in honor of black history month, Wheaton has a chapel dubbed "Rhythm and Praise," in which students (of all backgrounds, but the majority are black) lead a "gospel-style" worship service.  Keep in mind that the college is overwhelmingly white, with very few students of color.  Last Friday, some white students sent out a series of racially insensitive and derisive tweets during this particular chapel.  Noah Toly, an urban studies professor and director of the Urban Studies Program, summarized the tweets here.

My heart is heavy for the students who led worship that day.  I can't imagine how painful it must be to know that your fellow Christians take your worship style lightly, or wish for a return to business-as-usual. 

As I'm no longer on campus, I don't want to portray the events incorrectly.  However, I did want to comment on many white students' and alumni's responses I've seen online.  What may seem like an isolated incident at a Christian college reveals, to me, a bigger issue within white evangelicalism as a whole.  One white professor thinks we should be quiet about the incident, because "talking it out" sometimes piles on to the hurt.  One presumably white alum sees nothing wrong with stating a preference toward "traditional" worship styles.

White evangelicals have a complicated, uncomfortable history with our black neighbors, and we don't come to a historically-neutral table.  Christian Smith has asked believers to "stop excluding, dismissing, discounting, and ignoring other Christians" who don't belong to their own "in-group."  Speaking of in-groups, many white evangelicals have created an "insider" culture, with our own unwritten grammar of conduct and nuances of cultural idiom.  

There is absolutely nothing wrong with a preference for a European or white U.S. American style of worship.  But when we white evangelicals convince ourselves that our worship services, music, preaching style, and other aspects of church life are simply "neutral" or "traditional," we effectively shut out Christians of color, even if excluding others is not our intent.  When Christians of color point out how hurtful it can be to "joke around" about a particular worship style--even when the comment was made with no harm intended--a defensive response only makes the wound grow deeper.  

Anthropology professor Brian Howell, who was extremely influential during my own time at Wheaton, explains that a seemingly neutral statement or preference can still perpetuate hurtful racism, even if the person who makes such a statement or has such a preference isn't a racist:

When someone listens to gospel music and declares it "disorganized," (true example from #chapeltweets), he may just be intending to say that he doesn't know where to look; there's a lot going on; he is confused. At the level of intention and reference, nothing racial there. But indexically there are some layers here. Mind you, the performance in question did not involve people forgetting the lyrics, bumping into each other, or not knowing who should step up to the mic. At that level it was orderly. But it was more complex than some other (European based) forms of music. To call it "disorderly" is to make a comparison. To what? To "orderly" worship. To "normal" worship. To "white" worship. 

On a broader scale, I wonder what white evangelicals could learn from this teachable moment.  Perhaps we could realize that worship styles and church services are not race-neutral.  Worship and the theology that underlies it are rooted in a specific context, which includes race.  White evangelicals may not think our views about church or worship have a racial influence. We instead consider them race-neutral.  Only allowing space or only legitimizing white, suburban, middle-class preferences, then, can speak volumes. 

When it comes to worship, one of the most vulnerable times in the practice of one's faith, perhaps we should unpack our preferences and question our assumptions, as Dr. Howell mentioned.  What seems completely natural to one group of believers may have a different meaning for another.  At the foot of the cross, why would we make value judgments or insist that one's preferences are somehow neutral?  

What was there all along...

The next section in Christian Smith's The Bible Made Impossible deals with "A Historically Growing Grasp of the Meaning of the Gospel."  It provides a helpful tool for thinking about a closed canon.  Smith writes: "[T]he Christian church’s historically progressive understanding and working out of the meaning and implications of the gospel as mediated to us through scripture has never in church history been complete and is not now complete."  

The common evangelical belief is that the New Testament provides all we need to know theologically, and modeled how believers work out the gospel in a "particular sociohistorial context.  This does not mean the New Testament authors "understood and worked out all the long-term implications of the gospel for theological knowledge, human life, and society."  Later generations continued to develop the authors' theology in new ways.  It took over 350 years "to work out orthodox, catholic, christological, and trinitarian doctrines, which most evangelicals still affirm as theologically nonnegotiable today." I loved his description of this process, "theological wrangling."

"What was embryonic in scripture needed to develop and grow into a more mature theological expression of what was there all along."  Smith argues the New Testament authors had simply not "worked out the full implications" of the truth they so cherished, but which later generations of Christians have formulated.

Slavery is a prime example of this "unfolding."  The New Testament authors did not work out the gospel's moral implications for slavery.  This has caused many to reject Christianity, which is understandable.  I believe the doctrine of inerrancy keeps this stumbling block in place, ossifying what is supposed to be inchoate.  

Smith notes early Christians were, "like all humans, limited in time, place, and range of vision." For them, slavery was an unalterable fact of life.  The Gospel merely meant slaves should submit to their masters and masters should treat their slaves well.  But, the Gospel started planting seeds, "in the form of the then-radical idea that slaves and masters were equals and brothers in Christ."

For all Christians to unequivocally understand that the Gospel means the end of slavery took time and struggle--wrangling.  Today, all Christians look back and clearly know the truths of the Bible unfold in such a way that slavery is wrong.  The denouncement of slavery was not itself a teaching found anywhere other than in embryonic forms in the New Testament. But eventually all Christians grasped this truth by fleshing out the Gospel's ramifications.  Smith explains: 

[T]he total meaning of the gospel did not land on the apostles’ doorsteps the day after Pentecost, like a cognitive FedEx package containing everything the church would ever need to know, think, and believe until Jesus returns in glory. The apostles understood and preached the truth of salvation in Jesus Christ. But they did not know and teach the fullness of the many implications of that truth for doctrine, relationships, and society. That was a task given to subsequent generations of believers across church history.

He later describes this process as a "slow but ultimately revolutionary leavening of the gospel in human life," not overtly prescribed but nevertheless a valid result of New Testament teachings.  

Smith's use of slavery as an example, to me, highlights the necessity of decolonizing our faith.  Of course there were those who knew from the start that slavery was unequivocally wrong - slaves themselves!  And I'm wary of describing the process as slow.  Just as Martin Luther King Jr. warned against white moderates' desire to take the civil rights movement more slowly, I wouldn't want the gradual, historical unfolding of the Gospel to sanction a delay in ensuring the liberty for all at the foot of the cross.

But back to Smith - he cites a litany of verses to support this premise (in a...biblicist sort of way), but his point remains that evangelicals only apply the "working out" and "growing" verses individualistically. Rather than strictly personal spiritual growth, what if these verses addressed the church's collective understanding of the Gospel?  What if truth itself is developing, unfolding, and dynamic, like a mustard seed, or yeast spreading through rising dough?

Pervasive interpretive pluralism frames the Bible as the complete and final teachings on all subjects.  But let God-fearing, Bible-believing Southern Christians in the nineteenth-century U.S. remind us: failure to grasp a historically progressive understanding of Scripture results in support for one of the ugliest times in human and American history, undergirded by what appears to be the Bible's defense of slavery.  

If a developing, dynamic truth sounds uncomfortably close to postmodernism, most of us would acknowledge that denouncing slavery didn't require a radical postmodern turn away from "objective truth."  I still believe truth has roots, but perhaps we've got to keep watering seeds and wrangling, careful not to let the Gospel fossilize.  Or perhaps we should be more careful not to let our understanding of the Gospel ossify, lest we fail to see what was there all along.

Myopia now...empty pews later

Scot McKnight shared an observation yesterday from historian David Hempton about the evangelical awakening, an 18th-century movement that formed the basis for modern evangelicalism in the U.S. and the U.K. 

One of the prominent features Hempton noted about this awakening is that  “… most surveys have shown that the majority of the rank-and-file was female. … One does not have to burrow very deeply into the archives of Evangelical awakenings to detect the ubiquitous influence of ‘pious women’ over siblings, husbands, children, parents and friends..."

This observation stood in great contrast to Slacktivist's post, also from yesterday, about People Who Don't Listen to Women, specifically John Piper and the U.S. Catholic bishops:

[O]ne big problem with not listening to women is that there are several billion of them not to listen to. If you choose to ignore them, they may return the favor, but only for so long as you’re not actively harming them. Once your ignorance leads to harm, they’re likely to remind you, forcefully, that they do in fact exist and that they don’t in fact have to take your abuse.

[...]

A long history of not listening won’t be easy to overcome. And much of what the bishops are about to hear will be silence. The silence of empty pews. The silence of the empty spaces left behind by the women who used to belong to their churches.

Those women will leave because they’ve been told one too many times that they’re not wanted there. They’re listening, and they hear exactly what the bishops are telling them.

I agree - evangelicals and Catholics who marginalize women may soon find emptier pews.  But I would extend this even further.  Just as women revitalized the church in the 18th century, people of color in the U.S. and the global south are the next wave of Christianity.  Those who see no value in listening to minorities (and soon-to-be majorities) will be...left behind.

Eugene Cho explains:

Our nation is moving rapidly towards racial, ethnic, and cultural diversity, and American Christianity is bearing witness to these dramatic changes. Workplaces, congregations, conferences, and readerships are all changing to reflect this reality, but Christian leaders are lagging behind in attaining the cultural intelligence they need in order to navigate through this multi-cultural reality.

The old guard would prefer not only white women to remain silent, but also women and men of color. The whiteness of many movements who in fact speak out against the likes of Piper and the U.S. Catholic bishops demonstrates that a low "cultural IQ," as Cho calls it, is pervasive in many wings of the church.  I couldn't help but think of Andrew Walls' The Missionary Movement in Christian History, where he writes:

The exponential growth of the Christian faith in the African continent in the past century or so seems to me to raise the question whether this massive encounter with a new body of thought and network of relationships may not be as determinative of the future shape of Christianity as was the encounter with the Greek world. (xviii) 

Perhaps if we only read, interact with, and agree to learn from North American and Western European men, we're missing out on an influential and historical movement, and may soon find that our myopic behavior translates into empty pews.  Walls later discusses the difference between reading the Bible in Zulu in South Africa versus reading it in a "comfortable bourgeois congregation [who] meets in some Western suburbia" (15).  It makes me wonder if we would gain another perspective in our debates here in the global North about biblicism or gender roles, for example.  

Walls points out that "[t]heology in the Third World will be, as theology at all creative times has always been, about doing things, about things that deeply affect the lives of numbers of people" (10).  

Guardians of patriarchy and a white status quo, as well as those who work to keep women of faith from having access to health care: your theology deeply affects the lives of all women and of all people of color.  You may be winning the "culture war" now, but a church that continually marginalizes people based on their gender and race, either implicitly or explicitly, de facto or intentionally, will struggle to see another "great awakening." 

The authority of Scripture: in what do you place your faith?

A couple of months ago, I shared Christian Smith's thoughts about Scripture's ambiguity from The Bible Made Impossible.  This spurred a Twitter exchange  with Ben (check it out on Storify here), who disagreed with my characterization of the Bible as a polyvocal book which, spanning centuries, is not meant to be unified into one consistent narrative.  He didn't think this view allowed us to understand God's revelation, and wondered, "In what do you place your faith?"

This question revealed a telling aspect of biblicism, which seems to result in a faith placed more in the Bible rather than in Christ.  If inerrancy and infallibility are in peril, consequently one's faith is on shaky ground.  So once we deconstruct biblicism, where do we look to for authority?  

Smith addresses this issue in Chapter 7 of The Bible Made Impossible.  Biblicists view authority as one-dimensional: the Bible's words are actually God's words, without error, which provide an infallible doctrinal system that is applied to our lives as a divine handbook.  

However, only a handful of books actually provide moral and theological instruction, as most of Scripture is narrative.  (Notice my "Twitter debate-partner" stated, "narratives are for people who don't believe in truth.")  The rest of Scripture is poetic, legal, or some other non-explicitly-didactic form.  

The most common type of authority is "legitimate power," or the ability to get people to do things they might not want to do.  It's a collective belief that something is valid, even if undesired.  Taxes are a great example.  Most people don't enjoy paying them, but we all do, because of government's authority to tax.  

This definition of authority doesn't work out well when applied to the Bible.  Rather than "power over," the Bible's authority can be cast in terms of "power to," a transformative capacity.   A person with this kind of authority can "intervene in the world that in some way alters it."  The Bible

has the justified, valid, and legitimate power to “get things done” in our lives, to intervene with us to make a difference in outcomes. [T]his “power to” involved in the Bible’s authority is a “transformative capacity,” not merely to force the unwanted, but to change things in the world and our lives with a real justification and validity.

Smith finds this approach similar to N.T. Wright's, as detailed here: How Can the Bible Be Authoritative?.  Last May, I wrote a little about this great article, and thought it fitting to re-post a snippet because it works so well with Smith's critiques.  Authority isn't correctness or validity, but rather is rooted in the church living out and re-creating God's redemptive story.  This is why Scripture has narratives.  Wright explains:

Story authority, as Jesus knew only too well, is the authority that really works.  Throw a rule book at people’s head, or offer them a list of doctrines, and they can duck or avoid it, or simply disagree and go away.  Tell them a story, though, and you invite them to come into a different world; you invite them to share a world-view or better still a ‘God-view’.  That, actually, is what the parables are all about.  They offer, as all genuine Christian story-telling the does, a world-view which, as someone comes into it and finds how compelling it is, quietly shatters the world-view that they were in already.  

Wright concludes:

Scripture contains many things that I don’t know, and that you don’t know; many things we are waiting to discover; passages which are lying dormant waiting for us to dig them out.  Awaken them.  We must then make sure that the church, armed in this way, is challenging the world’s view of authority.  

Smith and Wright's reframing of authority reminded me of the old hymn, Tell Me the Story of Jesus:  

Tell me the story of Jesus,
Write on my heart every word.
Tell me the story most precious,
Sweetest that ever was heard.

I found it interesting that one line of the hymn is "Love in that story so tender, clearer than ever I see."  Clarity?  Doesn't allowing ambiguity and narrative-driven authority result in the opposite?  

I don't think so. Narrative is powerful.  Rather than preaching at others or warning they're on dangerous ground for not accepting Western notions of correctness and legitimacy, let's tell and live out redemptive stories.  Write them on hearts.  Quietly shatter world-views with them.  Perhaps then we'll understand the Bible's words more clearly than ever, and won't worry so much about placing our faith in the Bible when it's deconstructed by modern definitions of authority.  

Should the government promote family values? Whose family values?

In response to Republican presidential candidates' rhetoric, I'm sharing portions of a paper I wrote last semester.  Here are part 1, part 2, and part 3.

We've seen that slaveowners promoted slave marriage when convenient for whites, and post-bellum freed slaves were encouraged to marry so as to not burden white taxpayers. 

Current government marriage programs tied to welfare benefits, along with politicians who use family-values rhetoric, are no different from this early, hypocritical marriage promotion.  These programs and rhetoric have undertones of so-called “civilization” of certain “unruly” populations, and in reality, fail to benefit families of color.

Beginning with 1996's welfare reform, marriage initiatives promoted by conservative politicians at the national level pledged to assist single-parent poor families, ideally lifting them out of poverty.¹ The statistics were on their side: non-marital families tend to be worse off economically than families headed by married couples.²  Children in single-parent families fare poorer in several areas than do children raised by married couples.³ 

In 2003, Congress authorized $750 million, in conjunction with welfare programs, for “healthy marriage promotion” and fatherhood initiatives.⁴  The Bush administration heavily supported these programs.

One program, for which I personally recruited in 2006 and 2007, offered workshops for married and unmarried low-income couples expecting a child.  The workshops provided relationship skills, conflict resolution, and budgeting advice.  Each couple was also assigned a case manager. 

The couples received incentives for attending the workshops, receiving “bucks” which they could “spend” on diapers, clothing, and other items for their baby.  A fatherhood specialist worked with fathers-to-be on specific areas, such as employment, which, hearkening back to the post-bellum era, supports the notion that a gainfully-employed husband and father will keep his family off welfare.

While on its face, this program appeared to benefit couples who struggle financially, I eventually began to question whether millions of federal dollars should be directed toward personal relationship skills.  One description of an unmarried couple on public aid stated:

Anthony and Pam don't need love; they have it. They need health care, a supportive environment for treatment, food, and shelter. At some point, the government decided to start teaching people to find love and marriage instead of providing them with things they need.⁵

Marriage promotion programs have turned out to be ineffective in improving relationships.  The results of such well-meaning programs are dismal.  The divorce rate did not change and marriage rates did not increase.⁶  Meanwhile, poverty persists.  Efforts by a majority white government to impose a certain moral code are detrimental to society and to individuals.  Taxpayer funds are used to support efforts that patronize adults, working under the assumption that marriage is a cure-all for our social ills. 

Because of disproportionate incarceration rates, domestic violence, substance abuse, and other effects of living in a system that often impedes upward mobility, marriage simply cannot serve as a cure-all.

As we've also seen with welfare's history, marriage promotion programs are merely a more explicit form of imposing a white normative view of the "traditional" family: a married heterosexual couple with biological children, without any regard to economic and racial factors.  One marriage program went so far as to refuse benefits if the wife's children were not biologically the husband's.⁷

On the surface, policymakers of all stripes should be in favor of supporting healthy relationships, but such support does not necessarily have to exclude families who do not fit the norm.  A couple can be involved in a healthy relationship even without marriage or when some children are not biologically both spouse’s.  Government programs that funnel large sums of money toward marriage-only solutions erase alternative, equally viable forms of family, depleting resources that could be used elsewhere.

I see a contradiction with family-values rhetoric.  Many Republicans and Christians claim the church, rather than government, should be the one to help the poor.  These folks argue that government should stay out of providing social services, and don't want to see their tax dollars used for such purposes.  But when it comes to "values," many conservatives do not have a problem with government promoting a certain family model using millions of dollars in federal funds.  

Which one is it?  If you want government to stay out of the church's role in caring for the poor, wouldn't you also want government to step aside so the church can foster healthy relationships, including marriage and fatherhood?

---

¹ Julia M. Fisher, Marriage Promotion Policies and the Working Poor: A Match Made in Heaven?, 25 B.C. Third World L.J. 475, 477 (2005).

² Vivian Hamilton, Will Marriage Promotion Work? 11 J. Gender Race & Just. 1, 1 (Fall 2007).

³ Id.

⁴ Id. at 2.

⁵ Aly Parker, Can’t Buy Me Love: Funding Marriage Promotion Versus Listening to Real Needs in Breaking the Cycle of Poverty, 18 S. Cal. Rev. L. & Soc. Just. 493, 494 (Spring 2009).

⁶ Id. at 495.

⁷ Id. at 497. 

Graphic source