wherein Lizzie writes about the Bible and balances along the line of being gracious and a pushover5/28/2017 I knew it would happen. I knew since that first inexplicable tugging to sign up for the ministry lunch last fall that it was inevitable. Before I even knew that my resisted interest in Biblical and Theological Studies courses might be a calling to ministry (I'm still not entirely certain), I knew that as a woman I could and should expect backlash. It has begun. Perhaps it hurts so much because it has only happened once or twice-the initial cracking of an invisible hope that I could claim a place in the church without flaw. It pains me too, I'm sure, because it has thus occurred in an unexpected context. I assumed that it would come from people thirty to forty years my senior and that I could roll my eyes and move on. Rather, the notifications that the Bible says women cannot be pastors have thus far come from guys my own age; peers and friends with whom I've worked and run and laughed alongside; people with whom I will accept the role as the next generation of the church alongside. I think, however, it is so brutally penetratingly painful--the kind of deep-soul, makes my bones weary agony--because it is collectible data, empirical proof on how incredibly achingly far the church has to go in its relationship with the Bible. . Confession: I have a love-hate (right now it feels mostly like hate) relationship with the Bible. This is probably why I landed on a major where I can whittle away the next three years hiding in the library seeking similar voices and developing a sense of inadequacy from writing about problems instead of facing them (that and fashion tips from Irma). This is also probably why I sometimes want to flop down face first on the ground and not move for a very long time. I love the poetry in the Bible. I love the stories and the characters. I love how messed up and broken humans are from the very beginning. I love that God uses them anyway. I love that it gives us a beginning and roots our existence in the likeness and delight of God. I love that it gives us the purpose of working towards gluing together what has shattered--broken relationships with one another, the earth, and God--and leaves us with the hope that the universe will pour over our patchwork jobs to make things whole again. I love the earthiness: the value assigned to creation just for being; the recognition that we were made to live along and amidst the natural world. I love that it calls for a life of simplicity, enoughness, celebration, community, survival work, and love. I love that our hope for redemption and restoration came as a baby, flipped the entire social system on its head, hung out with the sinners, and sat around a campfire eating fish with his ragtag disciples. I love that there is room for me--as a woman, a lover of the wild, and a broken, messed up human--to join in the dance as part of the narrative. But as much as I love the Bible, I also hate it. I hate that it has verses and chapters that can be used to justify hateful actions. I hate that it opens Christianity to becoming abusive. I hate that it was needed to prove to Jews at the beginning of Christianity why they should convert (thus sending a message of exclusivity and unquestioning authority). I hate that it depicts God as violent and wrathful and male. I hate that it doesn't come with a warning label. I question sometimes why an all-powerful God allowed such a book that is readily available to spiritually abuse others to become the supreme authority for Christians. And then I remind myself, God never did. As a child, I had this image of God (old man with a long beard and stern eyes) just dropping the Bible out of the sky so we could have a guide for life. I think a lot of adults still have this image-they just make it sound less crazy by claiming that God wrote it through human agents. Let me be clear, I very much so think God was present and reflected in the formation of each manuscript as well as the entire canon but I think humans have always had a little more credit than we give ourselves. The Bible is a gift. It is comfort and hope, life-giving and reassuring, confusing and creative. It is a gift to know how people perceived God 3,000 years ago and how that narrative of God as love and restoration is so powerful we shape our lives around it today. The Bible, as a library that describes and shapes our lives, is not a self-help section. Nor is it policy manual. Or a textbook. It is a storybook. A rich mosaic contributing to the tapestry of life. An offering of steps to take and an invitation to join in the dance. Perhaps it is part of the human condition, or growing up, or a symptom of the world in which we live for us to seek truth. Christians, especially, have a long and strong tradition of claiming truth. Yet by claiming, we stop seeking. We forget that truth is never absolute. It moves and changes and flows and if we don't allow the Bible to dance alongside our journey with a living God we devalue its giftedness. When we look at the Bible, at words written in a vastly different context and time than the one in which we live, and hold what we read against and over the living breathing humans next to us, we miss the point. When we lob scripture verses at one another--when we pull out Sodom and Gomorrah in discussions of homosexuality, or 2 Timothy 2:12 to our peer who says she feels pulled towards ministry--we use a God we claim as loving to justify hurting others. A healthy relationship with the Bible and healthy interactions with our fellow humans are not mutually exclusive. You can read the Bible, adopt it as a narrative for your life, and resist aspects that disagree with the broader canonical message of peace, joy, and restoration. If God is gracious, loving, and good and if Christianity aspires to share that goodness with the world, then it is time to stop justifying the infliction of emotional, spiritual, and sometimes physical pain with the phrase "but the Bible says so." Maybe instead try "Love one another... the Bible says so." Lizzie
1 Comment
Robert & Sally Unrau
6/2/2017 08:32:37 am
Well said! You express yourself very well. Blessings as you head to camp for the rest of the summer.
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Elizabeth SchragAdventurer. Biblical and Theological Studies major. Borderline Vegan. Rebel with a cause. Archives
March 2017
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