Wanted: No Visa Issues, Fast Wi-Fi, and a Ballroom that Inspires Intimacy with God

Global Christian organizations scour the world in search of the best conference sites.

Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Pexels

This September, about 5,000 Christians will assemble in Incheon, South Korea, for the Lausanne Movement’s Fourth Congress on World Evangelization. Some of them wish Lausanne had picked a location with a better exchange rate and lower hotel prices near the conference venue.

However, local costs are just one of many considerations when global Christian organizations select a conference site. Beyond the common refrain about the shift in Christianity’s center of gravity, numerous other factors have pushed most major global events toward the Majority World, especially Asia.

CT asked leaders of prominent Christian international entities to talk about their site selection process. Their answers depict the complex logistical, diplomatic, and interfaith issues involved in bringing Christians from all over the world together in one place.

For most conference organizers, the single most important concern is choosing a site that everyone can come to. Due to complicated international relations and many affluent countries’ concerns regarding visa abuse, this is a major challenge.

“Whether people from Global South countries could get visas was our number one question,” stated Samuel Chiang, deputy secretary general of the World Evangelical Alliance (WEA), who planned the Future of the Gospel Forum in Istanbul last year. “Canada and the United States accept visitors from about 70 countries without a visa, which sounds like a lot until you are trying to bring people from 200 countries.”

Difficulties in obtaining visas were a key reason why Africans were underrepresented at the United Methodist Church’s General Conference in Charlotte, North Carolina, this year. Their absence affected the vote that resulted in reversing the Methodists’ prior ban on same-sex marriage.

John Criswell, chief people and culture officer for the International Fellowship of Evangelical Students (IFES), oversaw that organization’s 2023 World Assembly in Jakarta, Indonesia, which included 1,000 participants from 180 countries. Criswell said the Indonesian government was very cooperative and ultimately admitted delegates from every country but one.

Criswell added that Mexico, where IFES held its 2015 World Assembly, can be a difficult location because of the problems associated with getting visas for connecting flights through the United States. In 2015, IFES held an adjoining event in Atlanta, which made it easier for people attending both events to get a US visa.

Media Associates International (MAI), which equips Christian writers and publishers across the globe, is holding its triennial LittWorld conference in Puebla, Mexico, this November. MAI president John Maust said they chose Mexico because of a strong core of local support and a desire to make their training more accessible to Spanish-speaking participants. But Maust noted that participants who need a visa for Mexico have been asked for extensive documentation if they do not already have a US visa.

David Bennett, Lausanne’s global associate director, indicated that South Korea has been very accommodating, requiring either no visa or only an electronic visa for a majority of countries, though travelers from some countries have had to provide notarized physical copies of documents.

Bennett, who is also the director of the upcoming Lausanne congress, acknowledged the relatively high cost of lodging in Incheon, near Seoul. But he noted that Korean churches have subsidized planning meetings and have contributed logistical and transportation assistance.

Other factors Bennett cited in Korea’s favor include the Korean church’s recent growth and vitality in missions, making it an inspiring model for Lausanne participants; the growing significance of Asia in global affairs; the availability of a large convention center and abundant hotel space close to the airport; and the perceived opportunity to strengthen the unity and health of the Korean church. (The WEA canceled its 2014 General Assembly, scheduled for Seoul, because of divisions among Korean evangelicals.)

Thailand is a second popular conference destination in Asia, despite its relatively small number of Christians. World Without Orphans (WWO), which facilitates a global movement to reduce the institutionalization of children and to strengthen families, welcomed people from 63 countries this year at its global conference in Chiang Mai, Thailand. Andrii Fedun, WWO’s events and logistics lead, said his organization favors locations in Asia, especially Thailand, for their simplified visa processes, convenient travel, reasonably priced accommodations, and reputation for welcoming tourists.

Indonesia is another frequent conference option. In addition to the IFES World Assembly, it hosted the last WEA General Assembly in 2019, a WEA emerging leaders event and the IFES World Assembly (both in 2023), and a meeting of the Empowered21 global network of charismatics this year.

Bambang Budijanto, general secretary of the Asia Evangelical Alliance, listed the strength and generosity of the Indonesian church, low costs, a welcoming attitude toward foreigners, ample conference facilities, and interfaith tolerance as attractive features.

“The Indonesian church is growing in number, capacity, and global vision,” Budijanto said. “It is eager to bless other nations.”

Bennett agreed that Southeast Asia is an attractive option for a global congress “if you’re looking for efficient logistics at the least expense. You can find inexpensive flights and housing, large facilities, and major travel hubs.”

Selecting a venue away from a major metropolis can reduce site costs, Bennett indicated, but the inconvenience of arranging ground transportation discourages this option.

Casely Essamuah of the Global Christian Forum (GCF)—which brings together leaders from the WEA, World Council of Churches, Vatican, and Pentecostal World Fellowship—worked through significant logistical challenges to hold a GCF Global Gathering in Ghana last spring.

“Hosting is not easy for Global South leaders,” he explained. “For them, it’s easier to find the money to go elsewhere, even though holding events in the Global North is more expensive. Two of my executive committee members were concerned about the quality of medical facilities in Ghana. I had Westerners wanting to book travel a year in advance and hosts telling me their currency changes its value every few weeks.”

Essamuah hoped to use a church-owned conference center as the venue but eventually abandoned the idea due to inadequate internet access and accommodations. “I can’t put archbishops in a dormitory with 10 people to a room and no internet,” he said.

Instead, the Global Gathering met at a hotel in Accra, the capital city. “That tripled the cost, but we had comfort, internet, safety, and peace of mind. Someone wrote to me afterwards saying this was his sixth trip to Africa and the first time he was assured of a hot shower. What he forgot was that he paid for it.”

The World Council of Churches’ (WCC) site selection process for its general assemblies every eight years resembles the Olympics, with prospective hosts submitting bids. WCC staff then visit each candidate location and write a summary report (without a recommendation) to the WCC’s central committee, which makes the final decision.

Doug Chial, director of the WCC’s office of the general secretariat, highlighted a disability-friendly environment as an important criterion, noting that about 100 of the 4,000 people attending a WCC assembly have some type of disability that requires special consideration.

The WCC prefers a church-owned conference center or a university campus with single-occupancy dorm rooms over hotels. “A university campus reminds people of their student days, and everyone feels equal,” Chial said.

Lausanne does not request formal bids, but Bennett described local interest, as evidenced by invitations and encouragement from Christian leaders in a prospective host city, as a “very significant factor” in site decisions for both the third congress in Cape Town in 2010 and the Seoul-Incheon congress this year.

Meaningful exposure to local churches and local history is important to some groups. The GCF conference in Ghana included a poignant visit to Cape Coast Castle, built by Portuguese traders in the 16th century as a slave trading post. The Religious Liberty Partnership held a global consultation in Abuja, Nigeria, to express solidarity with the church in northern Nigeria as it faced severe persecution. And the WCC recently held an executive meeting in Colombia that included exposure to the peace-building process between the government and the FARC rebel group.

Fedun said that World Without Orphans seeks to hold events “in countries where orphans and vulnerable children face significant challenges but may not have a strong voice,” to raise awareness and support local efforts.

Carrie Reinhard, the Christian and Missionary Alliance’s director for events, said a venue’s family-friendliness is a high priority, because the Alliance encourages participation by families with children at some global conferences. She planned a recent event in Málaga, Spain, where she found an affordable hotel with swimming pools, kid-only areas, and a beach across the street.

Efforts to hold conferences in some locations can arouse objections to the host country’s human rights record. The WEA’s Chiang said he heard concerns about the group’s decision to go to Turkey, “but the head of Turkey’s evangelical alliance is so well regarded that, while we were there, [Turkish president Recep Tayyip] Erdoğan invited him to participate in a ceremony at the opening of a historic church. We were able to make it known to everyone that the president respects evangelicals.”

Another challenge Turkey posed for Chiang was the popularity of smoking, which forced him to look for a hotel with nonsmoking floors and good ventilation. Individually controlled air conditioning units became an important attraction. Furthermore, “we wanted a place with a ballroom conducive to intimacy with God and people,” he said. Chiang sensed that feature at a Radisson hotel in Istanbul, but before deciding, he sent photos and videos to a group of intercessors who prayed with him.

Steffen Zoege, chief operating officer of the mission agency OM International, emphasized the need for assurance that conference participants could speak freely without being observed or monitored. OM has held its recent annual global meetings in Indonesia, Cyprus, and Thailand.

One point on which all interviewees agreed was that, even in the age of virtual events, in-person conferences, despite their cost and logistical demands, are still essential.

For the GCF’s Essamuah, much of the value of global gatherings “isn’t the plenary sessions but the small table conversations where you can go deep with people, and the people you meet while on the bus from the hotel to the venue. You can’t do that with Zoom.”

“You might get some level of connectedness and oneness [virtually], but it’s not intimate enough to close the deal,” Chiang observed. “Christians want to have fellowship with an actual presence, rather than mediated by technology.”

Nevertheless, some organizations now offer a virtual option to those who cannot attend personally. Criswell said the 2023 IFES World Assembly included an online component offered through a secure connection. And Lausanne hopes to have as many virtual as in-person registrants for its upcoming conference. “We want to make the virtual experience as robust as possible for people with economic limitations,” Bennett said. “But 6 hours on Zoom are exhausting, whereas 12 hours of face-to-face contact can be energizing.”

Chial said the WCC encourages online participation but will not permit hybrid decision-making processes because of the imbalance of engagement opportunities between in-person and virtual participants. He added that trying to fit the whole world’s time zones into a single meeting creates a consistent inequity: “It inevitably falls to people in the Pacific to take responsibility for staying awake into the middle of the night.”

Bennett said that for the Lausanne Movement, “reflecting the realities of the global church” remains a crucial driving factor. “Many Latin Americans are having financial struggles getting to Korea,” he lamented. “There are no inexpensive flights. We are working hard to find subsidies for them.” In addition, conference registration costs are generally lower for Majority World participants.

But to reach overlooked groups, there’s no substitute for bringing conferences to where the left-out people are. “When we have a meeting in Africa, we get more Africans,” Bennett averred. “It’s the same in Latin America. We know that many Majority World leaders, when they see a pattern of meetings in Europe or North America, feel they are secondary voices in the conversation. They need to be primary voices.”

- More from Bruce Barron

Books

N.T. Wright: What Jesus Would Say to the ‘Empire’ Today

Interview by Stefani McDade

How Jesus and the Powers, cowritten with Michael F. Bird, calls Christians into the political sphere.

Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Getty / Wikimedia Commons

In a year seeing over 50 countries at the polls—half of which could shift geopolitical dynamics—the timing of Jesus and the Powers’ release was no accident.

A few years ago, N. T. Wright (author of Surprised by Hope) and Michael F. Bird (Jesus Among the Gods)—who had collaborated on The New Testament in Its World—realized there was a lack of biblical guidance on how Christians should engage with politics, and they decided to do something about it.

“We both had the sense that most Christians today have not really been taught very much about a Christian view of politics,” Wright said. “Until the 18th century, there was a lot of Christian political thought, which we’ve kind of ignored the last 200–300 years—and it’s time to get back to it.”

The “gateway” to political theology, Wright believes, is the idea that, until Christ’s return, “God wants humans to be in charge.” And while all political powers have in some sense been “ordained by God” according to Scripture, he says, Christians are called to “take the lead” in holding them accountable.

“The church is designed to be the small working model of new creation, to hold up before the world a symbol—an effective sign of what God has promised to do for the world. Hence, to encourage the rest of the world to say, ‘Oh, that’s what human community ought to look like. That’s how it’s done.’”

And as the global church becomes “a community worshiping the one God and doing justice and mercy in the world,” this is a “sign to the caesars of the world that Jesus is Lord and that they are not” and a “sign to the principalities and powers that this is the way to be human.”

In an interview with CT, Wright discusses the need for more theological collaboration around political issues, the skewed eschatology behind Christian abdication from the political sphere, and how the global church should engage with the various forms of empire “let loose” in our world today.

I’d heard from a couple people at the Evangelical Theological Society (ETS) conference last fall that there’s not a lot of scholars doing work in political theology right now. Would you agree with that?

Yes, let me give you an example. When the Ukraine scenario broke two years ago, I wrote to two or three leading Christian thinkers in the US and said, “Okay, guys, you work on this front more than I do. What should we be thinking about this? If we had the ear of President Volodymyr Zelensky, let alone Vladimir Putin, what should we be saying to them?” And it was quite clear from their responses that there’s a lot of caution—that this is a hugely difficult area, and we’re not quite sure how to get into this.

I think that reflects the fact that even among those who’ve written books about political theology, when a crisis happens, I’m not sure any of us have a clear roadmap for how we would address that. My point is, we’ve hardly begun to think through all these things and how we structure our politics wisely.

An awful lot of Christians have been told, in so many words, that politics is a dirty game. We leave it to the politicians and the social workers while we’re teaching people how to say their prayers and go to heaven—and never the twain shall meet. I think we’ve got to the point, now, where most Christians realize that split simply doesn’t reflect the Bible in general or Christian witness. Particularly when you start thinking about what Jesus meant by the kingdom of God “on earth as in heaven.”

At the end of Matthew’s Gospel, when Jesus says, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me,” what does that lead us to think of Jesus having authority on earth? It looks, in the New Testament, like Jesus delegating tasks through the Holy Spirit to the church. Not that the church should be running the world, but that the church has a vital role to play in speaking truth to power—in holding up a mirror to power and in modeling what God’s new creation should look like.

In your introduction, you referenced previous works of yours and Mike’s have partly inspired this book. But I was wondering if you could speak more about its biblical or theological underpinnings?

One of the things that’s really come strongly to me over the last couple of decades has been the role of human beings within God’s good creation. The idea in Genesis 1, the creation of humans in God’s image, means that God is committing himself to working in the world through human beings.

In Western theology, we often read Genesis 1–2 as God’s setting human beings up to a moral examination, which they then fail. That gets the whole conversation off on the wrong foot, instead of around the question of how is God going to wisely rule his world through obedient, responsive human beings if they’ve messed up and if they’re worshipping idols? The answer is that God has rescued them from their idolatry so that they can run his world as his vice regents in the way that he wants.

For me, one of the key texts that jumped out to me when I was first working on this is from John 19, where Jesus says to Pontious Pilate, “You could have no authority over me unless it was given you from above.” So, Jesus acknowledges that this second-rate Roman governor has a God-given authority.

In other words, yes, rulers have a God-given authority, and God will hold them to account for what they do with it. … The early church, like the Jews, thought it was their responsibility to critique them. It’s like the prophetic witness of John the Baptist saying to Herod, “You’re out of line here,” or Jesus himself telling the rulers and authorities that when they were misstepping.

Faithful Christian engagement with politics isn’t saying to political leaders, “You don’t have God-given authority.” It’s saying, “We’re going to be your critics in how you’re using that God-given authority.” I suspect most people in most churches in the Western world—let alone anywhere else—have never even begun to conceive of it like that. But until we do, we won’t understand what the church’s responsibility should be.

How should Christians hold the government accountable and ensure those in public service use their powers responsibly? And how do you envision that happening in a pluralist society where people hold different religious views and may have different standards for justice?

When I read, say, Psalm 72—which I go back to again and again, the great Messianic psalm—some people have objected to the “royal” psalms, because “it’s all in service of empire.” But, actually, if you look at Psalm 72, it says, “Lord, give your justice to the king, so that he will look after the widows and the orphans and the strangers,” etc., and it repeats that again and again. Then, at the end, it says, “and so the earth, the whole earth shall be full of his glory.” This is how God wants to be glorified.

There is something that you could call a kind of natural theology of global ethics. Most traditions would say looking after the weak and vulnerable sounds like a good idea. And unfortunately, vested interests get involved, because if the weak and vulnerable happen to be migrants who are coming into your country, and you don’t want any more people in your country, then you say, “No, tell them to go away, go somewhere else.” But we need wise, thought-out policies on migration, because not all countries can support the thousands of people who want to come and live there.

The church needs to train people to think wisely about all those relevant issues. We shouldn’t be leaving it to the professional economists—or, at least, we need Christian professional economists. We need Christian people to look at issues of development or migration or the huge issues that are facing us globally and to advise the church wisely, so that the church can speak truthfully. Not just in sound bites, as I’m doing now, of course, but with real depth and authority on serious issues.

What would you say to Christians who are like, “Well, this world is going to hell in a handbasket anyway”—those who don’t get involved in government because they’re thinking, “Well, the church is separate—it’s a bastion away from the world”?

Right, and it’s very interesting, the transition was in the early 18th century. So much in Britain and America was almost triumphalist in the sense that “We are now taking over the world, and the gospel is going to rule”—and Handel’s Messiah, “He shall reign forever and ever,” you know—which sounds great in the 1740s. But interestingly, by the 1790s, something has turned, and Epicureanism has won—the French Revolution has happened, people are getting frightened and wondering what’s going on.

I think it does go back to the Enlightenment, where you get that split of religion and politics. The Epicureanism of the 17th and 18th centuries basically split heaven and earth miles apart. This leaves people to run earth the way they want—which usually means for their own advantage, by keeping anything religious out of the question. And that has been a disaster.

Then you get the dispensational movement, particularly in America, and other similar movements with a very negative eschatology—that the only way anything can happen is if God ditches this whole project and starts again from scratch. So, many Christians turned back to Plato to say, “Well, actually, we have souls that are going to escape from this place anyway and go somewhere else.” But as I never tire of saying to students, the word heaven in the New Testament is never used for the place of our ultimate destiny. And the word soul is never used for the beings we will be in our ultimate destiny.

People have come with the assumption that the biblical story is about how human souls can find their way up to the beatific vision in heaven. Whereas the entire biblical narrative runs the other way—it’s about how God comes to dwell with humans here. The strapline in Revelation chapter 21 isn’t that the dwelling of humans is with God—it’s that the dwelling of God is with humans.

The older I get, the more I realize Acts 2, the descent of the Spirit filling the house, is a temple scene; it goes straight back to 1 Kings 8 or Exodus 14. It’s a way of saying, “This is what God always intended to do. God, the Holy Spirit, always intended to live with and in—and be operative through—human beings. And wow, it’s actually happening.” This is a totally different way of doing theology.

The old idea of God throwing the present creation away—so why would we bother to put it right?—simply does no justice. We urgently need as a global community to think more Christianly, more biblically, about the whole scenario.

N.T. Wright is Research Professor Emeritus of New Testament and Early Christianity at St Mary’s College in the University of St Andrews and Senior Research Fellow at Wycliffe Hall, Oxford. His most recent book, co-written with Michael F. Bird, is Jesus and the Powers: Christian Political Witness in an Age of Totalitarian Terror and Dysfunctional Democracies.

- More from Interview by Stefani McDade

Theology

Some Evangelicals Are Leaving Protestantism for Other Traditions

Andrew Voigt

A number of high-profile Christians have converted to Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy. What is driving them away?

Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: Unsplash

In recent decades, there has been a significant and sustained trend of Protestants converting to Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy. The most notable figure recently is J. D. Vance, the vice-presidential running mate of former president Donald Trump.

But he’s not alone. Vance is just one name in the growing list of high-profile, theologically conservative Christians who have made public shifts away from their Protestant backgrounds (often evangelical) to these more liturgical or “high church” traditions.

A past president of the Evangelical Theological Society, Francis Beckwith, reverted to Catholicism in 2007, and former Anglican Bishop Nazir Ali, has lately returned to the Catholicism of his youth. Other recent Catholic converts include Cameron Bertuzzi of Capturing Christianity (a popular YouTube channel), historian Joshua Charles, and John Richard Neuhaus, founder of First Things journal. Past prominent converts to Eastern Orthodoxy include Hank Hanegraaff (the “Bible Answer Man”), Lutheran scholar Jaroslav Pelikan, and English bishop Kallistos Ware.

Of course, there are always exceptions to every trend—as is the case with former Eastern Orthodox priest Joshua Schooping, author of Disillusioned: Why I Left the Eastern Orthodox Priesthood and Church, and the Catholic-turned-Protestant Chris Castaldo, who published Why Do Protestants Convert? with Brad Littlejohn last year.

This phenomenon appears less notable in nondenominational churches, since a previous CT article reports that former Roman Catholics have gone from comprising 6 percent of unafilliated congregations to 17 percent in the past 50 years. Also, a 2014 Pew Research Center study highlighted a reverse trend of Catholics converting to Protestantism in Latin America, indicating this may be a geographical trend rather than a global one.

Still, Roman Catholicism is the single largest Christian tradition worldwide, with more than a billion followers, and Eastern Orthodoxy is the second largest, with more than 260 million. According to a recent report by the Orthodox Studies Institute, Eastern Orthodoxy in the US has seen an increase in conversions over the past couple years—with most of the converts from a Protestant background (65%) citing theological reasons for converting (60%). Likewise, the Catholic News Agency recently reported that many US dioceses are seeing a 30–70 percent rise in conversions.

It’s no secret that a growing number of Protestants in the US have become embittered with American evangelicalism. There is, of course, the disillusionment with sexual abuse scandals among well-known leaders and institutions—as well as a distaste for the corporatization and consumerism of the megachurch and “celebrity pastor” model. In addition, the deconstruction movement, mainline progressivism, and many other forces have exerted pressure on 21st-century Protestantism.

But there is also the appeal of these other ecclesial traditions themselves. And while we must be careful not to conflate these two institutions and their significant doctrinal differences, there are similarities in terms of the allure they hold for Protestants who feel disillusioned with their church tradition.

A foundational element in the Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic institutions is a rich tradition with doctrinal clarity. This can be quite appealing when compared to modern evangelicalism, which has often exhibited an amnesia for even its own theological tradition that often leads to ambiguity and divisiveness. However, I believe this reflects less on historic Protestantism and speaks more to the lack of organizational leadership, doctrinal consensus, and ecclesial unity among today’s church leaders.

Those who find Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy appealing also share in common a longing for the deeper reverence of liturgy and the sacraments, which is often far more mystical, reflective, and reverent than in Protestantism. Aside from the debates around transubstantiation, we can all appreciate this deep reverence for the Eucharist and other biblical mandates. Yet most Protestants don’t realize that many of the early Reformers, like Luther and Calvin, had a similarly high regard for the Lord’s Supper and baptism and that these historic views could be easily recovered within the tradition.

Overall, Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy have done a better job of staying connected to the rich heritage of Christendom, and the more ancient catechisms and wider theological retrievals can be appealing to those jumping from the Protestant ship. If you were to step inside a typical American Protestant church and mention John Chrysostom, Irenaeus, or any other church father other than Augustine, for example, I’d wager that most of the congregation would be ignorant of their contributions. And yet these figures are as much a part of our own tradition as they are a part of Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy.

Sadly, this ignorance can often be weaponized in interdenominational polemics, with which very few Protestants are prepared to engage. Whereas Protestant apologists and theologians have focused most of their efforts on combatting atheism and secularism, Roman Catholic apologists, for instance, have leaned more heavily into ecclesial dialogue when it comes to promoting their traditions, doctrines, and dogmas—as evident in the reach and influence of organizations like Catholic Answers.

On his podcast, popular Protestant apologist Frank Turek recently spoke with Roman Catholic apologist Jimmy Akin in an episode that revealed his ignorance of the doctrinal differences between Protestants and Roman Catholics. “To be honest, I would love the Roman Catholic Church to be the true church. I have nothing against it. I would love it to be. I just don’t see it,” Turek said. “I’m happy to know that if we get our terminology right, at least we agree on what I think is the most important thing, and that is justification in terms of theology.”

I have a lot of respect for Turek, particularly surrounding his ability to engage with current cultural and societal matters. Yet during this discussion with Jimmy Akin, I couldn’t help but feel he was out of his depth. For one, Protestants and Roman Catholics inarguably do not have the same shared views on justification.

This goes to show that even some of these popular Protestant voices seem unable to accurately discern our theological differences and to graciously engage with important doctrinal distinctions. Protestant leaders should offer better examples of how to respond to claims levied by non-Protestant institutions—both from the pulpit and in the public square. Otherwise, we will continue to see crises of faith, where people are left questioning their ecclesial identity, even converting to other traditions altogether.

So, if Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy have the appearance of richer ecclesial institutions—why should we remain Protestant?

First, Protestantism encourages ecumenical engagement. On an episode of his podcast, Truth Unites, Gavin Ortlund points out that the Protestant tradition is equipped to be more ecumenical toward the global body of Christ. Historically, the claims of Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy have often been inherently exclusive and anathematizing to those outside their circles. Protestants, on the other hand, have greater grounds for affirming other church traditions with orthodox Christian doctrines on the Trinity, the Resurrection, and Christ’s atoning work of forgiving our sins.

Every soul craves a deep belonging that is rooted in something bigger and more profound than anything we can conjure for ourselves. And that abiding sense of belonging is one of the greatest gifts Christ has offered believers through his church for the past two millennia. In Jesus, we have an eternal connection to all other Christians as we are fellow participants in the same grace, mercy, and salvation.

Secondly, the case for remaining Protestant is bolstered by historical Christianity, which is itself not anti-Protestant. Many Roman Catholics and uninformed Protestants have believed a common misperception that Protestantism is at odds with the ancient church. For instance, Catholic Answers repeated the famous quote from John Henry Newman, Roman Catholic theologian, back in the 19th century: “To be deep in history is to cease to be Protestant.” To the layperson with no sense of the historical depth supporting the Reformation and Protestantism, such an argument can be easily convincing. Yet a deeper examination of the writings of the Reformers tells a different story.

In fact, contrary to the claims of Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy, numerous early church teachings are more closely aligned with Protestantism than non-Protestant traditions. When Reformers like Luther and Calvin argued against the doctrinal distortions of Rome in the 16th century, they leveraged their deep knowledge of church history and pointed back to the early church fathers. This can be seen, for instance, in their denouncement of Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy for embracing the extrabiblical practice of venerating icons beginning in the first millennia.

And yet most Protestants today are inept and ill-equipped to discuss our history with well-informed Christians from other traditions. As the 21st century faces daunting moral and religious challenges, American Protestants must faithfully study church history to return to our deep historical roots and recover its rich catholicity. As one writer emphasized in a previous CT piece, evangelicals can learn from the likes of theologians like Thomas Aquinas, despite our theological differences.

Finally, the Reformation that started Protestantism served an important purpose: Though not perfectly, it removed non-apostolic and non-scriptural doctrines and dogmas that had infiltrated the church over the course of the first 16 centuries. I am convinced that if Protestants researched the driving factors behind the Reformation, they would be alarmed at some of the unbiblical church teachings that existed during that period. I fear many Protestants do not even know what they believe and why the Reformation was an essential corrective.

For instance, while every tradition claims belief in God’s grace, I believe Protestantism promotes the most scriptural and apostolic reliance upon divine grace—apart from human works—as the sole condition for salvation. I know this may be a contentious statement, and there is much more to say on this subject than we have space to explore here, but I firmly believe the biblical doctrine of divine grace apart from human merit, in its fullness, is one you may forfeit by leaving the Protestant tradition.

On Ortlund’s podcast, Joshua Schooping shares his story of returning to Protestantism, and in the opening line of his book Disillusioned, Schooping explains that he left the Eastern Orthodox Church because he believed some of its “canonical positions have formally and critically wounded the purity of the Gospel.” After my own study of Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox doctrines, I share this sentiment—and have gained a renewed appreciation for the Reformation.

“Far from trying to break with tradition, the Reformers were seeking to recover it, a legacy that we must recapture and emulate in our own day,” argues Littlejohn and Castaldo in their book. They believe the solution to our present Protestant disenchantment “is to dig deeper into the Reformation, not to run from it.” Too often, they say, “converts are so intent on running away from the Protestantism they grew up in that they don’t pause to ask whether it was authentically Protestant at all.”

For those wrestling with Protestantism, resources like Ortlund’s upcoming book, What It Means to Be Protestant: The Case for an Always-Reforming Church, and The Reformation as Renewal: Retrieving the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church by Matthew Barrett can help us first examine and seek to understand our own tradition before considering converting to another tradition. If we do not have a firm grasp of our theological heritage, we cannot expect to have an appropriate response to alternative claims. I urge my fellow Protestants to not make the leap without fully examining all the doctrines you will embrace—and those you may leave behind.

As we pray about and study such matters, we must all be sensitive to the guidance of the Holy Spirit, wherever he leads. May we remain humble in our convictions, always submitting ourselves to Christ’s lordship. In doing so, I firmly believe he will direct our steps in grace and truth.

Andrew Voigt is a writer, journalist, and passionate student of theology and church history based near Charlotte, North Carolina. Andrew and his family are members of Providence City Church.

- More from Andrew Voigt

Theology

An Anxious Generation—of Parents

Carrie McKean

Jesus told us not to worry, but worry is our culture’s parenting default. It’s harming our kids.

Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Getty / Pexels

As my daughter dangled 10 feet above the ground, legs wrapped around the thick, smooth trunk of a vine in the middle of the Belizean jungle, I stood below her and considered how far she was from solid ground, a paved road, and the nearest hospital.

Needless to say, this had not been on my agenda for the day. We were visiting a small village on a mission trip to western Belize with friends from our church who’ve been coming annually to the same town for more than a decade. Our task was to help in the village school, support community development projects, share the love of Jesus, and deepen friendships with people who live in a totally different cultural context from our own.

It was that last part that put my daughter up the tree. We took a morning walk to see some little-known Mayan ruins but detoured to a no-safety-harnesses jungle adventure course led by Crocs-wearing Julio, our local friend who clearly didn’t find it worrisome to let a child free climb.

Back home in the States, we’re constantly worried about our kids. It’s well-documented and generally accepted that smartphones, social media, and a lack of childhood independence and free play contribute to creating what social psychologist Jonathan Haidt famously dubbed an “anxious generation.” But in all this collective handwringing, we tend to overlook a closely related and equally pervasive problem: unchecked, socially normalized parental anxiety and the smothering parenting style it produces.

There’s nothing new under the sun, and I’m sure, to some extent, that’s true of parental worries. Throughout the ages, parents have feared losing their children to sickness, accidents, or violence. Right now, while I worry about volleyball team tryouts and first day of school jitters, mothers around the world worry about bombs and bullets, famine and frontlines.

The problem of the relatively comfortable, like us, seems to be what we do with our worries. Our parenting strategies successfully soothe our own fears, but that doesn’t mean they meet our children’s developmental needs. We disempower our kids instead of helping them grow into competent, confident adults. We rebrand hyper-concern as proof of love and treat our pursuit of safety and ease like whipped cream on hot chocolate: If some is good, surely more will be better.

Across political and social divides, for example, parents are among the fiercest opponents to school smartphone bans, despite the mountain of evidence telling us they’re disrupting education. The rationale? Safety and ease. Smartphones give us the previously unimaginable ability to know where our children are at every single moment. We envision ourselves rescuing them from a school shooting—or, far more realistically, rescuing them from the consequences of a forgotten lunchbox.

And phones aren’t all of it. We stack one caution on another: halved grapes and five-point harnesses give way to AirTag tracking and compulsive grade checking. With all our hovering and fixing and fretting, we accidentally tell our children the world is a dangerous place they’re ill-equipped to manage without our ever-present help.

But we’re wrong about the pursuit of safety. More isn’t better. We have a generation of anxious children in part because we are a generation of anxious parents. However good our intentions, we’ve harmed a generation because our risk calibrators are broken. We scramble for protection from rare dangers while paying little heed to the cascade of far more probable dire consequences our own parenting has created.

In some cases, course correction here may require professional help to get our own anxiety under control. But beyond the clinical realm is a more garden-variety anxiety, the kind of chronic worry that all modern parents have seen, whether in ourselves or in our peers. And in this, most Western Christians look no different from the world.

We are just as anxious as our secular neighbors, and our parenting is just as overcautious. That reality should give us pause considering all Jesus said about the birds of the air and lilies of the field (Matt. 6:25–34). What we call caution, God may call sin: a clamoring for control and a refusal to trust God with the children he has entrusted to us.

This issue is also different for Christians because we can recognize what other parents cannot: that at its core, the challenge facing us is far more spiritual and existential than practical and procedural.

I know this firsthand. My elder daughter started eighth grade at her public middle school this month. I get the lockdown emails from her campus. Each morning, I watch her walk into the building alongside all those kids carrying invisible burdens and God knows what else in their backpacks, and I have to swallow my fear. I have to dismiss the intrusive thoughts suggesting this may be the last time I’ll ever see her.

As my girls get older and their lives spin ever further outside my orbit into a world of disorder and chaos, I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night, heart pounding, feeling as if I’m standing on the edge of a precipice, clutching my daughters’ hands so they do not fall. In the rational light of day, I know there’s no way to contingency plan my way out of all the ways tragedy or hardship could visit our family. Yet in the deepest part of those nights, it seems I can’t stop trying.

Two things can be true at the same time: These sleep-disrupting anxieties are real and profound, and, as Christians, we do not have to be consumed by them.

We—I—must start with confession. The illusion of control is a most enchanting elixir, but it will never satisfy. We must admit that we know this is true and that we have pursued control anyway. Perhaps this honesty will make us more ready to turn to Jesus.

“In this world you will have trouble” (John 16:33). In his final earthly sermon, Jesus made this promise to his disciples. It is also for us. This is not a verse emblazoned on plaques at the local Christian bookstore, but maybe it should be. It is at our peril that we disregard God’s promises of weeping and mourning and grief in this world.

To spend so much time and worry trying to avoid trouble is not only unrealistic; it is a rejection of Christ’s invitation to trust in the hope he offers no matter our circumstances. It is a rejection of the rest of this very verse: “Take heart!” Jesus commands. “I have overcome the world.”

But what does it look like to trust and take heart? We must pair our confession with real repentance. We must surrender and face each and every day, come what may, with the trust of little ones who know their Father gives good gifts (Luke 11:13).

This is the first parenting lesson in the life of Jesus, given in Mary’s prayer upon hearing that she will give birth to the Son of God: “Let it be with me according to your word” (Luke 1:38, NRSV). This is a “true prayer of indifference,” says pastor and author Ruth Haley Barton, in which Mary demonstrates a “profound readiness to set aside her own personal concerns in order to participate in the will of God as it unfolded in human history.”

This kind of holy indifference doesn’t mean uncaring disregard but a willingness to accept God’s will in our lives. The term dates to the 16th-century theologian Ignatius of Loyola, but the concept has deep scriptural roots. We see it in Hannah’s relinquishing her son Samuel at the temple (1 Sam. 1:28) and in Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane (Matt. 26:39). As Barton advises, sometimes a prayer of indifference must start with a prayer for indifference, asking God to help us loosen our grip on whatever we want to hold too tightly.

In Belize, I listened to Julio’s calm voice as he guided my daughter’s descent down the vine. “Let go,” he said, encouraging her to slide down the vine, even though she couldn’t yet see where her feet would land. It was as if I was suddenly startled awake by his words. Let go. Let go. Let go.

Julio wasn’t the one exposing my child to inordinate risk and worry. I was—by giving her a life of curated experiences and limited responsibilities, by trading in-real-life adventures for online ones, by making a habit of everyday hovering and motherly helpfulness and near-constant reminders to be careful. Dear Jesus, help me let go.

Watching the two of them, I realized the best thing I could do in the moment was get my own nervous energy under control. And when I contrast that moment with life back home, I’m more and more convinced that this is what our children need from us. For when my daughter’s feet were planted firmly on the ground once more, I saw something new flash in her eyes. It was a spark of accomplishment and confidence, I thought, after she’d practiced the trust I’m praying to learn.

Carrie McKean is a West Texas–based writer whose work has appeared in The New York Times, The Atlantic, and Texas Monthly magazine. Find her at carriemckean.com.

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News

Died: Patricia Gundry, Evangelical Feminist Who Wanted Women to Be Free

Daniel Silliman

Studying Scripture, she argued patriarchy was a result of Adam and Eve’s sin, not God’s good plan.

Patricia Gundry / edits by Rick Szuecs

Patricia Gundry, an evangelical author who taught that “God was the first feminist,” died on July 31 at age 87.

She was part of a movement of women—including Virginia Ramey Mollenkott, Letha Scanzoni, and Nancy Hardesty—who reevaluated Christian teachings on gender and hierarchy in light of Scripture.

With an evangelical commitment to rejecting tradition unless it could be backed up by the ultimate authority of the Bible, they came to believe the church had been wrong about women. The limitations and strictures placed on women were cultural, they said, and the hierarchy supposedly found in “creation order” was not part of God’s good plan but a result of sin entering the world.

The evangelical feminists argued that people who loved Jesus should follow him in his proclamation to the woman “crippled by a spirit” in Luke 13, declaring, “Woman, you are set free.”

Gundry adapted Jesus’ phrase for the title of her first book, Woman Be Free! It was published by Zondervan in 1977 and sold about 9,000 copies in two years—a moderate success, but with a significant impact.

Complementarian theologians John Piper and Wayne Grudem identified Gundry’s book as one of the “new interpretations of the Bible” that had provoked a “great uncertainty among evangelicals,” leaving many men and women “not sure what their roles should be.” They coined the new term complementarianism and developed a theology of gender roles in response.

Many regular readers of Woman Be Free! said they weren’t thrown into uncertainty, though. To them, the book was validating.

“I felt seen,” one woman in Ohio wrote on Goodreads after finishing Woman Be Free! in a single day. “Knowing you’re not alone, you’re not crazy, and you’re not defective is a great feeling.”

In 1996, Christianity Today called Woman Be Free! one of the books with the greatest influence on American evangelicals since World War II.

In it, Gundry urged women to read the Bible for themselves. She said they should start at the beginning, remember to interpret each passage in light of the whole, and always keep an eye on the larger story of sin and redemption.

“There is no indication of a subordination of woman in the beginning. … No indication of man’s position of authority appears until after the Fall,” Gundry wrote. “Instead of looking to the Fall for our example, let’s look to Christ and His dealings with men and women. He dealt with them as equals whom He cared about intensely and impartially.”

Gundry’s trust in Christ and reliance on Scripture started in childhood. She was born Patricia Lee Smith in Boone County, Arkansas. Her parents, Leonard and Frances Smith, bounced back and forth between farming in the Ozarks and working in the aircraft industry in Southern California. The Smiths were Southern Baptist and raised Patricia and her brother Daniel in church and Sunday school wherever they lived.

Gundry later recalled two born-again experiences. At age six, at “some sort of after school thing for children in a woman’s home in the Los Angeles area,” she heard about Jesus standing at the door of her heart and knocking. She invited him in. Then, at 13, at a rural church in central California, she went forward at the end of a “hell fire and brimstone sermon.” She was pretty sure she was already converted, she said, but wanted “to make sure it was clear.”

She was baptized—and that also happened twice.

“Just as I was catching my breath, the pastor dipped me under again,” Gundry said. “He explained that he’d not immersed some part of me completely, and he knew there would be objections if he didn’t do it again. I don’t know what kind of Baptist that makes me, maybe a DuoBaptist.”

As a girl, Gundry bought her own Bible at a dime store and read it continuously. She became a “whiz” at trivia, memorizing the names of Job’s three daughters and the lineage of Esther’s persecutor. At the same time, she developed a deep trust of Scripture, calling the Bible “the most important book I own.”

She enrolled at Los Angeles Baptist College (now The Master’s University) in 1956. She met Stan Gundry, a young man who was preparing for ministry and thinking about going to grad school to study the Bible, and they got married two years later.

Stan Gundry told CT the wedding happened as soon as he turned 21 and didn’t need his father’s permission for a marriage license.

“He didn’t approve,” Stan Gundry said. “He thought she was pursuing me when, truth was, I was pursuing her. She was the most amazing woman I ever met.”

Stan Gundry admired the way his wife was fearless and so committed to getting answers from Scripture, she wouldn’t let church leaders dismiss her questions. As he became a pastor and took a ministry job at a church in Everson, Washington, about 100 miles north of Seattle, she began to have a lot of questions.

She asked her husband:

If women are not to be the leaders and teachers of men, how does one account for Deborah, Huldah, Philip’s daughters, and Priscilla’s role in the instruction of Apollos?
Why is it that Paul instructs women to be silent in one place and acknowledges with apparent approval that women publicly pray and prophesy in another?
Doesn’t the prominence of women among the followers of Jesus and in Paul’s Epistles suggest something significantly more than women leading and teaching children and other women?
How is it that in the church the benefits of Galatians 3:26–28 apply equally and in very tangible ways to men, Jews, Gentiles, slaves, and those who are free, but not to women?
If a woman is to obey her husband, is she not responsible directly to God for her actions? Is he in effect a priest, an intermediary between her and God?

Stan Gundry didn’t know.

In 1964, Gundry tried to ask a visiting preacher. They had him to lunch at their house after church and she brought up 1 Timothy 2:12, where Paul says that women cannot teach men, and Acts 18:26, where a woman named Priscilla is described teaching a man “the way of God more adequately.” What did he make of that?

The preacher snapped at her: “Why do you want to know?”

“He was sitting at my table, eating my spaghetti, and being obviously rude to me about a simple conversational question,” Gundry later said. “That’s when the light bulb moment came to me. I thought, He doesn’t know. None of them know. But they are willing to limit all women’s lives and participation on the basis of Bible passages they know are problematic and they don’t know how to interpret.”

Gundry started researching the questions herself.

She went back to the Bible, reading the Scripture passages again. And when her husband went to graduate school at Union College in Vancouver, British Columbia, and then the Lutheran School of Theology at Chicago, she made use of his access to academic libraries to discover forgotten generations of evangelical feminists. She read God’s Word to Women by Katharine Bushnell and The Bible Status of Woman by Lee Anna Starr.

Gundry went back and forth with Stan Gundry about what she was learning and occasionally asked him to research a biblical text for her in the original Greek or Hebrew. She started writing Woman Be Free! in 1974. The first person persuaded by her arguments for evangelical feminism was her husband.

“The Fall turned everything topsy-turvy,” Stan Gundry later wrote. “After the Fall, the relationship between man and woman is quite different than it was before the Fall. It morphed from one of equality and complementarity to one of male domination and patriarchy, and that is the backdrop to all that follows in the Bible. … In Christ right relationships are restored and in him ‘there is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female’” (Gal. 3:28).

When Stan Gundry graduated from seminary, he took a job teaching theology at Moody Bible Institute. Before Woman Be Free! came out, he spoke to the dean about the arguments of the book and said he agreed with them. He was assured, he later said, that this wouldn’t be a problem.

At first, it wasn’t. Woman Be Free! received no significant backlash when it was published in 1977.

“The people who liked it told me so,” Patricia Gundry said. “The people who didn’t like it just plain ignored it, pretended it wasn’t there, the way they pretended feminists aren’t there.”

Then in ’79, Gundry spoke at a meeting organized by Housewives for the Equal Rights Amendment in Glen Ellyn, Illinois. She wasn’t asked to address the constitutional amendment itself but spoke on her research about what the Bible said about women’s equality.

“The reason we have the situation we have now in the church is historical and theological. It is not because of what the Bible says,” Gundry said. “God was the first feminist because he created women as fully equal. There’s nothing wrong with us. It’s only our interpretation of the Bible that’s lopsided.”

A group of conservatives opposed to the amendment started a letter-writing campaign. Moody received around 80 letters, according to reporting at the time, and the issue of whether people who believe in women’s equality could teach at Moody went to the trustees. The school decided the answer was no. Stan Gundry was told that if he resigned, he could receive a severance.

Stan Gundry couldn’t find a job teaching at a Christian college after that and had to change careers, going to work as an editor for Zondervan. He told CT he didn’t regret it, though.

“I wore it as a badge of honor,” Stan Gundry said. “It was the right thing to do and I stood by her.”

Also, it wasn’t all bad. Free from Moody’s strict lifestyle rules, he told the Chicago Tribune at the time, Stan Gundry was finally able to go and see Star Wars.

Patricia Gundry went on to write three more books about the biblical view of women: Heirs Together, published in 1980; The Complete Woman, in 1981; and Neither Slave nor Free, in 1987. She also wrote and edited The Zondervan Family Cookbook, which came out in 1988.

When she wasn’t researching and writing, Gundry raised four children, played music, taught art, and grew a garden that earned her the nickname “the flower lady” among local school children.

Later in life, Gundry developed an interest in self-publishing, started a number of blogs, and maintained several active email Listservs, including one for evangelical feminists called PHOEBE-L, named for the woman Paul entrusted to deliver the letter to the Romans.

“To those who say women cannot fill positions of leadership, the Bible says women did,” Gundry wrote. “Remember who you are. You are a child of God. He is your director. You need no pope, bishop, synod, or council to tell you what you may believe or how you may serve Him.”

Gundry is survived by her husband Stan and their children, Ann Gundry Teliczan, Daniel, David, and Jonathan.

Correction: Gundry was born March 2, 1937, and died at age 87. A previous verion of this article incorrectly stated she was 90.

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The Top Christian Highlights of the Paris Olympics

Bruce Barron

How athletes are sharing their faith and pointing to God.

Odette Giuffrida of Italy (in blue) congratulates Larissa Pimenta of Brazil for winning the bronze medal in the women’s 52-kg Judo event. (See their story below, after the more recent posts.)

Michael Reaves / Staff / Getty / Edits by CT

For most spectators, the Olympics are a display of the highest level of athletic skill. But for many Christian athletes, they provide an opportunity to express their faith to each other and to the world.

A shared faith brings athletes together with teammates and across nations. This group of Olympians from Australia, Nigeria, Portugal, and other countries sang “Waymaker” in a video posted by Cindy Sember, a British hurdler, who praised God for the other Christian athletes she met at the Olympics.

https://www.instagram.com/p/C-NiTfQO6P9

Elsewhere, gold medalist Yemisi Ogunleye (more on her below) and silver medalist Malaika Mihambo sang “Gratitude,” while their coach, Ulrich Knapp, played guitar and harmonized. The athletes posted the video shortly before the shot put and long jump events, crediting the song with preparing their hearts and minds for competition.

https://www.instagram.com/p/C-QdlnWoLRj

Below are more of the most memorable moments of Christian expression at the Paris Olympics.

Gospel Music Invades Press Conference After German Christian Wins Shot Put

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German shot-putter Yemisi Ogunleye got off to a rough start in her competition on August 9, slipping and falling in rainy conditions on her first throw.

Despite a sore knee, Ogunleye recovered with an excellent second throw to qualify for the finals and was in second place entering her last attempt. She rose to the occasion with a throw of exactly 20 meters (65 feet, 7.5 inches), her best ever in outdoor competition, to win gold.

Asked how she approached that decisive final throw, Ogunleye replied, “Before the last attempt, I didn’t think about anything but just lifted my hands and prayed. And that might seem weird to some people, but that is really the source of my peace and joy. … After seeing where the shot landed, when I knew it was hopefully going to be enough for the gold medal, I just went on my knees and said, ‘Thank you, Jesus.’”

At the end of the post-event press conference, the moderator asked Ogunleye, “Is it true that you sing in a gospel choir? What song was going through your head tonight?” She responded with an impromptu rendition of “God Kept Me” by Harvey Watkins Jr.:

I was right at the edge of a breakthrough
But I couldn’t see it.
The devil really held me
But Jesus came and grabbed me
And He held me close
So I wouldn’t let go.
God’s mercy kept me
So I wouldn’t let go.

Surprise Winner Says God Pushed Him over the Finish Line

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One of the most classic track and field races in this year’s Olympics led to a grateful comment by a stunning—and perhaps a bit stunned—winner.

The men’s 1500-meter final on August 6 was expected to be a battle between Norway’s Jakob Ingebrigtsen and Josh Kerr of Great Britain. Often, 1500-meter races are highly tactical, with the runners jockeying for position before a last-lap sprint. Not this time. Ingebrigtsen took off at world-record pace and challenged the field to keep up.

Ingebrigtsen held the lead until the last 100 meters, when American Cole Hocker snuck past and then outsprinted Kerr to win by 0.14 seconds. His time of 3:27:65 was an Olympic record and exceeded his previous personal best time by nearly three seconds.

Hocker, a graduate of Cathedral Catholic High School in Indianapolis who posted James 1:2–4 (“Consider it pure joy … when you face trials”) on his Instagram page at the end of his 2023 season, seemed as amazed as everyone else.

Hocker initially tried to pass on the inside but was blocked. When space opened up to Ingebrigtsen’s right, he explained afterward, “I just let God carry me through the finish line.”

He added, “It felt like I was being carried by the energy of the stadium and God. My mind was focused, and my body followed through with the strength and determination I had.”

One of Hocker’s Instagram posts offered a shorter explanation: “God did.”

Historic Gold Medal for Dominican Republic Sprinter

https://www.instagram.com/p/C-dYxpguwBz/

Marileidy Paulino, who started her track and field career running barefoot because she couldn’t afford shoes, became the first woman from the Dominican Republic ever to win Olympic gold on August 9.

Paulino breezed to victory in the 400 meters with a time of 48.17 seconds, which broke an Olympic record that had stood since 1996.

Known for holding up a Bible after earning silver at the Tokyo Olympics three years ago, this time, Paulino knelt in prayer on the track after her victory. In her comments afterward, she thanked God for her opportunity to excel on her country’s behalf. “I don’t come to compete for the money,” she said, “but because I love athletics, to help motivate the younger generations and because these achievements are also doors that are being opened for the future generations of Dominican people.”

“Queen of the Hurdles” Credits God, as Usual

https://www.instagram.com/p/C-bBDjsxC3g/

One hundred years ago, Eric Liddell declined to run the 100 meters on a Sunday at the 1924 Paris Olympics, made a last-minute switch to the 400 meters, and won a stunning gold medal. On August 8 of this year, one of the most visible evangelical Christians at the 2024 Paris Olympics delivered an equally stunning performance at the same distance—with 10 hurdles in the way.

Sydney McLaughlin-Levrone, who qualified for her first Olympics while still in high school, broke her own world record in the 400-meter hurdles. Her time of 50.37 seconds won gold with 1.5 seconds to spare. Proportionally, that would be like winning a marathon by more than three minutes.

Video footage of the race shows McLaughlin-Levrone and her chief rival, Femke Bol of the Netherlands, virtually even through six hurdles. But while Bol stutter-stepped and struggled to maintain balance over the last three hurdles, McLaughlin-Levrone ran them in perfect stride, with alternating takeoff legs, as if not even fatigued.

McLaughlin-Levrone has made her Christian testimony widely known through numerous interviews and her book Far Beyond Gold: Running from Fear to Faith.

“I credit all that I do to God. He’s given me a gift, he’s given me a drive to just want to continue to improve upon myself, and I have a platform and I want to use it to glorify him,” she said at Thursday’s post-race press conference in response to an NPR reporter’s question. “So whenever I step on the track, it’s always the prayer of ‘God, let me be the vessel in which you’re glorified, whatever the result is’—how I conduct myself, how I carry myself, not just how I perform. So it’s just freedom in knowing that regardless of what happens, he’s going to get the praise through me. That’s why I do what I do.”

Rebeca Andrade’s Godliness and Grace Earn Competitors’ Love

https://www.instagram.com/p/C-S_OHURKhx/

For much of the world, US gymnast Simone Biles has been the most visible face of the Paris Olympics. On August 5, Biles and teammate Jordan Chiles created a memorable Olympic scene when, in a gesture of sportsmanship, they bowed down to Brazilian competitor Rebeca Andrade on the medals podium.

Andrade had just taken the gold medal in the floor exercise competition, with Biles and Chiles standing on the podium silver and bronze, respectively.

The two US stars referred to Andrade as a “queen,” “icon,” and “legend,” while noting the international friendship they have shared through years of fierce competition.

Andrade, 25, who has had three ACL injuries that required reconstructive surgeries during her career, has not been bashful about directing her thanks to God. She broke into song during an interview after winning silver in the vault competition.

“God was preparing me so that I could achieve my goals today,” she stated. “And the song says, ‘I am preparing you for a new time that is about to come … hold on, I’m doing it perfectly, and you will see.’ And that’s exactly it, you know? He’s doing things that I could never have imagined.”

In an interview two years ago, Andrade credited her Christian upbringing for giving her resilience and said that, to deal with anxiety at the Olympics, “I always took the Bible to the competition and read it when I went to the bathroom.”

She also related how God encouraged her after her third surgery in 2019:

I was in the room I shared with a friend, and mentally I was asking for a hug—because I was far from my mother and my siblings. My friend, who is a heavy sleeper, got up without saying a word and gave me a hug. It was at that moment that I realized God was with me and that he had given me that hug. At that moment, I decided, “I’m not going to stop. If I had to go through this again, it’s because he has something bigger.”

If You Know God, You Can Smile Under Pressure

https://www.instagram.com/p/C-QomMjzgGe/

The high jump is an emotionally intense event, requiring great precision and providing an immediate evaluation of success or absolute failure. That’s what makes this video so incredible. It shows Australian jumper Nicola McDermott flashing a broad smile before attempting to clear 2.02 meters (6 feet, 7.5 inches) at the Tokyo Olympics in 2021.

Maybe McDermott knew something in advance. She cleared the bar cleanly to earn a silver medal in Tokyo. On August 4 in Paris, now married and known as Nicola Olyslagers, she jumped 2.00 meters (6 feet, 6.75 inches) and took silver again.

Or maybe Olyslagers, age 27, smiles because she knows she will praise God no matter what. As she stated on Instagram, “Praise be to God my Rock! He is my strength and song!”

Olyslagers explains on her website, “The satisfaction that I jump and live by was once performance-driven, to bring meaning to life. Yet that all changed when I was introduced to Jesus.”

In addition to sharing her faith openly, Olyslagers has formed a ministry called Everlasting Crowns. She describes its purpose as seeing “fellow athletes transformed by Jesus’ perfect love, planted in churches, and discipled to be a blessing to every place they are sent. Our hope is that they rise up to not only have faith but compete with an eternal perspective.”

Little Countries, Big Hearts, Speedy Legs

https://www.instagram.com/p/C-VPVCptlzC/

It’s been a great Olympics for little-known Caribbean nations. In addition to Shafiqua Maloney’s performance for St. Vincent and the Grenadines (described below), on August 3, Thea LaFond, competing for Dominica, won the women’s triple jump, and Julien Alfred of St. Lucia edged US star Sha’Carri Richardson amid pouring rain in the 100 meters, gaining the title of “world’s fastest woman.”

These were the first Olympic medals of any color for Dominica and St. Lucia. Alfred added a silver in the 200 meters on August 6.

Alfred, who cites Romans 8:18 on her Instagram page, commented in her postrace interview, “I told God that whenever I win, I will give him the glory always, so I thank God for bringing me through, for giving me the strength to come so far.”

LaFond, who achieved her winning distance on the second jump, described the weather conditions as God’s gift to her: “The rain was in my favor. It came down as soon as I was done with the second jump. Thank you, God, for working with me.”

She Overcame Homelessness for Track and Field Glory

https://www.instagram.com/p/C9z2K36Mqpe/

“I am a child of God,” reads Shafiqua Maloney’s Instagram bio. Yet this child of God battled homelessness as recently as 2023 on her way to the Olympics.

Last February, the 800-meter runner, who competed in college for the University of Arkansas but represents the Caribbean nation of St. Vincent and the Grenadines, shared that she had been homeless for several months during the previous year.

Maloney’s admission got the attention of her nation’s prime minister, and she received an endorsement contract from a Caribbean water company shortly afterward.

Maloney arrived at Paris ranked 27th in her event but sped through the first two rounds in personal record time to make the finals, where she placed fourth on August 5, just 0.24 seconds short of the bronze medal.

“I’ve been homeless—not having food to eat and all this stuff,” sportswriter Chris Chavez quoted Maloney as saying after she qualified for the finals. “God carried me through all of that and when I got here I had to believe that he didn’t bring me this far just to leave me and that he would carry me straight through.”

Diving Medalist Says, “I Let God Get to Work”

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British diver Andrea Spendolini-Sirieix said, “I give glory to God,” and quoted Joshua 1:9 on her Instagram page after earning bronze with partner Lois Toulson in the 10-meter platform synchronized diving competition on July 31.

“This is more than just sport,” she added. “I am proud to represent my country, my family, and glorify the name of Jesus.”

After struggling at the Tokyo Olympics and experiencing mental blocks similar to those faced by US gymnast Simone Biles, Spendolini-Sirieix, daughter of British television personality Fred Sirieix, considered quitting the sport. Instead, she regained strength from her Christian faith, which she has shared without hesitation.

She has described her faith as a “steadying force,” saying that she begins each day with prayer and ends it with Bible study. Asked if she had any superstitions when competing, she replied, “No, I let go and let God get to work. I pray and do Bible study before the competition.”

In Christ, Both Winner and Loser Can Be Victorious

https://www.instagram.com/p/C9-e763NjDi

When Brazilian Larissa Pimenta and Italian Odette Giuffrida faced off for a bronze medal in the women’s 52-kilogram judo event on July 28, they already knew each other well.

Very well, in fact. Giuffrida had become a Christian through Pimenta’s influence during a visit to Brazil.

Pimenta won the bout. In her moment of joy and emotion, the first embrace she received was from the friend she had defeated. As she explained in an interview:

She is a special person to me. And what she said was incredibly meaningful. She apeaks Portuguese and we talk quite a lot. Odette came to know God through me—she came to Brazil and found God. And just a few days ago we were talking … about how we were going to give all honor and glory to him. So at that moment … she told me to get up because all honor and glory should be given to him … it was truly significant for me.

Not Your Typical Skateboarder, but He Loves God

https://www.instagram.com/p/C-Dn5SlPN2F

“Jesus is king!” shouted 19-year-old skateboarder and fan favorite Cordano Russell when the Olympic announcers introduced him at the men’s street skateboarding final on Monday.

Ranked 16th in the world, Russell, who lives in San Diego but competes for his native Canada, landed his biggest tricks but fell twice and finished seventh. He expressed thanks to his “heavenly Father” on Instagram and vowed to keep training for the 2028 Olympics in Los Angeles.

At 6 foot 3 inches tall and 230 pounds in weight, Russell is far taller and more muscular than the average skateboarder (and he breaks more boards than his smaller competitors). He began skateboarding at age four and convinced his family to move to Carlsbad, California, a hotbed for the sport, when he was eight. Russell displayed potential in high school football but chose pro skateboarding instead.

“It took a lot of praying, a lot of discernment to decide what to do,” Russell told a publication at the University of San Diego, where he will enroll this fall. “The reasoning the Lord showed me was that my love and my heart was set in skateboarding.”

According to the piece, Russell “credits his religious upbringing with instilling the work ethic and mental fortitude needed to excel in the demanding world of professional skateboarding.” He mentors young athletes—and when he misses a trick, you can expect him to yell, “Chicken nuggets!” instead of a swear word.

Fiji: Great Rugby Players, Great Singers for God

https://www.instagram.com/p/C-CbQFshe5P/

The Pacific island nation of Fiji, with fewer than a million people and a total land area about two-thirds of Hawaii, has 33 athletes at the Paris Olympics, 24 of them rugby players. Fiji’s only Olympic medals ever have come in rugby sevens.

Their men’s team had been undefeated in the Olympics: gold in 2016 in Rio when rugby sevens was introduced and gold in Tokyo in 2021. But after 17 straight wins, they fell to the host nation of France in this year’s gold-medal game.

But that loss has not stopped the Fijian team from doing the other thing they’ve become known for: singing praise to God.

The Fijian team has gained worldwide attention for singing hymns with beautiful harmony in an Olympic Village courtyard. Australian water polo player Tilly Kearns posted a video with the comment, “Having the best seat in the Village being next to the Oceania building.”

A classical music website shared the video and explained that the team was singing “Mo Ravi Vei Jisu,” a Fijian hymn. The words translate as “Put your trust into the Lord and he will guide your way.” The website added, “Listening to the video, you might think you’re overhearing a rehearsal by a professional choir. The harmonies, rhythms, musicality and sheer beauty of their resonant voices make it hard to believe these aren’t formally trained musicians.”

Sharing the Gospel in Sign Language

https://www.instagram.com/p/C99Lfr0NswG/

Brazilian Rayssa Leal, who won a silver medal in street skateboarding at the Tokyo Olympics at age 13, followed up with a bronze this year. Before a preliminary run, she turned to the camera and used sign language to communicate John 14:6: “I am the way, the truth, and the life

- More from Bruce Barron

I Grew Up Serving the Church in the Middle East. Coming ‘Home’ Was Hard.

Annie Meldrum

My return to the United States brought grief and loneliness as I realized I was different from my peers.

Illustration by Mallory Rentsch Tlapek / Source Images: WikiMedia Commons / Unsplash

On an early morning flight out of the country, I claimed the window seat. Alongside the usual anticipation that accompanies travel, I felt joy and fear and sadness. I don’t remember if I cried. What I do remember are the mountains, the wobbly takeoff in the rundown plane, and the small comfort of knowing that I didn’t forget anything. Everything we owned sat in the belly of the plane, packed neatly into a dozen trunks and a few suitcases.

That was almost four years ago.

Most people would never guess now that I spent my childhood as a homeschooler in northern Iraq. Our family moved to the country to serve the Kurdish church when I was six; we moved back just before I turned 18. And when we returned, I did my best to erase every trace of those years from myself.

But their impact, of course, has remained. I still blank when someone asks where I’m from. I have struggled to find an identity outside of “the girl who lived in Iraq.”

I have a tattoo of the mountains on my right forearm now, and a reference to Joshua 1:9 in Kurdish: “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.” The tattoo is a tether to the place that was both home and foreign, the place that I love and hate, fear and miss; the place that elicits just about every possible emotion.

That first fall back in the United States, after I graduated from high school, I moved to the Northwoods of Wisconsin for nine months to attend a gap year program. It was one of the worst years of my life. I know now that no matter where in the United States I’d been, this season would have been a dark one. I was anxious, depressed, and lost, overwhelmed by the differences between the place I’d left and the place I found myself now.

As a young girl who grew up in a Muslim world, I had never experienced independence. Instead of slowly working my way into freedom, though, I rebelled in as many ways as I could. I praise God now that my choices didn’t lead to greater consequences.

In Iraq, dating wasn’t an option, and I had internalized many broken messages about myself and men. Instead of talking through those messages with a trusted advisor, I started dating someone who didn’t understand the baggage I was carrying.

My parents had always guided my faith; I lived at home, I went to school at home, and we were a close-knit family, often each other’s only Christian community. I never had the chance to learn what my own faith looked like. During my gap year, I didn’t open my Bible or pray for months. I felt myself pulling away from my faith and my parents, deeper into confusion, grief, and insecurity.

Starting college in Indiana brought a fresh start. I explored my relationship with God through Bible classes and chapel and in my own times of praying and journaling; I started calling home more.

But the culture shock wasn’t over. I wasn’t just getting used to living in America; I was getting used to being part of “Gen Z,” with its fast-paced chaos of micro-trends, social media, and nostalgia. In a new context, on the cusp of adulthood, I was immediately overwhelmed by the memes and inside jokes familiar to my peers.

When we first moved back, I’d tried to ignore all the references. How could I stay on track with God and schoolwork while also keeping track of fashion and slang and jokes?

But despite my efforts to ignore my feelings, I was terrified and embarrassed by my lack of knowledge. I didn’t know every Disney Channel theme song (or any, for that matter). I didn’t have a pair of dirty Air Force 1s. (I had a pair of faded Nike tennis shoes I got at the secondhand market in Iraq.) I had never listened to Kanye or Taylor Swift. My idea of fun was exploring a mountainside that might have a couple unmarked landmines, not running to Starbucks to grab an overpriced drink. I didn’t understand what it meant to be “normal.”

It took time and effort to learn my peers’ culture: Years of study, years of mimicking everyone around me. Next year, I’ll be a senior in college, but from time to time, I’m still haunted by imposter syndrome. I’m supposed to belong here, but I don’t—not fully, anyways. I still like sitting on the floor more than I like sitting at a desk. I know what it’s like to live in a world where peace is a privilege, not an expectation. I miss pushing my way through crowded, sweaty markets, haggling with vendors in a different language. That tattoo will remain on my forearm.

These challenges aren’t unique to me. Missionary kids returning from long stints overseas—“third-culture kids,” as American sociologist Ruth Useem described us—often have difficulty returning to our sending cultures. We suffer from the loss of well-known sights and smells, food and language—while, at the same time, we are expected to love being “back home.” Sometimes, we’re haunted by the poverty, suffering, and oppression we saw abroad. Some of us feel that our needs were neglected in the shadow of the mission. These are all familiar feelings to me.

A pair of 2009 studies from Mental Health, Religion & Culture showed that college-age missionary kids score lower than their peers in both physical well-being and sociocultural adaptation. Surveyed missionary kids said one of their biggest struggles upon returning “home” was knowing how to fit in and understanding the references their peers were making. They all expressed frustration that there hadn’t been more support.

I certainly needed a support system when I returned to the United States. I was told I would grieve, but I needed more than a warning. I needed someone to tell me what that grief would be for, exactly, and to reassure me that it was okay if my grief didn’t look the same as anyone else’s. I needed a reminder that I was not alone in my pain. I wish there had been someone—a friend, a mentor—who had understood where I was at and checked in on me, someone who could have shared their own process, however messy and disorganized.

If I could speak to my 18-year-old self now, I’d tell her to take it slow; there’s no shame in learning to walk before you try to run. But I didn’t have an older version of myself looking out for me. In order to adapt to the new, I just tried to get rid of everything old. I tried to throw away the shaping that God had done in me during my time overseas. I wanted to be the same as everyone around me. It has taken me a long time to accept that Iraq has forever made me a little different.

Some part of me will always be the girl who grew up in Iraq. That part of my story, the leaving and the longing and the adjusting, has come with suffering—which has also produced in me perseverance, character, and hope (Rom. 5:3–5). Obviously, that process has been far from perfect. I am stubborn and adverse to change. But I have learned the grace of God; I am learning to trust that he will use me in a way I might not see yet.

Today, I can say with certainty that I wouldn’t give up my time overseas for anything. We only saw one person give his life to Christ during our years there, but my heart for the nations was forever changed by the Kurds. I carry with me the burden of lost hearts, the children who will never see outside of their city, the memories of the most authentic, frustrating, and hospitable people I’ve known. Instead of denying the difficult gifts of my past, I can say with sincerity, “Here I am, Lord: Send me!”—with all my sadness and fear, my joy and anticipation.

Annie Meldrum is an intern at Christianity Today.

- More from Annie Meldrum

News

Wire Story

Some Churches Lose Coverage as Insurers Hit by a Wave of Storm Claims

Bob Smietana - Religion News Service

Natural disaster costs have overwhelmed the market for carriers, which are raising rates or dropping policies for congregations in high-risk areas.

Scott Olson / Getty Images

John Parks was taking his first sabbatical in 40 years of ministry when he got a call from his church’s accountant with some bad news.

Church Mutual, the church’s insurance company, had dropped them.

“This does not make sense,” Parks, the pastor of Ashford Community Church in Houston, recalls thinking at the time. “We’ve never filed a claim.”

Five months and 13 insurance companies later, the church finally found replacement coverage for $80,000 per year, up from the $23,000 they had been paying.

“It’s been an adventure,” said the 69-year-old Parks from his home in Houston, where the power was out after Hurricane Beryl. “That’s putting it politely.”

Parks and his congregation are not alone. An ongoing wave of disasters—Gulf Coast hurricanes, wildfires in California, severe thunderstorms and flooding in the Midwest—along with skyrocketing construction costs post-COVID have left the insurance industry reeling.

As a result, companies such as Church Mutual, GuideOne and Brotherhood Mutual, which specialize in insuring churches, have seen their reserves shrink. That’s led them to drop churches they consider high risk in order to cut their losses.

Hundreds of United Methodist churches in the Rio Texas Annual Conference learned they’d lost property insurance in November last year, leaving church officials scrambling. More than six months later, some churches have found new insurance, often at a steep increase. Others still have none, said Kevin Reed, president of the conference board of trustees.

Reed said the conference had about a month’s notice that its property insurance policy, which local congregations could buy into, was being canceled. That wasn’t enough time to find new coverage before the policy expired. It also left local churches on their own.

We have not found a good solution,” said Reed. “It continues to be a significant problem for our churches.”

United Methodist churches in Iowa have also lost insurance, according to the Iowa Annual Conference, in the aftermath of severe weather in the area. The Rev. Ron Carlson, treasurer of the Iowa conference, said that both small rural churches and larger churches have been affected. Carlson said the conference reminded churches earlier this year to be proactive in checking on their insurance and not waiting for a renewal offer.

The UMC’s Book of Discipline requires churches to carry insurance for the full replacement cost of their buildings as well as liability insurance. For some churches, said Carlson, that’s just not possible. He said the conference is trying to sort out what happens to those churches.

For struggling churches dealing with declining membership and giving, he said, rising insurance may be the last straw.

“There have been some that have said we can’t do this anymore,” he said.

For churches that lost their insurance, finding replacement coverage is difficult. That’s in part because churches are a niche market that’s difficult to insure and full of risk, say experts. They are open to the public, work with everyone from infants to senior citizens, sometimes house social service programs, are run by volunteers and often have large and expensive buildings.

Churches also operate with little oversight, said Charles Cutler, president of ChurchWest Insurance Services, which works with about 4,000 churches and other Christian ministries.

“Because of the First Amendment and the separation of church and state, ministries are largely unregulated,” said Cutler. “And unregulated businesses are difficult to underwrite.”

The church insurance market, like the insurance industry overall, has been hit with a perfect storm in recent years. Supply chain shortages for construction materials that began during the pandemic have driven up the cost of rebuilding after a disaster. When the cost of rebuilding goes up, so does the size of claims, said Cutler. That led insurance companies to raise their rates in order to cover those claims.

Then a series of natural disasters hit the industry hard—including hurricanes, wildfires and what are known as “severe convective storms”—thunderstorms with extreme rain and wind that caused billions in damage last year, according to the Insurance Journal. Claims from those disasters have stressed the reserves that insurance companies use to pay claims.

Pam Rushing, the chief underwriting officer for Church Mutual, said that the company is still renewing policies and accepting new business in every state. However, the company no longer offers property coverage in Louisiana. Church Mutual did not give details of how many policies have been canceled.

“We do not take nonrenewal decisions lightly and it represents a small percentage of our overall portfolio,” Rushing said in an email. “For us to remain financially strong, viable and best able to serve our mission, we need to mitigate the severe impact catastrophic weather has had—and will continue to have—on our bottom line and our ability to serve customers nationwide.”

Brad Hedberg, executive vice president of The Rockwood Co., a Chicago-based agency, said church insurers are facing pressure from the reinsurers—large companies such as Lloyd’s of London that provide insurance to insurance companies so catastrophic claims don’t overwhelm them. Those companies are looking to reduce their exposure to certain types of claims—meaning church insurers can’t offer as much coverage as they did in the past.

Hedberg, who works with churches and other ministries, said he spends a lot of time helping clients keep the insurance they already have and reduce their risk of filing claims. That means making sure churches have policies in place for everything from abuse prevention to who gets to drive the church van, as well as being proactive with building maintenance and safety projects. It also means being strategic in when to file a claim—and when to pay for a loss out of pocket. Churches should only tap their insurance for large losses—not small claims, he added.

“If small claims get filed, your coverage could be nonrenewed or your premium could go through the roof,” he said. “The market is just that bad.”

Once a church loses coverage, it may face higher prices for years. That’s likely the case for Bethany Covenant Church in Berlin, Connecticut, said Greg Pihl, who chairs the church’s finance committee.

The church had been paying $12,500 for insurance and had made a claim for flooding damage due to a faulty sprinkler. Pihl said the church learned this past spring that its insurance had been canceled. Now Bethany will pay about $73,000 for less coverage, said Pihl.

That made for a difficult conversation at a church business meeting and midyear changes to the church’s budget. The church was able to tap some reserves to cover the increased premium this year. But it’ll likely be paying higher rates for the next three to five years, said Pihl. And those reserves, meant to pay for things like a new roof, still have to be built back up.

Pihl said that before the church’s policy was canceled, he expected rates to go up, perhaps by 10 percent or 20 percent. But that proved overly optimistic.

“It’s just a terrible market,” he said.

Nathan Creitz, pastor of Calvary Baptist Church in Bay Shore, New York, a congregation of about 100 people on Long Island, said that in the past, getting insurance hadn’t been a worry. The total annual cost for all the church’s insurance—the church building, a parsonage, liability—was less than $4,000.

“We got lucky,” he said. “We were grandfathered into some really low rates.”

Things changed last summer after Calvary’s insurance carrier dropped the church, deciding not to renew the policy. With the help of a broker, the church found new insurance for about $14,000. Since most of the costs of running a church, such as paying staff and keeping the lights on, are already fixed, that meant cutting programs. The church also had to put off capital improvements to the building, which ironically are the kinds of things that would make them easier to insure.

“It’s not ideal but that’s what happened,” Creitz said.

For Ashford Community Church in Houston, finding the funds to cover the increased insurance has also been a challenge, especially post-COVID, when church attendance and giving are down.

Higher insurance costs also mean less money for ministry at the church, which Parks described as a mission-focused congregation.

The church’s 40,000-square-foot facility is currently home to about a dozen congregations, through a partnership called Kingdom City Houston. Parks said he came to the church about a decade ago after hopes of starting a church overseas fell apart. At the time, the church was struggling and was using only a quarter of the space in its building.

Today about 1,200 people worship every weekend in the building—which holds multiple services in its three sanctuaries. Parks said worshippers come from more than 60 countries. The churches each have their pastors but share some back-office staff.

The idea is to show that Christians from different backgrounds can still be united. “We can walk side by side, even if we don’t always see eye to eye,” he said.

Parks said Ashford’s building has been largely untouched by recent storms. After Hurricane Harvey caused massive flooding in 2017, the church hosted volunteers from around the country who helped residents recover.

“It was a good time of serving the community,” he said.

- More from Bob Smietana - Religion News Service

Theology

Homeschooling for the Common Good

Myles Werntz

I never thought I’d be a homeschool parent, not least because I support public education. An improbable shift changed my perspective.

Illustration by Christianity Today / Source Images: Getty / Unsplash

I am an educator. I believe in the good of education for everyone and that public schools should be amply funded and resourced. I believe in contributing to the common good even when it doesn’t directly benefit me. And in the summer of 2020, my wife and I found ourselves in what I’d once have called a most improbable situation: We became homeschool parents.

Let me explain.

One of the attractive parts about moving to Abilene, Texas, five years prior was the well-loved public school system. We bought our house near one of the many excellent elementary schools and expected an ordinary educational path for our two children. We’ve long known public school teachers, happily paid taxes for schools our children didn’t attend, and looked back fondly on our own days of bus rides, locker conversations, and school cafeterias.

Then COVID-19 came. Suddenly, we realized our our oldest would be going to kindergarten masked, unable to see his teacher’s face, distanced from other children—or else staring at a screen for hours a day in virtual kindergarten. Guidance from the school board was minimal, and the deadline to register our child for COVID kindergarten ticked ever closer.

We couldn’t do it—but we realized we could handle homeschooling, at least for a while. Both my wife and I could do some of our work remotely, and we could convert part of our living room into a classroom. It would be hard, but we could make it work.

“One year,” we said. “We can do one year.”

Let me say, now, that making this decision was not a brave one. It was simply the only one we felt was available to us. Had COVID not forced our hand, I’m not sure we’d ever have gone the direction we did. That first year required an upheaval in our lives, and not only because of COVID. We never thought we’d be teaching someone how to read and do basic math without help.

But gradually, we quit making jokes about homeschoolers and dropped our unease over being the only homeschool family we knew. We began to embrace the freedom to take long weekends for camping. We found we enjoyed introducing our kids to literature, music, history, and philosophy. We found a rhythm of work and instruction that meshed with our family’s goals. When the most intense COVID era eased, we began to connect with other homeschool families. We enrolled our children in a three-day-a-week co-op run by licensed educators. We even attended a homeschool convention.

Many times, I’ve wondered who we are becoming. But one year turned into two, and, four years later, I can’t see us turning back.

Still, the one lingering question for me is that of the common good. Here in Texas, property taxes are used, in part, to fund the schools, but each school’s enrollment also affects its funding. The lower enrollment drops, the less funding a school gets. By choosing to not enroll our children in the public school around the corner, in other words, we’ve taken money out of that school’s coffers—more money than my school supply donations will ever replace.

By homeschooling, then, maybe I’ve taken away from the common good. But money is not the only measure, and not all of what public schools offer as common is necessarily good.

As an educator, I think standardized testing is a bad way to organize instruction. As a parent, I have concerns with how much time my kids are away from home, how many hours rote homework takes from play and individual interests.

One need not be a Christian to share these concerns. But as a theologian and ethicist, I have other questions too: Is participating in common rites like voting and public education the only or best way for a Christian to contribute to the good of society? And is it possible that in saying no to the concrete, flawed version of a public good, we may say yes to the common good it aims to serve?

In the first century, Justin Martyr offered this account of Christian participation in the common good:

And more than all other men are we your helpers and allies in promoting peace, seeing that we hold this view, that it is alike impossible for the wicked, the covetous, the conspirator, and for the virtuous, to escape the notice of God, and that each man goes to everlasting punishment or salvation according to the value of his actions.

Justin is one in a long line of Christians taking this approach, a line that runs through Augustine, Thomas Aquinas, the Reformation, and into the present. To support the peace of the city is not, Justin argued, the same as using the means of the city: By pursuing the common good in a uniquely Christian way, he said, Christians bear witness to what cities are meant to be.

Today, we can hold with the apostle Paul that it’s good to live at peace with all people as far as we are able (Rom. 12:18), and with Jeremiah that we should seek the welfare of the city (29:7). But that doesn’t require us to pursue these ends only through the means provided by the state. It doesn’t mean people of good will can’t disagree about the form of the common good while agreeing on its value.

At its best, homeschooling orders education around the common life of the family first and, from there, the life of the world. For Christians, it brings education, vocation, family, and spiritual formation into an integrated whole.

Homeschooling certainly can be—and often is—done in a spirit of resentment, as its detractors tend to charge. But it can also be an opportunity for Christians to help children pursue a vision of wisdom, citizenship, and goodness differently.

What if homeschooling offered an alternate vision of education that might even have resonance in the public school system?

What if homeschooling illuminates what Christians should desire for all families: time to educate, freedom to make choices about what is good for our children, and civic resources that help our citizens grow in charity and goodness?

What if, as my family has found, it is possible to homeschool for the common good?

Myles Werntz is author of From Isolation to Community: A Renewed Vision of Christian Life Together. He writes at Christian Ethics in the Wild and teaches at Abilene Christian University.

- More from Myles Werntz

The Olympics’ Most Iconic Photo Has a Christian Message

Franco Iacomini

The raised index finger of levitating surfer Gabriel Medina is the latest sign that sports success has made Brazilian evangelicals less marginalized and more confident.

Brazil's Gabriel Medina reacts after getting a large wave in men's surfing during the Paris 2024 Olympic Games.

Jerome Brouillet / Contributor / Getty

There’s a hidden Christian message behind what may be the most celebrated image of the 2024 Olympics.

On July 29, in round three of the shortboard surfing competition, Brazil’s Gabriel Medina faced off against Japan’s Kanoa Igarashi, who eliminated Medina in the last Olympics. In his second wave, Medina emerged from a tube exuberant, with both palms open, suggesting that the judges should offer him a 10 for his performance. (Two of the five judges agreed; his final score was 9.9).

Medina then pivoted left, toward the surf, and jumped off his board, raising his right hand and pointing his index finger upward. This was the image that Agence France-Presse photographer Jérôme Brouillet captured.

Brazilian evangelicals recognized the sign immediately.

“It's like he’s saying, ‘It's not me you should be looking at, it’s God. This moment of glory is not mine, but his,’” said João Guilherme Züge, a resident historian of religion at Museu Paranaense, in Curitiba.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JdNDuAy-Bfo&t

In contrast to the United States, where baseball players often point to the sky after hitting home runs for different reasons—some to express gratitude to God, others to honor late loved ones—the gesture among Brazilian athletes has become closely associated with Christian players.

The raised finger, pointing to the sky, has been the trademark of Brazilian evangelical athletes for more than 40 years, one of numerous public displays of faith following competitive glory that have helped to affirm and establish evangelical identity, especially when the movement was still in its infancy.

No one seems to remember who initially created the gesture, but it gained popularity in the 1990s, primarily through soccer players, such as Kaka, who raised their index fingers after on-field heroics, knowing that the camera would be trained on them after they scored a goal.

Despite its ubiquitousness, the spiritual intent of the message hasn’t necessarily made its way outside of evangelical circles. “[Medina] really has the right and authority to consider himself number one,” Renata Vasconcellos, an anchor with Jornal Nacional on TV Globo, Brazil’s most-watched news program, commented on air last week, giving the raised finger a very different interpretation.

But its low-key, almost generic nature has also helped to make it so popular. Like the World Cup and other international competitions, the Olympics forbids any “kind of demonstration or political, religious or racial propaganda … in any Olympic sites, venues or other areas.”

These regulations have forced athletes seeking a platform to share their faith to do so discreetly, or to express their gratitude to God in interviews or social media posts. For his part, Medina uploaded Brouillet’s photo accompanied by the text from Philippians 4:13: “I can do all this through him who gives me strength.”

Evangelical Brazilian athletes have been creative in their expressions of faith during this year’s Olympics. Skateboarder bronze medalist Rayssa Leal and silver medalist Caio Bonfim used sign language to refer to Jesus.

Medina, after losing in the semifinals to Australian Jack Robinson, shared a black-and-white photo of himself captioned “Josué 1”—referring to the chapter of the Bible in which Joshua admonishes the Israelites to be “strong and courageous” no less than four times—accompanied by the song “Ousado Amor,” a Portuguese version of Cory Asbury’s “Reckless Love.” On August 7, he uploaded a picture of himself outside the Louvre recreating his iconic photo, once again holding up his index finger.

Back in the 1980s, when evangelicals represented only 6.5 percent of Brazil’s population, “God’s goalkeeper” João Leite and striker Baltazar began Atletas de Cristo, a ministry with the goal of mobilizing athletes to share the gospel around the world. From the beginning—and spontaneously, says Züge—the finger pointing to the sky in goal celebrations became a mark for the movement.

Atletas de Cristo equipped athletes to see themselves as an ambassador for their faith and encouraged them to preach and share their testimonies wherever they went. (One fruit of this strategy: Brazilian goalkeeper Alisson Becker baptizing his Liverpool teammate Roberto Firmino in 2020.)

Atletas de Cristo was also enormously successful in raising Brazilian evangelicals’ self-esteem. A key moment came during the Brazil-Italy final in the 1994 FIFA World Cup. When neither team scored during regulation or overtime, the game went to a shootout. Brazil won on the final kick.

“The greatest image of that World Cup was when Italian star player Roberto Baggio missed his kick and Brazilian goalkeeper Taffarel, who had saved a previous shot, fell to his knees in prayer, pointing to the sky,” said Züge.

Brazilian goalkeeper Taffarel (right) celebrates after Roberto Baggio of Italy (left) misses his kick at the FIFA World Cup.

Such testimonies had an impact on Brazilian evangelicals.

“When Christians were watching the player make a beautiful move, score a goal in an important match and then celebrate with his finger pointing to the sky, they felt represented,” said Reinaldo Olécio Aguiar, sociologist and pastor of the Primeira Igreja Presbiteriana Unida de Vitória. “Even knowing they were part of a minority [at that time], they could see themselves as victorious.”

Taffarel had likely received some instruction on how to use this achievement of athletic triumph as a missional moment.

“From the start, Atletas de Cristo knew how to use the media,” said Züge. “Athletes were trained in how to give a testimony in 30 seconds and to take advantage of a live TV interview.”

This moment also changed how evangelical athletes were perceived by their fellow teammates.

“Before that, everybody mocked us,” said Anselmo Reichardt Alves, a former player who became a pastor and Brazilian team chaplain. “They used to say that we were babies, because we didn’t drink with them. Our masculinity was also questioned because we didn't date several women at the same time.”

Watching superstars express their faith openly also inspired evangelicals who faced criticism for trying to live out their own faith and eschewing popular traditions like Carnival.

“Our actions were like a mirror to other Christians; by watching the games they also learned to demonstrate their faith fearlessly,” said Züge. “People became more open to talk about God. If the players can do it, why not me?”

This boldness also may have inspired contemporary athletes to be bold in their faith.

“Sportspeople thanking God for their wins is nothing new, but the sheer number doing so at this Olympics is noteworthy—especially so in France, which has insisted on its own athletes upholding the country’s secularist laws,” wrote The Guardian commentator Emma John.

Atletas de Cristo has received criticism at times for encouraging victorious athletes to share their faith in ways that can insinuate that their achievements are a result of having more faith than others. Some have noted that they may tend to overlook the stories of losers, many of whom also often have personal relationships with God.

“What would I say when there are faithful Christians on both sides?” said Aguiar.

This was the case at the Paris Olympics during a bronze-medal match in 52-kilogram women’s judo between Brazil’s Larissa Pimenta and Italy’s Odette Giuffrida. (CT highlighted their story in its coverage of Olympic highlights.)

After Pimenta won the fight and clinched the bronze, she stayed on the mat crying. Giuffrida approached and hugged her. “Get up,” she said to Pimenta, as both athletes recounted later.“All honor and all glory you have to give to him.”

Giuffrida later shared on social media that she remembered the night Pimenta first took her to a church service after they began training together. “From that day on, our lives have changed. And today, here we are, regardless of what happened on that tatami, regardless of victory or defeat, thanking him in an Olympic final, in front of the world, for everything,” she wrote.

“And that is the beauty of it. I can feel sincere, I can feel myself with Him by my side.”

- More from Franco Iacomini

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