Doubt Is a Ladder, Not a Home

Churches should welcome questions. That doesn’t require embracing perpetual doubt.

Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Getty / Lightstock / Unsplash

What makes Christianity hard?

There are many possible answers to this question. How you answer it reveals a great deal not only about yourself—your temperament, your station in life, your mind and heart—but also about the context in which you live. Christians in different times and places would answer quite differently.

Suppose, for example, you live in Jerusalem just a few decades after the crucifixion of Jesus. What makes Christianity hard is not belief in the divine or the great distance separating you from “Bible times.” You’re in Bible times, and everyone believes in the divine. No, what makes it hard is the suffocating heat of legal persecution and social rejection. Confessing Christ’s name likely makes your life worse in tangible ways: Your family might disown you; your master might abuse you; your friends might ridicule you. The authorities might haul you in for questioning if you strike them as a troublemaker.

Or suppose you’re a nun in a medieval convent. You’ll live your whole life here, never marrying or bearing children or having a home of your own. You are pledged to God until death. You’re what people will later call a “mystic,” though that’s a rather dry term for having visions you often experience as suffering: ecstatic glimpses of the consuming fire that is the living Lord. What makes Christianity hard? You certainly don’t wonder about the existence of God—you’ve seen God with your own eyes. Nor are fame and wealth a source of temptation; your life is hidden away from the world. But your life is not easy. Faith remains hard.

Or imagine you’re someone else, somewhere else: a priest at a rural parish in early modern England. You live in a time of religious and political upheaval. The Reformation has upended long patterns of worship and expectations of unity. Religious wars rage on the continent, but your decidedly unspectacular charge is a village of farming families. What makes Christianity hard here? That background conflict might be part of it, but far closer to home is the sheer numbing routine, the daily quotidian grind of weather, crops, weddings, pregnancies, illnesses, funerals—Advent, Christmas, Lent, Easter—year in, year out; wash, rinse, repeat.

If I were to put this same question to my friends or my college students in America today, I think I know what they would say: What makes Christianity hard in our time and place is doubt.

Doubt about God’s existence; about the resurrection of Jesus; about miracles; about angels, demons, and the gifts of the Holy Spirit; about the biblical texts or the history behind them or the church that gives them to us; about the credibility of all of the above. And all that doubt perches on the precipice of a yawning chasm between “back then” and “here and now”: oppression and slavery and superstition versus liberty and human rights and science. Should we really accept unquestioningly the faith of our ancestors when—we tend to think—we are so much better than them in so many ways?

I’m not describing atheists, apostates, or “exvangelicals” here. This is how many ordinary Christians feel. Or at least, it’s the water they swim in, the intrusive thought in the back of the mind, the semi-conscious source of inertia they feel when the alarm blares on Sunday morning. American Christians face no Colosseum, but this emotional and intellectual pressure is very real. The doubts add up.

It doesn’t help that doubt is in vogue. Doubt is sexy, and not only in the wider culture. I cannot count the number of times I’ve been told by a pastor or Christian professor that doubt is a sign of spiritual maturity. That faith without doubt is superficial, a mere honeymoon period. That doubt is the flip side of faith, a kind of friend to fidelity. That the presence of doubt is a sign of a healthy theological mind, and its absence—well, you can fill in the rest.

The pro-doubt crowd gets two important things entirely right. First, they want space to ask honest questions. Second, they want to remove the stigma of doubt.

They want church to be a place where doubt is not a pathology, where the experience of doubt is not a moral failure, where the doubt produced by questions, or the questions produced by doubt, are welcomed, accompanied, and explored. A church like this would be known for a culture of spiritual hospitality. Ordinary believers could say out loud what really keeps them up at night, rather than keeping it unspoken for fear of judgment or rejection.

We should all want these things. Where churches have erred, pastors should right the ship. We don’t want children and young people thinking questions are bad, much less that following Jesus means believing six impossible things before breakfast.

Where, then, do the pro-doubt folks go wrong? I see four ways.

First, pro-doubters universalize a particular experience. It’s true that doubt is not a fake problem easily solved by a little spiritual bootstrapping. But is believing in an invisible God or the virginal conception of Jesus what makes Christianity hard for everyone everywhere and always? Read enough of Christian literature in praise of doubt and that’s the impression you’ll get.

But look through church history, like I did above, and it becomes apparent that what makes Christianity hard depends on context. Exposure to the lives and writings of fellow disciples from across the centuries, living in vastly different times, places, and cultures, puts our challenges in perspective. They are so often personal, not general; parochial, not cosmic. They are not inevitable or unalterable. Christianity is a lot bigger than the Bible Belt or the secular West.

Second, pro-doubters tend to describe doubt not just as a universal challenge but as a necessary feature of mature faith. There’s a mix of selection bias and classism at work here: Doubters are typically affluent, brainy types with a college degree and a laptop job. None of this is bad; I fit the bill.

But not everyone does, and our experience of faith is not universal. Our tendency to wrestle with doubt is not an essential component of knowing God, a gauntlet that every serious Christian must run. It is simply untrue that faithful maturity is always marked by doubt. Did Moses wonder whether God is real? Did Paul second-guess his vision of the risen Lord? What about Julian of Norwich, our non-hypothetical nun? Must the simple and confident faith of so many of our spiritual elders—the proverbial grandmothers in the pews—really be “problematized” before it is worthy of our respect? The question answers itself.

Third, pro-doubters go too far in making doubt a virtue. Doubt is not a sin, but that doesn’t mean it’s desirable. God may use it for good; it may well be a crucial step in a person’s journey with Christ. But we need not valorize it or celebrate it. In short, doubt doesn’t call for either praise or blame. In most cases, it’s a thorn in the flesh.

At best, doubt is a ladder to climb. But ladders aren’t ends in themselves. We use them to get somewhere, to complete some job. Dwelling forever in perpetual doubt is like making one’s home on a ladder—technically possible but far from ideal. If someone recommended a ladder as a solution to your need of a house, you’d rightly question his judgment.

Finally, pro-doubters mischaracterize the nature of questions. Questions are not the same as doubts. Thomas Aquinas asked thousands of questions in his short life. Augustine’s Confessions alone contains more than 700 of them. What else is a catechism but questions followed by answers? But there’s the rub. Doubt begins with a loss of trust or credibility; questions do not. My children ask me questions every day, not because they doubt me, but because they trust me.

For this reason saints and mystics adore questions, including questions that cannot be answered in this life. Questions arise from and foster our trust in God. Questions grow faith.

To distinguish questions from doubt is not to praise the former by re-stigmatizing the latter. It’s to clarify for believers that while doubt often entails questions, questions do not always (or even normally) entail doubt. That is good news for the anxious among us. Ask away, the church should say. The Lord welcomes your questions.

What, then, makes Christianity hard? Is there an answer that pertains to all of us? As a matter of fact, I believe there is.

What makes Christianity hard is faith, albeit not in the sense many of us expect. For too many Christians raised in the church, faith means mental and emotional certainty, and so the Christian life is defined as believing as hard as you can in difficult things. In this model, when a feral question nudges its nose into the tent, you’re left with only two options: Kick it out by somehow believing harder or accept that your faith is fraudulent and give it up. Having faith means I must work myself into a lather believing weird things that “modern” people in a “scientific” age find incredible. With that as the alternative, no wonder doubt looks attractive!

But faith is not this desperate maintenance of internal certainty. It is just as accurately (maybe even better) translated as faithfulness. To have faith is to keep faith, to maintain fidelity to God, to trust him and become trustworthy in turn. What is universally hard about being a Christian is being faithful to the Lord no matter one’s circumstances.

Whether one lives in times of persecution or alone in a convent, in an epoch of division and war or in an age of skepticism and affluence, in the high tide of medieval Christendom or under Islamic rule in modern Iran, the call of Christ is exactly the same. In every circumstance, Christ invites us to take up our cross and follow him to Calvary (Luke 9:23). We are called, in other words, to die.

Sometimes our deaths are literal; sometimes they are religious; sometimes they are social or financial or familial. Sometimes they are all of these and more (Gal. 2:20). In every case, for all the superficial differences, we wear the same yoke. Christ promises us that this yoke is easy, its burden light—and it is (Matt. 11:30). But the death to self it requires is a daily crucifixion that saps the flesh of its power to hold us in its sway.

Doubt can be part of this struggle. The struggle is real, lifelong, and common to us all. The struggle, however, is not the point. The point is where we are going. The point is whom we are following. The point is that the cross is not the final destination; death is not the end (1 Cor. 15:26, 55–57). We are not doomed to wrestle and suffer and wonder forever. When we walk out of the tomb, we will leave all that behind. Like graveclothes, whatever doubts once bedeviled us will lie piled on the floor. Free of every burden, we will walk into life.

Brad East is an associate professor of theology at Abilene Christian University. He is the author of four books, including The Church: A Guide to the People of God and Letters to a Future Saint: Foundations of Faith for the Spiritually Hungry.

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Books

The Quest for a Good Children’s Bible

Rabekah Henderson

A children’s ministry veteran explains where kids’ Bibles tend to go wrong—and highlights a few that get it right.

Illustration by Monica Garwood

The best children’s Bibles are remarkable works of faith and art. They offer young readers and their families an engaging and accessible introduction to biblical stories and the loving, holy character of God.

But there are plenty of children’s Bibles on the market, and for every wonderful option, another fails to meet this goal. Too many choose moralism over the gospel, standalone heroes’ tales over richly connected narratives, and inaccuracy over truth and care for the original text. The story of God’s love and mercy through the millennia becomes little more than a Christianese-filled Aesop’s Fables.

I’ve long worked in children’s ministry, including leading the children’s ministry at my own church, so I’ve read through and taught from many children’s Bibles over the years. There are Bibles that are a pleasure to read aloud to preschoolers, and there are some that are so simplified (or so convoluted) that story time becomes the worst part of the lesson. For this article, I chose to reread eight of these Bibles, selecting both time-honored bestsellers and promising newcomers:

When re-examining these Bibles, I focused on crucial stories of Creation, Jesus’ birth, and his death and resurrection. I also looked at how each book told the stories of biblical heroes like David and Jonah, and noted which stories the authors chose to include (or exclude). Finally, it was important to me to see how the stories were told, looking at the quality of the writing and illustration.

This research has suggested there are three main ways children’s Bibles tend to go wrong: shallow moralism, narrative fragmentation, and sheer inaccuracy. But there are also ways these children’s Bible authors can get it right, telling the story of the Bible beautifully, accurately, and accessibly.

Here’s what to seek—and avoid—on your quest to add a storybook Bible to your family’s shelf.

Creeping moralism

Moralism in children’s Bibles often happens with the best of intentions—a Bible story seems to have an obvious moral lesson, and children need to learn what is right and what is wrong, so why not use that story to teach kids what they should and shouldn’t do? Many children’s Bibles commonly use the story of Jonah, for instance, to teach children the importance of obeying God.

In The Beginner’s Bible’s retelling of Jonah, there’s a heavy focus on how Jonah and the people of Ninevah disobeyed God and suffered consequences. The story ends with Jonah arriving in Nineveh. “This time, Jonah obeyed God,” the reader is told. “The people in Nineveh were sorry for doing bad things, so God forgave them.”

There’s no mention of the self-righteous anger that consumed Jonah once God spared Nineveh, and there’s little focus on the abundant mercy that God shows both Nineveh and Jonah over and over and over. A story that should be a reflection on the mercy of God and the hypocrisy of our own sin is instead reduced to a watered-down warning: Don’t do bad things.

The impulse to make every Bible story end with a moral lesson is understandable, but the Bible is not a how-to manual. Its climax is not the Ten Commandments but the death and resurrection of Christ. The whole story of Scripture leads up to that moment when the promised Savior comes to deliver his beloved people, and moralizing children’s Bibles severely diminish the power of that story to draw us closer to God and reveal his character.

It isn’t wrong for a retelling to note the consequences of good or bad actions. But to leave it at that is typically to miss the point.

Standalone stories

The point of the story can also be missed when a narrative is presented as a standalone hero’s tale rather than as a piece of the grand redemptive arc of Scripture. This most commonly happens with the classic biblical “superhero” stories like those of David, Samson, or Noah. In children’s Bibles with this failing, they’re presented as fun and exciting. The uglier parts are glossed over, and God’s work is minimized. We lose all sense of how God uses flawed people in a broken world to accomplish his good.

Other times—perhaps in reaction to kids’ Bibles full of standalone stories—we see the opposite problem: A story is lost (or nearly so) in the process of explaining its place in the greater story of the gospel. This happens a few times in The Biggest Story Bible, most notably in the story of Jesus’ birth. The entire narrative between the angel visiting Joseph and the birth of Jesus is condensed into two sentences: “Joseph woke up and did everything the angel told him to do. Mary had a son, and they named him Jesus, which means ‘the Lord saves.’”

The two pages before this are spent describing the prophecies and lineage of Jesus, along with a small section noting how Joseph planned to leave Mary because of her pregnancy. The Scripture foretelling the birth of Jesus is used to paint a wonderful picture of how God keeps his promises through the millennia, something too many children’s Bibles neglect to include. But more theological inclusions like this one come at the expense of the story itself. The Bible is still the greatest story ever told—so the story must be told!

Prioritization of standalone stories also fragments the Bible and leads to crucial parts being left out altogether. Very few of the Bibles I reviewed included the poetry and prophecy of the Old Testament or the Epistles of the New Testament. These biblical books are so important for understanding the character of God and his love for us through the ages—surely children should be given some taste of this feast.

Additionally, perhaps because they are less likely to slot easily into the “superhero” format, stories of women in the Bible were in short supply in the books I reread. Bibles like The Jesus Storybook Bible, God With Us, and The Biggest Story Bible Storybook excluded some or all of the stories of Rachel and Leah, Ruth and Naomi, and Esther.

These narratives were most likely left out for the sake of brevity and simplicity, not because of any ulterior motives. But it’s still vital to show young children how God uses men and women, not mostly men and the occasional woman.

Outright inaccuracy

Most worrisome is inaccuracy in children’s Bibles.

Sometimes, extrabiblical details are added, often with the apparent intent to make a standalone story more interesting or relatable. When describing the creation of Adam and Eve, for instance, The Beginner’s Bible goes out of its way to tell us Adam and Eve were in love. And while this unnecessarily saccharine addition makes it to the page, the idea that Adam and Eve were “very good” images of God is never mentioned. Likewise, 365 Bible Stories and Prayers says the tree of the knowledge of good and evil is covered with “ripe, rosy apples,” though the original account in Genesis never states what type of fruit the tree bore.

In other cases, perhaps as part of the effort to pare down and paraphrase, Scripture can be misinterpreted or misattributed. The Beginner’s Bible is again an offender here; it has the angel saying “with God, all things are possible” to Mary as a reference to her own pregnancy rather than to the pregnancy of her cousin Elizabeth .

And inaccuracy doesn’t only appear through the words of children’s Bibles—it also finds its way into illustrations. One of my most frustrating discoveries when reviewing these Bibles was how many of them used Westernized illustrations, depicting various people groups of the Middle East as lily white. The Beginner’s Bible, 365 Bible Stories and Prayers, Precious Moments, and The Big Picture Bible were all guilty of this.

This misrepresentation is a disservice to the historicity of the Bible, and it’s a disservice to the impressionable young children who read these books. It isn’t difficult to depict ancient Middle Eastern people with a correct range of skin colors, and that should be the bare minimum in the illustration of children’s Bibles.

These mistakes are all likely innocent, but they demonstrate a lack of care for the original text of the Bible and the reality of its history. As the Bible is the true, infallible word of God, even retellings for the hearts and minds of little children require the highest regard for truth.

A few storybook Bible favorites

These problems are widespread in the children’s Bible market, but there are also some truly great options available. The three standout picks from my review—The Jesus Storybook Bible, The Biggest Story Bible,and God With Us—each tell the story of the Bible beautifully and accurately, making it accessible and engaging for little minds without weakening the redemptive narrative that runs through Scripture’s pages.

The Jesus Storybook Bible by Sally Lloyd-Jones has become a modern classic for a reason. It has easy-to-understand prose that moves even the hearts of adult readers. (In fact, being pleasurable for readers of all ages is a commonality among all three of these favorites. As C. S. Lewis was inclined to say, “a children’s story which is enjoyed only by children is a bad children’s story.”)

The Jesus Storybook Bible does an excellent job of drawing the reader into each of its Bible stories, but it also concludes every tale with a gesture toward the larger narrative, and it does so in a way that feels neither forced nor tangential. The Jesus Storybook Bible’s greatest weakness is its length. Each story is told carefully, with most running at least six pages long. That means that this Bible has fewer stories than other children’s Bibles do, which is likely why stories like Ruth and Esther are left out.

Similarly, The Biggest Story Bible Storybook by Kevin DeYoung does an excellent job of weaving the truth of the gospel into each page, and Don Clark’s colorfully abstract illustrations bring a unique addition to a well-worn genre. It’s a recent addition to the shelves, as it was only published in 2022.

The Biggest Story Bible contains a good deal of basic theology within its pages. It reminds readers of God’s sovereignty amid the crucifixion story, for example, and points readers toward God’s glory in the creation story. This also leads to the largest weakness of this book, however, which is that it sometimes focuses too much on teaching theology and too little on telling a story. Some parts feel less like stories and more like sermonettes. Despite this, it’s still a great children’s Bible pick for older kids or kids who are already familiar with the basic narrative of many Bible stories.

Lastly, another newer children’s Bible pick is God With Us: A Journey Home by Jeremy Pierre. God With Us tells the story of the Bible from the perspective of two unnamed angels who open each chapter and provide narration throughout the book. This narrative device ensures that none of the stories feel standalone or without context, as the angels constantly remind the readers of God’s character, his promises, and his love.

The unique storytelling in God With Us is matched by Cassandra Clark’s stunning illustrations—she uses watercolor and pen (along with inspiration from medieval illuminated Bibles) to lushly depict life in the time of the Bible. The book’s weakness, however, is the same as that of The Jesus Storybook Bible: its length. Each chapter is around 10 pages long, and the book only has 30 chapters, focusing mostly on the larger arc of the biblical narrative rather than delving into details. It too is missing several classic stories, again including Ruth and Esther.

The weaknesses of each of these excellent children’s Bibles demonstrates a truth we must remember about all of them: Storybook Bibles are no substitute for the Bible itself.

They can be wonderful tools for helping kids get to know God’s Word, but adults must use them alongside the actual Bible—giving fuller context and meaning and telling children the stories, poetry, and wisdom left out of their storybook versions. God’s Word is for everyone, and he speaks through his text to each of us, even the littlest ones. So choose a children’s Bible that tells the story of the Bible well, but don’t forget to read the “grown-up” Bible to your children too.

Rabekah Henderson is a writer covering faith, architecture, and the built world around us. She lives in Raleigh, NC, and has been featured in Mere Orthodoxy, Common Good, and Dwell.

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News

Meet the Iranian Christians Crafting an Evangelical Alliance

Jayson Casper

Introducing 11 of the dozens of diaspora ministries working to unite one of the world’s fastest-growing gospel movements.

Iranian Christians worship at a leadership gathering in London.

Courtesy of Pars Theological Centre

Last week in Tehran, thousands rallied to commemorate the 45th anniversary of the Islamic revolution that established Iran’s modern theocracy. Last October in London, 130 Iranian Christians gathered to worship and pray, and celebrated a quiet decision to establish an evangelical alliance.

Time will tell which gathering was more consequential.

In 1979, one month after the fall of the shah, 98 percent of Iranian citizens voted to approve a constitution installing an Islamic government. Four decades of religious authoritarianism later, an online poll indicated that only 16 percent of the population would vote for it again.

An earlier survey, furthermore, found that only one-third of Iran’s population call themselves Shiite Muslims. More than half identified as either atheist, agnostic, no religion, vaguely spiritual, or Iran’s ancient Zoroastrian faith.

Those responding “Christian” totaled almost a million.

Thousands more Christians have fled persecution, taking refuge among the extensive Iranian diaspora in the West. Some have established ministries to evangelize among them, while others broadcast satellite TV programs, engage in remote discipleship efforts, or preside over a network of underground house churches.

Many multitask, while few collaborate—until now.

At the London gathering, members from over 40 diaspora churches and ministries voted almost unanimously to partner together in an evangelical alliance. Further votes were taken to choose a seven-member steering committee to represent the whole, tasked to take a year to study and recommend best practices, as an additional 60 leaders observed proceedings online.

Momentum had been building for years. Named the Iranian Leaders Forum (ILF), previous gatherings met in 2015 and 2018 until COVID-19 disrupted the triannual effort. While unity had been discussed previously in principle amid believers of different theological perspectives, 2023 represented the first practical step to formally establish it.

But the first mention of an alliance quieted the room. Gathered leaders—one-third of whom were female—had been beaming with joy at the reunion with colleagues separated by time and space. Hints of lingering tensions were whispered in the hallways, but worship was loud and heartfelt; prayers were passionate and pleading.

The ministries, however, were not used to cooperation, and many wondered what was intended. While a representative ILF steering committee planned the announcement of an alliance, it was not expected by most participants. Would such an alliance seek administrative control, establish a single denomination, or venture into politics?

Over the course of the five-day conference, leaders addressed the uncertainties. The motivation came from Jesus’ prayer for unity, to strengthen the witness of the Iranian church and to allow for one Christian voice where consensus exists. Breakout groups put diverse ministries in communication about what would be acceptable to all. But the purpose, organizers assured, was to agree on the benefit of forming a network of mutual relationships and then to take the time necessary to figure out the details.

A single denomination was ruled out, as was a political party. Currently under discussion is if membership will include only believing Protestants or if those of evangelical conviction in other denominations will also be welcomed. And while much of the house church movement is connected with gathered ministries, only God knows the full extent of the church within Iran.

Participants gave CT their various recommendations for success:

Avoid hierarchical structures and minimize administrative control.
Craft a clear strategy and process for decision-making.
Ensure election of capable and representative leadership.
Facilitate communication channels appropriate for active ministries.
Honor the theological and practical diversity of members.
Be mindful of inherited cultural authoritarian patterns.
Address the impact of Western money and denominational pressure.
Discuss competition over resources and ministry duplication.
Discern the role of women and non-Iranian participation.

Time will tell if the overwhelming agreement will hold. But CT asked a selection of participants to contribute short biographies of their ministries, along with their hopes for what an Iranian evangelical alliance can accomplish. Listed in alphabetical order, prayers are requested for all involved:

Mike Ansari, president of Heart4Iran:

Born into a secular family in Iran’s southwestern city of Shiraz—birthplace of the celebrated national poet Hafez—Ansari emigrated to the US in 1983 after living through the Islamic revolution and, as a seven-year-old, witnessing his cousin’s accidental death via a stray bullet. These events caused him to question his nominal faith, and when his mother experienced a profound transformation following her dream about Jesus, he joined her in becoming a Christian.

But having missed the truth for so long, Ansari keeps focus on the post-resurrection experience at the Sea of Galilee in John 21:4—the disciples did not realize that it was Jesus. His prayer is to not lose sight of God’s leading in the effort to build lasting partnerships in fulfillment of the Great Commission.

Uniting over 100 ministries in evangelism, discipleship, and Bible distribution, Heart4Iran—founded in 2006—runs a 24/7 satellite TV broadcast that reaches Iran, Afghanistan, and Tajikistan. Ansari prays also that God’s spirit will set free millions of disillusioned Muslims and preside over peace and stability in Iran.

Recalling Hafez, Ansari hopes that the arts might have a role to play. He founded FarsiPraise Ministries to train worship leaders for the underground church and archive its music while also producing 19 original albums. His mother was an early lyricist; Ansari—a poet himself—arranged the melody.

An evangelical alliance, he believes, will give a legitimacy to Christianity in Iran if they are able to keep a united front. Local and diaspora leaders, working together despite differences, will then be able to win recognition and inclusion of the church within Iran’s social and political arenas.

Amir Bazmjou, founder and CEO of Torch Ministries:

Born in Iran’s third-largest city of Isfahan, Bazmjou left Iran as a 19-year-old student in 1996 to continue his higher education in Germany in hope of pursuing entrepreneurial business opportunities. A few months later, he came to Christ through reading the Bible in Farsi and thereafter had a vision of a flaming torch lighting the way for other Iranians still in darkness.

This image was later confirmed by his 2003 marriage to Rashin, daughter of the martyred Iranian pastor Hossein Soodmand, hanged in Iran’s second-largest city of Mashhad. Rashin was only 13 years old at the time, and as she grew in faith she was inspired to “carry the torch” of her father’s legacy.

After years in Christian service, in 2017 they co-launched Torch Ministries, which works to strengthen and equip the church through media, discipleship, and leadership training, including counseling for believers traumatized by family or social oppression. Bazmjou is currently a PhD candidate in Christian theology at the Oxford Centre for Mission Studies.

His favorite verse is 2 Corinthians 5:17—if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation—as it speaks to the unique role of God in moving people from the kingdom of darkness to the kingdom of God. His prayer is that Jesus would reveal himself to more and more Iranians, who would one day have freedom to join the church and worship without persecution.

Bazmjou’s hope for an evangelical alliance is the creation of unity amid a diversity of personal backgrounds and emphases of service. By establishing a sense of belonging among believers, a common identity will strengthen collaboration, partnership, and ministry accountability. And once formed, the alliance will have one voice to address the sociopolitical challenges in Iran and to combat the false teaching that can easily arise in a young and growing church.

Mansour Borji, founder and director of Article18:

Born in 1974 in Saqhez, a city in Iran’s Kurdistan province, Borji grew up in Tehran due to local armed conflicts in the region at that time. He shares his birthplace with Mahsa Amini, the young girl whose death in custody triggered the “Woman, Life, Freedom” nationwide protests.

After coming to faith in 1992, Borji went to London five years later to study theology and later joined various Christian organizations to work in evangelism, pastoral ministry, and theological education. But in 2008 he founded Article18 to devote himself to advocacy on behalf of the persecuted church.

His favorite verses are Romans 12:1–2—this is your true and proper worship. The passage is holistic, speaking of the presentation of the “body,” the renewing of the “mind,” and the alignment of the “will” with God’s. It leads to a full transformation that then proceeds outward in love and service.

And such is his prayer. Borji desires that the church will bear the Spirit of the Lord to preach good news to Iran’s poor, captive, and brokenhearted. Then, once clothed in salvation, it will help rebuild the nation, becoming a center of hope not only for Iran but the wider region as well.

To do so requires unity, for which Jesus prayed. An alliance is therefore a necessity, Borji believes, not only to manage the challenges of ministry but also to leverage complementary experiences on behalf of a still-tiny Christian population. And if a common vision can be crafted, trust and mutual reliance will propel the church forward to innovate and adapt to ever-changing Iranian circumstances.

Mehrdad Fatehi, founder and executive director of Pars Theological Centre:

Born in 1960 in Iran’s northern tea-producing town of Lahijan, Fatehi came to Christ as a second-generation believer at the age of 11. Called to ministry during his university studies, in 1991 he moved to the UK with his wife to pursue theological studies, eventually graduating with a PhD in New Testament studies.

But when Haik Hovsepian-Mehr and other leaders were martyred in Tehran in 1994, Fatehi decided to remain in exile. Beside his leading role in producing a modern Farsi translation of the Bible, he has authored three books and translated seven theological texts. These, alongside others, inform the interdenominational curriculum of Pars Theological Centre’s bachelor’s degree, which last year celebrated its first graduating class.

As Fatehi ages, his biblical reflection turns to the Farsi translation of Romans 12:11—do not let your zeal ever diminish; be aglow with the Spirit, serve the Lord. Believing this is a unique time in Iran’s history, he wants to remain fervent in ministry as he prays that God in his wisdom and grace will bring an end to 45 years of hard times. His nation is deeply traumatized, and the gospel of Jesus offers the healing necessary.

An evangelical alliance, Fatehi believes, can strengthen the voice of believers in any future sociopolitical structures as it speaks prophetically for the oppressed. But it is also necessary in order to provide unity, identity, and synergy in service. And if it plays its role well, it will protect the orthodoxy and practice of a young church as it matures in the faith.

Dariush Golbaghi, founder of SafeHouse Ministries:

Born in 1979 after the Islamic revolution deposed the ruling shah, Golbaghi is from Iran’s fourth-largest city of Karaj, located just northwest of Tehran. Active in the oppositional student movement at the turn of the century, he and his wife fled the country in 2001, seeking freedom and a better life in Europe. Many of their friends and classmates had been arrested, and threats circled around them personally.

They settled in the Netherlands but found that life became even more challenging until two separate but simultaneous encounters with Jesus in 2003. His own came through interaction with a Messianic Jew he was trying to convert to Islam.

The verse shared in reply has since become his favorite—I am the Way, the Truth, and the Life (John 14:6). Looking for the way in Islam, this was the first Bible passage he ever read, and it transformed his heart. The Way was Jesus himself, who he believes is the key to healing Jewish-Muslim relations worldwide.

God then shifted Golbaghi’s life purpose from student activism to youth ministry. SafeHouse offers friendship, mentoring, and training to Iranian youth, both in Iran and the diaspora, so they can discover the gifts God has given them. Recognizing many are angry or in despair, his prayer is for God to give them the desperately needed hope with which they can change their society.

An alliance can help. Providing youth and others with a sense of solidarity, Iranians can partner with human rights organizations to combat the restrictions on religious freedom. But no matter the effort, Golbaghi believes that an alliance will further collaboration across ministries, giving all a common purpose.

Feridoon Mokhof, director of Korpu translation agency:

Born in the Ardabil province of Iran bordering Azerbaijan, Mokhof became a Christian in 1974 as a university student and from 1982–1988 pastored in the Assemblies of God denomination. Arrested several times for evangelizing Muslims, he found opportunity to flee Iran with the death of Ayatollah Khomeini in 1989, eventually settling in the UK.

A year later Mokhof began translating the Bible into his native Azeri language. And in 1995 he registered Korpu—which means “bridge” in Azeri—as a translation agency that earlier this year finished the New Testament in 12 additional minority languages. The Iranian government oppresses these people groups, he said, and several members of his team have been detained on charges of disturbing national security.

As such, the verse that provides him comfort is 2 Timothy 3:12—everyone who wants to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted. His prayer is not only for the security of local believers targeted by a hostile regime but also for the young Iranians connected to the “Woman, Life, Freedom” movement who have been arrested, tortured, and killed.

The need for an evangelical alliance, Mokhof says, has been felt for a long time. Through the uniting of a broad representation of churches and ministries, the Christian voice can speak powerfully to the government, especially in such challenging times.

Kamil Navai, senior pastor of Iranian Christian Church in Sunnyvale, California:

Born in Tehran in 1953, Navai left Iran at the age of 23 to pursue graduate studies in San Jose, graduating in 1978 with a degree in civil engineering. One year later the revolution prevented his return to Iran, and it was the simple gospel sharing of an American Christian that led him to the Lord in 1987.

Shortly thereafter, he began ministry as an evangelist and was one of four families to launch Iranian Christian Church (ICC), now with 200 people in attendance. He was ordained as an associate pastor in 2000 and became senior pastor in 2010.

The verse that accompanied his salvation has held him steady since then—whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord (Col. 3:23). All must be done for God’s glory, Navai believes, as he leads the four-person pastoral team at ICC with his wife in a “lacking nothing” theology based on Psalm 23. Through inner healing and spiritual warfare, his prayer is that salvation and prosperity in Christ would come to Iran and Iranians around the world.

An alliance would honor the prayer of Jesus for unity and unlock the blessings promised in Psalm 133, keeping the church from pride, jealousy, and the spirit of competition. The anointing that David speaks of will then bring life to ancient Elam, fulfilling Navai’s hope in the prophecy of Jeremiah 49—that “God’s throne” would be established in modern-day Iran.

Annahita Parsan, priest in the Church of Sweden:

Born in 1962, Parsan lived an idyllic Iranian life with her husband and child until a tragic car accident left her a widow. After remarriage, her new husband became abusive. Unable to divorce him, when he got in trouble with the authorities in 1984 she fled Iran with him to Turkey. One year later she received her first Bible from door-to-door evangelists.

She read it secretly and considered Jesus as someone she could pray to amid questions about why God had left her to suffer. In 1989 the local police intervened in their marriage, and Parsan found temporary refuge in a convent and marveled at the faith of the nuns. But it was only after relocating to Sweden that she gave her life to Jesus, when during a visit to Iran she called out to God when summoned to a tribunal over her original departure.

Given mercy by the judge, she has followed Jesus since.

Parsan’s story is told in her 2017 autobiography, Stranger No More: A Muslim Refugee’s Harrowing Escape, Miraculous Rescue, and the Quiet Call of Jesus. It includes the account of her own car accident in 2006 that reoriented her life toward ministry, promising God to thereafter serve. In 2012 she became ordained in the Church of Sweden.

Inspired by the Great Commission, Parsan said she has assisted over 1,500 immigrant Muslims in finding the Lord. Her prayer request is freedom for Iran, the nation she loves, and that an evangelical alliance will help her people.

Nathan Rostampour, trustee of the Southern Baptist Convention’s International Mission Board:

Born in Tehran in 1984, Rostampour became a Christian at age 17 when a recently converted relative led his whole family to Jesus. Over the next 10 years, he faithfully served the house church network, traveling abroad to return with training materials and theological studies not available in Iran.

But in 2010 one of his fellow church leaders was arrested for his faith, and Rostampour left Iran for Turkey as a refugee two years later. By 2013 he was granted asylum in the US and has since obtained a doctorate degree in strategic leadership from Regent University.

From the diaspora, he continues in ministry, mentoring young Iranian believers and teaching cross-cultural leadership and missions. He is a pastor at J. D. Greer’s Summit Church in Raleigh, North Carolina, and director of the Central Asian church-planting team. His favorite verse is the Great Commission in Matthew 28—go and make disciples of all nations—as it reminds him of his first converted relative’s faith, received from the testimony of a missionary to Iran.

Rostampour’s current prayer is that God’s truth would overcome the many lies in his home country. An evangelical alliance will help, as it will unite the witness of the church in the Persian-speaking world, facilitating the sharing of resources and experiences. But it will also strengthen the Iranian Christian voice in the international community, especially necessary when individuals fall into persecution.

Nahid Sepehri, executive director of the Iranian Bible Society in Diaspora:

Born in Tehran, Sepehri was raised in a Christian family as her father accepted Jesus shortly after her birth. She received Jesus as her personal savior as a teenager in 1978, eventually marrying and engaging in local ministry with her husband, who is now pastor of an Iranian church in Seattle.

Their relocation to the US came in 1997, fleeing with a one-year-old child following Sepehri’s imprisonment for evangelism. Since 2001 she has worked in Bible translation and distribution, and in 2015 she formed the Iranian Bible Society in Diaspora under the umbrella of the United Bible Societies. Currently shipping 300,000 Farsi Scriptures per year around the world, she is praying for the four-year plan that one million Iranians would obtain a Farsi Bible.

Among Sepehri’s favorite verses is Jeremiah 31:3—the Lord has appeared to us from afar, saying: I have loved you with an everlasting love. Resonating with her own story of faith and that of countless believers through her ministry, the passage has been a daily source of encouragement and hope in God’s continual faithfulness.

But Sepehri’s prayers go beyond Iran to the trouble its government spreads abroad—particularly through Hamas in Gaza. She asks God to bring the leaders of Middle East nations to their senses, that they would seek peace rather than the escalation of war.

Part of a Bible society’s DNA, Sepehri said, is partnership with likeminded Christians from diverse backgrounds to equip the church. Since the bottom line is for people to meet the Lord Jesus Christ, she hopes an evangelical alliance will reflect similar collaboration with a collegial spirit.

Hormoz Shariat, founder and president of Iran Alive Ministries:

Born in Tehran in 1955, Shariat came to the United States in 1979 following the Islamic revolution and studied artificial intelligence at the University of Southern California. There he became a Christian through a comparative study of the Bible and Quran, and after graduating with a PhD, he continued research in his field until devoting himself to ministry in 1992.

Now located in Dallas, Iran Alive was founded in 2000 and broadcasts gospel content into Persian-speaking nations, including Iran, Afghanistan, and Tajikistan. This year he is launching an initiative to reach the next generation, aiming for a spiritual revolution.

A key verse for his ministry is Jeremiah 49:38—I will set my throne in Elam—which is in present-day Iran. He believes this is a prophecy that Iran will not only become a Christian nation but will send out missionaries to reach the Middle East and the entire world.

His prayer is that the local church would grow spiritually to one day fulfill this vision. Despite their hunger for the Word of God, thousands of believers do not have a pastor or regular fellowship, as underground churches are few and dangerous to attend. Many leaders, furthermore, have not been properly equipped in teaching the Bible.

But Shariat is encouraged by the creation of an evangelical alliance, because the task is too big for any one organization to handle alone. Balancing strengths and weaknesses—evangelism versus discipleship, for example—more will come to know the Lord as the church matures. And one day, when Iran becomes a free nation, an alliance can have a voice in society, perhaps even establishing a Christian university.

- More from Jayson Casper

Culture

Big, Big Market: Why CCM Filled ’80s and ’90s Homes

Kelsey Kramer McGinnis

Recent histories, documentaries, and devotionals prompt fans to look back—and perhaps learn some lessons—from the genre’s heyday.

Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Wikimedia Commons / Unsplash / Pexels

The kids and teens of the 1990s are now in their 30s and 40s, and the nostalgia of that era’s Christian music has us revisiting favorite albums and artists. This throwback fandom has revived decades-old praise songs like “Here I Am to Worship” and fueled movies that celebrate Christian Contemporary Music (CCM), like the 2021 Netflix summer camp musical A Week Away and the documentary love letter The Jesus Music.

With our nostalgia comes new interest in the history of the modern Christian music industry, its main characters, and the political and social conditions that produced what we now call CCM—not a musical genre but a niche industry that produced Christian music modeled on mainstream pop and rock, built on a shared faith rather than on a particular musical style.

An array of recent books and films have set out to tell the story of the Christian music industry. There’s Jesus Revolution, a feature film directed by Jon Erwin and Brent McCorkle; Mixtape Theology: 90s Christian Edition, a devotional and CCM retrospective by William “Ashley” Mofield and Rachel Cash; and historian Leah Payne’s new book, God Gave Rock & Roll to You. Later this year, documentarian Jason Ikeler will release his film, Safe for the Whole Family: How to Make a Christian Superstar.

Each attempt to capture the CCM story—whether historical, devotional, or fictionalized—assigns boundaries and attributes significance to particular figures, events, and albums. The growing body of work on the subject reflects a negotiation around which accounts are part of the “real” story of CCM, and who gets to tell it.

And as evangelicals debate the merits of self-criticism, the historiography of CCM and the Christian music industry is yet another battleground in the war over whether to tell the messy, complicated, and, at times, ugly stories along with the hopeful and glowing ones. Historians and storytellers disagree about the formative role of CCM in the development of contemporary worship music, and whether the niche has evolved or faded away.

Payne’s scholarly treatment of the history of CCM in God Gave Rock & Roll to You is comprehensive in scope and documentation, but unlike Jesus Revolution and The Jesus Music, which foreground the almost anointed nature of particular figures and the spiritual power of the music they produced, Payne’s book uses the history of CCM to tell a story about American evangelicals.

“What can one learn about the development of evangelicalism by looking at CCM, one of the largest, most profitable forms of mass media produced in the twentieth century?” Payne wrote in the introduction.

Payne suggests that while many look back at ’80s and ’90s CCM with either fond nostalgia or eye-rolling cringes, it is a valuable source of insight into the politics and ideology of American evangelicalism.

“I want to write about the really meaningful parts of evangelical culture that other people may think aren’t that meaningful because they see it as kitsch,” Payne told CT. “Seemingly silly things can be very serious.”

Mofield and Cash use humor and nostalgia as the entry point for their devotional, Mixtape Theology. The book reflects on ’90s CCM hits to guide readers through passages of Scripture and reflection.

“For me, this music was my introduction to a lot of biblical concepts,” said Cash, who remembers looking up the Bible verses referenced in the liner notes of her Steven Curtis Chapman CDs. Still, they recognize that not everyone has the same feel-good experiences to draw on; they wrote the reflection on the Jars of Clay song, “Liquid,” with deconstructing Christians in mind.

“We wanted to harness the power of nostalgia to get people to remember the awe and wonder of what it was like to be a new Christian, and use that to encourage people to go back to the Bible,” said Cash.

The devotional takes the music and its messages—with all the corniness and silliness—seriously. Carman’s dramatic music videos, Steven Curtis Chapman jamming in a field alongside footage of cowboys and horses, ska/swing-revival songs telling off the devil—there’s a lot to laugh at and a lot to learn from, argue Mofield and Cash.

“I’m a youth pastor at heart,” said Mofield. “It’s fun to bring the cheesiness to it. God uses humor. There’s nothing wrong with laughing at ourselves.”

Mixtape Theology is an attempt to embrace the spiritual legacy of CCM, with all its nostalgic camp and theatricality. The authors are unapologetic CCM enthusiasts. But unlike films like Jesus Revolution and The Jesus Music, which try to capture the significance of the movement, the book does not try to tell a unified story.

“People are trying to narrate their own lives and experiences, and these are people who have the means to do it,” said Payne.

The Jesus Music places Michael W. Smith and Amy Grant as the central characters in the rise of CCM and the Christian music industry as we know it. Both Grant and Smith are producers of the film, and K-LOVE films is one of the affiliated production companies.

Greg Laurie, pastor of Harvest Bible Fellowship, was portrayed by actor Joel Courtney in Jesus Revolution and also involved in The Jesus Music.

Both films were criticized for their lack of engagement with the issues of race and sexuality in the earlier years of CCM. It’s no secret that CCM has always been dominated by white artists, and there are numerous examples of popular Christian artists like Jennifer Knapp who rose to fame while closeted and lost their following after coming out.

In Payne’s view, an honest, more inclusive account can help us better understand our current moment and the public reckoning with the legacy of white American evangelicalism.

“The CCM scene was very domestic. It was also very political,” said Payne. “It was the ambient theological and political world.”

Payne’s book outlines some of the connections between CCM artists and songs and national politics. Sandi Patty’s 1989 song, “Masterpiece,” for example, became an anthem of the pro-life movement. Michael W. Smith performed at George H. W. Bush’s 1989 “Christmas in Washington” event and established a friendship with the Bush family. Carman spoke openly about a variety of conservative policy concerns like abortion, prayer in school, and teen pregnancy.

Payne argues that CCM has faded as an influence in American evangelicalism. The final chapter of her book, “#LetUsWorship,” describes the ascendance of contemporary worship music in the Christian music industry and pushes against the suggestion that worship music grew organically out of CCM.

“All of the institutions that supported CCM—the churches, the evangelical colleges, camps, parachurch organizations, and Christian bookstores—they have either radically changed or disappeared,” said Payne.

“And if you say that a CCM star like Michael W. Smith is the beginning of contemporary worship music [as the film The Jesus Music implies], you miss the transnational communities that created and supported it.”

The praise and worship music that circulated through organizations like Maranatha! Music and Integrity’s Hosanna! Music in the ’80s and ’90s laid the foundation for what would become the contemporary worship music industry of today. It was distributed largely via direct-to-consumer tapes and songbooks. It wasn’t until the late 1990s that the genre emerged as a profitable one within the Christian music industry.

Rather than assume a clear lineage of Christian music from CCM to contemporary worship, Payne argues that it makes sense to consider CCM as a more carefully defined phenomenon. Worship music, she argues, has a distinct and global history that often intersects with CCM but doesn’t depend on it.

“CCM is an entertainment business at its core,” said Payne, adding, “I would argue that it’s much diminished. It does not exist in the same way that it did.”

According to Payne, CCM began to diminish in the early 2000s. Artists like Lauren Daigle represent what’s left of the niche. Daigle, Tauren Wells, and a few others have been able to build careers as Christian pop artists with some crossover success in the mainstream industry, but they are notable exceptions in a more divided Christian music industry now dominated by worship music and hip-hop (and increasingly integrated with the mainstream).

Payne’s book comes at a time when evangelicals are divided about how to publicly evaluate the legacies of influential figures like James Dobson and whether blockbuster books like Jesus and John Wayne are accurate and much-needed calls to change or pessimistic and one-sided take-downs.

Filmmaker Jason Ikeler says that it’s all part of a broader cultural interest in reexamining the past, especially when it comes to entertainment media.

“We’re looking back at how we treated Lindsay Lohan and Paris Hilton,” said Ikeler, who is preparing to release his documentary, Safe for the Whole Family: How to Make a Christian Superstar, this year.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jJsQFdzQq1E&t=25s

The film features revealing and vulnerable interviews with a diverse group of former CCM figures including Avalon’s Michael Passons, Jennifer Knapp, Nikki Leonti, Leigh Nash, Derek Webb, and Matt Thiessen. It’s a documentary that seeks to capture the stories that don’t fit neatly in a narrative of a sanctified musical movement.

Ikeler, who grew up immersed in CCM, looks back at his relationship with the music and its superstars with a mix of nostalgia and criticism, hearing from artists who say they were coldly pushed out by industry gatekeepers.

“They look back at it with mixed feelings. It’s not all good, it’s not all bad.”

Safe for the Whole Family examines the problems and fallout that come when Christians prop up individuals as standard-bearers and models of goodness and godliness. The evangelical struggle with hero-worship and Christian celebrity extends far beyond CCM.

“We held them up as saints or prophets,” said Ikeler, observing that the extreme moral scrutiny endured by CCM artists was unsustainable.

Ikeler said that his goal isn’t to produce a salacious exposé, nor were the artists involved coming with their own axes to grind. “These artists want to be able to share their stories and reclaim them,” he said. “We have to look back and tell the truth and learn from it.”

CCM flourished in the Focus on the Family era—when Christian parents were looking for an alternative universe of pop music, books, and films that were “safe” and sufficiently faith-based. The internet swiftly made it easy for Christian adolescents to discover new media and cross the boundaries held in place by Christian bookstores and radio. The days of looking for a “Christian NSYNC” are gone, but Christian artists still deal with moral and theological gatekeeping.

The complicated history of CCM shows the powerful community-building that can happen around shared music. It also provides examples of how musical subcultures can become exclusive and political, even in a niche full of artists who want to be a part of building God’s kingdom.

- More from Kelsey Kramer McGinnis

The Fault in Our Norms

Bonnie Kristian

How do you decide what should be normal in a secularized, fragmented society?

Illustration by Christianity Today / Source Images: Unsplash

The destruction of America’s political norms.” “Don’t normalize that.” “This is not normal!” “Why can’t you just be normal?”

The last two decades have seen a rising attention to normalcy in American public life. Google Trends shows a steady upward slope—a quadrupling, in fact—in online interest in “normal” between 2004 and 2024.

But anecdotally, I’d say this acceleration has felt more intense since around 2015. Not coincidentally, that was the year former president Donald Trump first came to dominate national politics, and it’s also the year the Supreme Court decided Obergefell v. Hodges, which shifted public discourse on sexuality and gender away from gay marriage and toward new frontiers, especially on gender identity.

Normalcy has long had some moral valence. Its etymology has to do with the rightness of angles in carpentry, and from there, it’s not a long verbal journey to other kinds of rightness: conformity with rules, not just the ruler, and especially with ethical rules.

Lately it seems like that moral shade is thickening. In a secularized, fragmented society, we are running perilously short on widely accepted norms. A panic is rising. No one wants anomie, a norm less culture, but how do you set effective norms if there’s no consensus on what’s normal? On what basis do you mourn or herald the death of old norms or the rise of new ones? By what rule can we judge and instruct if we’re losing agreed-upon rules?

A fascinating case study of this quandary popped up in a recent Atlantic essay from scholar Tyler Austin Harper. Titled “Polyamory, the Ruling Class’s Latest Fad,” its first three-quarters are a critical tour de force.

Harper’s primary interest is not the titular polyamory trend nor even the recently buzzy book—More: A Memoir of an Open Marriage—which he reviews in the piece. Both are subsidiary to a larger phenomenon that Harper calls “therapeutic libertarianism”: “the belief that self-improvement is the ultimate goal of life, and that no formal or informal constraints—whether imposed by states, faith systems, or other people—should impede each of us from achieving personal growth.”

Harper explicitly builds this characterization on philosopher Charles Taylor’s A Secular Age. There, Taylor contends that our culture is increasingly organized around a notion of “‘authenticity,’ or expressive individualism, in which people are encouraged to find their own way, discover their own fulfillment, ‘do their own thing.’”

Therapeutic libertarianism will be familiar to anyone who has read Alan Noble’s You Are Not Your Own or Tara Isabella Burton’s Self-Made—or simply caught a glimpse of “Instagram face.” Harper even captures the sly way in which this promise of freedom to construct oneself from scratch tends to become a grinding obligation, especially once we’ve lost the energy (and physical beauty) of youth:

We are all our own start-ups. We must all adopt a pro-growth mindset for our personhood and deregulate our desires. We must all assess and reassess our own “fulfillment,” a kind of psychological Gross Domestic Product, on a near-constant basis. And like the GDP, our fulfillment must always increase.

And he works in a class analysis too, observing that bleeding-edge fads of therapeutic libertarianism, like polyamory, tend to trend first in “wealthy, elite” circles, where people have the time and resources to spare for “interminable self-improvement projects, navel-gazing, and sexual peccadilloes.”

All told, it’s the kind of takedown that makes me—squeamish vegetarian though I am—understand the hunter’s impulse to hang a stag’s head on the wall.

But then there’s the last quarter of the essay, where the class analysis takes a different form. His problem isn’t a moral one, Harper argues. Though himself “happily, monogamously married,” polyamory doesn’t strike him “as a matter of right or wrong at all,” providing everyone involved is a consenting adult.

No, his problem is that it’s too expensive for poor people. This “brand of ‘free love’ requires the disposable income and time—to pay babysitters and pencil in their panoply of paramours—that are foreclosed to the laboring masses,” Harper writes. Across the stag’s antlers, a banner drapes: Workers of the world, unite … so you too may claim the dubious privilege of “seeking absolute freedom” and “find[ing] only abjection.”

This is a disjointed and disappointing end to an otherwise excellent essay. It’s also a striking example of the inadequacy of something like class analysis to fund effective, large-scale norms.

Class analysis is a useful thing that often sheds real light on political and social problems. There are many public conversations in America that it can and does enhance. But the haves have X and the have-nots have not isn’t enough to decide the merits of X, to set a norm for or against it.

In this case, the analysis is particularly uncompelling because Harper has just spent hundreds of words making polyamory and the therapeutic libertarian framework sound empty, exhausting, and hopeless. In fact, he makes it all sound very much like a matter of right and wrong (as indeed it is). He makes it sound wrong and degrading and certainly not an ill we should wish on the working class in the name of equity.

I reread the ending of this essay several times, sure I’d misunderstood it. And maybe I did. Harper wants to set a norm against all this, having correctly observed that those caught on its horns are having a bad time. But, unpossessed of a widely acknowledged moral basis for that norm, he gropes around and comes up with: Well, it’s not fair that only the elite can self-inflict this narcissistic self-making and the strain it entails.

But of all the troubles he lists, that class split may be the least. The class analysis isn’t wrong, but it’s not enough. It’s not enough to settle what should be normal in the moral sense, certainly not at a society-wide scale, on this issue and most others of import. It’s not enough to keep everyone from doing what is right in their own eyes (Judges 21:25), with all the chaos and enmity that ensues. And the same may be said of other bases of judgment tied to comparatively niche political, cultural, or religious perspectives.

Even fairly broad visions for moral renewal, like David Brooks has outlined at The Atlantic and The New York Times, tend to fail on this count: There’s no reason people who do not already share Brooks’s norms would buy into his proposals. Why renounce the crude style of Trumpism if you don’t already have some basis for believing cruelty is wrong? Why embrace moral formation via manners classes and intergenerational service if you don’t already believe in the goodness of charity?

“Moral communities are fragile things, hard to build and easy to destroy,” as social psychologist Jonathan Haidt wrote in The Righteous Mind. Haidt recognized that declining institutional authority and religiosity lead to exactly the anomie we now face. “If you live in a religious community, you are enmeshed in a set of norms, relationships, and institutions” that produce “shared moral matrices,” he explained. Without that moral organization, when all do as they please—well, have you read Judges 19–21? Or Reddit?

Haidt, an atheist, doesn’t specify a preferred religious norm machine. He merely recognizes that humans have a “God-shaped hole” in our hearts, and “it needs to be filled by something—and if you leave it empty, [people] don’t just feel an emptiness. A society that has no sense of the sacred is one in which you’ll have a lot of anomie, normlessness, loneliness, hopelessness.”

I am willing to specify. It’s no big reveal that I think our norms should be grounded in the Christian faith, in the revelation that God looks like Jesus dying on the cross, defeating evil, and offering us life and hope, which, yes, comes with a lot of moral claims and commands (Col. 1:15–23, 2:9–15, 3:1–14).

But, without precluding the possibility of some divine intervention—a new Reformation, another Great Awakening, the very Second Coming—I also don’t have any near-term expectation that Christianity will somehow gain universal acceptance in American society, whether as a living faith or simply as a reliable norm generator. Mundanely speaking, the trend lines on this are all exceedingly clear.

I recognize that I’m naysaying to class analysis and other solutions to our anomie without offering a better idea. Or rather, I do have a better idea—a light to banish anomic darkness—but I know why and how our culture has grown wary of its gleam.

Bonnie Kristian is the editorial director of ideas and books at Christianity Today.

- More from Bonnie Kristian

Seeing Stars, Not Light Pollution

Alex Mellen

And other responses to our December issue.

Abigail Erickson

The very stars God has numbered and named are these days a “rare commodity,” writes Cort Gatliff in “God’s Promises Are Clearest When We Turn Out the Lights.” Light pollution affects almost everyone on the planet in some way, denying us a chance to reflect on God’s glory.

Several readers shared their passion about this topic with us. Michael A. Covington of Georgia, author of Astrophotography for the Amateur, writes, “Thank you for speaking out against light pollution. Hiding the stars with wasteful outdoor lighting shows disrespect for the majesty of God’s creation; can harm wildlife; and wastes electricity and money.” His encouragement to all of us: “Light the ground, not the sky.”

Another message shared a more personal connection. “For over 40 years I’ve gone on late night walks with my star-gazing husband and paid minimal attention to the constellations, barely tolerating the persistent quizzing about the stars’ names and locations,” said Debra Wiens. Her husband is Douglas Wiens, professor of Earth, environmental and planetary sciences at Washington University in St. Louis and a Wheaton College graduate. With this article, Wiens says, “I can now begin to appreciate the role of the heavens in developing humanity’s awe, wonder, and worship of the Creator.”

Alexandra Mellen Conversations editor

Salvation Army Kettles Collect Fewer Coins

Reading this makes me feel bad for having to cut back on my donations. Prices on everything have gone up so much that those of us on fixed incomes have to cut back on our own meals. Social Security has only gone up a little while prices of everything have skyrocketed.

Donna Cooley Vancouver, WA

We at the Salvation Army are not immune to this [downward] trend in giving, just as we are not immune to criticism. We must keep in mind the elements of decreased foot traffic, inflation, economic uncertainty, and the simple fact that people now carry less cash. Above all this, however, is one factor not mentioned in your piece: a decline in the number of volunteers. Our research shows that the average daily amount contributed per kettle has actually increased over the years. We simply need more folks to step forward and give a little time to help. The Salvation Army is also offering digital giving at red kettles and providing more online options. Indeed, when we include those efforts, total fundraising is still up from prepandemic levels. Through it all, we remain committed to our work.

Kenneth G. Hodder, National Commander Alexandria, VA

Why Do We Want AI to Interpret Scripture?

To Schiess’s excellent argument, I would add that Scripture instructs us to meditate on God’s Word. While AI can be a useful tool, it will never replace this meditative process by a human made in the image of a supernatural God and indwelt by the Holy Spirit.

Sandi Arenburg Round Rock, TX

Frozen Embryos Are the New Orphan Crisis

I am the mother of two genetic siblings my husband and I adopted in a group of embryos. We adopted a second batch from a cousin of mine, and a clinic lost two of the embryos. No one knows what happened. There were no consequences to the clinic, either legal or fiscal. My cousin tried to find attorneys to represent us, and no one would. An unintended consequence of the government not funding stem cell research is that there is no oversight for the fertility industry. The only stats clinics report are successful pregnancy outcomes. They are not required to report lost embryos, accidental thawing or destruction of embryos, or transferring to the wrong woman. A New York Times article also addresses this topic. We’ve been in regular contact with its subject, Elaine Meyer, after finding ourselves in a similar situation.

Amy Houghtaling South Bend, IN

The Faith and Work Movement Is Leaving Blue-Collar Workers Behind

I’m one of those “creative class,” “highly educated evangelicals.” I am an Asian Australian and very much urbanized. My circle of friends are all tertiary-degree educated. Then I married a blue-collar unbeliever. I got exposed to the world I have not known before. My husband really tried to go to church, but he felt out of place. It was an all-Australian church, but no one looks like him, no one dressed like him. And he cannot catch up with the readings or theological concepts shared and talked about. So he gave up, concluded that he doesn’t belong. This faith is not for him. How do we serve and cater for this group of people? I have not been in a community of blue-collar Christians. And that saddens me.

Debbie Dameria Melbourne, Australia

I Studied Christianity with the Hope of Debunking It

I am a 16-year-old Christian. I found it interesting that the thing Julie Hannah latched onto about Jesus was how real and human he was opposed to myths. Jesus was the exception to ancient heroes and demigods because he came into the world as God but is portrayed like a man. In every other epic, the hero had to be far away from the everyman so he could be looked up to. It is a testament to the gospel that a new religion managed to grow under persecution based on the man who is a God we should worship and a real, emotional person.

Gibson Walker Dallas, TX

This article appeared in the March, 2024 issue of Christianity Today as "Seeing Stars".

- More from Alex Mellen

Books

Five Books to Encourage Single Parents

Anna Meade Harris

Chosen by Anna Meade Harris, author of ‘God’s Grace for Every Family: Biblical Encouragement for Single Parent Families and the Churches That Seek to Love Them Well.’

Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Getty / Pexels

Prayer in the Night: For Those Who Work or Watch or Weep

Tish Harrison Warren

Overwhelmed single moms and dads will identify with Warren’s struggle to pray after multiple losses in her life. She found the words she needed in Compline, an ancient prayer that lifts our human vulnerability up to God. Single parents work, watch, and weep alone, standing guard over their defenseless children, often without much support. Warren offers a way back into prayerful conversation with the God who neither slumbers nor sleeps.

Everything Sad Is Untrue: (a true story)

Daniel Nayeri

Nayeri relates his experience in a sixth-grade classroom in Oklahoma after fleeing Iran when his mom becomes a Christian. His father stays behind, his absence as formidable as his presence had been. The agonizing long-distance phone calls between father and son will be familiar to parents and children in the wake of divorce. Part memoir, part fiction, all masterful storytelling, this book attests to the enduring hope Daniel finds in his mother’s faith.

The Mockingbird Devotional: Good News for Today (and Every Day)

Edited by Ethan Richardson and Sean Norris

Single parents generally have little bandwidth for reading dense theology, but this 365-day devotional offers ample theological bang for the harried single parent’s quiet-time buck. Exploring key biblical doctrines through Scripture, plus story, music, and movie references, multiple contributors proclaim the gospel with clear-eyed realism about our brokenness, our need for a Savior, and the grace we have in Jesus.

The Ragamuffin Gospel: Good News for the Bedraggled, Beat-Up, and Burnt Out

Brennan Manning

For weary single parents who feel they never have enough time, energy, money, or patience, Manning shows that Jesus’ love for broken humanity depends not on what we do or fail to do but on who Jesus is. No matter how far we are falling short, Jesus loves us because he loves us, and oh, how he loves us.

Surrender: 40 Songs, One Story

Bono

Raised by his father after his mother’s sudden death, U2 frontman Bono narrates the audiobook version of his memoir with the humor, pathos, and style of a consummate performer. This one’s mainly for fun (something single parents don’t get much of), but Bono shares honestly about lingering grief for his mother and complicated attempts to connect with his father who won’t discuss her death.

- More from Anna Meade Harris

Books

New & Noteworthy Fiction

Jamie Lapeyrolerie

Chosen by Jamie Lapeyrolerie, writer and editor for WaterBrook and Multomah.

I Must Betray You

Ruta Sepetys

Following a lesser-known, or I should say, lesser-told story of Communist Romania in 1989, I Must Betray You takes readers through the horrific living environments and everyday terror faced by the Romanian people. Through the eyes of those who resisted Nicolae Ceaușescu, we see the tyranny of his totalitarian regime but also the bravery of the many people who stood up and finally took it down. A gut-wrenching tale that awakens readers to the reality of what millions endured, the novel also gives hope in depicting a courageous willingness to stand against evil, even at great cost.

When the Day Comes

Gabrielle Meyer

Born with the supernatural ability to live in both colonial Williamsburg on the brink of the American Revolution and in New York City before World War I, Libby alternates between these lives each day. The Libby of 1774 supports the American patriots and the man she loves, while 1914 Libby, passionate about women’s suffrage, longs for more than Gilded Age privilege and being married off to a man of her mother’s choosing. As her 21st birthday inches closer, she must decide which path to follow and which to give up. This creative, inspirational novel will entertain readers and keep them guessing.

Pride

Ibi Zoboi

Going beyond a traditional enemies-to-lovers retelling of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, Ibi Zoboi’s Pride brings timely depth to a beloved story. Zuri Benitez takes pride in Brooklyn, her family, and her Afro-Latino roots. But as her neighborhood gentrifies, she no longer recognizes her beloved community. When the wealthy Darcy family moves in across the street, Zuri’s sister falls for the older brother, but Zuri wants nothing to do with Darius, the younger brother. As they get to know one another, however, the walls between them break down. Pride speaks naturally to issues like gentrification, racism, and sexism while staying true to Austen’s original story.

This article appeared in the March, 2024 issue of Christianity Today as "New & Noteworthy Fiction".

- More from Jamie Lapeyrolerie

Books

Review

The Surprising Practicality of Christian Philosophy

Christian B. Miller

For believers, pursuing a philosophical life is the opposite of having your head in the clouds.

Illustration by Elizabeth Kaye / Source Images: Unsplash

Philosophy sometimes gets a bad reputation, even in Christian circles. As some critics might put it: Philosophy is an impractical and worthless way to spend your time. It might even undermine your faith.

Christian Philosophy as a Way of Life: An Invitation to Wonder

Ross D. Inman (Author)

Baker Pub Group/Baker Books

208 pages

$22.31

In contrast, Ross Inman argues, “It’s hard to see what could be more practical than living philosophically as a Christian.” Inman is associate professor of philosophy at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. His book Christian Philosophy as a Way of Life: An Invitation to Wonder makes a clear, convincing case for the value of philosophy.

Inman’s approach presupposes a Christian worldview. His target audience, as he explains, is “Christians who are philosophical novices, those who are coming to the study of philosophy for the very first time.” He does not have in mind someone who is studying philosophy merely as a graduation requirement or for a GPA boost. Rather, he has in mind someone approaching philosophy as a fruitful way of life.

There is a long history of thinking of philosophy in this way going back to the ancient Greeks, among others. But Inman takes a distinctly Christian approach, spelling out three conditions. The first, he says, is committing to an existential map shaped by the Christian story. This means viewing Christian faith as the central resource for answering questions lying at the heart of philosophy, such as: What is real? What is a truly good life? And how does one become a good person?

Second, says Inman, practitioners of a Christian philosophical way of life should orient their lives around a Christian existential map. Their everyday practices should align with a vision of reality and the good life shaped by the Christian story.

And third, they should engage in grace-empowered, truth-directed practices. Inman notes that there were spiritual exercises, like self-examination and memorization, that characterized the life of philosophy in ancient Greece. But Christian philosophers of antiquity stressed that only God’s grace would enable the spiritual exercises to do their work.

Perhaps more than anything, the Christian philosophical way of life, when carried out well, is closely bound up with wonder. For Inman, wonder has two central features. The first is a “perceived vastness”—the experience of something larger than ourselves or the confines of our limited perspectives. The other feature is a “need for accommodation” of this new perspective. As Inman writes, “We are summoned to enlarge the narrow confines of our soul to make room for the new experience and perhaps even to correct the mistaken way that we once viewed the world.”

Tying this back to Christian philosophy, he says, “We might summarize the Christian philosophical life as a life that is devoted to cultivating a deep sense of the wonder of it all, ultimately in light of the true meaning and purpose of all created things in Christ.” This leads him to make the bold claim that “only within a Christian conception of reality is the wonder-filled philosophical life possible.”

What about the practicality of philosophy? The practicality of something depends on its purpose. On this subject, Inman cites Tom Morris’s Philosophy for Dummies, where Morris argues:

Something is practical if it helps you realize your goals. If your goals include knowing who you really are, what life in this world is all about, and what’s ultimately important, then philosophy is eminently practical. If these things are not among your goals, well, then you need new goals.

Believers’ ultimate goals include being properly oriented toward God and neighbor, both cognitively (in truth) and affectively (in love). Philosophy can be greatly instrumental in achieving those goals. Thus for Christians, according to Inman, philosophy is perhaps the most practical way to live of all.

Inman’s discussion is compelling, but I want to offer two minor suggestions for improvement. First, I might have suggested that Inman do more to answer the question What do philosophers actually do? For instance, the first few chapters might have benefited from more detailed examples of common philosophical arguments or discussions, with elements of wonder and practicality highlighted.

Additionally, Inman tends to focus on philosophical questions about reality (metaphysics), knowledge (epistemology), and value (ethics). But philosophy, as practiced today, is extremely diverse in both the topics it considers and in its methodology.

So my second suggestion would have been to tackle questions like these: Would Inman’s arguments hold for the Christian philosopher who primarily works on logic and abstract proofs? What about the historian of philosophy, the philosopher of science, or the philosopher of language? In general, are some areas of philosophy better geared toward Inman’s discussion of wonder and practicality than others?

On the whole, however, Inman’s book helps open up an exciting philosophical world to explore. From there, readers can go in a number of different directions in learning more about a Christian philosophical way of life. More historically, two good starting points are Augustine’s Confessions and Boethius’s On the Consolation of Philosophy. From the 20th century, C. S. Lewis’s Mere Christianity would be a great option. Among more recent choices, I would recommend C. Stephen Layman’s Letters to Doubting Thomas and Michael Murray’s essay collection Reason for the Hope Within.

Christian Philosophy as a Way of Life is excellent. As someone who has been doing philosophy professionally for over 30 years, I am not the intended reader. But I still learned a great deal. And it is very reassuring to see, in such a clear and compelling way, the case being made for what I have devoted my life to doing.

Christian B. Miller is the A. C. Reid Professor of Philosophy at Wake Forest University. His books include The Character Gap: How Good Are We? and Honesty: The Philosophy and Psychology of a Neglected Virtue.

This article appeared in the March, 2024 issue of Christianity Today as "I Believe, Therefore I Wonder".

- More from Christian B. Miller

Books

Review

The Bible Was Written to Be Heard and Spoken to Be Read

Mark Ward

God’s Word has oral and textual dimensions, and we shouldn’t pit them against one another.

Illustration by Michael Hirshon

The work of popularizers is honorable and necessary. But it isn’t always successful.

Hear Ye the Word of the Lord: What We Miss If We Only Read the Bible

D. Brent Sandy (Author), John H. Walton (Author), John H. Walton (Foreword), D. Brent Sandy (Foreword)

216 pages

$17.47

Sometimes popularizers fail because they’re poor exponents of good ideas. This does not describe biblical scholar D. Brent Sandy, author of Hear Ye the Word of the Lord: What We Miss If We Only Read the Bible.

No, Sandy has failed because he is a good exponent of poor ideas. I’ve rarely read such a graciously written but ultimately unpersuasive book.

Sandy’s thesis is announced early, and it is based on a contrast between the ancient biblical world of hearing and our modern world of reading. As he argues, “The farther apart … the worlds of hearing and reading are, the less those in one world will understand the other.”

Sandy is careful, at least at the beginning, not to draw too sharp a distinction between these means of receiving Scripture. “The challenge we face in this book,” he writes, is not “orality versus literacy, as if one is better than the other. … [It’s] not hearing versus reading; there is room for both. [It’s] not that oral and written communication are opposites.”

By the time Sandy ends his thesis statement, he is sounding far more tentative than his bold book title might suggest. He offers a gentle question rather than a stirring declaration: “Being twenty-first century readers born and groomed in modern textual culture, can we sufficiently understand the meaning of documents originating in ancient oral culture simply by reading them?”

Sandy never hectors the reader, but he gets progressively less tentative as his book moves through 17 propositions about what he sees as the oral nature of God’s original revelation. He believes orality is essential—“vital”—to understanding the Bible.

Let me summarize Sandy’s propositions. “God,” he writes, “reached across great distances—so must we.” And a hallmark of that distance is the gap between text-based cultures (ours) and oral ones (like those the biblical writers inhabited). God’s revelation was originally for the latter; it was “intended for hearers.” Thankfully, “research provides important insights into ancient oral culture.” If we simply “include their hearing in our reading,” remembering that “stories were performed and heard in ancient oral culture,” then “we can become better hearers and speakers” of God’s Word.

In advancing these arguments, Sandy is popularizing the work of scholars like Walter Ong, who shows up often in his footnotes. As Sandy notes, “Over the past several decades scholars have produced a cascade of studies, articles and books [on the orality of Scripture] encompassing thousands of pages, too vast to synthesize and include in this brief book.”

I confess I have yet to wade into this particular cascade, even though my own work (for a Bible software company) revolves around Scripture and those who study it. I was hoping Sandy would help reveal what I have been missing in my Bible throughout my highly textual modern life.

By my Kindle’s count, I had finished 40 percent of the book before reaching Sandy’s first real, concrete attempt to provide insight into Scripture through the concept of orality. Commenting on the prologue to the Gospel of Luke, he writes, “Most people today read the prologue from a textual perspective. But hearing it from an oral framework clarifies what Luke intended to communicate.”

I don’t see, however, how anything Sandy observes in the prologue is discernible only through an oral framework. I’ve known for some time, through reading Luke 1:1–4 in print, that, to quote Sandy, “various accounts of Jesus’ deeds preceded the text [Luke] was writing,” that “eyewitnesses and others were involved in the transmission process,” and that “what had been passed along [to Luke] was reliable information.” I had never assumed that Luke collected only written accounts or that he never talked to anyone.

I was, frankly, disappointed at this point in the book. I was open to finding more of a place for Scripture’s original orality. I wanted Sandy to persuade me that I had an empty slot in my hermeneutical tool belt. It’s exciting to gain a new perspective on God’s Word.

The book certainly has moments of acute perception, like Sandy’s discussion of orality in Hebrews 1, for example. And it offers some helpful suggestions, several of which—like reading the Bible out loud with feeling, reading it in group settings, or putting portions of it into verse—I’ve practiced for years. (I did appreciate Sandy’s suggestion that seminaries should “offer courses in the oral performance of Scripture.”)

On the whole, however, the book failed to deliver on its promise. There are few insights into actual Bible passages that are clearly traceable to Sandy’s thesis.

In fact, I would argue that careful analysis of the Scriptures suggests that they weren’t all originally—or somehow fundamentally or primarily—oral in nature.

Take the Psalms, for instance. Were they originally oral? Many include superscriptions suggesting strongly that they weren’t. When David addressed various psalms “to the choirmaster,” how did the choirmaster receive them? Almost certainly on the ancient equivalent of a steno pad.

Think of the superscription above Psalm 18, the second-longest superscription in all the Psalms:

For the director of music. Of David the servant of the Lord. He sang to the Lord the words of this song when the Lord delivered him from the hand of all his enemies and from the hand of Saul. He said:

But what David goes on to “say” takes the form of highly structured and lengthy Hebrew poetry. The most plausible explanation is that it was originally composed in writing.

Moreover, in Scripture (as in daily speech), “saying” is used as a natural metaphor for writing. Think of Paul’s words in Romans 9:17: “Scripture says to Pharaoh: ‘I raised you up for this very purpose.’” Scripture, by definition, means writing—but writings speak. Or consider James, who in his famous hearing-and-doing passage (1:19–27) freely mixes ear metaphors (“do not merely listen”) and eye metaphors (“whoever looks intently into the perfect law”).

Sandy’s attempt to highlight the oral dimension of Scripture works best in the prophetic books and in the life of Jesus. It is indeed interesting that Jesus never wrote anything down, and Sandy was thought-provoking on this topic. I can see the likelihood of oral traditions lying at the foundation of the Gospels, and I think the orality of ancient culture is useful to New Testament interpreters studying the reliability of the Gospels.

But I do not see the Bible as fundamentally oral rather than written. Unfortunately, as the book progresses, Sandy seems to rely on a dichotomy his thesis had earlier rejected. “Our focus,” he writes, “should be listening for the voice of God, rather than only analyzing the printed words on a page.”

This seems to pit hearing and reading against each other. But shouldn’t they work in concert? What about listening for the voice of God precisely by means of studying printed words—with all the analytical tools furnished by one’s tradition, one’s training, and one’s gifts?

And some of Sandy’s comments about orality almost sound like a critique of what some biblical writers in fact did—and did under the inspiration of the Spirit of God. As he writes, “Reducing spoken words to written or printed form is actually an act of decontextualization, resulting in a written account not containing a full sense of the original content, and therefore has inherent limitations.” Yes, written words can come with less context than spoken ones, or at least different context. But this is true for every act of communication that lasts beyond the immediate circumstances of its origin.

Sandy insists that his goal “is not to devalue the written Word but to reorient our thinking to the original and proper place of oral revelation.” But I came away from his book more unsettled than helped. Personally, at least, I have most often encountered appeals to the originally oral character of the Bible’s words as a means of evading what the written words say.

I do not believe that Sandy does this in his book. Even so, it’s worth remembering an observation from the theologian Albert Schweitzer in his 1906 book The Quest of the Historical Jesus: Often enough, when we look back into the well of the past, we find our own reflection staring back. It stands to reason, then, that when we overturn traditional readings of the Bible by appeals to its historical and cultural backgrounds, we risk arriving at readings more amenable to our contemporary cultural foregrounds.

According to Sandy, “research demonstrates [that] ‘we were never born to read.’” But the authorities he cites are non-Christians, including Harvard psychologist Steven Pinker. How, without reference to a Creator God, do they know what we were “born” to do?

I side instead with former CT editor Andy Crouch, whose excellent book Culture Making reminds us that we were originally born to uncoil the potentialities of God’s creation. God blessed us with a cultural mandate: “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it” (Gen. 1:28). For a Christian to say that “we were never born to read” is to ascribe an intentionality to God beyond anything he has spoken or written.

A mild irony here is that much of my current Bible “reading” happens through audio Bibles. I tend to listen to the Bible in daily doses but then do deep dives with my digital tools. Over the last 15 years, I’ve made attempts to discern a difference between my encounters with the Bible through different media. But if a difference is there, I have yet to perceive it.

Mark Ward is senior editor for digital content at Logos Bible Study and host of a YouTube channel dedicated to Bible translation (@markwardonwords). He is the author of several books and textbooks, including Authorized: The Use and Misuse of the King James Bible.

- More from Mark Ward

CT's Week of Giving

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Creeping moralism

Standalone stories

Outright inaccuracy

A few storybook Bible favorites

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Mike Ansari, president of Heart4Iran:

Amir Bazmjou, founder and CEO of Torch Ministries:

Mansour Borji, founder and director of Article18:

Mehrdad Fatehi, founder and executive director of Pars Theological Centre:

Dariush Golbaghi, founder of SafeHouse Ministries:

Feridoon Mokhof, director of Korpu translation agency:

Kamil Navai, senior pastor of Iranian Christian Church in Sunnyvale, California:

Annahita Parsan, priest in the Church of Sweden:

Nathan Rostampour, trustee of the Southern Baptist Convention’s International Mission Board:

Nahid Sepehri, executive director of the Iranian Bible Society in Diaspora:

Hormoz Shariat, founder and president of Iran Alive Ministries:

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