If God is Kind

On American apologetic and why I'm no longer worrying about being called a "progressive Christian"

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez on Unsplash

Going through old notebooks from college recently, I found a one-liner I jotted down that surprised me. It read, “There is no room for progressive Christians in the church.”

I don’t even remember writing that, but it’s there, in my own handwriting, tucked away leather bound inside my desk.

I’m a long way from the newlywed college student who wrote that statement. On an old blog, I’ve dug up a number of unpublished articles on issues I still care about deeply though my perspective has changed. While I’m thankful no one else ever read them, I think I never finished them because I was coming up against some cognitive dissonance. Now, I’ve had time to work some of it out. As have many of you.

There are so many of us grieving the things we’ve believed about God and ourselves. And yet, we’re gripped with fear of saying the wrong thing in front of the wrong people. Our breathing becomes shallow and our chests, shoulders, and jaws tighten when we know we’re taking the side we’ve been told is our enemy. I’ve been trying to develop a backbone, I guess. I want to move on from this. But first, I want to feel safer in myself. I want us all to feel safer in The Body.

“God is so kind,” I hear my four year old son say to his grandpa on a visit. They’re reading a book together on the couch and I’m not paying much attention in the next room. I look up and smile at my son’s sweetness and return to my conversation over apple pie.

“God is kind, right?” he asks me at the kitchen table days later with eyes that remind me of Puss in Boots.

“He is so kind,” I say, leaning toward him.

“But he’s dangerous,” he says, looking to the ground with a pout.

“He is?” I ask, “Where did you hear that?”

“Grandpa told me God is dangerous.”

“How did that make you feel?” I ask.

“Scared,” he says with a trembling lip.

What compels a Christian, when met with the enthusiastic trust of a new believer, to assert that God is a danger to them?

I can hardly reconcile the man who told my son God is dangerous with the man I was introduced to at age 17, who told me in earnest that the time it takes for someone to believe in Christ and get into heaven is as quick as the pull of a trigger. The man who used to be happy before culture wars took over his theology and political ideology became an idol. But it wasn’t a quick transition. Maybe it’s me who’s changed the most. After all, he was the man leading my husband and me in our own faith when I wrote that there is no room for progressive Christians in the church.

He was the same person who gifted me a copy of Mama Bear Apologetics in 2019 when he started noticing a hint of liberal values in me. Since it was from his dad, my husband read the book and told me, “I really don’t think you should read it.” The popular Christian mom book is more apologetic for (white) American-centric, Conservative Evangelicalism—something we were just beginning to sniff out as not-quite-the-aroma-of-Christ.

By that point, I feared being seen as “progressive,” so I quietly learned about issues surrounding race, social justice, and feminism, trying to figure out the best approach to these issues while dismissing Democrats as even possibly having the right answers, because I yet hadn’t untangled from the psychology that Christians can never side with them.

I still wouldn’t call myself a progressive Christian,* but I fear that label less. Let people say what they will. I know who I am.

I’d like to see us actively opposing actual evil present across our culture rather than scapegoating one “side.”

We need to stop interpreting the Bible through our cultural lens and start interpreting culture through the Bible.¹ Which means first, take note of the culture and how it’s coloring our interpretation of the text. Then attempt to understand the context of the scripture, and put on that lens to speak into our culture today. To be a people given to prayer—asking the Holy Spirit to expose our biases to us so we can shed them. So many Evangelical Christians are so distracted by the culture wars that they can’t see the work God is doing in the world.

I can see now how I was taught a fear of God based not in His righteousness but judgement. We’ve made Him out to be the bad guy for our enemies, which ends up making us fearful of getting on His bad side. If we fear Him because we believe He is dangerous, how can we trust Him?

But He is dangerous because He is the fierce protector of what He loves. For those He loves, there is no safer place than with Him.

When Peter and the disciples tried to keep children away from Jesus, he said, “Let the children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belong the kingdom of heaven” (Matt. 19:14, ESV). And yet, we continue to hold back those who want to come to Jesus, telling them they’re not ready to stand in His presence, as if Jesus isn’t Himself the gatekeeper.

I get it, though. Progressives tend to embrace the changing tides of culture even when they lead into unrighteousness. But Conservatives tend to hold fast to what has been, even the parts that have proven unjust. What has me feeling defensive and on-edge is seeing heresy called out on the progressive side, even where it doesn’t exist, and ignored on the conservative side. If we want heresy to be taken seriously, then we need to root it out in our own camps. Thankfully, God is able to forgive and redeem both—and we are invited to take part in that work.

Here is a list of things that have cracked me open and changed my perspective:

• The years we were so poor (5 years ago) that we didn’t even have to file taxes. We showed up and they told us there was nothing to file. We had nothing to report.

• The support system in our families we had to fall back on financially and for housing when we were at our poorest. I think often of all the people who don’t have those community supports and all the reasons they don’t exist.

• Preparing to adopt out of foster care—we’ve had to grapple with all the possible backgrounds these kids will be coming to us with. We don’t get to choose their stories, but they get to decide whether they want to come live with us. We want to be people who can love the right kids through anything.

• Our neighborhood and its reminders of the different immigrant waves, including Italian and Mexican (around the 1920’s). The residual effects of redlining in the 60’s that still bear scars. How revitalization wouldn’t look like getting more successful restaurants or flipping more houses to simply increase their value (cost), but perhaps investing in the businesses and people already living here so they can thrive rather than being displaced.

As a Christian, I’ve found that conservative politics can’t always give a satisfying answer for these complex issues.

I propose that we hold fast to the timeless testimony of the kingdom that cannot be shaken, all the while affirming what is good even if it’s coming from secular culture. We can practice saying, “Yes, and…” pointing to the kingdom of God and the work of Jesus as the source and proof of what God says is good. We can follow Paul’s advice to the Roman church given in Romans 12,**

Let love be genuine. Abhor what is evil; hold fast to what is good. ¹⁰ Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor. ¹¹ Do not be slothful in zeal, be fervent in spirit, serve the Lord. ¹² Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer. ¹³ Contribute to the needs of the saints and seek to show hospitality.

¹⁴ Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse them. ¹⁵ Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. ¹⁶ Live in harmony with one another. Do not be haughty, but associate with the lowly. Never be wise in your own sight. ¹⁷ Repay no one evil for evil, but give thought to do what is honorable in the sight of all. ¹⁸ If possible, so far as it depends on you, live peaceably with all. ¹⁹ Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.” ²⁰ To the contrary, “if your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink; for by so doing you will heap burning coals on his head.” ²¹ Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.

Kingdoms and governments will pass away, but the words of the Lord will endure forever (Matt. 24:35, Mark 13:31, Luke 21:33). We can’t only teach His words without pressing into the character of God, displayed through Jesus. He is righteous and just, yes—there is no righteousness without justice. He is also merciful. He wants to be near us. He was angry enough to flip tables one time, but He also wept over the death of a friend and over Jerusalem. He sat at tables of sinners (note: all of them were sinners). He delighted in the presence of those who welcomed Him even if they didn’t perfectly understand. He didn’t stir up fighting but called for peace. He allowed them to kill Him.

He died for those who abandoned Him in His worst hour, and then He got up and made them breakfast.

The way we see God matters. He’s not some big, disappointed daddy in the sky waiting to swoop in at every wrong move we make. He’s also not a god without boundaries, letting us define our own good and shrugging at the consequences. He breaks down walls instead of building them, tearing the curtain that once separated us from His holy presence. He is behind and before and beside us at every moment, what should we fear?

Shannan Martin, a favorite author of mine, writes about living as neighbors in her most recent book Start with Hello,

Here, it’s all about stripping off protective layers and shedding our armor. After all, we aren’t wedged into this cultural divide because we’ve been too kind or gracious toward each other. If we want admission into the club of the connected, then tenderness—living exposed to the relational elements—is the only required entry fee.

Our reward for working our way toward a thinner skin and allowing others in will be each other—along with a clear-eyed view of this fragile world.

Jesus saw us—all of us—as a worthy inheritance for His suffering because He had a clear-eyed view of this fragile world. And it, too, is His. I think we can trust Him with all of it.

We serve a God who exists over and above, outside of our worldly political constructs. Trusting Him means staying committed to Him—and to the church—more than to a political party or even our own country. And to know that while this might leave us feeling more exposed and vulnerable, the closer we are to Him, the more covered, protected, and safe.

Does this resonate with you?

1. See the work of Christopher Watkins in his book Critical Biblical Theory.

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*In case this wasn’t clear, I’m saying that when I share a value and someone says it’s liberal as a means to invalidate that view, that no longer causes me to question my values. It reminds me of fifth grade when my two best friends would get in a fight and then fight over who got to play with me, so I’d go play basketball with the boys. It’s possible to name wrong and say no to two opposing sides when necessary, and we should, and that doesn’t mean we can never side with either of them when they’re right.

**I don’t share this passage to name enemies. But, if you find yourself digging in your heels about naming enemies, here’s Paul’s advice to The Church on how to handle them.