Recently, a lady at my church approached me with a matter borne out of real curiosity. She asked, “You’re a female theologian. Why did you select to return to our church when women aren’t allowed to evangelise here?”
Since much of my work as a Bible scholar is public, it isn’t any secret that I support women’s full participation in ministry, including in church leadership. So I wasn’t surprised that somebody happened to note my convictions didn’t match our church’s practice on this issue.
It’s a superb query, and one I’ve wrestled with recurrently—since, at present, I don’t feel I’m in a position to serve our church in all of the ways in which God has called and equipped me. I so long for the body of Christ to embrace the gifts of all its members, not only here but around the globe. But as CT’s April issue reminds us, the worldwide church is removed from united on what women can and might’t do in church.
Still, I used to be glad my friend asked me about our family’s decision-making process, since it’s face-to-face conversations like this that prevent polarization. The role of ladies isn’t the one issue that divides us today. Approaches to racial reconciliation or diversity initiatives, our posture toward climate change, and politics—particularly when there’s one other contentious presidential election in sight—are all areas that threaten to fracture our faith communities.
According to The Great Dechurching, a recent book by Jim Davis, Michael Graham, and Ryan P. Burge, individuals are leaving the church in unprecedented numbers. Forty million Americans who used to attend church not do—that’s 16 percent of adults within the US. And while some have simply stopped believing, others are leaving because they disagreed with their church or its clergy, and still more feel hesitant to re-engage with church for a wide range of other reasons.
That’s to not say there aren’t many good reasons to maneuver on to a special church—with any type of abuse being highest amongst them. Participation in corporate worship isn’t something to take evenly, and there’s much to think about when deciding to hitch a church family. We must take a church’s doctrine and practice seriously as we consider whether we will commit to membership. We are shaped by our community, in any case.
Yet I actually have a growing conviction that we surrender far too easily on meeting together after we disagree. I feel there’s a danger in looking for out individuals who align so precisely with the best way we see the world that we’ll never be challenged in our beliefs or our life decisions—not to say that we’re more likely to leave as soon because the illusion of perfect alignment is inevitably shattered.
Part of the issue, as Daniel K. Williams points out in a previous piece for CT, is that evangelicals’ theology of the church should be born again—out of the inbred individualism that prioritizes personal faith over (optional) participation in corporate community. As Myles Werntz notes about Bonhoeffer’s ecclesiology, the church shouldn’t be centered on individual experience but on being “a individuals who encounters Christ through and with each other.”
We can learn so way more from fellowshipping with those that see the world from a special vantage point. A church that’s an echo chamber fails to reckon with the ways God’s Spirit works deep and wide across the globe. But learning to like others who see the world in another way takes work—especially in a society that sorts us out based on our natural affinities.
For starters, web algorithms effectively silo us from hearing from others who hold different views. “Algorithms serve up the news we want to listen to, virtually assuring us of our own rightness,” Carrie McKean observes. Online friend groups prompt us to self-select our conversation partners based on shared interests and affiliations. And, for a wide range of historical and socio-economic reasons, our neighborhoods and schools can sometimes grow to be homogeneous as well.
But this problem isn’t recent. Even in the primary century, long before modern technology, human beings were separating themselves from those that are different. Yet Jesus had little interest in uniformity. He publicly engaged each with religious leaders and society’s most notorious sinners. He accepted people from every social class, from the wealthy young ruler to the poor widow.
Among his disciples was a tax collector working for the Roman government, several fishermen who resented Roman taxation, and a radical trained to fight Rome. Likewise, his female followers were members of vastly different economic classes—from the poorest crowds to the ruling elite. Based on these affiliations and associations alone, Jesus’ followers represented the complete sociopolitical spectrum of the time.
Jesus not only tolerated individuals with different points of view but in addition intentionally sought them out and created a recent community that transcended these differences. Jesus sought to construct a recent community that rose above divides of political affiliation, class, and gender. He invited his followers to work together on something vital—following him, learning from him, imitating him—and learning to like one another.
Still, after Jesus’ ascension, the early church quickly faced difficult questions on how much racial and cultural diversity the church could, or should, tolerate and incorporate. But as they opened the doors to non-Jews, they ultimately discovered the wealthy contributions these Jesus followers could make to the movement.
In fact, there have been a number of differences that might have divided early Christian communities. Take the short book of Philemon, for instance, which explores how a freed slave rejoins fellowship as an equal together with his former slave owner. And we predict our churches have challenges!
Yet too often today, church hunting simply becomes a seek for “our people”—that’s, those that live comparable lifestyles, have similar opinions, and vote the best way we do. And if that’s our approach, we’re missing out.
When we moved to Southern California in 2021, we had the chance to start out fresh and reimagine what church participation could appear like. I used to be hungry for a way of rootedness, a reference to the historic Christian faith that attended to the church calendar and was sensitive to the spiritual formation that happened during gathered worship. We also wanted a church that was near home, preferably inside walking distance. (That actually narrowed things down!)
These various aspects led us to the church we now call home, just three blocks away from our house. It’s a singular congregation with the strong influence of university professors and students, making it a thoughtful and intellectually robust congregation that’s at the identical time remarkably low-key. It has a robust sense of community, with lively groups meeting recurrently, a prayer team available after service, and weekly fellowship over donuts and occasional where friendships can deepen.
I used to be amused and delighted on the primary Sunday after we walked as much as the donut table and saw an indication that read “Ordinary Time” to signal our place within the liturgical calendar. (In case that is recent for you, Ordinary Time is the season of the church calendar that begins after Pentecost and leads as much as Advent.) And when the host welcomed the congregation with a possibility to silently consider our intention as we entered the service, I used to be sold. This was the type of spiritual shepherding and historical rootedness I had been eager for.
Over time, in fact, I’ve learned that my fellow church members and even its leaders sometimes disagree and see things in another way. Some of those differences are simply philosophical or doctrinal, but some can impact our actual practice (or, in my case, who is allowed to practice) and grow to be a source of angst for members who’re personally affected.
Some have asked me why we don’t leave—but such a call isn’t easy. Of the entire list of things that go into selecting a congregation to hitch (location, doctrine, practice, music, preaching, community, values, events, missional fit, and opportunities for service), our current church is the very best match for us.
We are consistently challenged and nurtured in ways we appreciate. We serve in meaningful ways. Leaving can be deeply painful because we love the people and a lot concerning the services. It’s not nearly what we get from the service. It’s also about what we will give. We might find one other church that’s a greater fit in a single area, however it could be lacking in other areas.
We stay because we have now come to love these people. We are convinced that some differences needn’t divide us, and we’re higher off learning tips on how to love each other well amid our disagreements.
Spending time nose to nose and side by side with those that see the world from one other angle is nice for our souls. It shatters the unfaithful and unhelpful illusion that the world is stuffed with individuals who look and think like us. It reminds us that the dominion of God is wider and deeper than the homogeneity of our imaginations. I, for one, still have way more to learn and more to show in my local people of fellow disciples.
Spiritual transformation doesn’t depend solely on what is claimed from the pulpit but on who’s beside us within the pews. As we give shared attention to following Jesus, we’ll grow to be more like him. And as we each draw closer to Jesus, we’ll inevitably draw nearer to at least one one other in our shared understanding and love. In our increasingly divided world, that is the excellent news all of us need!
Carmen Joy Imes is associate professor of Old Testament at Biola University and creator of Bearing God’s Name and Being God’s Image. She’s currently writing her next book, Becoming God’s Family: Why the Church Still Matters.
