Before I begin, I went into my subscriber list and was able to see that about half of you readers have come within the past 4-5 years. This was a helpful reminder for me because I often feel like I’m still writing for the people who were here ten, twelve, fourteen years ago, those from the more conservative spaces I was still in then.
I don’t inhabit those spaces anymore, nor do I read or listen to them. But I also don’t inhabit deeply progressive spaces either. I find the same deficiencies there that I found in deep conservative spaces. I am not very interested in heavy handed doctrinal debates or cultural gotcha moments, nor am I interested in dissecting the leaving or the why of leaving or the ramifications of leaving much either. I decided a few years ago that both spaces were either corrosive or erosive to me. They either corroded my intellectual/spiritual honesty or they eroded what I was trying to build.
The deeply conservative and wildly progressive often have far more in common than they would like to believe about themselves. Both participate in a lack of toleration for not only the other far extreme (which I think is sometimes healthy), but also for anyone who exists in the great swath between them—which 2/3s of Americans do. If you don’t agree exactly with them, you become an enemy to them and their ideals, you are a danger to them and the society they want to have around them, you are to be shut up, shut down, shut out, shunned, and your work is to be boycotted, removed from circulation, or shamed in the public square.
I’m writing this based on the loose belief that you are not either of those extremes, that you instead fall in that 65%ish. Most of you are very comfortable with the gray space that exists between the polar ends of belief in our culture today, less interested in shutting down different voices/perspectives and more in listening to them and learning from them, often so it can help you articulate more of where you are yourself.
That was all a very long preamble in order to say it is into that gray space I am now writing.
Seven or so years ago, Nate and I had a conversation that coincided with my first book contract being signed. The book was signed by my late friend Jennifer Lyell, whose obituary you may have seen in the New York Times recently, and it was signed while we were both still in reformed SBC spaces by a publisher known for conservative views.
While I was writing the book, Nate, who had always leaned left on many social issues (he was egalitarian and mostly-pacifist when we married), determined that he was affirming. What that meant for both of us at the time, we didn’t know.
I mostly avoided exploring a position and continued to give lip service, at least, to the traditionalist, more conservative view. Why? A myriad of reasons, but this was at the height of certain publishers (including mine) removing books out of circulation if the authors even hinted at being affirming. I wasn’t affirming (and spoiler alert, still don’t use that word to describe where I am) and I didn’t want that to happen to my book and frankly, my career at the time, and so I asked Nate if he would consider slowing his roll on this shift. The request was selfishly motivated and although I regret the reasons for my request, I don’t regret the request.
I was watching friend after friend after friend move solidly left on this issue in a very short period of time. For many of my friends it was often seemingly an overnight decision for them. This was in the wake of the 2016 election, when many of us were reeling at the embrace of Donald Trump by the environments and leaders we trusted. Coming from the places we were in, with a high emphasis on biblical literacy, historic traditions, and a doctrine of total depravity, this shift felt not just sudden but scary—just as scary in many ways as the hard shift rightward in the church has felt. It felt like everything that felt sure was suddenly and terribly crumbling down. Why it was scary, I don’t think I could have articulated then. Soon, though, I began seeing not just my friends but also my writing peers articulate their shifts leftward on this, often in three or four piece series much like the one I’m writing now.
I share that because I recognize that in simply telling you about the series I’m about to share, I may become the catalyst for some scary feelings for you. Now I might become the one who you could count on to be A, B, & C—like you—but now you perceive that I’ve scooted out of the realm of what is acceptable, essential, or traditional Christianity to you.
I also share that, though, because I want you to know that this was not an overnight shift, nor was it quite the shift you might be imagining in your mind right now. In fact, I’m not going to tell you where I currently land until the final piece in this series because I hope you’ll stick around and be surprised.
I will say this, though: my mind has been changed.
(Upgrade your subscription to continue reading, as I hope you can understand why I want to keep this behind a paywall.)