When church leaders grieve, there is sometimes a spiritual reality that makes the grief of a pastor or priest slightly distinct from the grief of other leaders. Grief and reality pair together; anytime we find ourselves grieving, we find ourselves responding at multiple levels to what we perceive to be true, as cartoons remind us whenever someone cries over a character thought to be dead, their tears changing to joy when someone proves alright. So anyone’s experience of grief may itself be real even if it doesn’t correspond either to reality or to the usual proportions of navigating this world: senior citizens with Alzheimer’s “sundowners” syndrome may at the end of the day weep at things they only perceive in their minds, quite apart from the physical surroundings of a nursing home. Young children may cry “big tears” over something that, to adults, seems quite a small thing, and yet, to the child, it is enormous; the child, who doesn’t yet know of genocide or extinction.
When we read in Scripture that Christians do not grieve as the world grieves, the point made is that we do not grieve as those do who have no hope. Another ramification is that we do not grieve as the world grieves because in terms of epistemology – how we know – by the power of the Holy Spirit and the grace of Christ, we see differently and know differently and therefore grieve differently; we grieve many of the same things, yet some very different things. The spiritual reality in which we participate is connected to the presence of God and also to our role in the universe we affirm God created. Christians may explore and study the empirical world with joyful glee and curiosity and also express that there is this and. There is more to the world than the tangible.
So in addition to what might be called the “natural grief” that pastors and church leaders encounter, there is the grief that echoes, originates from, returns to, and expresses the heart of the Trinity – a kind of spiritual grief or lament that sees evil, sees the out-of-joint misalignment of the world, sees disordered loves, and responds with sorrow. The liturgy of the church, like bumpers on a bowling alley lane, prevents us from going off-course by any instinct to “grieve” over the evil in our world without also sitting with remorse for the lack of love in our own hearts: “most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors as ourselves. We are truly sorry and we humbly repent.”
So what are some of the “natural” griefs pastors and church leaders experience? They may range from sitting with someone’s loved ones to deliver bad news, to sorrow at moving to a new church, to shepherding a congregation through property destruction from natural disaster, to learning a beloved church member and friend has died suddenly. Many pastors are accustomed to encountering many more funerals and hospital waiting rooms than the average person – yet by and large, these are things that most people would also grieve, whether or not they’re a Christian.
Some of these “natural” griefs are experienced largely in isolation, like moving to a new church, while others are experienced as shared grief, like the loss of a church building to a tornado, or when a congregation mourns a terminal cancer diagnosis for a child. Though Jesus later raised Lazarus from the dead, Jesus saw the mourning and grief over Lazarus’ death, and first wept with those affected by the death. This was a communal, shared grief over the death of a good and beloved man.
When leaders experience spiritual grief or lament, it brings a new – and sometimes draining or demanding – layer to natural grief. When Jesus came near to Jerusalem, what was his response? “And when he drew near and saw the city, he wept over it,saying, “Would that you, even you, had known on this day the things that make for peace! But now they are hidden from your eyes.” (Luke 19:41-42, NRSV)
Unfailingly, the anointing of the Holy Spirit reshapes what and how we grieve, the actions we take in response, and how we take those actions. Unfailingly, whatever our own natural temperaments or cultural upbringing, the Holy Spirit is kind to the gaps in our awareness by gently or not-so-gently revealing what we fail to love, by what we fail to grieve – usually by allowing us to see, if we’re willing, and to grieve, if we’re willing. Unfailingly, the Holy Spirit calls us to see and apprehend and grieve what Jesus Christ grieves, not just what your Grandma grieved, not just what your culture grieves.
There are times natural grief and spiritual grief and lament overlap. There is natural, communal, shared grief over the death of a good and beloved man. There is also spiritual grief and lament over evil, when that man was Rev. Clementa Pinckney, who died while leading a Bible study because an armed White supremacist was determined to follow through on his plan to kill members of a historic Black church. For Rev. Pinckney’s friends and family, the natural grief of loss collided with grief at the past and ongoing active evil of White supremacy. Those who didn’t know him personally were still able to grieve the evil that ended his life. Where did spiritual grief take family members of some of the churchgoers who died at that Bible study? Through their natural grief, their spiritual grief also allowed them to tell a young man who took many innocent lives that they forgave him, that God loves him, but that he needed God’s mercy on his soul for the lives he took. They saw both: both the horrible crater blasted in their families through the loss of their loved ones, and the damage to his own soul that this young man caused when he chose to terrorize and murder others.
Why is it helpful, as a pastor, to ask yourself if you’re experiencing “natural” grief, or spiritual grief or lament, or a combination of both? Because they’re dealt with in different ways. Good therapists, strong support systems, healthy life rhythms, friends in the same vocation, sabbaticals, emotionally healthy discipleship, antidepressants, all these can at times be helpful to anyone grieving and to pastors and church leaders in particular.
Spiritual grief also needs those good foundations in place, yet comes with that earlier and. There is the tangible world, and. Why does the Holy Spirit allow us to see, to perceive and apprehend, to join our mourning to the revealed heart of the Trinity that spills out a fraction of the grief of God at the suffering and evil by, in, and toward humans and creation?
Spiritual grief allows you to pray differently; beyond outer circumstances into the reality with and beyond. Spiritual grief cues you to pay attention, to make room to pay attention, and to practice the hard work of listening and discerning between your own grief or responses or ideas, and God’s. Spiritual grief allows you to see and act differently, when God allows you to come face-to-face with suffering to which you’d previously been oblivious. Spiritual grief drives you back to the Word of God as sustaining, irreplaceable, life-giving, and perspective-setting; truly, we do not grieve as those who have no hope. Spiritual grief is understood by and to a degree also carried by mature people of faith who have a deep life of intercession and deep experience of both the grief and the joy and confidence found in the practices of the life of faith.
Grief of any kind is never comfortable. We would outrun it with busyness, if we could, or hide from it silently as it prowls back and forth, or give voice to it, longing to broadcast our tormented howls daily on a loudspeaker.
Whatever month grief first appears, however long it stays, once a year, the church marks a day where “natural” and spiritual grief or lament overlap. On Ash Wednesday, Christians set aside a day for grief – we grieve mortality; we grieve, perhaps, those we have returned to the earth; and we grieve the decaying effects of evil, and the reach of evil into our world, into even our own hearts. And then, we turn our eyes toward Lent, and the long road to the cross, and the shaking road away from an empty – an empty – a definitively empty tomb, that proclaims the last word, anchoring even spiritual grief in the reality of hope; because both spiritual grief and hope find their origin in the heart of God, who enters our dusty mortality, weeps with those who weep, and sets all things toward the inescapably new.
Thanks to Dr. Pete Bellini for his related insights on the spiritual gift of prophetic intercession.
Elizabeth Glass Turner is Managing Editor of Wesleyan Accent.
Featured image courtesy Kira Porotikova via Unsplash.
From March 10-12 in Grapevine, Texas, Wesleyan Holiness Women Clergy hosted [Her] Story, an online and in-person gathering for women in ministry. The organization described the event as “a conference for women exploring and living out their call to ministry and the ministry leaders who support them. E2022: [Her] Story is a unique opportunity to connect with like-minded women clergy spanning many denominations.”
Over 600 women clergy participated over livestream and in person, representing denominations like the Free Methodist Church, the Church of God (Anderson IN), The Wesleyan Church, the Church of the Nazarene, and others. Speakers included Rev. Dr. Carron Odokara, Rev. Jo Saxton, Rev. Dr. Carolyn Moore, Rev. Dr. Colleen Derr, Rev. Dr. Dee Stokes, Rev. Christine Youn Hung, and many more. Ms. Almarie Rodriguez was the conference Spanish translator.
Wesleyan Accent Managing Editor Elizabeth Glass Turner spoke with contributor and WHWC board member Rev. Dr. Priscilla Hammond about Wesleyan Holiness Women Clergy and the array of resources it provides.
Plenary sessions and select workshop sessions are available to watch free of charge on YouTube; visit the [Her] Story conference playlist here.
Wesleyan Accent:When was Wesleyan Holiness Women Clergy established?
Dr. Priscilla Hammond: The first conference was held in 1994, but Dr. Susie Stanley had been coordinating resources through denominations beginning in 1989. WHWC was first incorporated as a 501c3 in 1997.
WA:What are the main activities and goals of Wesleyan Holiness Women Clergy?
PH: We envision God’s Kingdom reality where the biblical foundations of gender equality are fully lived out across the Church as women and men lead together, following their holy calling. We produce a biennial conference for women clergy, ministerial students, and Wesleyan holiness women serving as chaplains or ministers in the marketplace, and we provide resources and encouragement to those women year-round.
WA:What denominations are represented in Wesleyan Holiness Women Clergy?
PH: There are four sponsoring denominations: Church of the Nazarene, Church of God (Anderson, IN), the Free Methodist Church, and The Wesleyan Church. These denominations contribute annually to the operation of the organization and each appoints a representative to the WHWC Board for a four-year term.
Women from other egalitarian denominations or who are not affiliated with a denomination are welcome at our events and invited to explore our resources. We want to equip all called women for ministry!
WA:Has Wesleyan Holiness Women Clergy morphed or focused direction over the years?
PH: The vision has not changed significantly in the eighteen years since the first conference. We endeavor to engage, empower, and equip women to lead in the Church. We do that through annual conferences, and have done it through newsletters, booklets, blogs, a book (Faith and Gender Equity: Lesson Plans Across the College Curriculum, 2007), a devotional book, and social media.
However, we are energized in these days to connect women even more, across more denominations and platforms. We don’t want to just host a “reunion” every two years. We are always seeking ways to promote better pathways for the development and advocacy of women clergy.
WA:Over the years has awareness grown of some of the rich historical heritage of women in ministry in these denominations?
PH: Reviewing our archived articles, we have found many articles written about women in ministry in the past and have posted some of them at this link. We publish a blog that digs into history as well.
We want the Church, women and men, to be aware of the ongoing presence of women in ministry throughout the history of the Church (not just in our own denominations). At our [Her] Story conference, we shared four monologues that highlighted the history of women in ministry (Laura Smith Haviland, Rachel Bradley, Rosa Lee, and our WHWC founder, Susie Stanley).
We created an interactive timeline with these four women on it and asked the ladies at the conference to post themselves on the timeline. At conferences and through resources, we emphasize that we are part of a long line of leaders. It is wonderful to see college students contemplating their place on the timeline.
WA:Are there resources WHWC produces or shares?
PH: In 2021, the Wesleyan Publishing House asked if we could develop a devotional book. Each WHWC denominational representative nominated a list of potential authors. I contacted them and cast the vision for the project. In the end, 25 weeks of devotional entries were created and contributed, and This Holy Calling was the result. The final page of This Holy Calling is entitled “Your Called Voice” to let readers know they have something to add to this ongoing story of women in ministry leadership. (We invite women clergy who would like to submit proposed contributions to future volumes to contact phammond (at) swu (dot) edu.)
WHWC also hosts a blog and shares content through our Facebook and Instagram pages and shares videos from our conferences on YouTube. We encourage researchers who are writing on women in ministry to let us know so we can build a list of current, available titles.
We are a board of volunteers who make up our conference planning committee and communications team, so we depend on our sponsoring denominations and people who believe in our work to contribute to our work. This includes the contribution of intellectual resources. We are committed to providing the full story of women in ministry and can do that when others contribute and share resources with us.
Dr. Brian Russell is the author of Centering Prayer: Sitting Quietly in God’s Presence CanChange Your Life, a uniquely rich resource for spiritual formation that draws on meaningful traditions of the church across centuries. For those sensing the need for fresh practices to widen or deepen their prayer habits, Centering Prayer beckons with wisdom that outlasts stale New Year’s resolutions. As Lent begins to appear on the horizon, Centering Prayer is poised to enliven the pilgrimage to Easter with practical, theologically nuanced guidance.
Recently Wesleyan Accent delved into the topic of centering prayer with Dr. Russell, who is Professor of Biblical Studies at Asbury Theological Seminary.
Wesleyan Accent:At times, folks who are most familiar with Christianity as it is practiced in North American Protestant churches are surprised when they encounter something that seems new but is actually shared ancient tradition. Or people can spend thirty years active in a local church and still feel uncertain about how to pray privately. How would you describe contemplative prayer to them? And how would you describe centering prayer as part of that tradition?
Brian Russell: I can include myself in your example. I grew up in the church. I was forty-two years old (and thirty-six years into my Christian experience) before I learned about the contemplative tradition and began to practice centering prayer.
I think it is critical to emphasize that contemplative practices in no way replace traditional forms of prayer or the other means of grace that help us to grow in our relationship with God. I still pray with my own words or with printed prayers from Scripture and modern worship resources. The foundation for centering prayer is the faith delivered to the saints as witnessed in Scripture and embraced by believing communities.
Contemplative prayer is a form of prayer that focuses on being with God rather than using words to talk to God or make petitions of God or even to listen for God. Contemplative prayer is practiced in silence. We simply sit in silence apart from our own thoughts, desires, and concerns. Our intention is to experience God’s presence and love. In his book The Deeper Journey: The Spirituality of Discovering Your True Self, Robert Mulholland, Jr. defined contemplation as, “the practice of stilling ourselves before God, moving ever deeper into the core of our being and simply offering ourselves to God in totally vulnerable love.” (p. 97)
Centering prayer is a method for stilling ourselves for the potential of a deeper encounter with God through contemplation. God’s presence is always a gift; centering prayer is not a way of manipulating an encounter with God’s love. It is simply prayer done in silence without words.
But as soon as we sit in silence, we discover that our minds remain active and caught in continual thought loops. Silence is literally deafening because of our mental chatter. Centering prayer as a technique teaches a way to surrender our thoughts as we become aware of them. The goal of this surrender is the opening of ourselves to experiencing God as God beyond our thoughts.
How do we practice centering prayer? It’s simple to describe, but it takes patience and practice. Here are the basic instructions:
Select a prayer word that you can use to recenter whenever you become aware of your thoughts. I recommend that we use “Jesus” as the prayer word as it is Jesus before whom we are sitting in silence. However, others find words such as “love,” “surrender,” “Father,” and “Spirit” among others to be powerful.
Find a quiet place where you can sit comfortably for the duration of your prayer time.
You can practice centering prayer any time of day. I typically spend twenty minutes in centering prayer as soon as I finish my first cup of coffee in the morning. My wife Astrid and I sit together as a way of beginning our day.
Set a timer. I typically practice centering prayer in twenty-minute blocks. Select whatever time period you are comfortable with. I started with short three to five minute sessions and slowly worked up to twenty minutes.
Close your eyes and simply sit in silence. Whenever you become aware of a thought, feeling or image, simply say “Jesus” (or whatever word you chose) in your mind as a means of surrendering the thought. The goal is not mindlessness. It is not possible to shut off the mind. However, you will begin to experience short “gaps” in the endless stream of thoughts. It will be in these gaps where you may experience God’s presence in new ways. I say may because we cannot control God. We simply sit in silence with the intention to be open to God’s gift of contemplation.
At the end of the centering prayer session, relax for a few moments. I find it helpful to offer prayers of gratitude and then pray the Lord’s Prayer or one of my own.
WA:A while back I heard a great interview on the “economy of attention,” about how much your attention, my attention, is worth to companies. When there’s so much noise, when notification pings compete for our attention, when screens dominate our days, “centering prayer” seems exceptionally counter-cultural – and also seems like a way to quiet sensory bombardment. How does centering prayer help remind you you’re a human, not just a commodity?
BR: The practice of centering prayer is about being. There is no doing involved. Centering prayer teaches us to surrender our attention. We embrace the intention of sitting in silence in order to be with God. When our practice becomes habitual, we slowly become even more aware of the chatter in our minds and all of the noise in the world. But there will be a key difference: the disciplines of “resist no thought, retain no thought, react to no thought, and gently return to Jesus with our sacred word” go with us into the world.
Overtime, we begin to be mindful and present even during the busy-ness of our lives. The same discipline of learning to surrender thoughts to God in silence will carry over to how you listen to a colleague, family member, or friend who needs your attention; how you respond to the inevitable interruptions of life; how you react to conflict; and how you focus on your work. You will slowly find that you notice small details and experience the world in richer colors. Others will likely observe a more calming presence and availability in you.
In terms of the noise of our world, I’ve found that the more I practice centering prayer the more conscious I am of the subtle ways that our world robs us of our most precious gift to God and others: our time and our attention.
WA:Early in the book, describing the season in which you discovered the deep value of centering prayer, you comment that during your personal dark night of the soul, “my ability to think clearly had departed.”
What a word to so many people right now who are in shellshock from the past couple of years: nurses, doctors, pastors, teachers, those who are drowning in grief from the loss of loved ones. Alongside mental health tools like trauma-informed therapy and medication, what in particular might people find in centering prayer when they feel fractured or numb or horrified in their own dark nights of the soul?
BR: For me, centering prayer allowed me to find freedom from a mind that would not shut off. At the darkest parts of my season of the “dark night of the soul,” I didn’t need more information or mental stimulation. I ruminated non-stop on negative thoughts and worst-case scenarios. I was inconsolable.
But I found silence or, better put, silence found me, and in the silence I rediscovered the God who created me and who loved me unconditionally. Experiencing God’s unabashed loved for me when I felt at my lowest was transformational. God’s love cut through the noise. While I still experience times of incessant worry and anxiety, I gained an awareness of the excess and often negative chatter in my mind. In these moments, I sometimes encountered God’s loving presence directly; beyond words. I think that centering prayer can serve as a type of “Divine therapy,” as Fr. Thomas Keating described it. It does not substitute for human-to-human therapy or medication, but I believe it can work in tandem to increase their effectiveness. I’ve personally received tremendous benefits from trauma-informed therapy. In my case, I am certain that my long-term commitment to silent meditative prayer and deep intentional journaling greatly enhanced the results of therapy, as the Divine Healer had already broken up the soil of both the conscious and unconscious wounds that I carried.
WA:You mention in one place that in centering prayer, “surrendering our thoughts to God is our sole contribution.” I could imagine that statement causing some squirming; Americans so often take pride in our ability to put our best foot forward or feel that somehow we’ve paid our own way. We’re not always gracious recipients, preferring to be the ones building or giving. What do you think Christians need to learn or re-learn about our own poverty?
BR: Centering prayer allows us to see ourselves as God sees us. But to experience this level of awareness requires that we surrender even our thoughts (good or bad) to the God who loves us.
There are two deep and helpful truths that exist in a sort of paradox. These truths are expressed in the form of two prayers that I say daily. The first is the Jesus Prayer. It has ancient roots in the early church: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me a sinner. Amen.” The second is a modern prayer composed by Macrina Wiederkehr, a Benedictine monastic: “O God, help me believe the truth about myself no matter how beautiful it is. Amen.” I learned of this latter prayer from Maxie Dunnam.
The Jesus Prayer reminds us of our core lostness and ongoing necessity of God’s grace and mercy. There is no way to earn grace and mercy. We come before God empty-handed, with a posture of surrender.
But we also need to understand that God breathed life and abundance in each of us too. Wiederkehr’s prayer opens us up to the beauty and potential of a life surrendered to God in which we walk moment-by-moment in grace as persons created in God’s image. We are free to embrace our gifts and talents without the fear, guilt and shame that tends to either paralyze us and make us play small or drive us to earn or prove our “enoughness.”
WA:Traditionally, there’s this beautiful pattern of retreat and engagement, solitude and companionship, that push and pull spiritual formation like the coming and going of the tide. In centering prayer, when you brave silence with God and sit with what you find there, how does that shape the way you then go out and engage with others?
BR: One of my favorite quotes that I live by is from my mentor Alex McManus. He taught me: “The Gospel comes to us on its way to someone else.” The prayer of silence allows you to see yourself as God sees you. We discover both our need for grace as well as the beauty and potential within us. When we experience the gaze of God on our souls and discover God’s deep love for us as his sons and daughters, we begin to see others in the same light. In fact, encountering God in the silence and accepting the reality that we’ve personally been unconditionally loved and accepted transforms the way we see others. We are freed to love others as God has loved us. My mentor and former colleague Bob Tuttle taught me this: “Show up, pay attention; God has way more invested in our ministry than we do.”
So instead of silence and solitude being a practice that excludes mission, it is one that empowers engagement with the world. What I’ve experienced must be shared. Moreover, as God has changed me through the sanctifying work that occurs during centering prayer, I am free of more of my own “junk” that previously marred my witness and ability to serve as the hands, feet, and mouthpiece of God’s abundant and holy love.
Brian D. Russell, Ph.D., is Professor of Biblical Studies at Asbury Theological Seminary. Learn more about his role as Coach for Pastors and Spiritually-minded Leaders by visiting www.brianrussellphd.com.
Featured image courtesy Fragile James via Unsplash.
Note from the Editor: The sudden news of Dr. William Abraham’s death sent Methodists around the globe reeling. Immediately, a flood a tributes began to pour forth in a kind of spontaneous online wake. Before Covid, wakes were still common in Ireland and also in Northern Ireland, Billy Abraham’s childhood home. In the remembrances that follow, four unique voices give tribute to the well-known scholar, preacher, and writer, joining the friends and colleagues gathering digitally who have instinctively touched on the loudest parts of traditional wakes – raucous laughter, robbed lament.
Dr. Billy Abraham
That is one theme that threads through stories, memories, hilarity, and loss – the sense of being robbed. Robbed of the opportunity to say goodbye; robbed of the opportunity to clear the air; robbed of the opportunity to say thank you. Robust affirmation of the resurrection of the dead does not lessen the shock of sudden loss, does not blunt that very human sense that something dear was stolen.
Like C.S. Lewis, Billy Abraham was a son of Northern Ireland who went on to study at Oxford. The same year that Billy “was selected to matriculate into Portora Royal School in his hometown,” 1955, Basil Mitchell succeeded C.S. Lewis as President of the Oxford Socratic Club. Around twenty years later, Billy began his doctoral work on philosophical theology at Oxford under the direction of Basil Mitchell. And if anything characterized the primary currents in which Abraham’s thinking sailed, it was the imperative that drove that famously lively club – to “follow the argument wherever it leads.” This intellectual habit requires confidence in truth and reason, yet it also requires discipline to pursue unflinchingly. If anything else characterized the strongest currents of Abraham’s intellectual navigation, it was the ability to engage in – and enjoy – rowdy debate with collegiality.
Lewis knew the importance of these disciplines in general and for people of faith in particular, famously commenting, “In any fairly large and talkative community such as a university there is always the danger that those who think alike should gravitate together into coteries where they will henceforth encounter opposition only in the emasculated form rumour that the outsiders say thus and thus. The absent are easily refuted, complacent dogmatism thrives, and differences of opinion are embittered by group hostility. Each group hears not the best, but the worst, that the other groups can say. In the Socratic all this was changed. Here a man could get the case for Christianity without all the paraphernalia of pietism and the case against it without the irrelevant sansculottisme of our common anti-God weeklies. At the very least we helped to civilize one another.”
It is difficult to conceive of a more timely commentary for those who live in the United States, and it is worth noting that Lewis made this observation on the nature of community and coterie long before social media or the internet could easily be blamed. The Christian who argues with civility should not be an endangered species. And disagreement isn’t inherently uncivil.
Where Americans sometimes found themselves surprised by Abraham was often in this very sphere. Those who knew him to be orthodox were sometimes surprised by his intellectual freedom – caught off-guard when his quickly lilting accent slipped in a reference to the Holy Spirit as “she,” and perhaps unaware of the ancient tradition he was following. Those who knew him to prize the message of holiness were sometimes surprised when they expected a teetotaler and found a bottle of red wine. Those who knew of his theology – not only anthropology but also epistemology – were surprised when they expected hostility and were met with a friendly offer to get dinner.
There is rich freedom in intellectual honesty – in following the argument wherever it leads; and there is rewarding freedom in the ability to engage in rowdy debate with good-natured collegiality that isn’t precious with its participation. Any who are tempted to mine Abraham for the convenience or prestige of his doctrinal alignment without subjecting themselves to those same rigorous intellectual habits will find it puzzling as to why the relative scope of influence varies considerably. He did not require the soothing, damning chorus of an echo chamber, nor did he buckle to the fear that practicing common decency would be perceived as liberal drift.
If the Church in North America needs the movement of the Holy Spirit, it also needs the fruits of the Spirit as they are lived out in the intellectual life: love of the truth, joy in studying it and in the existence of friends and opponents alike, peace that reason well-employed is a gift from God, patience in crafting thoughts carefully and in giving others space to change their minds, kindness toward those who don’t fight fair or who have been mocked by your side, goodness in loving the ethical working out of belief, faithfulness to Christ over base red meat or crowd, gentleness with whomever has less advantage than you do, and self-control in speech, in loves, in choices, and in action.
When those grieving his loss feel robbed, it is in part because he influenced so many scholars, members of the clergy, and laity (he was a steadfast Sunday school teacher, not the least of his contributions to the Church) on a very personal level at vulnerable points in their professional or spiritual lives. But those grieving his loss feel robbed in part because in some way, from some angle, he showed us how to be better. Better thinkers, better colleagues, better friends, better opponents, better Christians.
As I told a friend, “he made me want to be better without ever making me feel small.”
My friend Maxie Dunnam, Founding Editor of Wesleyan Accent, is mourning the loss of his close friend. In the following, we share reflections on the contributions and character of Billy Abraham from a member of the clergy and from academics; from those who generally shared his perspectives, and importantly from one mourning his loss who sometimes disagreed with him profoundly. It would be a disservice to the scope of his influence to overlook those friendships characterized by mutual respect and genuine affection that also stood in the difficult tension of that old phrase, “the loyal opposition.”
In raucous laughter and robbed lament, we honor our feisty departed friend.
Elizabeth Glass Turner, Managing Editor
Dr. Abraham’s funeral is scheduled for October 30, 2021, in Dallas. It will be livestreamed; find more information here.
Dr. Joy Moore, VP for Academic Affairs & Academic Dean; Professor of Biblical Preaching, Luther Seminary
I am grateful to join the chorus of witnesses sharing individual expressions of how our lives were among the many influenced by one. I am embarrassed to say my first recognition of “exactly” who William Abraham was came years after I had publicly stolen a story from him. (No, this is not a preacher’s prerogative; and in all honesty, I had no idea the source of the illustration was sitting in the audience as I used his metaphor to underscore my point!)
When I finally did connect the dots, it provided an underscore to the kind of person Billy was: he never mentioned my faux pas. Instead, Billy shared his wisdom and perspective, providing me guidance as I made personal and professional decisions that would shape how I served the church and the academy. I will forever be grateful this author became a real person and friend in my life! Billy once introduced me before I spoke at a gathering with an honest evaluation of my style and substance that conveyed his knowledge of me was more than a superficial greeting at conferences or reading of my resume (yes, I shamelessly acknowledge that, because who wouldn’t want to say Billy Abraham introduced them publicly?).
I met Billy shortly after I began my doctoral work. His engagement with my then-incipient ideas provided soil that nurtured those seedling thoughts. Over the years of many stimulating conversations, Billy’s challenge, conviction, confession, and collegiality bore witness to truth-telling, tenacity, testimony, and tenderness that, for me, embodied a Wesleyan witness. As enchanting it was to hear theology expressed with an Irish twang (he did land in Texas), Billy captivated our imaginations with a confessional-critical interrogation of institutional and individual claims to a Wesleyan Christian practice that calls for a biblical imagination, theological integrity, and personal piety that boldly proclaims the faith in the Triune God.
As we pause together to grieve our loss and celebrate the gift of Billy’s presence in our lives, may each of us be challenged to live our lives with the integrity we experienced with Billy: lifting others to find their place at the table; examining, interrogating, and calling out claims of what is truth; and pointing always and only to Jesus.
Dr. Jerry Walls, Professor of Philosophy; Scholar-in-Residence, Houston Baptist University
Billy Abraham was trained in analytic philosophy at Oxford. More recently, he was recognized as one of the senior spokesmen for “analytic theology,” a movement that applies the techniques of analytic philosophy to the discipline of theology. The aim of analytic theology is to promote rigor and clarity of argument in the discipline. This emphasis is apparent in a number of Billy’s books, but I will highlight two examples.
First is his volume from several years ago entitled Canon and Criterion in Christian Theology: From the Fathers to Feminism (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998). The very title of this hefty volume signals the important distinction that Billy wanted to clarify and defend, namely, a distinction between recognized canonical lists and epistemic criteria. A clear sense of this distinction is crucial to the argument, and Abraham lays it out for us at the very outset and reiterates it throughout his work. An ecclesial canon is essentially a means of grace, whereas an epistemic norm is essentially a criterion of rationality, justification, and knowledge.
To accent this distinction, Billy takes pains to remind us of the complex canonical heritage of the Church. For Protestants, the notion is associated almost exclusively with the canon of Scripture, but as Billy points out, there are several other kinds of canonical tradition deserving of recognition. These include baptismal and Eucharistic rites, liturgical traditions, iconographic traditions, lists of saints and teachers designated as fathers and mothers of the Church, and finally, the episcopacy as a means of supervision.
As Billy notes, however, there is considerable ambiguity surrounding the very meaning of canon. At one level, the word simply designates a list of books or other material. However, it can also signify some sort of standard which is used to measure and judge various doctrines, practices, and the like. This latter understanding of canon obviously has epistemic connotations and significance absent from the more modest notion of a list. Not surprisingly, Billy prefers the more modest notion and believes it better preserves the intended function of canonical material as means of grace which initiate us into the life of God and transform us morally and spiritually.
It is worth noting that the “Wesleyan quadrilateral” is an interesting instance of this very confusion between canonical lists and epistemic criteria. Whereas Scripture and tradition represent canonical lists, reason and experience are classic instances of epistemic norms.
The second example I will cite is his recently published four volume work entitled Divine Agency and Divine Action (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017-2021). Billy began working on this project over ten years ago, when he and I were both fellows in the Center for Philosophy of Religion at the University of Notre Dame. Billy and I shared an apartment that year, which was a delight in itself. Billy came to Notre Dame with a more modest plan, as he notes in the acknowledgments of the recently published fourth volume: “I had originally planned to write but one volume; within a month of my arrival at the university of Notre Dame it had sprouted into four.” Billy never hesitated to explore any relevant issues that arose in the course of his research, and it was a delight to watch him as he realized he had to put aside his original plan to write one volume and instead to produce four!
While philosophical issues frame the entire four-volume set, they are particularly emphasized in the first volume entitled “Exploring and Evaluating the Debate.” Billy notes there that much of the talk about divine action in contemporary theology is vague and elusive, hardly suited to do justice to the extraordinary claims of traditional Christianity. In contrast to all of this, he forthrightly defends a robust account of divine action that allows us to affirm unequivocally that Christ was born of a virgin, was raised from the dead, and will come again.
It is worth emphasizing that Billy wrote with grace, elegance, and winsome humor. Many of his books are accessible to thoughtful lay readers who could read them with great profit.
Rev. Dana Coker, Senior Pastor, First UMC Bonham, Bonham Texas
Billy Abraham is often misunderstood by people that don’t know him well. I also think he contributes to this misunderstanding. Part of the way he captured and kept our attention was by saying things in a creatively dramatic fashion. It was often hilarious if you happened to agree with him and anger inciting if you didn’t. I think, for Billy, it was worth it to make people mad because it frequently led to great debate and teaching opportunities. However, if this is the only side of Billy Abraham you knew (especially if you had lots of disagreements with him), well then, you just didn’t know Billy.
He was kind and attentive. Billy always looked me in the eye and was not only preceptive enough to notice if I seemed off, he would take the time to inquire and pray for me.
He was patient and generous. Many of the conversations that literally helped shape who I am, only happened because he was generous with his time. He made me feel welcome to come talk about whatever was on my mind in his office…or at his second office, La Madeleine.
He was a master at seeing potential and drawing it out. He believed in me before I did, and he seemed so happy to watch me find my theological footing.
His curiosity created an openness in him, but I only perceived his openness when he felt he was only among friends. After class one day, I told him he was wrong about something he said in class about a group of people, and miraculously I was briefly able to out debate the great debater. In amused frustration at his now grinning friend, he threw an eraser at me as I was walking out the door triumphantly. I few hours later, he poked his head into the room where I always studied and said, “You were right. I repent.”
In recent years, many things that he wrote and said publicly have been hurtful to me. Though Billy has said otherwise, there are people on both sides of the Methodist divide for whom scripture and the creeds are the backbone of their faith. He has too frequently compared the very best version of his side of the divide with the very worst version of the other side. Honesty escapes you, if you don’t see both misbehavior and great integrity and faithfulness on both sides.
I was upset with him. I was mulling over how I would start the conversation with him. I’m sure it would have been an extra lively debate. In fact, there might have been some tears, at least on my part, but I have no doubt it would have been a loving exchange.
Rest in peace, my friend! You have blessed my life and ministry, and I will forever be grateful!
Dr. Jackson Lashier, Associate Professor of Religion; Chair, Social Science Division, Southwestern College
The news of the recent death of William J. (Billy) Abraham affected me deeply. I have so appreciated reading many of the tributes to his life written by his former students and colleagues; he was certainly an extraordinary man. Unlike many of my friends in the Methodist world, I did not know Dr. Abraham personally, so my sense of loss is less personal though still profound. His impact on my life, as for numerous other professors, theologians, and pastors, came through his theological work.
I read Canon and Criterion in Christian Theology, his most well-known book, in a systematic theology class in my first year at seminary. At the time, I was a sola scriptura Protestant Christian who thought that church history skipped from the Apostle Paul to Martin Luther and that “canon” was a weapon used in early American wars. I used scripture as little more than a justification for my particular beliefs and figured the purpose of this theology class was simply to strengthen those justifications. I was, therefore, a little skeptical when first engaging this work, not least of all for its comprehensive argument and sheer length.
But Dr. Abraham’s winsome way, no less present in his writing than in his speech, gradually won a hearing and, perhaps providentially, Canon and Criterion toppled all of my assumptions coming into that class and more generally seminary. Through reading this book—under the skillful and patient guidance of my professor, Dr. Chuck Gutenson, himself a student of Dr. Abraham’s—I came to see how impoverished my understanding of scripture and the theological disciplines were. Scripture was not simply a justification of a set of beliefs, Dr. Abraham argues, but a “means of grace” given to us by God “to initiate us into the divine life” (53). What an infinitely more beautiful and compelling image of the Holy Scriptures!
Moreover, Dr. Abraham showed me that scripture was not the only means of grace so given by God, but rather, the canonical tradition of the Church included a whole host of means, including the sacraments, creeds, iconography, saints and church fathers and mothers, and the like. Not only is it appropriate to utilize these means as Protestants, it is necessary if we are to become the disciples God calls us to be. After I finished reading the book, I wanted to know what these other means of grace were and I wanted to read scripture like Billy Abraham did.
I’ve come to realize that Canon and Criterion shifted my whole perspective not just on the purpose of scripture and the other canonical materials but also on theological education. It opened me up to the formative practices of heart and mind on offer at seminary. It helped me to realize that I wasn’t in seminary simply to gain some more good arguments for my particular brand of Christianity or even to gain a better understanding of the scriptural foundations of my beliefs and practices. Rather, I was in seminary to be formed as a disciple of Christ, to be further initiated into the life of God. So too did my understanding of the role of a pastor change, from a person who makes arguments and reflections on scripture to a person who, using the canonical materials, helps initiate others into the life of God.
Finally, Dr. Abraham’s tantalizing introduction to these canonical materials, what he calls a “grand symphony…which leads ineluctably into the unfathomable, unspeakable mystery of the living God” (55), set me on a course of study that changed my vocation. It took me into a study of early Church history, the formation of the creeds, and the lives of the saints, a course of study I am pursuing to this day as a professor and writer. Now I want to teach and write like Billy Abraham, though I harbor few allusions that this is the case. From what I have read and continue to read of his, and from what I know from friends who took his classes, Dr. Abraham stood alone.
Precisely because the Church’s canonical tradition is a grand symphony of harmonious parts, Dr. Abraham suggests that it is never fully closed. Rather, he writes, “new canonical materials and practices can be developed to enrich the life of faith so long as they fit naturally and appropriately with the canonical tradition already in place” (55). If this is true, certainly Dr. Abraham’s person and work now passes into the grand symphony; his work has so clearly served as a means of grace in my own life and in the lives of countless others. Well done, good and faithful servant.
Featured image of Queen’s University, Belfast, courtesy K. Mitch Hodge via Unsplash.
We’re pleased to share this recorded conversation created as a resource from The Wesleyan Church Department of Education and Clergy Development. Although this was created in the spring of 2020, the topics remain pressingly relevant for pastors. The discussion ranges over concerns including grief, being tired, leadership, fight-or-flight responses, loss, anxiety, and identity.
Click play below, and scroll further for excerpts from this discussion.
As Dr. Toddy Holeman elaborates, “We’ve all had losses as a result of being at home, closure of gatherings. If you think about the losses, it’s natural for us to feel this unusual, unexpected sense of sadness and loss, lamenting what we don’t have. That’s a grief that everybody experiences, just put the adjective in front that describes your context.
I read an article recently on ambiguous loss. A death is a clear loss. This is ambiguous loss. It leaves us feeling unsettled, off-kilter. The article used the words ‘uncanny loss;’ when no cars are out, it’s a weird sense. It leads to anxiety. I’m sure that’s part of what all of us are feeling – the unknown future. Will we go back to business as usual – assuming there’s a usual? A result of this bumping up of the known against the unknown – a lot of us will feel fog-brained, foggy, carrying around with us a constant sense of alarm. It’s a combination of, ‘I don’t know what to think, I’m having a hard time making decisions, I’m on edge.’”
Later, she observes, “Part of our problem is our anxiety is a future-oriented feeling – projecting ourselves into a future we have no control over. The best way to go through those uncomfortable feelings is to go through them. Recognize they’re temporary. They ebb and flow. Let them come in. You might cry – welcome to the human race! Experience it in that moment, recognize what’s going on, and treat yourself with the lovingkindness God offers to you – we don’t serve a God who’s shaking his finger at us. Keep your eyes open: God is on the move. Whenever there is major world disruption, God is on the move. Have open ears and eyes to catch up to where God has already gone before us.”
Featured image courtesy Chris Montgomery via Unsplash.
This summer, Dr. Maxie Dunnam released a new devotional resource he developed while at home during the initial wave of coronavirus shutdowns. Saints Alive! 30 Days of Pilgrimage with the Saintsis a rich, month-long set of readings; daily reflections aren’t just inspired by those who have come before; they have the tone of being in dialogue with these spiritual giants. Dunnam brings his own insights into conversation with names both familiar and unfamiliar: writers like William Law, Thomas à Kempis, Francis de Sales, Evelyn Underhill, John Wesley, and Bernard of Clairvaux. Decades ago, Upper Room Ministries published a collection of small booklets under the title Living Selections from the Great Devotional Classics – what Dunnam continues to refer to as his “box of saints,” a set of writings that has shaped his spiritual life over the years.
What becomes abundantly clear throughout this book is the ongoing need for timeless insight when the present feels urgent. The more pressing current events become, the more pressing the need to drill down into the very core of the gathered wisdom of the saints of the Church. When a plague surges and wildfires burn and levees do not hold, we need the voices of Christians who knew plague and burning and flood. What feels like uncharted territory for many leaders is not wholly uncharted in the life of the Church. Thankfully, as the rhythm of life together was profoundly disrupted, Dunnam reached for those who know how to sink into life in Christ, however near calamity strikes.
Recently, Maxie answered a few questions about his “box of saints” and the timeliness of their wisdom today.
Wesleyan Accent: In the introduction, you describe having what you think of as your “box of saints” – a set of booklets featuring spiritual writings from Christians across centuries. What do you think it is that makes their insight so enduring, across time and continents and language?
Maxie Dunnam: First of all, the issues they dealt with. They took our daily life seriously and dealt with everyday issues that are common to us: pride, envy, jealousy, selfishness, loneliness, relationships, illness, death and on and on. They also dealt with the issues that trouble us if we are serious about living the faith: the necessity of discipline, worship, prayer, a meaningful devotional life, silence, living with Scripture, mutual faith sharing, companionship, confession.
WA:You invite readers to spend thirty days on soul pilgrimage with you as you engage with these profound Christian voices. During periods of crisis like we’ve experienced the past couple of years, you turn toward the “communion of saints,” the Body of Christ across time. How can remembering our fellowship in this wide span of the Church help give perspective in the middle of pandemic, wildfires, injustice, war, and hurricanes?
MD: The big dynamic is the communion of saints. I experience a wonderful mystery when I sit and reflect with these persons. I may or may not know the circumstances of their lives, but their thoughts and words give me a kind of oneness with them. The fact that others have valued their thoughts and words enough to preserve them through the centuries tells me that I need to pay attention to what they have to say. Our needs, suffering, questions, and problems make us one in our humanity; our faith makes us one in hope and Kingdom certainty.
WA:I was surprised to encounter a few writers I’d barely heard of, if at all. Sometimes the scope of spiritual insight from those who came before us around the world is just mind-boggling. Of those you interact with in these daily devotionals, is there one you most wish you could sit and talk with for an afternoon? (in addition to John Wesley, of course!)
MD: I would like to spend an afternoon with Saint Francis and Bonhoeffer. I am so unlike both. They both came from wealth and material privilege, which is foreign to me. Francis gave up his wealth, but Bonhoeffer never did. I’d like to talk about that. Both were passionate in their expression of the Gospel; I feel I am likewise. It would great, leading them to share with each other about how and why their passion was expressed. If I had to choose a time alone with one or the other, I would choose Francis, to talk about how I can be in but not of the world.
Saints Alive! 30 Days of Pilgrimage with the Saints works well both for personal use as well as small group or band reading discussion. It is available in both print and Kindle format by clicking here.
Dr.Aaron Perry: A menudo, el malestar Wesleyano con el Calvinismo se centra en la doble predestinación sin considerar que en realidad hay mucho más en el Calvinismo. Escuché al profesor Mouw hablar sobre la santidad y el pensamiento Wesleyano en una reunión de estudiantes graduados en Indianápolis en 2014. La visión del profesor Mouw en términos de teología política claramente ayudan a formar los valores Wesleyanos y la eficacia en la misión y, como resultado, el liderazgo. Encuentro este artículo único en su apreciación útil y desafío de las formas de avivamiento y cómo puede ser tanto una ayuda y un obstáculo para los líderes. Sin embargo, el Dr. Mouw aprecia claramente la teología de un corazón cálido y cómo la transformación personal es vital para la efectividad del líder.
WA: ¿Qué te inspiró a recopilar pensamientos particularmente sobre el liderazgo al estilo Wesleyano, en lugar de escribir un libro sobre liderazgo y Wesleyanismo? ¿Por qué una colección? ¿Por qué liderazgo?
AP: Me estaba preparando para los exámenes integrales de mi doctorado en Liderazgo Organizacional. Imaginé una colección como la mejor manera de obtener lo que necesitaba para la preparación que estaba haciendo: ¡hacer que otros escribieran sobre sus intereses y fortalezas mientras yo estudiaba! Cuando las personas escriben sobre sus fortalezas e intereses, a menudo también utilizan su propia experiencia. Durante mi trabajo de doctorado, enseñé a estudiantes ministeriales adultos. Me encontré con estudiantes brillantes, enfocados y motivados, pero que estaban preocupados por la educación formal. Vi una oportunidad de combinar trabajos académicos que involucrarían a una variedad de lectores. Queríamos un libro que ayudara a los practicantes a pensar y a los pensadores a practicar.
WA: ¿Cómo describiría el liderazgo de John Wesley? ¿Cómo describiría el impacto de su teología en la práctica del liderazgo?
AP: John Wesley modeló una conexión profunda entre la práctica y la reflexión. Uno no puede ser Wesleyano y permanecer inactivo frente al quebrantamiento del mundo. El liderazgo de John Wesley fue intensamente práctico, destinado a hacer diferencias en la vida de la gente común. Al mismo tiempo, el liderazgo de Wesley condujo a una fortaleza a largo plazo a través de las bandas, clases, y sociedades. La fe de Wesley en “todo el evangelio para todo el mundo” tuvo un impacto profundo en la amplitud del potencial de liderazgo que vio en una variedad de personas.
WA: El libro incluye secciones sobre “El Liderazgo Wesleyano en el Mundo Posmoderno,” “Reflexiones Bíblicas y Teológicas,” “Perspectivas Históricas,” “Teoría y Principios del Liderazgo,” y “Liderazgo en el Ministerio.” ¿Por qué cree que la teología Wesleyana tiene recursos para contribuir a estas discusiones? ¿Crees que las contribuciones Wesleyanas se han pasado por alto en el pasado?
AP: Estoy más convencido de que los teólogos Wesleyanos tienen algo que decir sobre el tema, más allá de la teología Wesleyana. Ha habido voces Wesleyanas fuertes e importantes en el pasado, pero la naturaleza del liderazgo es que siempre se está hablando una nueva palabra a la luz de la actividad continua de Dios en el mundo, construyendo sobre estructuras establecidas, abordando problemas que no se podrían haber abordado antes y desafíos atractivos que no existían anteriormente. Los teólogos Wesleyanos deben hablar desde sus raíces y tradición, pero siendo conscientes de sus propios contextos: geográficos, económicos, culturales, etc. El resultado, creo, es una variedad de perspectivas y énfasis de una tradición común y un conjunto de valores.
WA: ¿Hubo algo que los sorprendió a ambos mientras editaban esta colección, ideas o reflexiones que no anticiparon? ¿Qué aprendió sobre el liderazgo al estilo Wesleyano?
AP: No me sorprendió nada; con lo que quiero decir, encontré lo que esperaba encontrar: académicos y practicantes Wesleyanos que habían reflexionado profundamente sobre el tema del liderazgo más allá de arreglos rápidos o soluciones simples, mientras que al mismo tiempo tenían un aprecio profundo por conocimientos prácticos. Encontré académicos que estaban profundamente involucrados en la formación de personas a la imagen de Cristo y estaban interesados en el liderazgo ya que podría facilitar la visión parroquial global. Sin embargo, me sorprendió gratamente la forma en que se recibió y promocionó el libro y, por supuesto, ¡espero que continúe!
El Dr. Aaron Perry es Profesor Asistente de Ministerio Cristiano y Cuidado Pastoral en Wesley Seminary en Marion, Indiana. Es un ministro ordenado en la Iglesia Wesleyana y ha contribuido a Wesleyan Accent. Lea sus otras publicaciones de Wesleyan Accent aquí.
La traducciónpor Rev. Dr. Edgar Bazan
Featured image courtesy Natalie Pedigo on Unsplash
I first met Dr. Jackson Lashier when we were both seminary students. Unlike many of the students who were pursuing degrees to become local church pastors, he and I found ourselves in many of the same classes as we worked toward degrees that prepared us for ministries in academic contexts. At the time, I knew him to be thoughtful, bright, and adept in handling resources that sometimes felt remote across the vast stretches of centuries and also abstract in their presentation of concepts. For pastors or academics or laypeople, the combination of remote and abstract can seem forbidding; but Jackson’s strengths lend themselves to bringing the remote and abstract both near and accessible. He’s the kind of person who comes to mind when you want to talk about the language we use when we talk about God . How we speak about God matters, and his point of view and expertise are valuable resources in exploring why we speak about God, and how.
Jackson is now a theology professor; he is also a John Wesley Fellow, about which you can read more at A Foundation for Theological Education, here. He has a passion for connecting the historic doctrines of the church to everyday lives of Christians (see his short video on “Why Church History Matters for Discipleship”) and authored Irenaeus on the Trinity and numerous scholarly articles. Currently, he is Associate Professor of Religion and Chair of the Social Science Division at Southwestern College in Winfield, Kansas.
Initially we began this discussion before the pandemic hit, and I appreciate his sustained efforts through that upheaval. It’s a gift to welcome his insight today.
Elizabeth Glass Turner, Managing Editor
Wesleyan Accent:So – Americans talk about God, or describe God, in a lot of different ways. American Christians often share some commonality in the language we use about God, but even within Christianity there can be different emphases or language employed. Is there any point in trying to use common language about God, or does it matter how we speak about God? If so, why?
Dr. Jackson Lashier: I think the language we use when speaking about God or to God matters greatly. First, it reflects our beliefs about God. So to call God gracious or loving or simple or immutable or Father, to name a few common examples, is to reveal convictions about the nature of the particular God we worship that cannot be implied from the word “God” alone. Second, and related to this, when used in the liturgy or in a common place of worship, our language proclaims a shared understanding that both unifies us as the Church and marks us off from communities of other faiths.
Now, having a common language of God does not mean we must have a uniform language of God. So many times I hear in public prayer people using the same title or titles of God over and over again (“Father God,” for example, seems really popular among American evangelicals). There is nothing necessarily wrong with repeating the same titles, but this practice fails to engage the vast treasure of names and language for God provided for us by Scripture and tradition. Using names for God that we are not familiar with helps open our minds to other aspects of God’s nature that we can praise and think creatively about.
WA:In systematic theology classes, students delve into Trinitarian theology – that God is three in one, not just one God with three masks or not three Gods who are best friends. God is three persons, and often we use personal, relational language to attempt to convey that – language that is found in Scripture: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Yet Christians have also classically believed that God is spirit, which gives a different understanding of God than may be implied in the Trinitarian language which is exclusively male. Why might it be important to remember that Christians classically haven’t affirmed belief in what Marge Simpson called “Mr. Lord”or the common phrase “the old man in the sky”?
JL: I like your images, particularly the Marge Simpson reference, and I agree with you that assumptions that God is inherently male, even when we say otherwise with our qualifications, is a problem and skews our understanding of the nature of God. Because God is absolutely unique, completely unlike anything in creation (according to the basic distinction that God is the eternal Creator and everything else is contingent creation), our human language – even language used by Scripture – always falls short of fully encapsulating God.
Theological language is, as Thomas Aquinas taught, “analogical.” That is, it refers to God only by way of analogy. This is easy to grasp when we call God “a rock” or something of that sort, but it even holds true when we say that God is love. When we say that God is love, we mean that God is in some way like our human concept of love even though the love that is God’s nature transcends even the highest human examples of love. The analogical nature of our God language is crucial to keep us from bringing God to our human level and thereby to falsely and somewhat idolatrously assume the ability to completely know God in human terms.
This subject bears directly on the question of gendered language for God and male images of God that we seem to hold de facto. The Scriptures and the majority of church tradition use male titles for God (primarily Father and Son) as well as male pronouns for God. If we keep the analogical nature of theological language in mind, we can affirm that these male titles and pronouns demonstrate God’s personal and relational language (God is “Father” and “he” as opposed to an “it”). Yet we can affirm these titles without falling into the mistake of thinking that God is literally male. If we think that God is literally a male, we have failed to honor the transcendent nature of God, which, as your question rightly expressed, is affirmed in the Scriptural teaching that God is spirit.
WA:Some Christians seem to think, however, that in the Incarnation God becomes a man and so that affirms the inherent maleness of God and justifies our exclusive use of masculine titles and imagery. Does your argument here implicitly deny the reality of the Incarnation?
JL: Not at all. It is absolutely true, both historically and theologically, that at some point in history, God entered human experience and was born a man, Jesus of Nazareth. But to conclude from this that, as a whole, God is male, is to be extremely confused on our Trinitarian language. Scripture affirms not that God in total becomes human but that the Word or the Son (who the tradition will come to refer to as the Second Person) becomes truly human. The Father and the Spirit (who the tradition will come to refer to as the First and Third Persons) remain spirit, as you noted in a previous question. Moreover, the orthodox teaching of hypostatic union states clearly that Jesus’ human and divine natures exist in perfect union though remain unconfused and unmixed (indeed, certain authors like Julian of Norwich will refer to the Son as our Mother). So the incarnation in no way compels us to think of God as male. At the same time, we do not have to somehow deny the historical reality of the maleness of Jesus for fear of that reality making God male.
The path forward, then, is to remember the central teaching of the Trinity. It is not that God is male.It is that God is relational in God’s essence.
WA:Your use of the title “Mother” for the Son may sound odd to our modern ears. Despite numerous examples of very maternal, female imagery of God throughout Scripture, many Christians might think it arises from a theology of the Divine Feminine that isn’t rooted in classic Trinitarian theology. How can we walk a path in which we celebrate shared belief in the Trinity and value the Trinitarian formula – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – while affirming that while Jesus Christ experienced humanity in a male body, the Trinity is not inherently or eternally male?
JL: I think you’re right that many Christians have an immediate aversion to feminine language. I doubt whether there is a good reason behind it so much as the cumulative effect of using exclusively male language and thinking of God in exclusively male images. Indeed, it so forms our thinking about God that we cannot even recognize the many feminine images of God in Scripture —the mother hen, the woman who sweeps her floor looking for a coin, to name a couple off the top of my head. (Sometimes these images are wrongly dismissed by people who argue that God is not being “called” a feminine name [as God is called “Father”] but only compared to a feminine image; this argument makes no sense if we remember that all language and titles of God are analogical.) So for these reasons, we must reject the exclusive use of male imagery and language for God. However, for these same reasons, it is also insufficient to simply switch to using exclusively feminine language as I’ve seen some theologians and churches doing. Scripture reveals, and the tradition draws this out, that the transcendent and unique nature of God is neither male nor female but encompasses both male and female.
The path forward, then, is to remember the central teaching of the Trinity. It is not that God is male.It is that God is relational in God’s essence. Thus, God’s one nature is actually constituted by three “relations” or “persons.” This makes God eminently personable and that reality is more clearly expressed in relational titles like “Father” and “Son” than it is in titles like “spirit.” But “Mother,” for example, is also a relational name. And so I believe, along with Julian (and Gregory of Nazianzus and other Orthodox writers) that this title and other feminine titles can be used without sacrificing Trinitarian teaching in any way. Indeed, as I’ve argued elsewhere in print, I think “Mother” more faithfully retains the central Trinitarian realities than does reverting to “Creator,” “Redeemer,” and “Sustainer” often used today.
Of course pragmatically any new introduction of unfamiliar titles and imagery of God should be paired with preparation and teaching, so that congregations understand where they come from. But having said that, the use of titles like “Father” and male pronouns should also be explained better.
WA:You mention titles like Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer – in terms of how we speak about God, a popular means of representing the Trinitarian formula without relying on gendered titles. However, it seems that this formula reduces the persons of the Trinity from Scriptural ways in which they relate – Father, Son, Holy Spirit – to function, and what humanity experiences them doing. Is affirming personhood of “God in three persons, blessed Trinity” more essential than reconfiguring gender-specific language for the persons of the Trinity, even if that language had its origin in patriarchal societies?
JL: I believe in altering our language, attempts that guard against the misguided conclusion that God is literally male are admirable and needed. Nevertheless, I would answer yes to your question about this recent attempt. The formula “Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer” is simply an insufficient Trinitarian formula as it removes any inherent relational connection among the three persons that is the basis in traditional Trinitarian theology for maintaining the Oneness of the Three. Effectively, this formula implies a worship of three gods. Or, alternatively, the formula could be taken in a modalist sense, which means that the one God at one time creates, at another time redeems, and at still another time sustains. But here again, there is no eternal relation of persons. So, both conceptions are not fully Trinitarian. As I mentioned before, it is for this reason that I am much more comfortable with “Mother” language of the Divine because it maintains the essentially relational character of the Triune God. And while the tradition creatively engages such feminine language, it uniformly rejects such modalist or tri-theistic formulas.
Perhaps the most important principle is creativity with the wealth of images in Scripture. Encourage yourself to think of God using different images.
WA:I’ve heard some theologians and pastors refer to the Holy Spirit as the “she” within the Trinity. What are your thoughts about this approach?
JL: Honestly, I don’t like it very much. For one thing, it seems to render the feminine aspect of God as secondary: masculine images still outnumber feminine images 2-1, so it seems to me there is not much to gain by this approach. But more problematically, this approach assumes that the persons of the Trinity are literally gendered. So it could be thought that Father and Son are literal male members of the Trinity, and Spirit—by virtue of not having a masculine title—is the female member of the Trinity. As we have discussed, all persons of the Trinity are fully God and together they are one God.
WA:If in God’s infinite transcendence as Creator, the nature of God encompasses male and female, then this impacts our understanding of what it means to be human, yes?
JL: So many implications. First and foremost is the question of the image of God as reflected in humanity. Genesis 1:27 clearly states that male and female are together created in the image of God. Because of the Adam and Eve story of Genesis 2, however, this primary anthropological teaching is often missed; some assume that only the man is created in the image of God, which of course undergirds all sorts of problematic teachings related to hierarchies in marriage and ministry. But male and female together created in the image of God makes sense if we think about God in the ways we have been discussing. It means that they are equal and that they need each other to fully reflect the image of God. This truth, it seems to me, grounds an egalitarian view of marriage and the full participation of women in ministry. Another implication is that humans are inherently communal creatures. This does not mean, of course, that everyone needs to be married; it does mean that everyone needs to be in human community to realize fully who they were created to be. We can’t be good disciples and be solitary.
WA:Pragmatically, I’m reminded of a time I read a description of someone’s expectation that God’s voice would sound like Morgan Freeman or Sean Connery. Both made me smile, yet I was startled by my internal response: what if God’s voice sounded like Cate Blanchett’s character, Galadriel? This funny, simple thought reminded me of the importance of how we conceive of God when we pray. What are some important principles that should shape our imagination when we pray or talk to God?
JL: This is such an important question and really gets at the heart of what is at stake in this question. It is clear that if we reduce our images to masculine ones, then we will likely fall into the trap of thinking of God as male. Perhaps the most important principle is creativity with the wealth of images in Scripture. Encourage yourself to think of God using different images. At one point, imagine God as the Father of the prodigal son running to embrace you. At another time, imagine God as the mother hen who enfolds you in her wings.
The great monastic theologian, Dionysius the Areopagite, encouraged his readers to focus their imaginations on comparisons of God to inanimate objects precisely because there is less danger mistakenly thinking that God is literally a rock, for example, than there in thinking God is literally a Father. Ultimately, every Christian must explore images that resonate. But in general, Scripture and tradition allow for more freedom and creativity here then people often allow themselves.
WA:When it comes to drawing from Scripture and tradition, do you think people of faith can affirm the value of believing that God – out of the Divine nature of holy love – really reveals the very real, actual nature of God? That our language isn’t just a Rorschach test in which we make God everything we think God should look like? At the same time, is there space to acknowledge that sometimes we think about God or speak about God in ways that are incomplete or less rich than they might be?
JL: Great questions that have been wrestled with for centuries. I agree there is a danger here, which is why I think we are wise in our creative imaginings to remain within the range of images provided by Scripture and developed by tradition. Thankfully, there is more than enough there to occupy our imagination in prayer and worship; we have just scratched the surface in our engagement with these treasures.
In answering your broader question about the tension between knowing the revealed God vs the mystery of God, I follow the Western tradition as represented by Thomas Aquinas, as opposed to the Eastern tradition as represented by Dionysius or, more recently, theologians like Vladimir Lossky. The Eastern tradition has generally said that God in God’s essence is unknowable, so the only way we can really speak of God is to say what God is not. This is the so-called “negative” approach or apophatic theology. From it we have derived such important concepts as God’s eternality (God is not limited by time boundaries), God’s simplicity (God does not have parts), and God’s immutability (God is not changeable). I understand the impetus behind this apophatic tradition and see its value, though I move away from it precisely because of your point that God has revealed Godself to us.
The Western tradition has generally been more positive in its approach, so-called cataphatic theology. It affirms that we can speak of God positively, such that when we say God is good or God is love or God is Father, we mean something like what we know of as “good” or as “love” or as a good “father.” Personally, this way helps me connect better with God through prayer and thought. It seems consistent with the Incarnate movement of God to bring Godself to our level.
Yet as we mentioned in our discussion of analogical language, even this way of doing theology insists that we cannot fully know the essence of God: God is infinitely more loving and more good than even our highest human notions. So while we can know God truly and authentically through God’s revelation to us in Christ and as recorded by Holy Scripture, we can never know God fully and comprehensively. Incidentally, this means that eternal life will be spent growing deeper and deeper into the knowledge of God’s essence. I don’t know about you, but that sounds a lot more compelling then singing “Open the Eyes of My Heart Lord” over and over for eternity!
Today we’re pleased to share this presentation from Dr. Esau McCaulley, who provides a careful survey of texts from the Old and New Testament as a basis for an approach to public life – in particular, believers’ approach to the practices and systems at work in our world that were shaped in the forge of injustice. As he concludes, he walks listeners through truths in the Beatitudes, locating our mourning and thirst for justice in the persistent hope of the Kingdom of God.
He says, “This intuition that something is not right is justified by close reading of the biblical text. First Timothy 2 and Romans 13 are not the entirety of the Christian political witness. Jesus’ words to Herod, Paul’s testimony, John the revelator’s vision for the future, Jesus own commands in the Beatitudes, call us to witness to a different world. The Christian who hopes and works for a better world finds an ally in the God of Israel.”
Dr. Esau McCaulley is Assistant Professor of New Testament at Wheaton College in Wheaton, IL. He is a priest in the Anglican Church in North America where he serves as a canon theologian in his diocese. He completed his Ph.D. in New Testament at the University of St. Andrews, where he studied under the direction of N.T. Wright. He is a sought-after speak and author whose works have appeared in the New York Times, The Washington Post, and Christianity Today among others. Read more from Dr. McCaulley by clicking here.
Further excerpts from his presentation:
On Grieving
To mourn involves being saddened by the state of the world. We can be so bombarded by pain that the natural instinct is to say, “I’ve done enough.” But mourning calls on all of us to recognize our own complicity in the suffering of others. Mourning is the intuition that things are not right, that more is possible. I think the Christian lives with a certain “joyful sorrow.” But I can always pray.
Hungering and thirsting for justice is nothing less than the continued longing for God to come and set things right. The resurrection has to inform our plausibility structure. We tend to think – white nationalism is a big problem. So is being dead. And God called a dead thing back to life.
On Peacemaking
Peacemaking cannot be separated from truth-telling. The church’s witness does not involve simply denouncing the excesses of both sides and making moral equivalencies. It involves calling injustice by its name. If the church is going to be on the side of peace in America, there has to be an honest account of what has happened to black and brown people in this country. This peacemaking must be corporate and it must be personal. When it is corporate, we’re testifying to the universal reign of Jesus. When it is interpersonal, we’re being witnesses to the work God has done in our heart.
“Have I now become your enemy from telling you the truth?” – Galatians 4:16
Peacemaking bears witness to the King and his Kingdom. The outcome of peacemaking is to introduce people to the kingdom of God. Therefore, the work of justice when understood as a direct testimony to God’s kingdom is evangelistic in its ultimate aims. It is part, not the whole of, God’s work in reconciling all things to himself.
Recently I asked clergymembers from several Wesleyan Methodist denominations in the United States about what it’s been like coping with a pandemic. Ministers in other parts of the world have experienced these dynamics before, and pastors a hundred years ago went through this in America. For many church leaders in the U.S., these have been uncharted waters, new territory. A number of pastors answered my questions, and their time is an especially valuable gift right now. I watched as more than normal intended to reply but could not, pummeled by to-do lists and coping with news cycles demanding last-minute updates from clergy, denominational leaders, and churches. One pastor unable to participate was busy responding to a crisis outbreak in their rural community – a town with one of the highest per capita caseloads in the country.
Church leaders are finding unexpected support, bright spots, or new skills; many pastors miss seeing their church members face to face; and many are grappling with uncertainty, overwhelming demands, or the need to quickly implement new platforms and tools.
In addition to basic questions on how church leaders are coping, I also asked some pastors, “If you could travel back to December and leave a Post-It note for past-you, what would you say to prepare yourself or your people for the current situation?“One pastor reflected, “The Church is not the building. We all know that, but we are about to live it.“
We are grateful for the glimpses into leadership life right now.
– Elizabeth Glass Turner, Managing Editor
Coping: “How are you?“
“I am anxious about what the church may look like in the next few months. People need community, and online platforms – as helpful as they may be to keep us connected – can’t take the place of mutually sharing and experiencing physical presence. I am constantly preoccupied and thinking about what we need to do. This often leads me to feel overwhelmed and inadequate, as I try to anticipate what we need to be doing next.”
“I’m learning it’s best not to ask on Wednesdays. I’m not sure why this is the day I feel least on top of ministry, and the most fragile.”
“I miss my people. I love being a pastor; pastoral care may be my favorite part of ministry, so I am really missing that connection. But personally, I have enjoyed being able to spend more time with my family. It has been nice to just have lazy time with them. Going into the living room and joking with my kids during breaks. Time from all the pressure of activities at night. That has been life-giving for me.”
Discerning: “What’s been an unexpected source of guidance?“
“Learning from what others are doing and reaching out to friends to ask their views about concerns and ideas I have. Reading articles about our current challenges and how we can use this time as an opportunity to create a new future dimension of ministry.”
“The World Vision pastors group, “We the Church.” The Barna Group’s Covid tool kit.”
“Unexpected friendship. There are pastors in our conference who I admire, but I’ve never really had much of a relationship with them. It’s been a joy to get to know them better and turn to them for advice in difficult situations.”
Equipping: “What resource do you wish you’d had?“
“A break. More clear guidelines or suggestions for funerals at this time. ‘How to transition appointments during pandemic’?”
“I wish I had better tech skills. I’m pretty good, but there are so many things that I don’t know and haven’t had the time or patience to learn.”
“Instead of ‘playing catch-up,’ I wish we would’ve had a well-organized and implemented digital ministry in place. I wish we had these online tools we are using now already at work. Now, in addition to created online content, we also need to train our leaders and laypeople on how to access them.”
Enduring: “What’s been a source of sanity for you?“
“Good friends and family. I’ve got a text thread with a couple of pastors; we turn to each other for advice. That’s been a real blessing and source of hope.”
“This will be one of the most cherished times for my children. As much as they miss school and friends, they loved being at home and spending quality time with mom and dad. We started new activities together like biking and going for walks almost daily, and that has transformed how we relate to each other. We are no longer ‘on schedule’ but have liberty and flexibility on how we use our time together. This has been a blessing to us as a family, one that has provided me with healthy feelings and thoughts.”
“Solidarity – knowing so many others are going through the same ministry challenges.”
Expressing: “What do you wish your denomination or church members understood better?“
“Just the emotional energy pastoring takes right now. I’m not sure what leaving well looks like.”
“I don’t think I can speak to what anyone is doing, or could have done better. Everyone is trying their best to figure out ministry in this challenging season. I am grateful for the hard work my colleagues and others are doing to provide us with resources.”
Grieving: “If you could have or do one thing right now, what would it be?“
“Have a gathering of my graduating seniors; have regular youth gathered for fellowship.”
“Between Zoom meetings, homeschooling, creating online content, writing Bible studies and sermons, I wishI could see everyone every day to talk about how they are really doing and to encourage them. It is hard to feel so powerless to support my congregation in their struggles. We have an active pastoral care ministry. I just wish I could visit with every one of them.”
Praying: “How can we pray for you?“
“I ask for prayers of encouragement, strength, and good health. But most importantly, I ask for those same prayers for my congregation.“
“That I would clearly hear the Holy Spirit’s guidance for ministry and family. I don’t know the best way to navigate these uncharted waters, but I know the One who does.”
Hindsight: “If you could travel back to December and leave a Post-It note for past-you, what would you say to prepare yourself or your people for the current situation?“
“I would make sure that I prepared my teams to view online resources as essential and not secondary. We had just completed a shift in our online giving platform and moved to PushPay. Had it not been for this move, we would be seeing a significant financial challenge. As for other platforms, I would have prepared our leaders to see digital platforms as an essential (not supplemental) resource for ministry, as there are already many people waiting to be reached via these platforms. We are reaching nearly twice as many people weekly through our worship services and 8 times (you read that right) as many people through our discipleship classes. I would have done crisis management training for all of my leaders.
“I think I would say, ‘Pace yourself‘ and ‘Go see your mom and dad in early February.‘”
“Ok girl, big changes are coming. No weddings, no dining out, and no church in person. So here’s what you need to do: Don’t cancel your hair appointment for the last week in February. You are going to miss a lot of things. But you are going to gain a lot of perspective on what’s most important: family, friends, the warmth of an embrace. The Church is not the building. We all know that, but we are about to live it. And embrace the deep connection that stands even when we are socially distanced. Sharpen your media and tech skills. You are about to become a videographer, editor, sound technician, and production guru. Get ready for all the kids to crash into your nest. Try not to get too bent out of shape about any of this. Enjoy it if you can. It’s a strange season we are passing through.”
“Good computer and editing skills, basic internet skills, Zoom and Conference Call 101 lessons for my members and myself!“
“Let’s prioritize our media ministry and start livestreaming our worship celebrations. Part of who we are in the community means having online presence. We can do so much ministry online through these digital platforms. True story: Prior to March 22, we had little to no online presence. We went from in-person worship on March 15th to Facebook Live from my living room on March 22nd!”
“Expect the unexpected. You can build community online – software that allows response is better than software that doesn’t (so, as beautiful as watching the service at the National Cathedral is, I probably get more out of wonky Zoom with my 20 congregants). Christians have been here before and the church survived. Your theology meets reality when you have to decide whether you are afraid of dying.”
As the well-documented extended-crisis adrenaline slump continues to hit caring and serving professions – from ER physicians to nursing home aides to church leaders – there are sure to be resources emerging for coping with the fallout of crisis. Pastors drained from an extraordinary season of unexpected challenges still face uncertainty, changes, conflicting perspectives, and health ramifications, while shepherding church leaders and members through those same dynamics.
If it has been difficult coping with the sudden changes and demands of ministry in pandemic, here are additional resources on possible signs of exhaustion or burnout and resources for leader self-care in the face of extended crisis:
