The Evolution of Faith
eBook - ePub

The Evolution of Faith

Philip Gulley

Share book
  1. 224 pages
  2. English
  3. ePUB (mobile friendly)
  4. Available on iOS & Android
eBook - ePub

The Evolution of Faith

Philip Gulley

Book details
Book preview
Table of contents
Citations

About This Book

"Noone raises provocative questions about Christianity more kindly than PhilipGulley. " —Diana Butler Bass, author of Christianity for the Rest of Us

"Everyserious Christian ought to read this book, ponder it, wrestlewith it, but above all, be grateful for its presence in today's urgentconversation about what we are and are becoming as a people of God." —Phyllis Tickle, author of The GreatEmergence

RenownedQuaker minister Philip Gulley, bestselling author of If the Church WereChristian, delivers a practical, insightful guide to developing aliving, flexible, personal Christianity—a faith that allows you to confront theprofound challenges facing every believer in today's difficult world.

Frequently asked questions

How do I cancel my subscription?
Simply head over to the account section in settings and click on “Cancel Subscription” - it’s as simple as that. After you cancel, your membership will stay active for the remainder of the time you’ve paid for. Learn more here.
Can/how do I download books?
At the moment all of our mobile-responsive ePub books are available to download via the app. Most of our PDFs are also available to download and we're working on making the final remaining ones downloadable now. Learn more here.
What is the difference between the pricing plans?
Both plans give you full access to the library and all of Perlego’s features. The only differences are the price and subscription period: With the annual plan you’ll save around 30% compared to 12 months on the monthly plan.
What is Perlego?
We are an online textbook subscription service, where you can get access to an entire online library for less than the price of a single book per month. With over 1 million books across 1000+ topics, we’ve got you covered! Learn more here.
Do you support text-to-speech?
Look out for the read-aloud symbol on your next book to see if you can listen to it. The read-aloud tool reads text aloud for you, highlighting the text as it is being read. You can pause it, speed it up and slow it down. Learn more here.
Is The Evolution of Faith an online PDF/ePUB?
Yes, you can access The Evolution of Faith by Philip Gulley in PDF and/or ePUB format, as well as other popular books in Teologia e religione & Denominazioni cristiane. We have over one million books available in our catalogue for you to explore.

Information

Publisher
HarperOne
Year
2011
ISBN
9780062092113
Chapter 1
The Evolution of Faith
Several years ago, at the invitation of a friend, I attended his childhood church on the Sunday it celebrated its one-hundredth anniversary. The pastor, in an exuberant moment, spoke of the enduring proclamation of the church, how since the time of Jesus the unchanging Christian gospel had been proclaimed throughout the world. The congregation nodded in agreement, even affirming their assent with robust “Amens.” As a student of church history, I knew the pastor’s claims were inaccurate, that over the past two thousand years, the church’s message had undergone significant change, influenced by pivotal figures and movements. I even suspected that this specific church had experienced considerable theological change over its hundred years, reflecting the varied perspectives of its leaders.
I thought of the diverse mutations of Christianity I had encountered in my life—the Roman Catholicism of my mother, the Baptist leanings of my father’s family, the Church of Christ tradition of a brother and sister, the Methodist perspective of another brother, the Presbyterian community of yet another sibling, and my own Quaker tradition. Each of those expressions emphasized a particular facet of the Christian experience. Each understood the mission of the church differently, employed differing styles of worship, and did not agree on how God could be known. They were not in harmony about the priorities of Jesus, and they did not share a common understanding of what it meant to be Christian, what it meant to please God, or how the church should be governed. Though they all bore the Christian name, their differences in belief were so considerable that one could reasonably conclude they represented different religions altogether. And that was just Christianity in the Western world. Were we to have stirred into the mix the many strains of Eastern Orthodoxy, the differences would have been staggering indeed.
Though I disagreed with the pastor’s claim of an unchanged church, I understood his motives for making such an assertion. The church’s authority rests on its declaration of doctrinal purity and her ageless, unchanging truths. Pastors who acknowledge the church’s changing truth must convince congregants he or she nevertheless speaks with authority, a hard enough task in a culture already suspicious of institutional power.
At first glance, the title, The Evolution of Faith: How God Is Creating a Better Christianity, may seem presumptuous and egotistical, as if God were using me to liberate Christianity from its ancient moorings and carry it forward. But on a closer look, it makes perfect sense that if there are many versions of Christianity, that if Christianity has mutated and evolved over the centuries, it’s reasonable to conclude it will continue to do so. It is also reasonable to conclude God might inspire a number of people to shepherd that process, that I might be one of them, just as you might be, and that a fitting response is to share our insights with others. Therefore, to speak of an evolving Christianity isn’t to undertake a radical and unilateral overhaul of the faith, but to suggest a possible way forward that not only honors the ethos of Jesus but is conversant with our time and culture. For while it is clear that Christianity has changed and will continue to do so, what is less clear are the forms it might take.
What are the cultural factors that make an evolving Christianity inevitable? At the Quaker meeting I pastor, a woman of the Baha’i faith joins her Quaker husband in meeting for worship. Another attendee, a Jewish man, teaches an adult Sunday-school class; a young man in the congregation met a woman of the Muslim faith while in college; they married and are warmly welcomed into our meeting. Another man, intelligent and deeply caring, speaks openly about his leanings toward atheism. Imagine my standing at the pulpit and pronouncing these people spiritually lost, urging them to accept Jesus as their Savior. Not only would my sense of decorum prohibit that, but so would my appreciation for their obvious virtues. They are, to a person, loving, gracious, and wise. For me to suggest they are spiritually inferior would be not only unkind, but untrue.
At one time I thought such diversity was rare, but as I speak with my colleagues in ministry, I’ve discerned that more and more people are marrying outside their childhood faith, that those couples find joy and meaning in other spiritual expressions, and that many churches have incorporated these persons into their fellowships with sensitivity and warmth. This widespread openness to diverse religious traditions points to an evolving Christianity more tolerant than its predecessors.
In addition to this spiritual diversity, the pervasive acceptance of scientific advancements has significantly altered Christianity, especially those kinds of Christianity predicated on an outdated worldview. It is no longer possible for people to reject the scientific evidence of evolution without seeming ignorant. Nor is it possible, given what we know about homosexuality, to sustain a Christianity that asserts one’s sexual orientation is chosen or inherently sinful. Add to this the stunning social changes brought about by the Internet, making spiritual and cultural isolation nearly impossible. Narrow religions can only be sustained when and where information is limited and controlled, when people are able to be “not of the world.”
Case in point: at the urging of my publisher, I began a Facebook page. I have several thousand Facebook “friends” from a variety of geographical and religious backgrounds. Nearly every week, I post a theological or spiritual question, inviting responses. Given the diversity of my friends, the answers widely differ. I expected this. What I did not expect was the extent to which my Facebook friends would engage one another. Almost without exception, those exchanges have been cordial and sincere, with persons expressing much interest in the views of others, saying such things as, “I see your point. It makes a lot of sense. I’ll have to rethink this.”
The church’s monopoly on Christian instruction is over. People feel quite free to join in theological discourse without the buffer of the church or its clergy. Were I in a religious tradition that emphasized the supremacy of a professional religious hierarchy, I would worry for my job, for it is apparent that more and more people are looking to spiritual resources beyond the conventional ones offered by the church. Whether people turn to a Facebook friend, or a TV talk show, or a neighbor, or a bestselling book, they are seeking religious counsel and spiritual insight outside the church. As they do, the church’s authority, already weakened by scandal, abuse, and irrelevancy, will, I believe, evaporate altogether.
These cultural factors—religious diversity, advancements in science, expanded communication, and the church’s diminishing role as the sole religious authority—are making the next stage of Christianity not only possible, but inevitable. Ironically, the more the church resists this evolution, the more likely it will hasten the change, for its efforts to preserve the status quo will only emphasize its more negative strategies of rigidity, control, and fear, thereby alienating the very people it wishes to influence.
An Evolving Christianity Requires an Emerging Theology
There has never been a significant shift in the church’s structure that wasn’t accompanied by or inspired by a theological change. When Martin Luther initiated the Protestant Reformation, he jettisoned many elements of the prevailing theology, including the means of salvation, the authority of the pope, and the necessity of priestly intervention for the forgiveness of sins. Whether a changing church is inspired by an emerging theology, or a new theology materializes as a consequence of changes in the church, one is never seen without the other. For change in the church never happens unless we have convinced ourselves that God prefers that change and thus have constructed a theology that justifies the changes we’ve made.
I am no different. In my case, my experience of the Divine Presence called into question many of the church’s practices, particularly the issues of institutional governance, doctrinal authority, the scope of salvation, and the power of grace. I have spent a good deal of my adult life constructing a theology that rationally supports the spiritual values I first embraced from instinct. Some Christians have reacted strongly to this, accusing me of heresy. What they fail to realize is how their own views, now considered traditional and orthodox, were at one time deemed revolutionary, if not heretical. A hundred years ago, their Christianity was the new Christianity.
A Preview of a Future Christianity
The theology in which many of us were raised fit hand in glove with the prevailing understanding of the church. It was exclusive, rarely acknowledging the merits of other religions. It emphasized a God above and beyond us, mirroring the ecclesial structure of the day that elevated leadership and concentrated power in the hands of an exalted few. It was decidedly privileged in nature and view, reflecting the cultural mores of the richest nations. Its God took their side, blessed their priorities, and helped secure their wealth and status. When Leonardo Boff, a Brazilian priest, criticized the church’s alliance with the wealthy and powerful, he was accused of Marxism and silenced by the Roman Catholic Church’s Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, led by Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, who would later become Pope Benedict XVI. Under pressure from the Vatican, Boff eventually surrendered his priestly orders. This was all too common in a Christianity of dominance and control, but it will not stand in the emerging Christianity, whose philosophy will focus less on power and self-preservation and more on ecclesial modesty and service. Perhaps the evolved Christianity will ironically go back as it moves forward and will more accurately reflect the servant spirit of Jesus of Nazareth and be less concerned with worshipping Christ the King. For where the primary focus of a spiritual community is the worship of its central figure, the patterns of hierarchy become established, formalized, and perpetuated, eventually demanding unthinking conformity and unquestioned obedience.
My hope is that an evolving Christianity will reflect the egalitarian spirit of Jesus, not the elitism of an entrenched church. It will no longer presume that having male genitalia uniquely equips someone for leadership. Nor will it assume heterosexuals are capable of ministry in a way homosexuals are not. It will listen carefully to its young people, letting their enthusiasm and yearning for authenticity inspire a passionate and relevant faith. It will console the brokenhearted, speak for the voiceless, befriend the weak, challenge the powerful, and call to leadership those who handle power well—not for selfish gain but for selfless service.
An evolved Christianity will not insist we believe the absurd, affirm the incredible, or support a theology that degrades humanity. It will be a friend of science, working joyfully alongside the best minds in the world on a common mission to embrace and enhance life. This Christianity will talk less and act more. I recently attended a church gathering in which a committee had been asked to draft a resolution against torture. They had spent an entire year writing a short paragraph on which everyone on the committee could finally agree but no one else would likely read. When a woman rose to suggest they actually do something to prevent torture rather than just write words against it, she was criticized for not cooperating. People no longer listen to the church’s pronouncements. No one waits with bated breath for the church to wade in with its perspective. We craft missives, epistles, and minutes that are first ignored, then forgotten. Nor do governments change their policies because Christians have collected on a street corner to sing “We Shall Overcome.” But when ministers are bold and prophetic, when Christians rise from their pews and work and sweat and invest their lives, people take notice and lives are changed.
The richness of an evolved Christianity won’t lie in slavish obedience to antiquated claims but in a vigorous commitment to care for the marginalized and an honest search for meaning and truth, no matter where it might lead. It is exciting beyond words to stand on the threshold of such a movement, to watch it unfold and flower, to watch it not only restore the church—which it just might, though that is not its purpose—but refresh and restore our world.
In the chapters ahead, I’ll use as my framework the traditional areas of concern for Christian theology. Though that conventional structure is still an appropriate one, it is long past time its assertions were reexamined and reinterpreted in light of our changing world and expanding consciousness. Perhaps you have not been accustomed to viewing faith from the vantage point of these topics, believing such matters are best left to theologians. But I believe these subjects have a tremendous influence on our personal spiritual journeys, helping us negotiate and navigate a more meaningful life. Just as the prophet Ezekiel saw a valley of dry bones stirring to life, so, too, can new life be breathed into our moribund faith, and God might say to us, as God said to those bones, “I will put my Spirit in you and you will live” (Ezek. 37:14 NIV).
Chapter 2
Revelation: On Knowing God
What do the Islamic men who flew airplanes into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon on September 11, 2001, have in common with the Franciscan priest, Father Mychal Judge, who rushed to the World Trade Center that tragic day to help the dying? What do the gay Episcopal bishop, Gene Robinson, and Pastor Fred Phelps, the creator of a website called godhatesfags.com, both believe? What do the Catholic priest, the Pentecostal evangelist, the Jewish rabbi, the Islamic imam, the Quaker mystic, the televangelist, the Desana shaman, the Oxford theologian, and the elderly Nazarene woman volunteering on the telephone prayer line utterly and sincerely believe? What universal conviction is shared by almost every person who has ever embraced any faith?
Each is persuaded God speaks to him or her. Each believes that God communicated something he or she wouldn’t otherwise know, through a book, a prophet, a pastor, a sign, an audible voice, an event, a religious tradition, a sacrament, a dream, or any number of means, except for God’s intervention or revelation. Those who love deeply and those who hate deeply credit God for their impulses and opinions. When their beliefs collide with another’s, they believe the other is mistaken, if not heretical or evil. The chief difference in their conviction is one of degree—the televangelist will say God speaks to him in an audible voice, while the Quaker mystic talks of leadings or nudgings. But each believes God has communicated something of the divine nature and purpose to him or her.
The root of all religious turmoil, which itself is the root of most earthly turmoil, is our vast disagreement over what God has said, how God has said it, and to whom. It is no exaggeration to say that millions of people have been murdered as a direct consequence of violent disputes over divine revelation. For sadly, divine revelation, by its very nature, deals with matters of such ultimate importance to so many, they would prefer death and perceived truth over life and perceived error.
I first became aware that others might have a contrary opinion of God’s will when I was nine years old and moved with my family across the street from a Pentecostal family. My family believed God spoke through the Roman Catholic Church. Our neighbors believed God spoke through the Bible, as interpreted by their preacher. We believed God wanted us to abstain from meat on Fridays, confess our sins on Saturdays, and attend Mass on Sundays. They believed God wanted them to attend church on Sundays (both morning and evening), Wednesdays, and Fridays. Each family was convinced the other was mistaken and that the penalty for their error was eternal separation from God. As children, we paid little attention to our theological differences, but when we became teenagers, our disparities became a topic of discussion, and finally debate. Had our neighbors not moved, I suspect we young people might even have come to blows over our differences, that we would have carried out on a small scale what has happened the world over on a larger scale—hatred and violence in the name of God.
Now, in the early years of the twenty-first century, these conclusions seem all too obvious: 1) There is little agreement about how God is known to us and scant evidence God dependably communicates with us, at least in a manner universally agreed upon; and 2) Despite this paucity of communication, we will fight and kill to defend our version of God’s truth.
What Evidence Do We Have That God Speaks to Us?
On the shelves of my study is a collection of books given me by others. The volumes are of varying sizes and content but have one thing in common—each purports to be divinely inspired. There is a Koran, given me by the members of the first youth group I pastored in 1984, who believed it behooved a minister of the gospel to be acquainted with other religious traditions. Muslims believe the Koran was revealed to Mohammed by an angel named Gabriel. (Angels, it turns out, figure prominently in divine revelation. I would be more open to the existence of angels if I, or anyone I knew, had ever seen one.) Over the course of twenty-three years, ending in 632 CE, the angel Gabriel carefully dictated the Koran to Mohammed and his companions. As with all revelations, one has to take Mohammed’s word on this.
There are Bibles on my shelf, the earliest one printed in 1832, the newest version a green Bible with a cover made of hemp (God’s words about the environment are printed in green soybean-based ink). The Bible is not one book, but a collection of smaller books written over hundreds of years, taking its final shape in the fourth century CE. When Martin Luther wrote his own German-language version of the Bible, God told him to leave out four of the books—Hebrews, James, Jude, and Revelation—but God told other people to let them remain, so Luther compromised by placing them at the tail end of his Bible. Some Christians believe every word in these Bibles came directly from God and is literally true. Other Christians do not. Even within the same religion there is vast disagreement about how God has spoken.
Alongside my Bibles is a copy of Conversations with God, written not by Neale Donald Walsch, but by God, who, when Walsch was done writing a series of questions to God, took control of Walsch’s pen and wrote the answers, or so Walsch claims on the first page of his book. No one but Walsch was present when this happened, but he argues this point strongly and has convinced a legion of followers.
Several years ago, I was given a copy of The Urantia Book by a friend. It is 1,814 pages, and I haven’t had the energy to tackle it. The book appeared, rather mysteriously, in Chicago in the second quarter of the twentieth century. Its authorship is unclear, though many of its followers believe angels and messengers from God had a hand in it.
The Book of Mormon sits next to my Urantia book. Joseph Smith is credited with writing the Book of Mormon, copying the text from golden tablets he discovered, with the help of an angel named Moroni, in 1823 in upstate New York. The golden tablets were presumably from God...

Table of contents