Safety is a loaded word. It speaks of an absence of danger, unthreatened. Safety is something we're consumed with in the US - probably to far too high a degree. What we've done, then, is expand the definition of "safe" to include freedom from discomfort - but "safe" and "comfortable" are two very different things - ask anyone who's spent time in a fallout shelter or apocalypse bunker.
What we've taken to heart is the notion that we're unsafe if we're uncomfortable, and that's bad for a whole lot of reasons. Discomfort is good. Very good. It's the only way we change or grow - it's why you can boil a frog if you change the temperature gradually. Discomfort makes us evaluate who we are and where we are and why we are. Discomfort is precisely why we go to college; you can't learn anything without it.
The "safe space" mindset is not unique to college campuses, but it is where you hear it bandied about most often. A safe space is not really what a college campus wants to provide (well, I'm sure some do, but that's more to keep students happy than to really teach them anything). Colleges want to provide a place of respect. Academia is a world of ideas, but it only functions if those espousing the ideas respect one another (even in disagreement).
Milo whateverhisnameis, the alt-right firebrand gets a lot of press for protests and instigation - recently his appearance at UC-Berkeley was cancelled due to damage and danger from those opposing him. The vitriol is not entirely because of his ideas, but also in the way he presents them. He's an antagonist. The medium is literally his message - berating and insulting those people and groups he dislikes or with whom he disagrees.
This is why it's NOT a free speech issue. Free speech is a public right - Yiannopoulos should be able to say whatever he wants (within the established legal framework) without fear of reprisal. Of course, that guarantee is that the government won't act against him for his words; it does nothing to restrain organizations or institutions. Free speech will get you barred from all kinds of places, jobs, and relationships. Those are the consequences of free speech.
Universities and self-congratulating progressives alike are big fans of free speech, but it really becomes a useless tool without respect. I'm sure there's some adequate short-term catharsis for those who get to express their anger and vitriol in stress-relieving ways - and lots of people make money off anger - but it doesn't actually serve a purpose in society without respect.
So, when the members of a community, like UC-Berkeley, for instance, say loudly that they don't want a certain type of speech on campus, it's the schools' job, as an institution of learning (and thus challenge) to go out of its way to defend even what might be termed "unsafe" speech. However, the same community is entirely within its rights to mandate decorum and respect for those given the privilege of addressing the community. It has to work both ways.
Speech is inherently dangerous. Any opinion I give is an opinion. In an age where people can't even agree on facts, opinions are shaky ground. speaking out publicly is vital and terrifying - but it has to be done in relationship, whether one-on-one in a conversation or within a community. For that, there are rules - even if they're unwritten. Even if your opponent has done horrible things, you still need to treat her like a human being who's done horrible things, not as the embodiment of those horrible things.
What happens, then, if my opinion is that you're worthless; if the free speech I am exercising is that you are, in fact, not worthy or deserving of respect? That's the dilemma. Typically, the whole purpose of these antagonists is to point out the hypocritical moral problem that comes from denouncing someone for denouncing someone. It's an insensitive piece of performance art against which there is no real rebuttal. It's a lose-lost proposition.
Unless, of course, a community is committed to community, to respect. A guest speaker does not show up willy-nilly and take the stage. There are negotiations; a relationship is constructed. If both parties cannot agree to the ground rules, there is no way to proceed. In these instances of real conflict, generally both sides are at fault; each fails to meet the other in the middle and we end up with chaos.
To me, the middle ground in any relationship must be respect. Even if I decide you're unworthy of it, I must still give it, or there's no point to anything. It is this sacrifice, inherently dangerous, uncomfortable, "unsafe," that allows us to be challenged, shaped, and changed. You won't like it - no one does - but it's all we've got, unfair as that might be.
I went to school in New England - that bastion of liberal arts - at the only Nazarene school still a college, and proud of it (New England might be the only part of the country where achieving "university status" is considered a downgrade). Liberal Arts have traditionally been a luxury of the rich, although places like the Nazarene system were founded precisely to bring a liberal arts education to anyone who sought to work hard for it, and it is still a luxury, to be sure.
I get why people don't want to rack up debt for an education. That makes financial sense. Although I do wonder whether those disagreements are simply just a difference in perspective about education (with neither side being "wrong"). Even as someone who's now 12 years removed from college graduation and still paying one final student loan off, I recognize the value of a liberal arts education precisely because I experienced a really wonderful personally formative experience - the experience was worth the time and money, so whether the education was worth it is really irrelevant to me.
We talk about the Nazarene higher ed institutions being much less "Nazarene" than they used to be with some measure of hand-wringing. It used to be, in large part, if you were a Nazarene who went to college, you went to a Nazarene college, probably your regional school. That's just not the case anymore, for a number of reasons. There's a lot of disagreement about how we tackle that issue.
I imagine we've stopped selling the notion of a Christian liberal arts education as a value in itself. There is indeed more risk these days - you used to be able to literally work your way through college, paying as you went. Now, loans are a big deal, even with increased financial aid packages. Loans are certainly manageable if you plan well, but some unexpected trouble and they can be devastating (especially if you don't graduate). I think there's great value in the experience (and the education), but the idea has to be sold. We, as a denomination, aren't doing a great job of it (likely because there are fewer leaders totally sold on the idea themselves, which is, again, not necessarily wrong). But, if we just assume our kids will see the value of attending a Nazarene school on their own, then our Nazarene student numbers will plummet... oh, wait... yeah.
The other aspect of things, though, and this is where the real rub happens (sorry for making you wade through all the rest to get to my real point), is that our institutions are struggling to remain Nazarene, not just in student composition, but in purpose and mission. It's not just a "Christian" liberal arts experience (which is really important), but a specifically Nazarene one (which I, as a very biased observer, believe to be superior in a lot of ways).
A good portion of the scholarship funds at our Nazarene schools come from annual contributions from congregations. The schools depend on those resources desperately. Still, it's been known for a while that our denomination really cannot support all the schools we have in the US, but of course all of them have a history and a constituency and none of them want to close. The only alternative is to compete in the market with other schools. So long as our districts control the trustees (which I'm not against, but I do think accreditation groups will put an end to it in the near future), they're going to be relatively conservative Christian institutions - and to compete in that marketplace, some aspects of Nazarene distinction just have to be downplayed.
We're Wesleyan, and while I don't think you have to be Calvinist to compete in the generic conservative Christian college marketplace, our tendency towards theological progressiveness, creativity, and exploration is not always super convenient. A specifically Nazarene mission of extending the chance at college to kids who might not have done well in high school or come from difficult backgrounds - if we think they can hack it - doesn't look great to the ratings agencies - yet I find it hard to call a school Nazarene that isn't specifically looking to highlight and support the poor and marginalized. Moving to a more academically based selection process might make a school more competitive, but it MIGHT also make it less Nazarene (again, not in student makeup - I don't think that's as important - but in mission and purpose).
These changes have been coming gradually, but consistently as a reality of the space the schools inhabit. There is some real necessity there. To compete in this broader marketplace, schools really need a "corner." You see Point Loma really embracing a social and environmentally conscious identity. ENC is working hard (and succeeding incredibly well) at embracing diversity. For any of the Nazarene higher ed institutions to keep moving they've got to develop these distinctives. One easy option appears to be "generically evangelical," competing with places like Messiah or Liberty or Wheaton (all good schools, mind you), and perhaps inhabiting a space that is less specifically Nazarene.
I believe a lot of these issues we've seen spring up of late fall under the category of searching for this identity, the right identity to thrive in the future. I don't envy those charged with managing these institutions. It's just a really, really difficult job. I'm not writing this to try and make some particular change or any change at all - it's more a (far too lengthy) explanation of why we find ourselves where we do that might, perhaps, help spur further conversation.
Our Nazarene schools have done a lot of great things, investing and training thousands of people to contribute positively to the world. They'll all likely continue to do this, but in the years ahead, challenges will make it difficult for them to be as connected to what it means to be Nazarene (if we know what that means anymore anyway) as they've been in the past. I hope and pray we'll find ways to meet and overcome those challenges.
I had a struggle in freshman year of college, I went into a class and was told something that bothered me to my core and changed my perception of the world and my place in it. It was Introduction to History and my professor told me: "History has only been around since the 1700's."
What he meant was simply that the study of history as the pursuit of factual knowledge of the past is a relatively modern concept - when, in the modern era, we began to attempt to separate what happened from the biases of those witnesses who recorded it.
Prior to that (including the world view of everyone who wrote scripture and the first 1000+ years of interpreters) people were working with an entirely different definition of "facts" and "history." "Histories" were written not to recount an event, but to provide some lesson from such events; they were written not to serve the past but to serve the present.
In that light, we look to scripture for what it intends to do: namely to provide a trustworthy foundation for creation's relationship to its creator. Our faith does not rest on the trustworthiness of the scripture, but on the trustworthiness of the one to whom our scripture testifies.
I take the Bible literally. I have no problem saying so. To take the Bible literally, it requires an ongoing process of discovery, learning about the people and cultures who shaped the narrative, the languages and processes through which we see and understand what is written.
The inspiration of scripture is far broader than the men who put ink to parchment, it encompasses the oral tradition that preceded them, the editors and compilers who brought the texts to their present form, the councils and elders who debated the canon, the readers and scholars who study the text, those who preach, teach, and proclaim it, as well as each and every one of us who hears and receives this marvelous testament to almighty God.
For me, this is exactly what the text means when it says the word of God is living and active - it is not simply words on a page, but a relationship that extends across all time. For us to think we can nail down exactly what it says misses the whole point.
The Bible is not fiction and it is not non-fiction; it is scripture and it is true. We can't simply reduce it to logical categories (and that goes just as much for the "liberals" and the "conservatives" - both equally upset me in their casual superiority), because the thing itself, by its very nature, prevents it.
We can and should certainly discuss the various ways in which we read and understand this scripture, we should challenge and be challenged in love and good faith, to examine ourselves in light of what we read not to read in light of what we know (or think we know). To me, this is what it means to have a high view of scripture.
In my evangelical world, science is still sometimes at argument. Yes, it manifests itself in specific subjects, but, for the most part, it is the idea of science itself that seems to be at odds - as if somehow it's sacrilegious to think God could communicate knowledge to people outside the Bible.
Obviously it's not always so bad, but a lot of times it is.
Don't get me wrong, it's a rough slog that needs to be waded through. While the rest of the world is actually engaging science on its own terms, so many evangelicals are becoming less and less relevant to the world. People do very much need to understand that some approaches to scripture, even very old, traditional ones, come with their own assumptions and biases that aren't inherent in the text.
I don't even care so much if people still choose to form scientific opinions from religious or theological beliefs. I wish they wouldn't, but I'm not going to kill myself to change it. I do think it's important that there is at least respect in the areas of our disagreement. We can think each other stupid morons, so long as we don't treat each other that way.
Still, as I approach the debates that exist within the evangelical world around science and religion (particularly a certain kind of literal, fundamentalist religion), I more often cringe at those with whom I agree.
I know the arguments that Ken Ham, say, or some Intelligent Design officianado will put forth to defend their position (or attack mine). I get the reasoning behind it and I understand pretty clearly why I've chosen differently. Hearing those ongoing arguments make me sad, but they do not upset me.
I'm not really upset by the other "side" either. I think, for the most part, the Christian defenders of science are robust, thorough and graceful (or at least more graceful than they should probably be expected to be given the abuse they so often endure).
It's got to be tough for someone who could easily walk away from the evangelical tribe, to stay and attempts to present alternatives, counter-opinions, true Christian challenge, all the while being vilified and called enemy.
At the same time, I often regret how little emphasis is actually placed on scripture by those in the "science" camp. (And please, know it pains me deeply to even be talking about this as a "debate," but reality is as reality does - the same goes for unreality as well, I suppose.)
Sure, there is debate about the ways in which scripture is used and approached by the seven day creation camp or the ID perspective. There is a presentation of alternative perspectives and approaches to interpretation. That's not absent. What I don't often see is an affirmation of the primacy and importance of scripture for those who choose to put stock in the study of the physical world.
Now this is sort of an awkward critique. I went to school at Eastern Nazarene College and took a class from Dr. Karl Giberson, who's sort of become a leading engager of such debates and a convenient whipping boy for the most militant of evangelicals and literalists. I know Karl - not in some super close way, but we're friends on Facebook; I've been to his house a couple times. I find it hard to talk about such discussions without thinking of him.
This isn't really something that applies to Karl. He's a scientist. He really does well when he's talking (and even better when he's writing) from the scientist's perspective. He speaks well to his own religious experience, but honestly, religion is not his field and the times I'm most uncomfortable with what he has to say are the times he addresses religion more deeply - again, it's not his field.
It might be more a critique of the silent majority of those for whom religion is their field than it is of Jesus-loving scientists. Religion, theology, happens to be my field and it seems sometimes like we've hung those scientists out to dry. And, in doing so, have done a real disservice to the conversation.
You see, when there is a debate over God and science, rightly or not, the perception is that one side takes scripture more seriously and the other side is perceived to argue that perhaps they're taking it too seriously.
In many cases, though, this couldn't be further from the truth.
I believe people willing to engage so strenuously in debate (on any side of any issue) probably care pretty deeply about the subject matter. Yes, some people use a non-literalist interpretation of scripture to justify ignoring sections they don't like. But to categorize all science advocates in that vein is silly.
But it might be justifiable, especially if people who really do take scripture seriously, but find themselves in an alternative position to traditional evangelicalism refuse to speak up.
I wish the conversation would continue - beyond why one perspective on scripture is inadequate for some and onto alternative ways scripture can be taken seriously.
I grew up in a pretty conservative environment. I suspect it was my own natural contrarian proclivities that kept me from jumping hook, line, and sinker into literalist, fundamentalist beliefs. I had a lot of thinking to do in college to evaluate new information I received about science. What I didn't get until Seminary, though, were the tools to do a similar evaluation and recalibration on how that new information effected my views of God and scripture. Those tools weren't present in the science debate.
It is a scare tactic to say that evolution or serious science is an attempt to move our children away from proper doctrine or that the study of science in standard academic terms will steal a person's faith. It's not entirely wrong, though. People do encounter science and lose faith from time to time. Others find resonance with a more liberal perspective on science and faith, but lose the fervency they once had for God. It happens. It's far from inevitable, but it's not non-existent.
I wonder sometimes, if Christian kids aren't getting turned off to Christ because we're not equipping them with the tools necessary to process theology in light of science. If, by omission, we're teaching them to take scripture less seriously when we counter dearly-held childhood beliefs with alternative perspectives.
In my case, the pathological need for order drove me to deep study (well beyond anything required in any of my academic programs) to try and answer some of these questions. I know a lot of people just don't feel the need to do the same thing.
In my case, the need to incorporate scientific revelation into a life of faith lead me to an even more serious treatment of scripture than I had before. If I have one critique of the Ken Ham ilk, it's that they don't take scripture seriously enough.
I don't think this perspective on the matter gets discussed enough. It's not the job of scientists - even Christian scientists - to do it. It's my job, and really the job of anyone who's ever put in an effort to reconcile new information with ancient faith.
I've written about my continuing struggles with this reconciliation here. I will continue to explore because it's a whole lot of fun, but also because this journey has led me to some amazing discoveries about God and the world that reach far deeper and with more beauty than anything I've experienced before.
I think people encounter this kind of science everyday - it's more than biology, but sociology, history, economics, psychology, neuroscience, anthropology and more - information that doesn't immediately fit into the religious or theological framework they've been given.
I think, for a lot of people, the default position is just to devalue scripture. They just don't have the tools to do otherwise. They simply say, "well, if my understanding of scripture was wrong in this area, I guess it must be wrong here, too," and leave it at that. That's certainly where I was for many years.
As Christians, scripture is the tradition of God's people passed down through time. It may not be a verbatim dictation of thought and practice from God's mouth to your ears, but it's amazingly, profoundly, life-alteringly important.
Reconciling the two, or, especially, giving people the tools to reconcile the two, is not the job of scientists - it's the job of pastors and theologians. My people.
Too often, and I am certainly guilty of this as well, we remain silent when we should speak for fear of entering an argument that could be avoided. When we do so, we hurt ourselves, the people with whom we converse, and also those "scientists" out there, in a wide variety of fields, who've dedicated themselves to increasing knowledge and learning more about this unbelievable world God shares with us.
I'm not sure if there's a point to this whole essay - and it's about five times longer than I've intended it to be -but I've been thinking about it recently and I thought it might do some of you some good to think about it, too.
There's been a bit of hubbub surrounding a proposed LGBTQ club at Point Loma Nazarene University. As an ordained Nazarene minister, a fifth generation member and a graduate of two Nazarene institutions of higher learning, this has been an interesting story to follow.
The group was founded in 2009 by a student leader who used an invitation for dialogue to challenge and undermine the school. They got burned and it's not difficult to see how the administration could be leery of the same group, albeit under different leadership, seeking a similar platform.
With the back story (and my lack of knowledge beyond what's been made public), I have to applaud the mission statement this group submitted:
We are aware that LGBT students are a suffering population on the campus of Point Loma Nazarene University (PLNU), and we have realized that the common exclusiveness of the Christian community can overlook the spiritual and interpersonal needs of LGBT community. Through entering this place, we hope LGBT students at PLNU can share their neglected stories, lingering questions, and increasing trials with their Christian comrades, and together, we can learn what it means to practice listening to and dignifying your political or theological enemy and actively learning to live and love in real-time. We hope to seek reconciliation not based on a change of belief system but rather from a commitment to live in relationship with opposing worldviews while seeking to understand and dignify the humanity of the “other.”
This is a pretty powerful statement of charity and reconciliation, one that dovetails pretty well with what I've often used as an ethical motivation - we have to live together. If we believe in a future of peace where the world is as it's intended to be, then we're all going to get along. We might as well start now.
I don't think this means we have to agree. I think things work better when we come to different conclusions about things. I think things work poorly when we refuse to listen and learn from one another. I happen to believe that God's Holy Spirit is at work in the world, speaking and shaping us, even if we don't know it.
I am grateful for a school (Eastern Nazarene College) that created a supportive Christian community without dictating belief. I struggled mightily with issues of faith, belief, and ethics during my college years. I am convinced that were those struggles not undertaken within the context of a Christian community, I would not be a Christian today.
I said, did, and believed a lot of things that I disagree with today - but I did so in the midst of a community drenched in a commitment to God's prevenient grace. My peers and professors, for the most part, trusted that sincere questions of faith would be answered. People prayed for me and with me.
I didn't have a lot of direct conversations with people about faith - but I have a strong group of friends and a wonderful chaplain who were merely present and provided the kind of atmosphere necessary for me and the Holy Spirit to work things out.
Mike Schutz was the chaplain most of my time at ENC, but I don't recall having very many interactions with him during those four years. I do count his influence upon my life as extremely great - mostly because of the spiritual atmosphere he fostered and the space it provided me to grow without pressure.
I'm not sure Point Loma needs a group like this - I'm not really in a position to have an opinion one way or another - I do think the conversation suggested by the mission statement is a necessity. Conversations on faith and sexuality will take place, formally or informally. I think a Christian college does a great disservice to its mission and purpose by ignoring them or limiting them.
I think there's still some perception that we send our kids to a Christian school to protect them from the dangers of the world. Those dangers are just as real at a Nazarene school as they are anywhere else. We shouldn't be fueling this idea that our schools are bastions of purity. They're colleges with a specific mission to serve God and help young people learn to think critically. Refusing a group like this, at least from my perspective, fails to represent both Christian love and our confidence that God is bigger than theological differences. It makes us look scared - and we should be exhibiting a perfect love that casts out all fear.
If we are convinced of the Truth of Jesus Christ, the sufficiency of atonement, the grace of God and the work of the Holy Spirit, we don't have anything to fear from honest (and by that I mean openness and a willingness to be affected by the other) dialogue.
We're going to lose a whole generation of young people in the Church of the Nazarene, not because of our positions or doctrines, but because we seem unwilling to allow a new generation to contribute to our understanding and actually participate.
I have said time and again that our position, at least the position officially outlined, is perfectly defensible and a responsible interpretation of scripture. I think there are reasonable and defensible positions on both "sides" of the debate (just as I think there are unreasonable and indefensible positions on both "sides"). If people who disagree (meaning both sides) are willing to have honest discussions, there is no reason why there can't be a building of respect, even if the end result continues to be disagreement.
Ultimately, I do think the problem is one of fear. We're afraid that people who accept even committed, monogamous homosexual relationships (marriages where denominations allow) might end up in hell - and if we're party to a discussion where even one person changes their mind from our position to the other, that we could be responsible for their eternal damnation.
I don't think that's an irrational fear at all.
I disagree with that line of thinking in a number of ways, certainly, but it does make sense to me. I can see were any kind of open engagement would be difficult to swallow.
I welcome this kind of dialogue because I don't share that fear - and what's more I see every day more and more young people I care about who are questioning faith altogether because of the fear inherent in that mindset. I welcome this kind of dialogue because I believe in hell - that it is full of selfishness and anger and fear all of which lead to pain - and that we experience hell when we allow any of those things to control our lives.
I cast no aspersions on anyone but myself here. I don't want this to sound like an attack. I am merely trying to illustrate the journey I've taken.
I faced down the fear I outlined above - what if I get swayed from the right path, what if I inadvertently sway others to their detriment? I've wallowed in that fear often. In the end, I had to make a choice not to let that fear or any fear - even a well-intentioned fear, hold me captive.
I believe God is in control and that God is big enough and smart enough to handle any problem we might create, but I have to move forward boldly without fear and in love.
Finally, (and I'm sorry this post is so long, but I've taken more than a month off, so you get what you get) I've been processing this alongside an investigation into why this kind of dialogue - not just about homosexuality and faith, but about anything - appears dangerous to many. I wonder if there isn't a bit of a modern-postmodern disconnect at work.
I do think the generation emerging is more comfortable with disagreements if relationship is strong - there's sort of an idea that if I can be confident you're earnestly seeking God, I can trust the Holy Spirit to work things out. It doesn't work so well for building and maintaining institutions, but then again the generation emerging doesn't care much about that either. I do think Nazarene higher education is as best placed to tackle this problem as anyone else. I have hope.
I'm not sure exactly what the solution is - beyond grace and love - but I do think it says something about the way we process and dialogue. I've been taught and value the idea that you enter every conversation willing to be changed or it isn't a real conversation. I want to hear how others have answered tough questions differently than I answered them. I want to share ideas or perspectives someone else might have missed or not considered and I want a light shined on my blind spots as well.
I'm excited about the possibilities that lay beyond the comfort and security of my decided opinions. I'm excited about people who wish to engage diversity of all kinds beyond our own labels and definitions, united solely in Jesus Christ.
Yes, the "other side" might be lying. They might not be willing to commit to the same honesty. They might be up to dirty tricks and sneaky schemes - maybe. I am willing to get burned a thousand times rather than be false myself.
*Big thanks to the community at Naznet for helping me formulate these thoughts - much of this post is adapted from my comments there.
