In the next 10 blog posts I will offer responses to each of the 10 questions that I raised last post about the “stakes” for evangelical Christians to examine the question that the evangelical church is broadly dysfunctional.

In other words, what might it “cost” Evangelicals simply to consider this notion in the abstract, without yet taking the next step of considering that this might be a real problem and investigating whether (and to what degree) it effects their church or even themselves?

Let’s start with the first question:
1) What are your feelings and responses to such a claim and how strong are they?

The reason that I focus on “feelings” is that this is typically the level at which most evangelicals will find themselves “responding” to challenging questions / claims against their beliefs, such as the notion that evangelical Christianity is broadly “dysfunctional.”  In other words, while the claim to dysfunction has intellectual content the responses to such a claim will rarely be primarily (or initially) intellectual.  Their responses will instead be primarily (and perhaps purely) emotional.

This is because the claim / question is not often perceived primarily as a claim (or even as a claim that is threatening) but as a threat (or at best, as a threat that has some rational or explanatory content).  The reason that challenging claims are treated as threats is that most evangelicals hold their beliefs out of a combination of fear (of what might happen if they did not hold them) and ignorance (of what other, more valid reasons exist for believing these things and of how their beliefs relate to–or integrate with–the rest of life).

In other words, most Christians believe “on the basis of” (or as a matter of) faith seeking usefulness and as an expression of fear and ignorance, whereas the logic of belief is to believe “on the basis of” (or as a matter of) understanding, agreement, engagement and trust, which then manifest as an expression of truth-seeking requiring faith.  The two could not be more different !

Restated, most evangelicals focus on “having faith” (and the benefits that having such faith provides and / or the penalty that it avoids) rather than on “believing something one sufficiently understands and about which one is more confident of its truth than of other, competing beliefs.”

Quite literally, this is the difference between “faith in faith” and “faith in something.”  And a short pause should be enough to grasp that “faith in faith” is actually a contradiction: faith never has itself as a referent, or focus, because faith must have an object to be meaningful.

Instead, “faith in faith” is actually faith because of something and as such the belief content–the what that is believed–is essentially a “carrier” for faith, and so is actually irrelevant!  This is because belief as a matter of faith–or “faith in faith”–seeks not to believe something because it is true, but to believe something because it is useful.

The distinction is between “believing something” because it is useful versus “believing something” because it is true.  And my argument is that the best reason for believing something is because that thing is true.

My point, then, is that most Christians believe in Christianity “because of” or “due to” something external to the central content of Christian beliefs, such as believing in God in order to “go to heaven” and/or avoid “going to hell.”  (On that point, the most widely accepted conception of hell, as eternal conscious torment (ECT), is itself a view based on biblical interpretations that I view to be questionable at best, if not outright incorrect.  See Edward Fudge‘s excellent work by way of explanation).

Instead, however, my argument is that beliefs should be held because they are (or can be assessed to be) true.  From this vantage, a belief is held because the holder believes it has sufficient “merit” to warrant holding it rather than any other belief.  That is, in the holder’s view there is sufficient 1) clarity to understand the belief, 2) evidence for believing in the belief’s truthfulness, 3) explanatory power related to the belief’s domain(s) of relevance, and 4) coherence with other beliefs that have shown themselves to be truthful and “properly explanatory” of life and living in the world.

In other words, in my view only beliefs that are held as an expression of faith–and never as a matter of faith–are compatible with both a) the logic of belief as believing in something, b) biblical expressions of faith and c) human instantiations of faith in all other areas of life.

So how does this relate to the “question” of evangelical dysfunction?

The reality is that evangelical Christians will not be able even to consider the question of “evangelical dysfunction” unless they hold their beliefs as a expression of truth-seeking involving faith.  How can we know this?  Try it out.  Test it and see.  I have.  And the responses confirm that those whose faith is an expression of faith seeking usefulness (and a matter of fear and ignorance) continue

The irony, of course, is that the first approach assumes the second without actually carrying it out, whereas the second includes elements of the first but in a chastened form whose scale is more appropriate to the context.

The real issue?  For others, The beliefs of Evangelical who promote the “faith in the cause of usefulness” model will tend to be circular, and will create countless contexts for 1) alienation of those within the church who question–let alone criticize–this model or who advocate “faith in the cause of truthfulness” model, and 2) promoting further loss of credibility among outsiders to Christianity, the very ones that Evangelicals desire to reach.

For themselves, the faith of evangelicals who cling to the “faith in the cause of usefulness” model will be little more than an outer husk of personal piety devoid of any real content.  Hardly following the example of Christ.  Indeed, hardly Christian.

[1. Here I am cutting back strongly against, for instance, those expressions of Kierkegaard’s thought that emphasize not that faith is required because we cannot have full knowledge of the matter that the belief relates to but that faith is required because we cannot have any significant knowledge at all–the notion that Christian faith is to be held “as a matter of faith” precisely because we can hold it in no other way.  This is commonly know as “fideism.”  I believe that Kierkegaard’s position is not equivalent to Christian belief being a simple “matter of faith”–it is more complicated and substantial than that–but in my view the prioritization of faith “above all other things” misrepresents both what it is to engage with God (as depicted in the biblical text) and what it is to engage with any aspect of human existence.]

I have been working on the issue of evangelical dysfunction for some time now.  And for nearly all of that time my approach has been to describe the problem, argue for (and present examples of) its existence, and propose solutions.

Unfortunately, this approach was wrong.

My experience of attempting to bring this problem to light for Evangelicals and within the evangelical church over the past four years has shown me that beginning by addressing “the problem”–or even simply presenting evangelical dysfunction as a problem–is not the place to start.

Instead, as I noted in a previous post, the starting place is with the “question” of evangelical dysfunction rather than the problem or the “phenomenon” of evangelical dysfunction.  The difference is that when we begin with the “question” we do not start with the issue to be considered but can instead start with what it might means for a “potential investigator” to begin considering the matter.

The reason for doing this is that the very idea that evangelical Christianity is deeply dysfunctional is simply beyond the ability of most Christians even to conceive, let alone to discuss maturely and investigate effectively.  The notion, in other words, is overwhelming.

Beginning instead with the “question” of evangelical dysfunction means beginning by considering first what is at stake for Evangelicals with such a notion and what it may “cost” an evangelical Christian seriously even to consider the idea, let alone to investigate it in the context of their own church or their own lives.

To facilitate understanding what is “at stake” or what it may “cost” Evangelicals to engage with the notion that evangelical Christianity is broadly dysfunctional I propose that Evangelicals consider–and answer–the following questions:

1) What are your feelings and responses to such a claim and how strong are they?
2) What do you think these feelings indicate (and what might their strength or weakness indicate)?
3) How competent do you feel to consider or even know how to start considering such a claim? What might your perceived level of competence indicate?
4) What in your view would count as evidence either for or against such a claim?
5) How would you evaluate or “weigh up” such evidence and how competent do you feel to do so successfully?
6) What would be required for you to “trust” someone making such a claim?
7) What might it take to convince you that such a claim is possible (not true, but simply possible)?
8) What resources would you be able to access in your church or Christan community to help you with the above tasks?
9) How easy would it be to identify the right resources and / or adjudicate between the right resources if they offered various (or particularly, conflicting) perspectives?
10) How important on a scale of 1 to 5 (1 being “least” and 5 being “most”) is it to you to determine whether dysfunction is widespread within the evangelical church?

Although my investigation of dysfunction is starting with the question of evangelical dysfunction rather than the problem of evangelical dysfunction, the term “dysfunction” in the context of Christian Evangelicalism still requires a basic definition.

As I noted in an earlier post, I am distinguishing “dysfunction” from both sinfulness and brokenness.  The main distinction is that dysfunction in evangelical contexts i) happens in place of what is “functional,” ii) happens in such a way that those who participate in it are largely unaware of its occurrence, and iii) is entrenched within the community context (typically a church or even a denominational context) as what I have called a “standard of faithfulness” that serves to identify membership in the community by tacitly delimiting appropriate (and inappropriate) behaviour.

Let me unpack this definition.

I am defining “sin” as an act, orientation or engagement that–whether consciously or unconsciously, actively or passively–disrupts my relationship with God by creates distance between me and God. I am defining “brokenness” as the inability–known or unknown but *never* consciously chosen–fully to engage in right relationship with God, oneself, others or our world.

As someone who has spent years trying to reform and re-build evangelical Christianity from the inside (and whose graduate research and life experience have centered on diagnosing, explaining, and presenting solutions for evangelical dysfunction),
I am convinced that Evangelicalism is so dysfunctional that I cannot both be part of an evangelical church and be myself, let alone carry out the role and calling that I believe that God has given me for and in the church.

Bluntly, I can no longer attend evangelical churches on their terms.

At the moment, then, I have withdrawn from the evangelical church.  When I do attempt to re-enter an evangelical church I will not do so, however, as a simple parishioner with the general intention of “attending.”

I will instead re-enter by presenting myself as a teacher—which is what I am—who has specific intentions within the church and requirements of it.  My aim then is to be fully transparent with the minister or pastor (and eventually with the church board or deacons) about: 1. what I teach and why, 2. my education and credentials for teaching, 3. my experience with other Christian churches and organizations that have informed my teaching, 4. my aims and intentions relative to this church.

This transparency includes explaining that my specialist training and background means I understand my role in any church to include offering critique about how the church functions and how the prevailing functioning of many evangelical churches is dysfunctional, including dysfunction in the roles and relationships between pastors and parishioners (such as my podcast on “Why Evangelicalism Fails“).

My intention with this direct and purposeful “first contact” is i) to bring awareness about who I am and what my goals and intentions are relative to this church and, as a result, ii) to force a discussion—and eventually a choice—by the minister or pastor as to whether s/he will accept my participation in the church on the terms that I present.

Now to be clear, these terms are not a manipulative demand that I teach or be “on staff” or be viewed as superior to others: this is not the point.

Rather, their purpose is a) to create understanding about my specialist training and background and b) to ensure acceptance, at least in principle, that my role in the church includes offering critique about how the church functions and to evaluate and respond to potential dysfunction within it.  These terms also aim c) to establish open and effective communication with both the church body and church leadership (on the one hand in communicating my role to the church body; on the other hand in developing protocols for communication between me and church leadership concerning my role and the results that it produces for the church).

In truth, to the best of my knowledge this sort of role does not exist in the evangelical church.  More to the point, I am hard pressed to imagine that many (or indeed, any) evangelical pastors would be willing to have someone in their congregation who has the designated role of offering feedback to the church and who specializes in identifying and remedying dysfunction: most pastors would simply feel too threatened by this arrangement.

The irony is that in the business world, my role would be “consultant” and I would be viewed as a tremendously valuable to the organization (and paid commensurately), whereas in the church the term for my role has often been “trouble maker” and the response of many has been to view me as problematic (and dismiss me accordingly).

The greater irony, of course, is that unlike the business world the church has (or rather, healthy and functional churches are supposed to have) checks and balances that help to identify dysfunction, and so allow them to be open to the very types of critiques that I offer.

In other words, what is to say that when churches pray for “help to serve God better” that the Holy Spirit is not using my feedback and critiques to empower them to do so?  Sadly, none of the churches that I have worked with to this point seem to have considered that…

“So why don’t you go to church anymore?”

As someone who has spent years trying to reform and re-build evangelical Christianity from the inside (and whose graduate research and life experience have centered on diagnosing, explaining, and presenting solutions for evangelical dysfunction),
I am convinced that Evangelicalism is so dysfunctional that I cannot both be part of an evangelical church and be myself, let alone carry out the role and calling that I believe that God has given me for and in the church.

Bluntly, I can no longer attend evangelical churches on their terms.

In the meantime I am faced with questions about “church attendance” whose answers are complex (that is, they have a number of connected pieces) and sometimes complicated (that is, they are tough to understand).

Usually questions about not attending church arise as part of a conversation with Christian acquaintances that we have not seen for a while.  But of course, there’s something wrong with this whole “picture.”  The image above, showing a concerned friend caring for someone who seems sad or to be having difficulties, is not often an accurate reflection of the intention of the questioner nor is this at all the way that such a matter should be discussed.

So let’s rewind a bit.

When I see a Christian acquaintance from someplace that I used to live s/he will occasionally ask, “Where are you going to church now?”

My answer always depends on the context: Who is asking?  What is the setting?  What seems to be their interest level?

For the rare instances when there seems to be a genuine, deeper interest I will typically answer: “That’s a subject that requires a longer conversation.  How do you feel about that?”  In most cases there is neither time nor interest for such a conversation, but I believe that it’s important both to be honest (that for me this is a complex matter) and to help to educate that person (who is most often unaware that church-going is a tricky and sometimes problematic subject).

In the end I mostly answer: “I find that I have incompatible goals with evangelical churches, because I have different core values, even though I consider myself to be an Evangelical. This means that church-going is only possible for me when based on transparency and agreement, rather than simply showing up and following along.”

Not really an answer, though certainly not what was expected.  Their responses range from surprise to concern to disappointment.  “That’s concerning,” or “How can that be?” or “We all have problems with the church.”

The main difficulty with this entire line of questioning is that in 99%  of cases the questioner begins with the assumption–indeed, the understanding–that church is generally good and church-going is necessary and beneficial.  In other words, there is an entire discussion (indeed, an entire way of seeing matters) that, unless undertaken and considered, will mean that even if I reply as straightforwardly as possible to their questions we will end up miscommunicating.

We will end up talking across each other: using the same words but meaning different things (and thus interpreting seemingly “the same” matters entirely differently).  Or better yet, while I will understand my questioners viewpoint my viewpoint will be completely opaque to this person.  Nor is the solution to begin explaining my view of evangelical dysfunction–that conversation would seem even more complicated (and threatening), likely resulting in the other party feeling attacked or set upon.

Instead, my aim is to state my observations / conclusions about evangelical churches and then to follow the flow of their responses.  I do this, to be clear, not with a goal of creating confusion but with a goal of demonstrating that matters of church-going and church environments can be more tricky, and sometimes problematic, than expected.  Raising this awareness is one of many steps that may help to move this person toward becoming able to consider and discuss the deeper and more critical matter of dysfunction and its occurrence within Evangelicalism.

So to statements of concern or surprise I respond: “What concerns you about this?”  or “What surprises you about this?”  To statements of disappointment I would respond: “What did you understand me to be saying?” and then “How important is it to you to address problems in the church?”

Ultimately, I would likely get the point where I would ask “What were your expectations when you asked me where I was going to church?”  and “How well do you think those expectations prepared you for what I told you?”

In other words, my aim is to direct this person to reflect upon her or his own understandings and expectations about church-going.  If we get far enough I may even be able to nudge this person toward reflecting on his or her standards and “boundaries” when it comes to church-going: to reflect on what makes church valuable and what circumstances or situations might diminish that value or call it into question.

When I asked how my podcast listeners would evaluate the claim that evangelical Christianity is deeply dysfunctional, one listener wrote:

“Be careful. Very careful. Unless you have some kind of supernatural insulation (which some people believe they have), it’s going to be an uphill battle.”

I could not agree more.  Indeed, my experience in every context where I have tried to engage Evangelicals about the claim that evangelical Christianity is indeed deeply dysfunctional is not simply lack of interest but hostility.

This is why my goal for the podcast and for my work with Integration Project in 2019 is to begin with “the question” of Evangelical Dysfunction rather the phenomenon (or the problem) of Evangelical Dysfunction.

The difference is that focusing on the “phenomenon” begins with the understanding that this dysfunction is or could very well be real, and proceeds to investigate the factuality claim.  The first approach, focusing on the “question,” is more modest and preliminary.  It begins with investigating the nature of the claim, the one receiving the claim, and the one making the claim.  So it begins with trying to understand:

a) how we would go about even assessing such a claim, including considering:
i) what are our feelings and responses to such a claim (and what these may indicate),
ii) what our ability/inability competently to consider (or even to know how to start  considering) such a claim might mean,
iii) what type of person the claimant needs to be in order for us to believe that the claim could be valid,
iv) what would be required to create “trust” in the claimant if s/he were not the type of person whom we would find it easy to believe,
v) what the manner and/or context in which the claim is expressed would mean for our ability to believe it / take it seriously.

b) what it might take to convince us that such a claim is possible,

c) what resources we would be able to access in our churches or Christan communities.

In short, the main issue to confront in considering Evangelical Dysfunction is not the claim itself, but how evangelical Christianity seems completely insulated against such a claim, to the point that Evangelicals not only resist contemplating it but are in fact essentially incapable of doing so.

For this reason it is impossible to start with the claim of Evangelical Dysfunction as such.  Instead we must start with “the question” of evangelical dysfunction and so examine all of the preliminary and related pieces in order to show how (and how much) evangelical Christianity is predisposed not to taking such claims seriously (and indeed, how this pervasive insularity has debilitated Evangelicals to the point that they actually even lack the skills, dispositions and knowledge to do so even if they were so inclined)!

For quite some time I have been focusing exclusively on my Untangling Christianity podcast and so have not blogged with any regularity in several years.  It is my hope in 2019 to change that.

My graduate work, blogging, and podcasting have all contributed to my strong belief that there is something deeply amiss within evangelical Christianity.  Hence the question for 2019 that I am asking my podcast listeners and anyone else who cares to consider it:

Imagine that you were told that evangelical Christianity is deeply dysfunctional (as opposed to simply “sinful” or “broken”) and that this dysfunction likely occurs in your church.  Imagine, further, that due to the particulars of the claim and/or the claimant you could not simply dismiss this but felt compelled to investigate it.

How would you do so?

2.4 Consider your view of the Church

It might surprise you to think that one’s view of the church, or ecclesiology, is an important component in competent Bible reading. Yet when we recall how, in the New Testament, the church is described as “a body” then this begins to lead in the right direction. Specifically, when we accept the notion that the church is a body then we can more easily agree to a couple of key ideas about Bible reading.

First, each member of the body is not identical: key differences between Christians allow the church to function optimally. As such, Christians need not simply recognize their limitations (regarding the many difficult aspects of reading the Bible well) but also can benefit from the gifts and talents of other Christians. In other words, it is not simply that resources are available within the Christian body but, more positively stated, Christians believe that God has equipped the church with the resources needed for success.

Second, and similar to the first point, we are able to rely on fellow members of the body in carrying out our various tasks, including Bible reading. In this way Christians can rely on biblical scholars (in the sense of not having to “re-invent the wheel” and do all of the work that they have done). Relying on scholars does not mean accepting their views or conclusions uncritically, but gladly engaging with the hard work that has already been done in order best to read the Bible as effectively as possible.

As an aside, a key implication of this sort of “critical engagement” with biblical scholars is that Christian communities, if not individual Christians, need to develop the insights required to adjudicate between experts. Sound daunting? Thankfully these insights can be developed as we engage more fully with the considerations explained in this document. More specifics on this later.

2.5 Consider the Bible

So why not start with the Bible? I hope that the preceding points have illustrated why we need to start with ourselves and our views: in order that we will be able to read the Bible better, and understand it more correctly, as per our goal!

Also, in addition to our external or physical resources there are internal, mental resources that are important. Notably, there are certain dispositions that will foster better results and others that can lead to worse results. To have a clearer understanding of these dispositions think of the Bible as a person—how do you aim to treat others? As Christians we typically seek to “love others as ourselves”: what would it mean to treat the Bible as a person?

If the Bible were a person we would want to treat him or her compassionately. We would want to approach him or her with honesty and with a listening attitude, yet also by balancing openness with a critical perspective. We would also want to value the relationship enough to engage any “differences of opinion” or points of confusion with further effort on our part to undertand (through research and investigation). Further, just like a commitment to a long-term relationship, we would want to view Bible reading not as an activity but as a lifestyle, something that is simply “part of who we are.”

These are but a few examples of the dispositions required for competent Bible reading.

2.5.1 Consider your “Bible-related” resources

Where interpretation is unavoidable resources are essential. So what resources do you think can help you interpret the Bible better?

I want to suggest a few types of resources, typically books though sometimes videos, that I and others have found helpful in this regard. I will start with the most general and move to the most specific:

1a) Introductory Guides are the most general and often both introduce the subject matter and address common concerns or confusions. Stephen Barton’s Invitation to the Bible is very helpful.

1b) Reading Guides, such how to read the Bible or New Testament are more technique-oriented, focusing on reading awareness and skills. Such books as Gordon Fee’s How to Read the Bible for All it’s Worth or Rece and Beardslee’s Reading the Bible: A Guide are helpful.

2) Exegesis Handbooks are similar but somewhat more specific than reading Guides, and are also helpful. See Douglas Stuart’s Old Testament Exegesis as an example.  See here for an explanation of “exegesis.”

3) Biblical Introductions, such as introductions to the Old or New Testament, offer specific information about the literary and theology of their subjects. Paul Achtemeier’s Introducing the New Testament: Its Literature and Theology is quite good.

4) Commentaries focus on a specific biblical book or part of a biblical book. Commentaries come in a wide range, from general and accessible to detailed and scholarly. For the budget minded the Expositor’s Bible Commentary: Revised Edition contains abridged commentary by a variety of major scholars and covers the entire New Testament in a 13 volume set.

5) Scholarly Articles are the most specific information generally available. Articles on biblical texts can cover anything from an entire section of 10-15 verses down to a part of a single verse. In most cases scholarly articles are dense and will require 2-3 readings to be understood. Also, these articles can be tougher to source: you will likely need accesses to the ATLA (American Theological Libraries Association) database at a local theological library, where you can search by verse, by author, or by topic.

Overall, I suggest the Christians focus on categories 1a, 1b, 3 and 4. Or, for category 4, you could ensure that your church has a full set of commentaries that balance accessibility and detail. See here for a detailed explanation / buyer’s guide of the various types of commentaries.

2.3 Consider your philosophy

Bible reading is made much more difficult by two, somewhat prevalent views which are infact philosohpical postions. The first is that there is only one truth or one way of stating or expressing truth. The second is that there are a vast variety of truths and so a multitude of possible truthful expressions.

The first view is inspired by Modernism and the Enlightenment, the second by varieties of Postmodernism. Insofar as these philosophies concern truth about what and how we know, they relate to the branch of philosophy called “epistemology.” Now the important part is that everyone holds some manner of belief about truth and how the knowledge needed to acquire truth and, once again, we hold such beliefs whether we are aware of / can articulate them or not. So when we are unaware of our philosophical perspectives then they function as expectations that impact what we believe the Bible can mean, and how this meaning is acquired.

On the one hand, those holding a modernist perspective typically believe that there is only one truth, and that truth equates with “reality.” A statement you might hear from a Bible reader with modernist sensibilites is “you may need to interpret the Bible, but I just read what’s there,” or “the meaning of this passage is clear to anyone using their common sense,” or again “we can be absolutely certain that this is the proper meaning of this verse.”

The view that truth equates only with reality ignore those Biblical truth claims that present God as being God of “the possible.” For example, God’s claim to love and forgive those who see themselves as unlovable or unforgiveable is not false, but is a claim to possible truth, waiting to be realized through certain events and through the passage of time.

Importantly, in each of the above three cases the modernist is making a faith-related claim on the basis of philosphical convictions unrelated Christian convictions.

On the other hand, those holding certain postmodern sensibilites (I mention “certain” sensibilities because postmodernism is much broader and more varied than modernism) typically focus on how truth is formed and used—how culture and story work to created established ways of thinking that we equate with truth—and so can abandon any definitive notion of truth altogether. A postmodern statement might focus on truth as relative “That’s true for you, not for me” or as produced “I think ideas in this passage are only an accepted norm or cultural value.”

Importantly, in each of the above two cases the postmodernist is making a faith-related claim on the basis of philosphical convictions unrelated Christian convictions.

Indeed, both of these philosophies miss the point, or rather points. The first point: as limited, finite entities human beings are always forced to interpret, and human knowledge is never final. Only God know accurately (and so does not interpret), and only God knows fully (and so need not revise or augment God’s knowledge). Yet the second point: as limited, finite entities human beings have the power to interpret, which provides valuable knowledge and understanding. God has created humans as competent but dependant knowers who can have partial yet true knowledge of their world.

The upshot of above is twofold. First, we need to balance between these extremes by embracing the tension inherent in human life and human being as valuable and productive, such as between confidence and humility. Second, in what will only be satisfying in a longer presentation, these philosophical considerations lead us toward three components that are necessary to competent Bible reading: interpretation, hermeneutics, and dialogue.

I will define each before moving on:

a) Interpretation is what me “make of” something: what we take it to mean or imply based on a number of factors that together could be called context. Further, where there may be upwards of 3 or even 4 valid interpretations to a biblical text, there are not 14 or 40: interpretation has bounds.

b) Hermeneutics is the art and science of interpretation: it is the laws and norms that guide the practice of interpretation and includes a sense of “practical wisdom” as to how and when we apply these laws and norms.  One’s hermeneutical lens governs the outcomes of one’s interpretations.

c) Dialogue is the practice of listening not to formulate a counter argument but in order to promote the true strength of what is being proposed. As such dialogue requires listening first, though it also requires that we maintain the ability (and willingness) to critique. Dialogue opposes both dispute and debate, and dialogue is the best mode of engaging with others about such things as what the Bible means.

2.1 Starting with yourself

I believe that to become competent Bible readers we must “start with ourselves,” for various reasons. First, one’s theology (or simply, ‘theories about God’) significantly effect how one views the process of reading and the nature of the Bible as a text. Second, one’s philosophy effects one’s expectations about the results of reading. Third, one’s practical understandings also condition one’s agenda and hopes when it comes to Bible readings. As all of these are important I will take a moment to explain each.

Before doing so, I want to underscore that theological, philosophical, and practical concerns exist for every reader, whether s/he is aware of them or not. As such, perhaps the greatest obstacle that can arise for Bible readers is to remain unaware of these concerns, such that they function as powerful but invisible assumptions, assumptions that have the power to determine ‘how’ and ‘why’ we read and what we take to be the meaning and implications of what we read.

Let’s begin with some theological views that can make Bible reading, ironically, very difficult.

2.2 Consider your theology

Unless we consider our theories about God—our theologies—we will continue to read the Bible as we always have. And if we “do what we’ve always done, we’ll get what we’ve always gotten.”

Example 1

Here’s an example: some folks believe that the Holy Spirit gives or communicates the Bible’s correct meaning to Christians. In this case a Christian need do nothing more to understand the Bible correctly: s/he already has the right understanding of any passage! Now so long as those who hold this view are clear and unconfused about the Bible’s meaning then it seems logical that they have nothing new to learner, and so they should expect to “get what they always got” when reading the Bible.

Difficulties arises, of course, when another Christian who is equally endowed with the Holy Spirit comes up with a different meaning for the same passage. What do we do? Clearly we need to re-think this view, and even to reconsider it’s nature as being theological. Specifically, aside from the impossibility of substantiating this view (either biblically or practically) this view is not actually a “theology” but is instead a way of “starting with ourselves”: elevating our personal intuitions to the rank of judge and excluding other standards of judgment on the basis of a (false) theological claim.

We address this issue—and others like it—by becoming aware of ourselves, both generally and specifically. Generally, we need to develop an awareness of the motivations that prompt human beings to hold certain beliefs, and particularly to become aware of what is called “false consciousness,” by which people claim to hold a belief for one reason while actually holding it for a very different reason.

For example, false consciousnesses is at play when Christians claim to believe something about God yet they support this truth claim with Bible readings that are extremely questionable or even widely rejected by those who know the Bible well. So what’s going on? Well, seen from the perspective of false consciousnesses the person claims to believe because of the truthfulness of the view but, where this truthfulness is very unlikely (or even impossible) then its clear that the person really holds the belief for another reason, not its truth.

Through the skilled use of suspicion, which could be defined as a “wary awareness of the human propensity for self-deceit” (where self-deceit results in my willingness to embrace false consciousnesses as a means of achieving illicit goals or achieving valid goals for the wrong reasons) we can dig under or behind the stated claims and decipher more truthful motivations.

In this case, some possible motivations are: confusion, fear, or utility, to name a few.

-Confusion. It is confusing to have to work out the Bible’s meaning for oneself, and to ease my anxiety about facing this confusion I believe that the Holy Spirit communicates biblical meaning (and legitimate my belief with the self-deceptive claim that I believe it because it is true).

-Fear. Even worse, where one must work out the Bible’s meaning for oneself there is the risk that one cannot determine what the Bible means with certainty, and so one’s relationship with God (and entire belief system) could be threatened. Here again, I legitimate my belief with the self-deceptive claim that I believe it because it is true.

-Utility. In addition to being confusing and frightening it is a lot of work to try to develop Bible reading competencies, and just “living life” takes so much time. So my belief that the Holy Spirit communicates biblical meaning is useful in that it allows me to spend time on more important or imminent matters.

Example2

A second example is the issue of what kind of text the Bible is: a unique text or a typical text, like any other? Those who would see it as unique, or special, typically emphasize the role that God has played in creating (or even authoring) the Bible. Yet those who exclude—or marginalize—the Bible’s typical, textual aspects in favour of its special, divine aspects often underplay the literary, linguistic, and even historical considerations that contribute to the Bible’s meaning. The result is that we overplay God’s part and underplay our own.

Those who would see it as a text “like any other” would emphasize the text’s nature and aspects as text. In other words, the fact that the Bible’s books contains genres, that they display such literary features as metaphor, rhetoric, etc. Yet those who exclude the Bible’s very claims to be inspired and to offer specific and important truths about God often overplay the textual considerations and underplay the personal ones, such as the generosity, patience, and tolerance necessary to treat the Bible respectfully even when biblical claims seem confusing, unbelievable, or distasteful.

Instead, when we see that the Bible is both special and typical we are be cognizant of fostering (and bringing) the full range of skills and dispositions to bear when Bible reading, and thereby to develop more correct understandings, as is our goal.