06/13/2026
They Defended It
By A Country Pastor
This week, Southern Baptists are gathered once again to debate women in ministry, elect leaders, and continue discussions about which churches belong within their fellowship. The conversations are still unfolding as I write this, but the broader direction is becoming increasingly clear. Questions of who belongs, who leads, and where the boundaries should be drawn continue moving to the forefront. As I watch these discussions unfold, I find myself less interested in the particulars of any single vote and more interested in the lens through which many Christians approach Scripture. The debate itself matters, but the assumptions beneath the debate may matter even more. The same lens that shapes this conversation often shapes how Christians approach politics, immigration, race, nationalism, poverty, power, and countless other issues.
Over the years, I have noticed that many people who identify as Christians can quickly tell you what Christianity is against. They can point to a handful of verses. They can explain a few controversial issues. They can defend positions they hold with great confidence. Yet if you ask them to explain the larger story of the Bible, the conversation often becomes much more difficult. They know the conclusions. They know the arguments. They know the positions. They know what they have been taught. What they often do not know is the story itself.
To be fair, this is not a struggle unique to Southern Baptists. Catholics, Methodists, Presbyterians, Lutherans, and countless other Christian traditions have wrestled with difficult questions, divisions, and disagreements throughout their history. Some churches split apart. Some find ways to come back together. Some spend years drawing sharper distinctions, while others spend years seeking reconciliation and common ground. The names change. The issues change. Yet the deeper question often remains the same. Are we reading Scripture through the lens of Jesus, or are we reading Jesus through some other lens?
That is not because people are unintelligent. It is because many have inherited conclusions before they encountered Jesus. They know what their church taught. They know what their political tribe believes. They know what a television preacher said. They know what a social media post told them. They know what they are expected to defend. Many people never encounter the Bible first. They encounter someone else’s interpretation of the Bible first. They encounter a political version of Christianity, a nationalist version of Christianity, a denominational version of Christianity, a progressive version, a conservative version, or a cultural version. By the time they finally open Scripture for themselves, they are often searching for confirmation rather than transformation. They are looking for support for what they already believe rather than allowing Jesus to challenge what they believe.
The danger is not ignorance. The danger is certainty without study. Some of the strongest opinions in modern Christianity are formed long before people have wrestled with the larger story. They know the verses used in the argument. They know the talking points. They know what their tribe believes. Yet they have not spent enough time with Jesus for Jesus to challenge those assumptions. Part of the problem is that Christianity has become a political subculture for many people. It has its own language, its own heroes, its own villains, its own assumptions, and its own culture wars. People can become fluent in the language of Christianity without ever becoming fluent in the story of Jesus. They can speak the dialect of the tribe. They can recite the arguments. They can identify the enemies. They can repeat the slogans. Yet when asked to explain the faith in ordinary language, many struggle to do so because they have learned the subculture more thoroughly than they have learned the story.
That is why this week’s Southern Baptist Convention discussions caught my attention. Churches have wrestled with questions about women in ministry for generations and likely will continue wrestling with them for generations to come. Yet when I read the Gospels through the lens of Jesus, I see women woven naturally throughout His ministry. I see women traveling with Him and helping support the work of the Kingdom (Luke 8:1-3). I see Mary sitting at His feet as a disciple (Luke 10:39). I see women standing near the cross during the crucifixion (John 19:25). I see women arriving at the tomb and becoming the first witnesses of the resurrection (Luke 24:1-10). Later, Paul would write that in Jesus “there is no longer male and female; for all of you are one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:28). He would also commend Phoebe as a diakonos of the church at Cenchreae (Romans 16:1), a Greek word translated as deacon, minister, or servant.
Churches will continue to debate those passages. What captures my attention is the larger movement of Jesus. Again and again, Jesus seemed to move toward people while others were busy sorting people into categories. The lawyer wanted a narrower definition of neighbor, and Jesus responded with the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37). Religious leaders argued about who belonged and who did not belong while Jesus kept directing people back to the heart of God. The Samaritan woman found herself speaking with the Messiah. Zacchaeus was welcomed down from the tree. Lepers were touched. Tax collectors were called. Outsiders found themselves sitting at the table. The pattern appears throughout the Gospels. Jesus continually moved toward people whom others had overlooked, dismissed, judged, feared, or pushed aside.
That does not mean Jesus made God’s way easier. Jesus continually invited people into a deeper relationship with God and into a different way of living in the world. He called people away from the fear, hatred, pride, greed, and division that separate us from God and from one another. He called people toward forgiveness, mercy, generosity, humility, understanding, and love. He invited people onto a lifelong journey of growth, learning, questioning, and transformation. The invitation reached farther than people expected, but it also led people toward a deeper experience of God’s love and a closer walk with God. The Kingdom of God was never made smaller. It was continually being revealed as larger than people imagined.
That pattern reaches far beyond this week’s debate. It reaches into conversations about race, nationality, immigration, politics, poverty, power, and every other issue that tempts us to divide the world into tribes. It reaches into Christian nationalism and white Christian nationalism as well. When faith is filtered primarily through nation, race, culture, party, or ideology, it becomes remarkably easy to mistake our kingdom for God’s Kingdom. Before long, faith becomes more about defending a tribe than following Jesus. We begin asking Scripture to validate us rather than transform us. We begin defending positions rather than pursuing Christ. We begin choosing man’s way while convincing ourselves it is God’s way.
Jesus did something very different. He took profound truths and made them understandable. He spoke of seeds, sheep, vineyards, lamps, coins, lost children, bread, water, wounds, neighbors, and tables. He brought the Kingdom of God into everyday life so ordinary people could see it, touch it, and understand it. He did not create a religious language spoken only by insiders. He revealed God in ways that connected to real people living real lives. Perhaps that is part of the church’s calling today. Not to create more arguments. Not to create more tribes. Not to create more religious language that only church people understand. Perhaps our calling is to help people see the larger story.
The Bible is both simpler and more complex than many people realize. It is complex because it contains history, poetry, prophecy, wisdom, law, letters, parables, and stories written across centuries. Entire libraries have been written trying to understand it. Faithful Christians have wrestled with difficult passages for generations. Yet before any of that complexity can be understood, the larger story must be understood. The Bible is the greatest love story ever told. It is the story of God pursuing His wayward creation. It begins with a God creating humanity in His image (Genesis 1:27). Humanity wanders from God’s way and repeatedly chooses its own way. Yet God keeps pursuing. Humanity rebels. God pursues again. Humanity builds idols, kingdoms, and systems of its own making. God sends prophets, teachers, judges, and messengers calling people back. Again and again the story is one of pursuit, mercy, restoration, forgiveness, grace, and love. Then, in Jesus, everything comes into focus.
Jesus is not merely another character in the story. Jesus is the lens through which the story becomes understandable. What appears scattered begins to come together. What appears complicated begins to gain direction. The Bible remains deep enough to spend a lifetime studying, yet its central message becomes remarkably clear. God loves His creation and refuses to stop pursuing it. The Bible becomes clearer when viewed through Jesus, not because every question suddenly disappears, but because Jesus gives us a compass. The journey remains deep. The questions remain important. The learning never ends. Growth never ends. Yet Jesus continually points us back toward the heart of God. Before we debate the details, we must understand the story. Before we argue over the branches, we must understand the root. Before we decide what a verse means, we should understand where the story is leading, because the story is leading us to Jesus.
Jesus said, “My kingdom is not from this world” (John 18:36). Those words should slow every one of us down. They ask whether we are following Jesus or simply asking Jesus to endorse what we already believe. They ask whether Scripture is transforming us or whether we are using Scripture to validate ourselves. They ask whether our faith is rooted in the Kingdom of God or in the kingdoms we prefer. They ask whether we are following God’s way or simply baptizing our own.
Near the end of John’s Gospel, Jesus speaks words that continue to echo through the centuries. He was speaking to people who knew Scripture exceptionally well. They could quote it, teach it, debate it, and defend it. Yet Jesus said, “You search the scriptures because you think that in them you have eternal life; and it is they that testify on my behalf” (John 5:39). That warning reaches across every denomination, every political movement, every ideology, and every generation. It reaches into my life and yours. It asks whether we are reading Scripture through the lens of Jesus or whether we are reading Jesus through some other lens. The people of His day defended the Scriptures with great passion, but Jesus challenged them to see the One to whom the Scriptures pointed. That same challenge remains before us today. We may defend the Bible, our denomination, our politics, our traditions, or our tribe, but the deeper question is whether we are seeing Jesus clearly through it all.
