Why does a person stay with the pastoral life? How does one endure when it gets really hard?

Most reading this will know the answer: the call of God. But what is it about the call that sustains a pastor in a life most people would abandon?

One of the elusive mysteries of life for many people is they never discover who they truly are and who God created them to be.

If the person actually is called to ministry, that mystery is settled when she accepts God’s claim on her life to serve as a pastor. When he says, “Here am I,” he begins to live with a uniquely clarified identity.

God’s claim leads one to bypass vocational options in disregard of fanciful imaginings of an ideal life. You are seized at the depths of your being and drawn into the very center of God’s work on earth.

Your life is bound to his mission. You can do nothing else. As you give in to this call, any ambiguities about the purpose of your life fade into the distance.

When my call was made clear

How does one sense such a singular and profound awakening to one’s true self?

For me, it was one word from God: “You!”

I had started school at a local community college not knowing what to do with my life. It was one of those springs when friends were dying in an unpopular war, the culture and nation were in chaos, leaders were being assassinated, and buildings on college campuses were being blown up.

I was deeply disturbed by a world gone wrong and entered a season of questioning, lament and prayer.

One day, I drove to my favorite prayer spot by the ocean and, in a moment of audacity, began to tell God someone needed to do something to keep our world from coming apart.

Right then, God called me.

It was less than a whisper, but I heard God say, “You!”

God’s claim on me went to the depth of every fiber of my being with that grasp I already knew would not let me go. But at that moment, it was like that double-grasp letting me know neither would he let me off.

I looked down at the New Testament I was holding in my hands and instantly realized I was called to preach and serve as a pastor.

Not always immediately clear

I am aware the awakening to how to live out a vocation is not always sudden and instantly clear for all. In fact, it now seems fairly common for God to lead his servants through a process. But for those led by God to be pastors, that tenacious and unyielding grasp is all-encompassing of every part of who we are.

When the call came upon me, it came with an enveloping peace. There was a rightness about it and a singularity of purpose that left for me no desired alternative. When I sensed that “You!” and surrendered my life, I instantly was enlisted into the royal pastoral office of our Lord Jesus Christ to preach his gospel and serve his body, the church—the local church.

God’s call sustains

Most candidates for the pastoral life are challenged by other pastors to pursue any alternative life or calling if they can. No pastoral candidate at the threshold of ministry or in the early days possibly could know what lies ahead.

From my own observation and anecdotal research, I can tell you only the called survive in the pastoral life.

Many superb men and women have stepped aside from the pastoral life for a season to preserve mental and physical health or pursue the calling in another way. For most, the call remains, and they continue to serve faithfully in ministries complementary to and flowing out of local churches.

Every veteran I know of the challenges and heartaches of pastoral ministry, the chaos and the battles, will tell you the call of God sustained them. No pastor can endure the immense stresses of the pastoral life unless they are seized at the depths.

The ordinary challenges alone can be barely survivable. Add the complex pathologies of human systems, compounded by the forces of evil, and it is just too much.

A hard yet magnificent calling

In my 18 years of teaching in a theological seminary following 30 years of pastoral ministry, I pondered and agonized about how much to share with younger pastors. I usually took the edge off such conversations and stories. I still wonder if that was what I should have done.

Too many already cross the threshold into ministry skeptical and averse to the pastoral life, because they have seen and heard too much in the church.

Early on, I dove deeply into the pastoral life and was jostled immediately by human pathologies and evil forces that threw me on my knees. Many nights I wondered what strange land I had entered and how I could journey on.

Always … always … for me at least, I sensed deeply and profoundly the grasp of God upon my life. I would not trade any life in this world for that.

I know my purpose and who holds me in it and for it. That is probably why I have taken some of the edge off when I talk to younger pastors. You have to be grasped deeply and forged in steel-like resolve to make it, and God does that work individually, uniquely and day-by-day.

The pastoral life is magnificent, but it is hard. Only the grasp of God upon your life will keep you in it. But no life is more meaningful and none more personally fulfilling. I have more on that in future reflections.

Ron Cook is retired from the faculty of Truett Theological Seminary at Baylor University. He also served as pastor and interim pastor in several churches. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

RE: Only two-thirds of U.S. Christians believe all have sinned

Barna’s poll that only 66 percent of U.S. Christians believe all have sinned shows a sad lack of the gospel in many churches. Verses like Romans 3:23 and 5:12, Ecclesiastes 7:20, Galatians 3:22 and 1 John 1:10 teach this doctrine.

Those who deny universal sin don’t understand what sin is. It isn’t just theft and murder. It’s anything short of God’s perfect law.

When a scribe asked Jesus what the greatest commandment is, Jesus started with who God is. There is one God; therefore, we must love him with all our heart, mind, soul and strength (Mark 12:30). To fall short of this is to sin.

The gospel begins with one God, who is perfect in all attributes. God is three co-equal, co-eternal persons—Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

Jesus Christ is the eternal Son who took on a human nature (Philippians 2:6-7; Hebrews 2:10-18).

He is one person who is fully God and fully man. He was conceived in the womb of the virgin Mary, born, lived a perfect life, performed miracles, died, was buried, rose from the dead, ascended to heaven, and will return to judge the living and the dead.

In his death on the cross, he bore the penalty of the sins of those who would be redeemed.

To understand sin is to know who Jesus is and why he came. It’s to realize his death and what it did. It’s to know the power of his resurrection.

Sin isn’t a “social justice” problem. The church isn’t a therapy club for social miscreants. The gospel isn’t an Alcoholics Anonymous plan only some people need.

The gospel is an essential doctrine for all. We must live it and preach it to all. Churches need to stop letting the world dictate what Christianity is.

Daniel Mynyk
Castle Rock, Colo.

In the two weeks since Charlie Kirk was killed, for many it has been safer to communicate support for him and his family than to communicate any kind of disagreement, or to say nothing at all.

I expect the world—understood here in the biblical sense—to be such an unsafe place. I don’t expect the church—understood here as the people of God—to be so unsafe. Yet, we are.

Church, we are not a safe place in this historical moment for people to say what they think and feel about prominent political figures or their deaths—unless what people think and feel is in lockstep with the majority around them.

Perhaps most disappointing of all, we are not even safe for our own, for our fellow Christians.

Christians—both inside and outside the church building—we often like to think we are a lighthouse, a beacon warning of danger. We like to think we are pointing people to eternal safety and away from hell.

If we are a lighthouse, too many of us are neglecting our light. We’ve let it dim to near invisibility, we are shining an indistinct color, or we blind rather than guide. Many of us, with clenched jaws and fists, are doing it now in response to Charlie Kirk’s death.

It’s safe to say the way in which we Christians have treated Christian and non-Christian alike during the last two weeks is a poor show of who Jesus prayed we would be and an affront to who Jesus commanded us to be.

It’s safe to say … or is it?

Shape of a safe place

As Christians respond to Charlie Kirk’s murder, the reactions to it, his funeral and the reactions to that, we are not in lockstep agreement about the kind of person he was or the rightness of things he said. The church ought to be a safe place to communicate that disagreement. But it hasn’t been.

To be a safe place means we keep at the forefront of our mind what I have stated before—as recently as last week—that every one of us is created by God in God’s image.

Being a safe place means we don’t forget Paul’s exhortation: In Christ, we don’t live for ourselves anymore, but for Christ; in Christ, we are new creations; in Christ, we are reconciled to God and are given the ministry and message of reconciliation.

It also means we embody Paul’s teachings about loving one another, teachings in line with Jesus’ command that we love one another.

It’s safe to say we are not in perfect obedience to Jesus’ command or Paul’s teaching, both of which we proclaim to be the word of God.

It’s safe to say … or is it?

Criticism of ‘safe’ talk

Some will mock the whole idea of Christians and the church being “a safe place.” What follows are not straw man arguments. They are responses I have encountered.

Some will say: “That ship has sailed. After #MeToo, #ChurchToo and all the other harm churches have caused, nowyou want to talk about being ‘a safe place?’”

This is a legitimate charge we must not deride or evade … even if we or our church didn’t hurt anyone … so far as we know … or want to admit. The ship may have sailed, but that’s no reason not to make amends.

Others will say: “Oh, brother. Here we go again with this namby-pambiness. Jesus never said we had to be safe, or nice.”

Maybe not in those words, but Jesus did command us to love, and not in any namby-pamby kind of way. He commands us to agapate one another, to choose to seek one another’s welfare as Jesus did for us.

And still others will say, “If we’re always trying to be safe in what we say and do, we’ll never say or do anything at all,” which is a different form of namby-pamby.

This is a confusion of such things as consideration, honor and kindness for weakness and impotence. It is possible to be assertive and firm while also not being a danger.

Responses like those above often are the reactions of people who have been hurt themselves, who themselves have not been afforded safety when they needed it.

It’s safe to say we’ve let the hurt go on too long.

It’s safe to say … or is it?

A safe place to start

Because we’ve let the hurt go on too long, we’re not sure we can see a way back. It seems too complicated. The stakes seem too high. The hurt is too deep.

But there is a safe place to start. That place is to listen … to each other.

To listen to each other, we must set aside the idea that those who disagree with us are our enemies simply because they disagree with us. To listen, we must turn off our tendency to prejudge others, and we must not think we are smarter, better or more Christian than them.

In short, to listen, we must have the mindset of Christ, who didn’t use God to his own advantage, who made himself nothing and served others, who even obeyed death.

That ought to be safe to say, but I’m not sure it is.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

Headlines and a slew of social media posts have commended three simple yet profound words: “I forgive him.”

These words, as many know, were spoken by widow Erika Kirk at the memorial service for her 31-year-old husband Charlie Kirk in front of a packed stadium of grieving spectators, including President Donald Trump, Vice President JD Vance and many others of prominence and stature.

The resolve and strength this wife and mother displayed, only 11 days following her husband’s horrific assassination, truly is astounding.

The emphasis she placed in her eulogy on revival and Jesus’ gospel message were equally moving.

Even more, the gravitas of the moment coupled with her inimitable bravery, emotional fortitude and agonizing tenderness gave many faith-filled women both hope and inspiration.

What about other women?

But even in that moment, I couldn’t help but think of other women I know who live and serve daily in quieter roles of faith leadership yet who also have suffered overwhelming injustice at the hands of criminals. Their ability to forgive is just as inspiring.

For example, a beloved friend and fellow leader had three young grandsons, mere children, viciously stabbed and murdered on a family fishing trip at the hand of an escaped convict.

Another woman I deeply admire was raped by her college boyfriend, a man who faced no manhunt, no arrest, no consequences, but instead lives his life freely and even has started a family of his own in her hometown.

A deeply wise woman I know had her entire retirement “nest egg” stolen and squandered by a licensed financial professional.

Another, an elderly friend who has served in vocational ministry her entire life, experienced the victimization of a sophisticated internet scam, one that included undetectable deep-fake AI videos impersonating a friend in need.

Four pastors’ wives I’ve met in the last year, leaders in their own right, suffered the injustice of watching their pastor-husbands resign due to the jealous and divisive actions of disgruntled members within their respective churches.

While the latter may not reach the threshold of criminal, these four women certainly suffered too. I, too, have experienced that kind of suffering and know their pain.

All these women have faith in spades, faith that far surpasses mine. Like Erika Kirk, they also have chosen to forgive. They’ve all had to persevere moment by moment, day by day, through tears and anger and all-consuming grief that rarely dissipates.

Can we do likewise, can we forgive those who hurt us, whether anyone knows we did?

A model of forgiveness

Should we applaud Erika Kirk’s public expressions of forgiveness for the horrific murder of her husband? I think so. I do.

While it makes sense Erika Kirk’s response to her husband’s assassination would be so public, I’d like to applaud the less-public model set by so many women.

I give a standing ovation to the unsung heroes, women who have managed to utter those same three words, “I forgive him,” yet have done so alone and in the dark recesses of the night with no fanfare, no crowd, no political platform, no presidential brigade, no financial recompense, no real justice, little emotional support, and limited agency to foster the kind of change Erika Kirk can.

I celebrate them, too.

When these women say, “I forgive him,” their voices reverberate the stadiums of heaven.

Ginger McPherson is a pastor’s wife, mom of three and director of Ministry Wives, a support ministry encouraging pastor’s wives and women in church leadership through the Tulsa Metro Baptist Network. She holds a Ph.D. in English from Baylor University and writes regularly for Lifeway Christian Resources. The views expressed in this article are the responsibility of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the Baptist Standard.

A call to heed Paul’s instruction on vengeance

Prolific, revenge-minded President Donald Trump uses his power to get even with his critics by punishing them in some way. Trump and his evangelical supporters should read a chapter from Holy Scripture’s New Testament.

From the book of Romans, read Romans 12, the whole chapter.

Verse 19: “Beloved, never avenge yourselves, but leave room for the wrath of God; for it is written, ‘Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.’”

Verse 20: “If your enemies are hungry, feed them; if they are thirsty, give them something to drink; for by doing this you will heap burning coals on their heads.”

Verse 21: “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”

I pray President Trump and I will leave vengeance to God. If we do, love wins.

Paul L. Whiteley Sr.
Louisville, Ky.

This is the fourth and final article in a series focused on what Baptists can learn from the Wesleyan tradition.

Growing up as a Texas Baptist at First Baptist churches in Wichita Falls, Meridian and Waco, I knew nothing about John or Charles Wesley in general and next to nothing about Wesleyan, particularly Methodist, Christians and churches.

Over my childhood and teenage years, I occasionally would hear the need for us to “beat the Methodists to lunch at the cafeteria” after church, or an affirming description of a local Methodist minister as “Metho-Baptist.”

Beyond noting Methodists were seemingly as widespread as Baptists in my neck of the woods, however, I was woefully ignorant.

Much to my chagrin and shame, I carried an overall ignorance of Wesleyan/Methodist life and theology through university, seminary and my early professional life. Be it a lack of curiosity or being preoccupied with other matters, I was blissfully uninformed.

To be fair to myself, I had picked up a few tidbits along the way, such as:

1. John Wesley, the founder of the Methodist movement, was a tireless evangelist.
2. John’s brother, Charles, could write a hymn with the best of them.
3. United Methodists and Texas Baptists differed to some extent in theology and practice, most visibly in baptism and in the placement of pastors, including female ministers. I was also aware of differences related to communion and sanctification.

Blessings of relationships

When I came to Truett Seminary in the early 2000s, however, my awareness would begin to change over time, largely through relationships I was blessed to develop with Methodist friends.

Some of them are well known, at least in Wesleyan circles, including Ben Witherington, Steve Moore, Ryan Barnett, Leah Hidde-Gregory, L. Gregory Jones, Lacye Warner, Robert Beckham, David Watson, Kevin Watson, Sandy Richter and William “Billy” Abraham, among a number of others.

It was primarily through the rekindling of a long-lost childhood friendship with Rusty Freeman, who lived on the same street in Wichita Falls and whose older sister I had a fourth-grade crush on that was not reciprocal.

Rusty eventually would be one of the leaders in the launch of the Wesley House of Studies at Truett Seminary in the summer of 2020, helping my still-nascent knowledge of Wesleyan thought, life and practice begin to grow.

Both Jason Vickers and Scott Jones teach in Truett’s Wesley House of Studies, whose mustard seed beginnings now enrolls more than 100 degree-seeking students and more than 150 certificate program students.

I doubt I would be able to ace one of Vickers’ exams in Wesleyan theology or breeze through Jones’ class on Wesleyan history, liturgy and polity. However, through countless hours of conversation, careful observation, frequent participation in worship and some instruction, there are a few things I have found to be outstanding regarding the Wesleyan way.

A growing appreciation

1. I have been impressed and encouraged by the Truett Wesleyans’ commitment to community.

Week by week they gather for prayer and communion, and not a few participate in weekly “band meetings” or covenant/accountability groups. Such disciplines are related in no small measure to their concern for sanctification. While I never get the impression they think more highly of themselves than they ought, they are demonstrably concerned about personal and communal holiness.

2. If for Wesleyans a commitment to community is conjoined to a desire to be sanctified through and through (1 Thessalonians 5:23), vital piety is linked to a quest for spiritual knowledge and an emphasis upon the importance of biblical/theological education.

To be sure, anti-intellectualism exists in Wesleyan circles, as it does in Baptist ones. Yet, at least among the Wesleyans with whom I am most familiar and most connected, the admonition of Charles Wesley continues to ring true: “Let us unite the two so long divided, knowledge and vital piety.”

3. Additionally, I have been impressed and encouraged by the global vision and concern for evangelism among the Wesleyans I know and with whom I work most closely.

In one of his journal entries, John Wesley famously wrote:

“I look upon all the world as my parish; thus far I mean, that, in whatever part of it I am, I judge it meet, right, and my bounden duty to declare unto all that are willing to hear, the glad tidings of salvation.

“This is the work which I know God has called me to; and sure I am that his blessing attends it. Great encouragement have I, therefore, to be faithful in fulfilling the work he hath given me to do.

“His servant I am, and, as such, am employed according to the plain direction of his word, ‘As I have opportunity, doing good unto all men’; and his providence clearly concurs with his word; which has disengaged me from all things else, that I might singly attend on this very thing, ‘and go about doing good.’

4. Finally, and importantly, my Wesleyan friends have a passion for and confidence in the gospel, its proclamation and its impact for time and eternity that I have found to be compelling and contagious.

Once again, John Wesley, whose heart had been “strangely warmed,” memorably articulates such a commitment in a letter he wrote at the age of 87 to one Alexander Mather.

Wesley writes: “Give me one hundred preachers who fear nothing but sin and desire nothing but God, and I care not a straw whether they be clergymen or laymen, such alone will shake the gates of hell and set up the kingdom of heaven upon earth.”

Appreciative and still Baptist

All of this should not be construed as my saying I cross every theological “t” and dot every theological “i” where my Wesleyan/Methodist friends do (and vice versa).

I can say unequivocally, however, my life as a Baptist Christ-follower and theological scholar/educator/administrator has been enriched immeasurably by those people called Methodist, and I count many of them to be among my closest friends in the faith “delivered once for all to the saints” (Jude 3).

Todd Still is DeLancey Dean and Hinson Chair of Christian Scriptures at Baylor University’s Truett Theological Seminary. The views expressed in this article are the responsibility of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the Baptist Standard.

I’m going to talk about traumatizing things, and I’m going to challenge Christians to focus on who Jesus commands us to be. Our present moment demands it.

*******

I returned from sabbatical this Monday. I didn’t pay attention to the news during my weeks away. Why? Because a sabbatical means stepping away from work. News is my work.

And then …

It was Wednesday afternoon last week. I’d just picked up my daughter and her friend from school. They were talking in the back seat. My daughter said Charlie Kirk was shot and killed. I went cold.

I know they were still talking. I heard some of it. I also somehow didn’t hear any of it. Charlie Kirk was shot and killed, and the implications and ramifications of that were loud in my mind.

Charlie Kirk was shot and killed at approximately 12:23 p.m. MDT, in Utah. Seconds before, he had fielded a question about gun violence.

At 12:30 p.m. MDT, in Colorado, a high school student shot two fellow students before shooting and killing himself.

*******

Something you need to know: A bill passed in the last Texas legislative session “prohibiting the use of personal communication devices by students on school property during the school day.” Texas public schools implemented this new law on the first day of this school year.

My high school daughter and her friend didn’t know anything about the day’s events until school let out at 4:30 p.m. And immediately they knew everything everybody else knew. Not just about Charlie Kirk being killed. They also knew about the school shooting in Evergreen, Colo.

Evergreen. Such a happy name. Such horror.

And we’re supposed to take all of this in, without warning. We’re supposed to process all of this and know what to think and what to feel, right away. And we’re supposed to know immediately the right things to say … and the things that must not be said.

We are struggling to process all of this. Yes, we. To think we can separate ourselves from the traumas and horrors of our time is to kid ourselves. We are barely treading the chaotic waters of societal anger, grief, despair. Rage, confusion, denial. Exhaustion.

Christian, though we be in these troubling waters, we must put our feet down on the solid foundation of Jesus Christ, who holds us in the storm and guides us in the dark. We need this for ourselves and our society. It is also simple obedience to Christ.

*******

But these things, these killings, this violence that just keeps happening. I’m deeply troubled by it all. You should be, too.

I’m deeply troubled we are the kind of society where some among us believe they must kill a person to quiet a person. Even in front of God and everybody.

I’m deeply troubled we are at a place in our society where we are so polarized we can’t bear opposing viewpoints, where we shout down, cancel out, cut off, not the ideas, but the people who communicate them.

I’m deeply troubled we are the kind of society where our children are killing each other at school. Regularly.

I’m deeply troubled we are the kind of society where most of us know little to nothing about yet another school shooting. And if we know, it no longer stops us cold. If we know, we quickly forget or ignore it. One community doesn’t have that luxury: Evergreen, Colo. Correction: An appalling number of communities don’t have that luxury.

I’m deeply troubled Christians have allowed our societal sickness to infect us and our churches. In case we disagree, I hold up the example of countless pastors receiving blistering criticism this last Sunday for what they did or did not say about Charlie Kirk during their worship services. Regardless of what they said about Jesus.

Christian, is this really who we’re going to be? This is certainly not who we have to be. And it’s most definitely not who Jesus commands us to be.

To behave as the world behaves is to try to swim the swirling seas.

*******

The reality is, we don’t know as much about Desmond Holly as we know about Charlie Kirk. Holly was the 16-year-old who fired multiple shots inside Evergreen High School, seriously injuring two students before he died from a self-inflicted gunshot. Nor do we know those he injured.

Kirk was a prominent public figure and political force for more than a decade. Understandably, the public reaction to his murder has been proportionate to his prominence. But it’s so much of what made him prominent that so many are struggling with.

The fact is, Charlie Kirk made incendiary statements about women, race, the LGBTQ community, the Second Amendment and other topics. Whether anyone agrees with those statements or not, they were incendiary. And divisive, made clear by the reactions to his murder.

Which is where we find ourselves now, fighting over our deeply divided, polarized responses to Charlie Kirk, struggling to come to grips with his murder.

Even we as Christians have strongly differing reactions. When we focus more on the chaotic waters than on our sure foundation, that single foundation we share, we give ourselves to the waves and hollow out the gospel.

*******

It is right for us to mourn Charlie Kirk’s murder. It is right to call it political violence, an assassination.

We also must mourn the murder this summer of Minnesota House Speaker Melissa Hortman and her husband. This also was political violence, an assassination.

Not just because they were important political figures. But because they were created in the image of God and their murders an affront to our God.

It is right for us to mourn the school shooting in Evergreen and not to overlook it.

We also must mourn the Catholic school shooting exactly two weeks before in Minneapolis, and the other nine school shootings just this year.

Not just because these were children. Not just because schools are supposed to be safe places for our children. But because all of them were and are created in the image of God and their murders are an affront to our God.

Created. By God. In God’s image.

It is to that scriptural position we, Christian, must return and from that position we, Christian, must begin again. It is from there—our being created in God’s image, all of us—that we as Christians must engage our society now. It is from there we must navigate our differences, heal our wounds, proclaim the gospel of Jesus Christ.

I hear this in my head, but I’m still driving my daughter home, trying to get to shore.

Addressing trauma

The violence we encounter indirectly in our news—and that far too many people encounter directly—traumatizes us, whether we know it or not. In fact, the last several years have been a succession of personal and societal traumas to the point we may simply feel numb, itself a symptom of trauma.

Other symptoms of trauma include withdrawal, confusion, anxiety, irritability, fear, overreacting, aggression, lashing out, sadness or depression, feelings of isolation or disconnection.

If you are experiencing any of these—especially if any of these symptoms are interfering with your sleep, relationships, work or other areas of life—I encourage you to reach out to someone else for help, specifically a counselor with training and experience in treating trauma. You don’t have to simply endure it or face it alone.

One of God’s good gifts is the calling and equipping of counselors to help us when we need it. It may take you a while and several tries to find a counselor who is a good fit for you. That’s OK, and it’s normal. Don’t give up.

One place you might start is this worksheet (linked by permission) from Crisis Counseling: A Guide for Pastors and Professionals by Scott Floyd, a specialist in trauma and director of the Master of Arts in Counseling program at East Texas Baptist University. He also directed the counseling program at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary and then B.H. Carroll Theological Seminary.

Eric Black is the executive director, publisher and editor of the Baptist Standard. He can be reached at eric.black@baptiststandard.com. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.

(RNS)—In a New York Times opinion piece last month, esteemed legal scholar and American University law professor Benjamin Leff made the case that the gutting of the so-called Johnson Amendment barring houses of worship from being involved in political campaigns need not be seen as an existential crisis for the faith and nonprofit sectors.

Instead, he wrote, it should be seen as a liberation, an opportunity to cast off the shackles of current tax law and loosen the tongues of the famously soft-spoken leaders of the American faith community.

While surely well-intended, Leff fails to capture the concerns and lived experiences of faith and nonprofit leaders already navigating the realities of polarized, atomized 2025 America, and neglects to acknowledge how the slippery slope of partisan infiltration of church and charity will only grow slicker and steeper if the guardrails are ripped off.

Purpose of Johnson Amendment

In 1954, the Johnson Amendment was enacted to secure a careful and necessary balance between the advantages conferred on an institution by tax-exempt status and the responsibility for that institution not to use its status in a politically partisan manner.

The status of 501(c)(3) is a reward and privilege—not just to the organizations and institutions exempt from taxes, but also to their donors, whose contributions to these organizations are tax deductible.

Inherent in this tax status is the recognition that such organizations provide a public or common good beneficial to United States taxpayers and society writ large.

Critical to that assessment is the idea the organizations in question do not “participate in, or intervene in (including the publishing or distributing of statements), any political campaign on behalf of (or in opposition to) any candidate for public office.”

This has functioned as a shield to protect both faith communities and nonprofit organizations from being corrupted by the world of partisan politics and campaign finance, and to ensure this tax-exempt benefit serves to advance the public good.

Public opinion about Johnson Amendment

At Independent Sector—a national organization that connects, strengthens and advocates for nonprofits and philanthropies, where I serve as board chair—we have conducted comprehensive research on the potential harm of mixing partisan politics with the work of nonprofits, charitable foundations and houses of worship.

In public polling released earlier this year, support for the Johnson Amendment was high across the political spectrum, with support from 76 percent of Democrats and independents, and from 73 percent of Republicans.

Threats from gutting Johnson Amendment

Knocking down the wall between the charitable sector and political campaigning threatens to erode public trust, heighten the perceived risk of corruption and jeopardize relationships between service providers, volunteers and the communities they serve.

If nonprofit organizations, charitable foundations and houses of worship—and their financial supporters—are free to use these institutions and the generous tax benefits associated with them to support the political parties and candidates of their choice directly, this careful balance enshrined in law by the Johnson Amendment is destroyed.

As a result, churches and nonprofits will lose significant and irreplaceable credibility and trust as political parties and candidates race to capture them as endorsers and donors. The entire sector risks being corrupted and captured by partisan politics and polarization.

Worst of all, political campaigns and parties could seek to exploit these organizations’ significant tax benefits for their own gain, hollowing out our churches and charities until they are mere pass-throughs for donors seeking to support candidates—and get tax deductions for doing so.

While the settlement the IRS and plaintiffs have proposed in Texas would apply specifically to communities of worship, I am far from alone in my fear such a settlement, which for the first time since 1954 openly legitimizes churches endorsing candidates for office, would be just the beginning. Other organizations and institutions would be likely to follow with lawsuits seeking to broaden what is permitted.

Reach of Johnson Amendment

Supporters of this carve-out contend these changes would apply only to communities of worship, and therefore would have no effect on the larger nonprofit community. This argument falls apart quickly when faced with the reality of the nonprofit sector, where many organizations are rooted in faith and have close associations with houses of worship.

As president of Sojourners, I lead a charitable organization rooted in Christian faith. If I were to endorse a political candidate from the pulpit, how could anyone be expected to see the organizations I lead as nonpartisan?

In reality, the IRS tacitly has been allowing churches to participate in political activity for decades by neglecting to investigate many alleged violations of the nonpartisanship protections enshrined by the Johnson Amendment.

But giving the stamp of approval of official IRS policy to the way many churches long have flouted the law only will embolden them to go further.

The potential for an influx of tax-exempt donations to churches for the purpose of securing their endorsement for the candidates of the donors’ choice is just one concerning avenue for this exemption to corrupt the mission and witness of faith communities around the country.

As the Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. famously proclaimed, “The church at its best is not called to be the master or the servant of the state, but to be the conscience of the state.”

Gutting the Johnson Amendment threatens to corrupt that conscience and weaken the very institutions this administration claims to champion.

Adam Russell Taylor is president of Sojourners, a Christian organization dedicated to social justice, peace and faith-driven activism. He serves as board chair of Independent Sector and in ministry at the Alfred Street Baptist Church in Alexandria, Va. The views expressed in this commentary do not necessarily reflect those of the Baptist Standard.

Editor’s Note: This is the third article in a series focused on what Baptists can learn from the Wesleyan tradition.

I came to Asbury Theological Seminary with a Baptist background and an Arminian theological orientation shaped by my upbringing as a Texas Baptist.

I had long valued the Baptist emphasis on Scripture, personal conversion and congregational life. But I hadn’t yet grasped how deeply the Christian life could be shaped by the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit and sustained through consistent spiritual practices.

In the Wesleyan tradition, I’ve encountered a vision of sanctification—being made holy—that doesn’t end at the altar call but extends into every corner of life.

At the center of this vision is a dynamic understanding of grace and a deep openness to the ongoing work of the Holy Spirit. Wesleyans, like Baptists, affirm salvation by grace through faith alone. But they also emphasize that God doesn’t stop working once a person is justified. God continues shaping believers through what John Wesley called the “means of grace,” practices like Scripture reading, prayer, communion, fasting and Christian fellowship.

These aren’t works we perform to earn God’s favor; they are time-tested channels through which God pours out his transforming presence.

A holy expectancy

This idea hit home for me when I realized how often Baptists, me included, emphasize spiritual disciplines but tend to frame them mostly as duties, important, yes, but often grounded in obligation or gratitude rather than expectancy. We encourage Bible reading and prayer, but sometimes without the deep theological assumption that God will meet us in those moments—not just to inform, but to transform.

Wesley’s understanding of the means of grace helped me recover a sense of holy expectancy. Scripture became not just instruction, but encounter. Prayer became more than petition, it became participation in God’s renewing work. And the Lord’s Supper became not only a memorial but a real means through which Christ strengthens and sanctifies his people.

Wesleyan theology insists the means of grace are experienced both personally and communally. We meet God in solitude, but also through gathered worship, mutual confession and shared burdens. Fasting and intercession have their private place, but grace is never purely individual; it flows through the body of Christ.

The means of grace create a sacred rhythm, drawing us back again and again to the places where God promises to be present. They remind us that sanctification isn’t self-improvement, but surrender. Not isolation, but communion.

The ongoing work of the Spirit

Wesleyans speak boldly and expectantly about the Holy Spirit, not just in the New Testament, but here and now. In many Baptist settings, certainly in my own experience, the Spirit is affirmed in doctrine but not always emphasized in discipleship.

We believe the Spirit inspired Scripture, regenerates the heart and seals salvation. Yet we often grow cautious, even silent about the Spirit’s ongoing work of shaping us, empowering us and guiding us into deeper obedience.

Wesleyan spirituality places the Spirit front and center—not as a background presence, but as the active agent of transformation: assuring salvation, convicting of sin, gifting for mission and forming Christ within us. And the Spirit doesn’t move only in private. The Spirit inhabits worship, small groups, accountability bands and the vulnerable grace of confession. The Spirit calls the church, not just individuals, into deeper holiness.

Wesley even dared to speak of something he called “entire sanctification,” a term that can sound foreign, even suspect, to Baptist ears. But if we push past the label, the idea itself is deeply scriptural and compelling: that God doesn’t merely forgive us but can also set us free. Free from the grip and rule of sin. Free to love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength. Free to love our neighbor not just in word but in action.

Wesley believed that through the ongoing work of the Spirit, believers could be so filled with God’s love that it governed their motives, their habits and their relationships. This was not a call to spiritual perfectionism, but to perfect love, a life wholly yielded to God.

The Spirit-empowered life

Do all Wesleyans believe in a single, instantaneous experience of entire sanctification? No. There’s a range of perspectives, just as there is among Baptists about spiritual growth and maturity.

What the Wesleyan tradition offers is a hopeful insistence that grace doesn’t stop at justification. Salvation is not only about pardon, but also about healing. Grace doesn’t merely cover sin; it restores what sin has broken.

Holiness, in this light, isn’t a burdensome list of rules or a badge of honor, it’s the fruit of divine love poured into the heart by the Holy Spirit. And that’s something all of us, Wesleyans, Baptists and every follower of Christ, can long for with joy and hope.

I now serve at a multi-denominational, evangelical seminary rooted in the Wesleyan tradition, Asbury Theological Seminary, but I haven’t left behind my Baptist roots. If anything, I’ve found them enriched.

I still long for revival. I still treasure baptism. I still believe the church should be a community of disciples on mission. But I’ve learned to see the Christian life not only as something to believe in or strive toward, but as something God empowers us to live through grace.

Baptists don’t need to become Wesleyans to benefit from these emphases. But in a time when many, especially younger Christians, are longing for depth, healing and hope, I believe we’d do well to recover a Spirit-filled vision of transformation.

According to a recent Pew Research report, the decline of Christianity in the United States may have slowed or even leveled off, but younger adults remain significantly less likely to attend church, pray regularly or say religion is very important in their lives.

This moment calls not just for better messaging, but for a deeper reality. People aren’t looking for performance, they’re looking for power. And the Wesleyan tradition reminds us that God isn’t finished with us yet.

He’s not just calling us to believe, but to become. And God has given us everything we need to grow: his Spirit, his people and his means of grace.

 Matthew Barnes serves as vice president of student life and formation at Asbury Theological Seminary. He is a former Baptist pastor and currently is pursuing ordination in the Global Methodist Church. The views expressed in this article are the responsibility of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the Baptist Standard.

There was a time when attending a Southern Baptist-affiliated church was like going to McDonald’s. It didn’t matter where you were, the Sunday school quarterly was the same, and we all sang out of the Baptist Hymnal.

We were what missiologists called a “homogeneous unit.”

Depending on your perspective, that might have been a good thing. On the other hand, those glory days in Baptist life were destined to change as society and generations changed.

Multiple factors contributed to the splintering of the homogeneous unit, chief among them being the need for churches and conventions to adapt to the times.

The impact is seen not only in worship styles, but also on the local church’s approach to missions. I grew up in a church that contributed 25 percent of all undesignated receipts to cooperative missions but never actually did hands-on missions. We paid the professionals to do it.

Today, local churches are scattering all over Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria and the ends of the earth doing hands-on mission work. Again, depending on your perspective, that’s a good thing.

Times, they have changed.

Erosion of trust

And while changing times and culture wars are no doubt root causes of the declining homogeneity across Baptist life, there has been another factor less noticeable but nonetheless present.

Organized Baptist structures have faced an erosion of trust for 40 years that is probably better described as a landslide. It turns out that what is happening in Baptist life is not isolated.

Every year, Edelman, a global communications firm, tracks what it calls its “trust barometer.” This year’s 78-page report surveyed 33,000 people in 28 countries, tracking trust in business, CEOs, nonprofits and a host of issues.

The title of the 2025 report is revealing: “Trust and the Crisis of Grievance.” According to the survey, “a generation of institutional failures erupts into grievance.”

This is the 25th year Edelman has done its survey, and this year it “revealed a profound shift to acceptance of aggressive actions, with political polarization and deepening fears giving rise to a widespread sense of grievance.”

In other words, distrust is turning to anger, described by Richard Edelman, CEO, as a “descent into grievance. It’s been a progression from fear to polarization into grievance.”

No doubt the explosion of new media platforms gives this anger and grievance an outlet and the two feed each other. People jump on Facebook, Instagram, or any number of outlets to voice their displeasure.

Raise your hand if you’ve seen growing anger out there, whether it’s people we share the freeways with or customers yelling at a store employee. Behavior once thought of as completely out of bounds has become normalized.

In the brief time I’ve filled in for Editor Eric Black at the Baptist Standard, I’ve seen times when distrust turns into grievance among Texas Baptists.

Can trust be restored in a new Baptist world where we’re not all alike?

We’re different

Back in the day when Baptists were a homogeneous unit, it was easier to trust our institutions because we lived with the idea that we were all alike. If it came from Nashville or Dallas, it must be trustworthy.

But then one day we discovered we’re different. We have different definitions of everything from the authority of Scripture to who can be ordained. We define and label each other based on styles of worship and which Baptist Faith and Message we follow.

One of the first casualties of discovering our differences was trust. If someone is not like me, I can’t trust that person. Before long, that distrust turned to grievance and the “acceptance of aggressive actions with political polarization.”

Sound familiar?

Working together

I’ve spent my career watching the seismic shifts in Baptist life brought on by the decades-old controversy over biblical authority, which is better described as a political fight for control.

I’m part of a generation that lamented what we lost. But I’ve moved on and today, instead of lamenting what was lost, I’m optimistic about what we gained.

Local churches have realized the Great Commission actually applies to them and not just some denominational institution. Cooperative missions no longer means just sending money, but working in tandem with conventions, institutions and with other local churches.

While some people see the shift from a denominational focus to more of a local church focus as part of our post-denominational world, I see the opposite. I see this as a tremendous opportunity for denominational structures and institutions to partner with local churches instead of doing the work for them.

Therein lies the key to trusting each other—working together.

A healing force

There is good news. In a video interview introducing the trust report, Edelman describes NGOs (nongovernmental organizations), or nonprofits as “the healing force for the social fabric.”

And there you have the Great Commandment. Loving God and loving our neighbor is the key for followers of Jesus being that healing force.

Edelman says, “If we can get to the place where there is optimism, it can overwhelm grievance and then we can have the clear path to a belief in the future” and trust is restored.

That’s a big if. If optimism leads to the restoration of trust, then how can we be optimistic? We know the answer. More than simple optimism, we have the good news, the power to transform lives and overwhelm mistrust and grievance.

I’ve seen memes on social media where people conjecture about what kind of letter the Apostle Paul would write to the American church today. He did. We call it 1 Corinthians.

“For even as the body is one and yet has many members and all the members of the body, though they are one body, so also is Christ…for the body is not one member, but many” (1 Corinthians 12:12, 14).

Our challenge as Baptists today is to “throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus” (Hebrews 12:1b-2a).

Scott Collins serves as interim editor of the Baptist Standard. The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily express the views of the Baptist Standard.

Editor’s Note: This is the second article in a series focused on what Baptists can learn from the Wesleyan tradition.

When I first arrived to teach theology at Truett Seminary, I became friends with an administrator who happened to be Methodist. After a few years, he was let go by the university. He told me some of the leaders of the university, presumably regents, objected to having a Methodist administrator.

The times have changed. Now the university has Methodist regents. And the seminary has a Wesleyan House of Studies. I applaud those changes. However, many Baptists still harbor prejudices against Methodists and non-Methodist Wesleyans. I hope to help them reconsider those prejudices.

I have never been a Methodist or a Wesleyan, but I have been enriched by the Wesleyan tradition. “Wesleyan” refers to any form of Christian life descended from evangelist John Wesley, founder of the Methodist tradition. “Methodist” refers to specific denominations in the Wesleyan tradition.

Not all Wesleyans are Methodists. For example, the Church of the Nazarene is Wesleyan but not Methodist. My grandparents, great-grandparents and many of my aunts and uncles were members of the Church of God, a non-Methodist but Wesleyan denomination.

Wesleyans who remain true to Wesley’s teachings have three main beliefs and practices that I, as a Baptist theologian, appreciate even if I do not fully embrace them. Such Wesleyans can be found in the United Methodist Church, the Global Methodist Church and the so-called “holiness” churches such as the Church of the Nazarene and the Church of God.

Perfected in love

First, I appreciate Wesleyans’ emphasis on the holiness of life. John Wesley wrote a little book titled A Plain Account of Christian Perfection in which he described a Christian existence “perfected in love.”

He denied sinless perfection but promoted a Christian life where the person’s heart is perfected in love with his or her motives always pure. This, he believed, is a work of the Holy Spirit and not a human achievement.

A person perfected in love loves God and loves what God loves, meaning all of creation, and never deviates from that. Such a person still will commit sins of omission and needs to repent, but he or she acts only out of love.

This is more than merely forgiven; it is forgiven and transformed. I believe many Baptists can be challenged by this Wesleyan belief.

Congregational connectionalism

Second, Wesleyans emphasize congregational connectionalism. It’s a big word that means individual congregations cooperating with each other and even being accountable to each other.

Connectionalism is worked out differently in different Wesleyan denominations, but it always means something more than congregational autonomy. Some Baptists have taken church autonomy to an extreme where the individual congregation has no real connection with sister congregations in the same conference or convention.

Wesley himself believed in a semi-episcopal form of church government with bishops. The UMC has bishops who have some authority and even power. For example, they appoint elders (pastors) to churches and they can remove them as well.

Other Wesleyan denominations experience church connectionalism differently. Some have bishops who serve not with authority but with guidance. Some have no bishops. In some, the individual congregation can freely withdraw from the denomination, taking their property with them. For the latter, connectionalism means a strong fraternity with other congregations.

I believe that many Baptists could benefit from modifying the “autonomy of the local congregation” to “fraternity among the local congregations.”

Wesleyan Quadrilateral

Third, Wesleyans have traditionally held to a four-sided model of theology where four sources and norms determine what is to be believed and taught. One Wesleyan scholar called this the “Wesleyan Quadrilateral.”

Wesley himself did not lay it out in explicit detail, but he used it anyway. It is discernible as Wesley’s theological method.

I believe many Baptists can benefit from learning about the Wesleyan Quadrilateral and following it in considering and reconsidering Christian doctrines and teachings.

The Quadrilateral has four “sides,” four sources and norms. Theology is, in a sense, a conversation among them. They are Scripture, tradition, reason, and experience.

Many Baptists think it is possible and even desirable to go by “Scripture alone” (sola scriptura). However, there are times in Christian life and thought when Scripture does not clearly answer a question that needs to be answered. That is when tradition comes into play.

In any theological, doctrinal or ethical decision, tradition gets a vote even if not a veto over Scripture. Scripture gets the final say, but tradition, the great tradition of Christian belief, ought to be studied and taken seriously as a secondary authority. That includes, for example, the Nicene Creed, the Chalcedonian Definition, the consensus of the church fathers and reformers and for American Baptists, for example, the New Hampshire Confession of Faith.

What about reason and experience? Wesley was, to use the phrase of one of his biographers, a “reasonable enthusiast.” Enthusiast means passionate believer devoted to Jesus Christ and the gospel.

In earlier times it was an epithet for Christians considered fanatical. But Wesley was a reasonable fanatic. He used reason as a tool for interpreting the Bible. So should Baptists and all Christians. Here, for Wesley and for me, reason simply refers to logic, the basic rules of logical thought and discourse such as non-contradiction.

What about experience? For Wesley, and for me, and I hope for all Baptists, experience of Jesus Christ and guidance by the Holy Spirit, under the authority of Scripture, can focus attention on matters of Christian belief and practice too long ignored or forgotten. For example, the experiences of African American Christians in America helped bring to Christians of all races and denominations a greater understanding of the dignity of every human being.

The Quadrilateral is not an equilateral. Scripture has primacy, but tradition, reason and experience can help interpret Scripture and answer questions Scripture does not answer.

These three typically, not uniquely, Wesleyan ideas enrich my understanding of the Christian faith and I recommend them for deep consideration to all Baptists and others.

Roger E. Olson is Emeritus Professor of Christian Theology at Baylor University’s George W. Truett Theological Seminary. The views expressed in this article are the responsibility of the writer and do not necessarily represent the views of the Baptist Standard.

In a seminary classroom, we were studying theological anthropology when our professor shared a familiar list: courage, maturity, bravery, wisdom—traits drawn from an article by Albert Mohler president of Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, to describe “biblical manhood.”

The list seemed admirable. But then the professor asked, “What’s wrong with this description?”

A female student offered a reply that opened my mind forever: “Why wouldn’t you want women to have these qualities?”

That question pierced through centuries of assumptions, not about biology, but about the social scripts we’ve confused with Scripture. Does the Bible really define “biblical manhood and womanhood” the way modern Christians do?

Clarifying the conversation

Scripture affirms that God created humankind as male and female (Genesis 1:27). However, terms like manhood and womanhood often extend beyond biology to encompass personality traits, cultural norms and vocational expectations. And that’s where things get murky.

Gender, as the way we express our biological sex within our cultural context, varies across history and geography. What’s considered masculine in one culture, like avoiding the color pink or wearing cargo shorts, might be feminine in another.

A man wearing a kilt in Scotland or growing long hair in ancient Israel wasn’t any less masculine. So, what are we really defending when we talk about “biblical” manhood or womanhood?

I grew up without a father. He struggled with addiction and violence, spending much of his life in and out of jail. His absence left a void. While other kids had someone to sit with at Dads and Donuts events in kindergarten, there I was sitting alone.

While my friends had an onsite masculine model, it was my mother who taught me how to mow the lawn and play catch. I learned to work hard by watching her.

She never taught me how to fix a car or grill the perfect steak. But she taught me something far better: that real strength is found in empathy, that courage often looks like quiet listening and that kindness, especially to those who don’t deserve it, isn’t weakness but witness. Her life, marked by grace and grit, shaped me more than any caricature of masculinity ever could.

That’s why I’ve never understood sexism. Gender roles didn’t define the strongest person I knew growing up, she simply lived faithfully.

Questionable blueprints

Maybe that’s why I still carry hesitation toward men’s ministries built around stereotypical masculinity. I recall attending a breakout session at church camp when I was 11 or 12 years old. The speaker said, “Men need to step up or women will take over the church, and it won’t survive.” That wasn’t a call to godly leadership. That was a call rooted in fear.

Then came the “Wild at Heart” camping trip, inspired by John Eldredge’s book. We were told to box each other and then watched three baby pigs get shot in the head so we could eat them because that, apparently, made us men.

Those moments didn’t awaken courage. They bred confusion.

Even now, I hesitate when I hear about men’s Bible studies that center around grilling, skeet shooting or “beast feasts.” Why do men and women need to study different topics, as if we’re reading different Bibles? Isn’t our shared goal to be formed into the image of Christ?

Jesus doesn’t match the macho, tough-guy exterior that often passes for masculinity today. He didn’t pretend to be invincible. He came to serve.

Philippians 2 tells us he didn’t exploit his equality with God, but emptied himself. He wept at funerals. He ate with outcasts. He healed those society deemed unworthy and included the marginalized.

Jesus painted a picture of a kingdom society in the Sermon on the Mount. “Blessed are the meek, the merciful, the peacemakers,” he said. How did we stray so far from heavenly ideals?

When Stereotypes Harm

Church leaders often say being a man means knowing how to fix things or exude dominance. I didn’t fit that mold. The jokes about “losing my man card” weren’t funny. They reinforced the idea that I wasn’t enough. But when I examine Scripture, I see something far different.

Women like Deborah, Phoebe, Priscilla and Mary were bold, wise and generous leaders in God’s redemptive story. Luke tells us that women financially supported Jesus’ ministry from their own means (Luke 8:3), not their husbands’. That challenges the notion that provision and leadership are inherently masculine traits.

The truth is, men and women need each other. In Genesis 2, God says, “It is not good for the man to be alone.” But Adam had God. So why wasn’t that enough? Because man alone didn’t fully reflect the image of God.

God, in his wisdom, created woman, not as an assistant, but as a counterpart. The Hebrew word ezer, often translated “helper,” is frequently used to describe God himself (e.g., Psalm 121:1–2). It’s a military term implying strength, rescue and partnership. It doesn’t suggest subordination—but rather that man and woman together image God in a way neither can do alone.

Rethinking Our Go-To Passages

Passages like Proverbs 31 are often framed as the pinnacle of biblical womanhood. However, we forget that a proverbial saying is not necessarily a prescription. The biblical author describes a mother’s dream for her son’s future wife, one who leads businesses, manages a household and earns the respect of her husband and the broader community.

Instead of turning a proverb into a checklist, perhaps we men might ask, “Am I a Proverbs 31 husband?” “Do I rise to bless the women around me?” “Do I honor their strength and dignity?”

Some turn to 1 Corinthians 16:13, “act like men,” as a biblical call to masculinity. But the Greek word andrizomai simply means “be courageous.” Most modern translations, such as the NIV, CSB, and NLT, reflect this. This isn’t about gender, it’s about character.

And while men were often the dominant audience in the first century, Paul’s letters weren’t written only for them. As John Dyer’s Y’all Version helpfully notes, many of Paul’s commands are plural. They’re meant for all believers.

What God Actually Wants

If we let Jesus define true humanity, we discover something far more beautiful than Western constructs of gender. He didn’t come to reinforce cultural roles. He came to transform us into his image.

Romans 8:29 says we’re being “conformed to the image of his son.” That’s our purpose—not to be “real men” or “true women,” but to be more like Christ. And the fruit of the Spirit—love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control—are not gendered (Galatians 5:22–23). Neither are the gifts of the Spirit.

When we force people into rigid gender scripts, we risk pushing them away from Christ rather than toward him.

A boy who loves dance more than sports may wonder if he’s truly a man. A girl who feels a desire to lead may feel out of place in the church. Scripture didn’t create these identity crises; we created them.

Rather than asking, “Am I living up to biblical manhood or womanhood?” let’s ask: “Am I faithfully following Jesus?” “Am I growing in love?” “Am I serving the church?” “Am I becoming more like Christ?”

In a world confused about gender, the church has an opportunity to return to the clarity of Christlikeness. One path leads to stereotypes and exclusion. The other leads to spiritual transformation.

The question isn’t whether we meet society’s vision of manhood or womanhood. The question is: Are we becoming more like Jesus?

Because if we are, that’s not biblical manhood or womanhood. That’s biblical discipleship.

Taylor Standridge is a Christian podcaster and producer who loves to help people understand who God is and how to live faithfully according to his goodness, grace and generosity. His writing has been featured in Peer Magazine, Christ and Pop Culture, RELEVANT Magazine and NextStep Disciple. He holds a Master of Biblical and Theological Studies from Dallas Theological Seminary. The views expressed in this opinion article are those of the author.