Wednesday I spewed vision for The Esther Project and 2011. We’re breaking almost all of the rules and seemingly aiming to drive readers away in droves, but it has to be done.
In short: The Esther Project is becoming Bible-study space.
Serious Bible-study space. Theology-style, Bible-study space.
Not apply-the-scripture-to-your-life space.
Not use-the-Bible-to-make-a-post-modern-point space.
Not what-does-the-Word-say-about-my-passion space.
Bible space.
Why? Because the Church is the West is becoming anemic.
Which is not to say there aren’t some important and very interesting conversations going on. I love the modern Christian conversations that are going on.
- Anytime you want to get coffee and talk about a digital revolution and it’s impact on the Church, I am so there. The Internet – especially the two point oh kind – is changing our world like the printing press and the television changed our world, and the Church has to keep up. I will brainstorm and plan and design and postulate into the wee hours of the morning with you.
- Social justice is my middle name(s). (Not really. Katherine is my middle name.) There is a sense in which the Church has been all talk and condemnation for too long. I dislike that we’re known for what we’re against, and that we have not loved people like Jesus loves people. I long for the day when the government doesn’t need to provide social services because the Church is being the hands and feet of Christ. Let’s set up soup kitchens and shelters and clean out the foster care system.
But, as I suggested yesterday, all of it lives or dies on the Word.
If we don’t have answers for the homeless men we’re feeding, we’re just nice people. If we write books about our faith in the next century with no mention of Christ’s return, we’re blind guides.
It’s true that without love, we’re merely clanging cymbals; but without the Word, we’re dead air time. Both are worthless.
I’m certainly not saying that we need to be theologians before we start designing interactive worship services, or buying diapers for crisis pregnancy centers; that’s ridiculous.
But I am saying that at least a decent understanding of the Word needs to be a priority. A huge priority. And we’re failing at it.
Because what do you say when a co-worker asks if God gave her son cancer to teach their family something? How do you respond when your non-Christian family member laughs about your Bible being rife with contradictions?
When the television tells your children that all gods are the same, people just call her different names?
When your spouse needs healing but it doesn’t seem to be happening?
When a friend doesn’t believe God would disapprove of her getting an abortion?
When a homosexual neighbor asks if you think God really does “hate fags”?
Do you worship a Jesus found at the cross-section of “Coexist” stickers and Eat, Pray, Love and religious tradition? Or do you worship the Jesus who is the Word made flesh? How do you know?
Do you sing the words on the screen no matter what, or do you know when they’re unbiblical? Do you accept whatever a Christian author writes because it’s published, or do you scribble scripture references in the margins to warn future readers? To you accept whatever life throws at you because you don’t know the power available to you?
Theology is not always obviously applicable. It rarely results in clear-cut To Do lists, or five-step programs. Often, the only thing it could even hope to compel us to do immediately is pray and submit, but most of us could do with a lot more of both of those things in our lives and a lot less of the former anyway.
Theology – even at it’s dullest –does, however, reveal the nature of God. It opens our eyes to His beauty, His attention to detail, His perfection, and from there we can believe for the practical and the applicable; from there we learn to love.
All the rest lives and dies on the Word because the One who died and yet lives, who taught us how to die so we may have life more abundantly, is the Word made flesh.

