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Lee Marcos 10:13–16

Mis suegros viven en un terreno de tres acres al oeste de Nueva York. Detrás de su casa corre un arroyo en el que mi esposa y sus hermanos recuerdan haber jugado de niños. Sus risas resuenan ahora con las carcajadas de nuestros hijos. Hileras de árboles de hoja perenne bordean la propiedad, envolviendo los altibajos y los matices de la vida familiar. Una noche de invierno, mientras paseaba entre la nieve amontonada sobre las ramas y sobre el camino, mi mente vagó hacia una visión de la «era venidera». Mientras millones de copos de nieve caían a mi alrededor, con su expresión única de la sabiduría creadora de Dios, volví a sentir asombro.

La palabra del latín inspirare, fuente de la palabra inspiración, se traduce literalmente como «soplar». En la pausa entre nuestras respiraciones, de vez en cuando somos llevados a un lugar de inspiración donde podemos observar lo que antes estaba oculto para nosotros y, ahí, nuestros ojos vislumbran algo nuevo que un día será revelado.

Al ver las cosas a través de los ojos de los niños, es evidente que la inspiración y el asombro son parte de la postura original del alma humana. Como dice Jesús: «Les aseguro que el que no reciba el reino de Dios como un niño, de ninguna manera entrará en él» (Marcos 10:15). El poeta Dylan Thomas lo expresó de esta manera: «Niños mirando las estrellas con asombro / Ese es el objetivo y el fin» [traducción propia]. Como adultos maduros y comedidos, a menudo nos encontramos descuidando el asombro cotidiano y conservándolo como una respuesta más propia ante lo más grandioso y palaciego. Al compartimentar nuestra vida cotidiana, podemos perder fácilmente ese sentido de humildad y disponibilidad que les permite a los niños relacionarse con el mundo que los rodea con asombro. Si no tenemos cuidado, nuestro orgullo, pragmatismo y autodependencia pueden despojarnos de la esencia que nos hace más humanos, haciendo que cerremos los ojos a las maravillas que los niños ven con tanta facilidad.

La historia de la encarnación de Dios nos invita a adoptar una actitud de asombro como la de un niño. En medio de las presuposiciones acerca de un nacimiento propio de un rey, Cristo nace en circunstancias poco memorables. Al igual que los que esperaban al Mesías en aquella época, nuestros ojos modernos habrían pasado por alto Belén en favor de Jerusalén. Habríamos ignorado a los pastores de las laderas de la misma manera en que ignoramos a los mendigos de las calles, buscando en su lugar la esperada grandeza de la gloria. Sin embargo, cuando llegamos a la escena del niño acostado en el pesebre, encontramos el epítome del asombro. Dios redirige nuestra mirada hacia lo humilde y maravilloso, saliendo al encuentro de la humanidad de la manera más mundana. La Encarnación nos recuerda que, cuando nos detenemos, nuestra capacidad de asombro ya no depende de la magnitud, sino que está disponible en la monotonía.

Cuando nos reunimos con nuestros seres queridos y comienza la temporada de las luces y las velas, las campanas de trineo y la natividad, es bueno contemplar lo elemental, contemplar con asombro una noche clara, deleitarse con el sabor de los pasteles recién horneados, reír al son de los niños jugando y abrir la puerta de la fe infantil que solo el asombro puede abrir. No solo encontramos a Cristo allí, sino que lo encontramos invitándonos a compartir su manera de ver el mundo que ha creado.

Isaac Gay es un artista, líder de alabanza y escritor que navega en el cruce de la creatividad, la espiritualidad y el pensamiento contemporáneo.

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Lecturas devocionales de Adviento 2024 de Christianity Today

Conor Sweetman

The post El asombro de la Navidad nos invita a acercarnos appeared first on Christianity Today en español | Cristianismo hoy.

MY IN-LAWS LIVE on three acres in western New York. A creek runs behind their house, holding the memories of my wife and her siblings playing in it as children. Their laughter is now echoed by the giggles of our children. Rows of evergreens line the property, enfolding the highs, lows, and nuances of family life. One winter’s night, as I strolled through the snow piled on the path and in the branches, my mind drifted to a vision of the “age to come.” As millions of snowflakes with their unique expression of God’s creative genius fell around me, I was once again introduced to wonder. 

The French word inspirer, the source of the English word inspiration, is literally translated as breath. In the pause between our breaths, we are once in a while brought to a place of inspiration where we can observe what was previously hidden to us; our eyes glimpse the new that will one day be revealed. 

As we see through the eyes of children, inspiration and wonder are the original postures of the human soul—as Jesus says, “Truly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God like a child shall not enter it” (Mark 10:15, ESV). The poet Dylan Thomas put it this way: “Children in wonder watching the stars / Is the aim and the end.” As mature, regulated adults, we often find ourselves neglecting everyday wonder and conserving it as a response most appropriate to the monumental and palatial. We compartmentalize our day-to-day living and can easily lose the sense of humble availability that allows children to engage with the world around them in wonder. If we’re not careful, our pride, pragmatism, and self-dependence can strip us of the essence that makes us most human, causing us to shut our eyes to the wonder that children see so easily. 

The story of God’s incarnation invites a childlike posture of wonder. Amid presuppositions of a kingly birth, Christ is born into unremarkable circumstances. Much like those who awaited the Messiah at the time, our modern eyes would have overlooked Bethlehem in favor of Jerusalem. We would have ignored the shepherds on the hillside as we do beggars on the streets, looking instead for the expected grandeur of glory. But when we come to the scene of the baby lying in the manger, we find the epitome of wonder. Redirecting our gaze back to the humble and wonderful, God meets humanity in the most mundane of ways. The Incarnation reminds us that as we pause, our ability to stand in wonder is no longer predicated on magnitude, but is available in monotony. 

As we gather with our loved ones and enter into the season of lights and holly, sleigh bells and nativity, it is good to gaze at the elementary; to stand in wonder during a snowfall, to delight in the taste of freshly baked pastries, to laugh along to the sound of children playing, and to answer the door to childlike faith that wonder can open. Not only do we find Christ there, but we find him inviting us to share in the way he sees the world he has created. 

Isaac Gay is an artist, worship leader, and writer at the crossroads of creativity, spirituality, and contemporary thought.

This article is part of A Time for Wonder, a 4-week devotional to help individuals, small groups, and families journey through the 2024 Advent season. Learn more about this special issue that can be used Advent, or any time of year at http://orderct.com/advent.

The post Christmas Beckons Us with Wonder appeared first on Christianity Today.

Pero tal vez me estoy adelantando. Volvamos hasta el principio. Mis padres se conocieron en una discoteca gay en San Francisco, California. Mi madre solo quería un lugar seguro para bailar. Mi padre era el guardia de seguridad. Nos abandonó a mi madre y a mí después de abusar físicamente de las dos. Ni siquiera supe de su existencia sino hasta que tenía 10 años, cuando mi madre ya se había vuelto a casar.

No recuerdo haber tenido una hora fija de ir a dormir durante mi infancia. Me permitieron ver películas de terror desde una edad temprana. En cuanto al sexo, nada estaba oculto. Siempre escuché bromas e historias y, cuando tenía 10 años, ayudé a mi madre a recortar imágenes de una revista para adultos para una despedida de soltera.

Conocí a mi primer novio a los 14 años. Nos reíamos de los chistes del otro, veíamos programas de televisión parecidos y nos llevábamos bien. Pero al poco tiempo él y yo rompimos, como hacen los adolescentes.

Un año después, conocí a mi primera novia en una clase de Historia de Europa. Ella iba en el último curso. Era guapa y popular. Como yo destacaba académicamente en la clase, me pidió que fuera a su casa a ayudarla a estudiar. Cuando nos encontramos en su casa, algo cambió. La conversación fluyó de forma fácil, rápida e inesperada. Me impresionó su belleza. Sentí una atracción parecida a la que otras chicas describían sentir por los chicos.

Durante la semana siguiente, empecé a preguntarme: «¿Está bien sentir esto por una chica?». Estaba vagamente familiarizada con la idea de que la gente que iba a la iglesia condenaba esas cosas, pero cuando intenté averiguar por qué, no encontré nada. Ni en mil años hubiera imaginado entender las enseñanzas de la Biblia sobre la sexualidad; mucho menos someterme a ellas.

El primer beso

Me propuse una meta: antes de que esta chica fuera a la universidad, me besaría. Mentí sobre mi pasado sexual, me coloqué estratégicamente en su camino e introduje temas a fin de que fluyeran los pensamientos románticos.

Mientras tanto, entablábamos una amistad profunda y verdadera. Fue la primera compañera con la que pude hablar de ideas, literatura y otros temas serios. Pronto dejó de ser solo un juego: me había enamorado.

El verano siguiente me preguntó qué quería de regalo para mi cumpleaños número 16. El corazón me latía con fuerza. Le dije que quería que me besara. El momento en que ocurrió, y los muchos momentos que siguieron, fueron como el levantamiento de un velo. El mundo que siempre había visto en blanco y negro estalló de repente en miles de colores deslumbrantes.

Dejar mi pequeño instituto local para ir a la Universidad de Yale fue más que espectacular: entré en un selectivo programa de humanidades para estudiantes de primer año, conocí gente fascinante de todo el mundo y disfruté de acceso a cantidades ilimitadas de alcohol. Parecía demasiado bueno para ser verdad.

Entonces me enteré de la noticia: mi novia me engañaba con un vagabundo sin estudios en Tahoe. Cuando llegaron las vacaciones de Navidad, decidí ir a visitarla, pero todo estaba helado, quieto, congelado. La mañana de Navidad, mientras yo leía el Quijote en su futón y ella tenía sexo con su novio en la otra habitación, me preguntaba en qué se había convertido mi vida.

En busca de Jesús en Google

De vuelta a Yale, en mi primera clase de filosofía, discutimos la famosa afirmación de Descartes, cogito ergo sum, «pienso, luego existo», y cómo influyó en su comprensión de la realidad y la naturaleza de Dios. Tras cierto rechazo inicial, empecé a preguntarme compulsivamente si Dios podía existir. De vuelta a mi habitación, empecé a buscar en Google términos religiosos como un estudiante de secundaria en busca de pornografía. Cuando entraba mi compañera de piso, cerraba de golpe la tapa de mi computadora portátil y fingía estar haciendo tarea de francés.

No sabría decir qué términos usé en aquellas búsquedas, pero en esa oleada de páginas web, empecé a descubrir a Jesús por primera vez. Es difícil describir las ideas preconcebidas que tenía; quizá frases como «conservador de la antigüedad» o «tradicionalista irreflexivo» transmitan algo del sabor. Sin embargo, los artículos y las Escrituras que encontré me dieron una impresión claramente diferente. Una y otra vez, vi cómo Jesús notaba, dignificaba y servía a personas que yo habría desechado. Pero me inquietaba la sospecha de que mi vida iba en contra de la suya.

En aquel entonces, conocí a dos chicas que estaban en una relación seria. Una de ellas se estaba formando para ser ministra luterana. Me interesó saber cómo podían conciliar sus vidas con Jesús y sus enseñanzas. Me aseguraron que cualquier apariencia de conflicto se debía a interpretaciones históricas erróneas de las Escrituras. Me pusieron un paquete en las manos y corrí a mi habitación para descubrir lo que la Biblia realmente decía sobre la sexualidad.

El paquete tenía una clara coherencia interna. Me gustó mucho. Pero cuando busqué los versículos bíblicos que decía presentar y explicar en detalle, me sentí frustrada. Estas interpretaciones revisionistas no concordaban con el significado llano de las palabras de la Biblia. Me sentí engañada y, con cierta repugnancia, tiré el paquete al suelo. Estaba claro que había sido una tonta al esperar que esta religión anticuada tuviera cabida para mí.

Unos días más tarde, estaba en la habitación de un amigo que había sido católico cuando me fijé en el lomo de un libro naranja con el nombre de Mero Cristianismo. No sabía nada de C. S. Lewis ni de este libro, pero el título me intrigó y decidí meterlo silenciosamente en mi bolso.

Leí y leí. Un día, mientras leía entre clase y clase en la biblioteca, lo cerré a mitad de capítulo y caí en la cuenta: Dios existe. Mi corazón y mi cabeza ya no podían negarlo. Sin embargo, junto con esta gloriosa certeza vino la admisión aterrorizada de mi propia maldad. Había mentido y engañado, había sido cruel, ¡incluso le había robado aquel libro a un dulce y confiado amigo! ¿Cómo iba a enfrentarme a un Dios puro y santo?

Pero cuando consideré lo que Jesús había hecho —sufrir la separación de Dios para que yo pudiera unirme a Él—, supe que sería una tonta si rechazaba su oferta. Mientras mi corazón se hinchaba de agradecimiento, apreté los ojos y oré, y ahí mismo me rendí delante de Jesús.

Una cuestión de confianza

El sábado siguiente, la fraternidad Yale Students for Christ [Estudiantes de Yale para Cristo] organizó una fiesta por el día de San Valentín. Todavía me sentía avergonzada por haber aceptado a Jesús, así que llegué tarde y fingí que había venido por mera casualidad. Cuando una chica de segundo año me preguntó por qué no me había visto antes, murmuré que acababa de convertirme al cristianismo dos días antes. Se quedó un poco atónita. Me acercó a otros estudiantes de primer año, que me invitaron a la oración del lunes por la mañana.

Fui. Me dieron una Biblia de bolsillo, respondieron a mis molestas preguntas y me invitaron al estudio bíblico que tendrían la noche siguiente. Fui con la Biblia en la mano. Dos jóvenes nos guiaron por un pasaje de Efesios. Era asombroso: gente real, examinando realmente la Biblia y aplicándola a sus vidas.

A lo largo de ese semestre, seguí a estos estudiantes como un patito, observando todo lo que hacían y decían. Sin embargo, haber elegido seguir a Jesús no había dado respuesta a todas mis preguntas. Específicamente, ¿qué iba a hacer con mi natural e inquebrantable atracción hacia las mujeres? Sabía que la Biblia era clara: lo que yo quería estaba fuera de los límites. Pero no entendía por qué. ¿Cómo podían el amor, la intimidad y el deseo de tener un compañero estar prohibidos por este Dios amoroso e íntimo que también buscaba el compañerismo?

Fue así que tuve que aprender mi primera lección de la vida cristiana: cómo obedecer antes de comprender. La vida me había enseñado que era necesario dominar completamente un concepto antes de poder asentir a él. ¿Cómo podía estar de acuerdo con algo tan costoso sin comprender la razón?

Al final, todo se reducía a la confianza. Sabía que Jesús era digno de confianza, porque había hecho un sacrificio mucho mayor. Había dejado la dicha, la comodidad, la alegría de amar y ser amado a la perfección, para vivir una vida dolorosa en la tierra. Asumió el dolor y la vergüenza de la muerte de un criminal y sufrió el rechazo del Padre, todo para que yo pudiera ser acogida. ¿Quién podría merecer más confianza?

La obediencia de la fe solo funciona cuando está arraigada en una persona, no en una regla. Impuesta por sí misma, una regla nos invita a juzgarla, sopesando su razonabilidad. Pero una regla que fluye de una relación allana el camino para una obediencia fiel. Cuando un niño no entiende la orden de su madre, el carácter de esta desempeña un papel importante en lo que sucede después. Una madre cruel y caprichosa probablemente encontrará resistencia. Pero una madre afectuosa y cariñosa inspira confianza, porque el niño sabe profundamente que ella está de su lado.

En una de las pruebas de confianza más dramáticas de las Escrituras, Dios le dijo a Abraham que sacrificara a su hijo Isaac. Si Abraham hubiera considerado este mandato de forma aislada, seguramente no habría obedecido. Sin embargo, Abraham era amigo de Dios. Cuando fue puesto a prueba, no dudó, porque conocía el carácter de Dios.

Dios había aparecido con la respuesta en la historia de Abraham, y yo sabía que aparecería con la respuesta en mi propia historia, pero, ¿cómo? ¿Quitaría mi atracción por las mujeres? Durante aquellos primeros años en la fe cristiana sostuve varias relaciones interpersonales con mujeres que fueron espirituales, liberadoras e íntimas, pero no eróticas. Sin embargo, en otros casos, la química personal y sexual me llevó de vuelta a los viejos patrones. ¿Por qué Dios no me arregló?

Poco a poco, llegué a comprender que «hacerme heterosexual» no era la respuesta. No existe un mandato bíblico a ser heterosexual. A través del estudio, las conversaciones y la oración, finalmente llegué a una verdad crucial: que el sexo no es es algo que Dios descubrió y luego cercó con restricciones arbitrarias, sino algo que Él hizo para enseñarnos y bendecirnos. Cuando sus enseñanzas iban en contra de mis instintos, renunciar a mis deseos se convirtió en una forma profunda de decir: «Confío en ti».

Esta confianza se estiró tanto que casi se rompe. Mi novia de la secundaria quería empezar de nuevo, pero yo no podía complacerla. Luego me enamoré de una chica que estaba próxima a graduarse de Yale, sin embargo, el amor por Jesús hizo que me alejara.

Alegría y sanidad

Dios guardó el mayor estiramiento para un momento de total desesperanza, después de que estúpidamente volví a tener relaciones sexuales con mi novia de la secundaria. Mientras me esforzaba por convencerme de que incluso entonces estaba perdonada, Dios trajo a un hombre a mi vida. Nos habíamos conocido el verano anterior en una misión cristiana. Éramos amigos, pero no me atraía. Él sabía todo sobre mi pasado.

Pidió venir a visitarme a Yale durante mi tercer año de universidad. Tenía la preocupante sensación de que tenía un interés romántico. Y efectivamente, llegó con flores. Le recordé que yo me había acostado con más mujeres que él. Pero no cedió: si Jesús me había perdonado, él no tenía por qué tener nada contra mí.

Luché con la situación. No me atraía sexualmente, pero admiraba su bondad, su calidez y nuestras prioridades comunes. ¿Estaba mal seguir viéndolo cuando no sentía lo mismo que en anteriores aventuras amorosas? ¿Sería nuestra relación una farsa piadosa? Sin embargo, pude ver que me amaba, que sería un buen marido y padre, y que me llamaría hacia Jesús. Incluso sentí que podríamos experimentar un amor físico genuino, aunque más aprendido que natural.

Paso a paso, Jesús me fue abriendo los ojos a un tipo de amor humano que no había visto antes: uno impregnado de compromiso y alegría espiritual; uno que no se limitaba simplemente a la pasión. Una vez más, obedecí antes de comprender. Me casé con aquel joven antes de enamorarme realmente de él, porque primero amaba a Jesús.

Esta es la coyuntura típica en la que la gente saca conclusiones precipitadas. Ha habido gays y lesbianas que me preguntan si alguna vez me atrajeron las mujeres en realidad. Cristianos heterosexuales han declarado con orgullo que Dios curó mi homosexualidad. Han intentado utilizarme como mascota de algo que en realidad no represento.

La verdad es que, incluso después de 10 años de matrimonio, cuando siento atracción por alguien que no es mi cónyuge, esa persona es una mujer. Aun así, mi matrimonio ha sido un lugar de alegría y sanación. Cuando la gente me pregunta cuál es mi orientación, mi respuesta más honesta es «casada», con las mismas bendiciones y cargas que tienen otros creyentes casados, y con la misma fuente de esperanza y poder: el Espíritu Santo.

Nunca insistiría en que el matrimonio es el camino normal o «correcto» para todos (ni siquira para la mayoría) de los cristianos atraídos por personas del mismo sexo. La heterosexualidad no es el objetivo final, sino la fidelidad a Dios y la alegría que proviene de una relación con Él. Para muchos creyentes, la fidelidad a Dios implicará un compromiso con el celibato de por vida. Pero a menos que la Iglesia proyecte una visión de vida familiar plena y gozosa dentro de sí misma, el celibato parecerá un callejón sin salida. No podemos decir no a algo bueno a menos que estemos diciendo sí a algo aún mejor.

La comunidad que Dios llama a la Iglesia a ser —una comunidad de intimidad, afecto, verdad y gracia— es su herramienta para mantenernos, formarnos y prepararnos para estar en su presencia para siempre. Ya sea que Dios nos guíe al matrimonio o a la soltería, toda historia de transformación en Cristo está destinada a suceder dentro de esta comunidad.

Por eso esta no es la historia de cómo me convertí en heterosexual, cosa que nunca ha sucedido realmente y no viene al caso. Esta es la historia de cómo estoy alcanzando mi plenitud, cosa que sigue ocurriendo todos los días.

Rachel Gilson es directora de desarrollo teológico de Cru Northeast. Puedes leer su blog en rachelgilson.com.

Traducción y edición en español por Livia Giselle Seidel.

¿Qué viene después del movimiento exgay? Lo mismo que vino antes.

Greg Johnson

¿Una nueva perspectiva de la sexualidad cristiana?

Rachel Joy Welcher

The post Nunca llegué a ser heterosexual. Tal vez ese nunca fue el objetivo de Dios appeared first on Christianity Today en español | Cristianismo hoy.

Sporting a black T-shirt emblazoned with “xy = man”—a confirmation of where he stands on the GOP’s 2024 litmus test issue—Kirk, who founded Turning Point USA as a college student in 2012, was interrupted as his audience erupted into a rendition of “The Star-Spangled Banner.” Afterward, students grabbed up TPUSA swag that said “Republicans are hotter” and “dump your socialist boyfriend.”

“Gen Z is waking up … and voting,” Kirk posted on X later that day. “WATCH.”

Kirk’s fall 2024 “You’re Being Brainwashed” tour is an effort advertised as a way to help students “challenge left-wing indoctrination on college campuses.” TPUSA has already signed up nearly 800 college chapters, but the event at GCU, established by Baptists but now calling itself interdenominational, is part of Kirk’s recent push to populate evangelical Christian campuses with TPUSA chapters.

Since 2020, TPUSA chapters have appeared at more than 45 Christian colleges or universities, at least 35 of them affiliated with the Council for Christian Colleges and Universities, the largest association of Christian schools. Only 21 chapters at Christian universities appear currently active, however, with even fewer officially recognized by the universities themselves.

Expanding to Christian colleges, some scholars warn, may divide their campuses. The group, whose website says it plays “offense with a sense of urgency to win America’s culture war,” gained notoriety in 2016 for its professor watchlist, which prompted harassment of faculty at secular as well as Christian colleges, who, TPUSA said, “advance leftist propaganda.”

Kirk has disputed the results of the 2020 election, questioned the qualifications of Black pilots, called George Floyd a “scumbag” and said a Bible verse about stoning gay people to death is “God’s perfect law.” 

“The Democrat Party supports everything that God hates,” Kirk said at a recent campaign event he organized for Donald Trump. TPUSA did not respond to requests for comment.

Students at Christian colleges who have launched or joined TPUSA chapters said in interviews this fall that the group helps build community and gives them a place to discuss conservative values.

“They say that we are racist and homophobic,” said Payton Stutzman, president of the TPUSA chapter at Liberty University in Lynchburg, Virginia, without specifying who “they” referred to. “We’re really not. We really just want to get together and have a good time. The main things we support is a secure border, a good economy, and the freedom to raise our family the way we think is right. We are not here to push anybody’s beliefs down their throats.”

Sarah Stock, a junior political science major at Vanguard University, a Christian university in Orange County, California, started a TPUSA chapter last fall as an outlet, she said, for political dialogue in what she described as an otherwise apolitical campus.

Last year at a screening of Matt Walsh’s What Is a Woman, a film in which Walsh, a controversial podcast host, talks about transgender issues, approximately 100 students attended. Among them was a group of friends who came up to debate the TPUSA members during a Q&A session. 

“We all were like, I respect you have this opinion, and it’s great that we can talk about it,” said Stock, who said that after momentarily growing tense, the two groups ended up laughing together. “It was just this mutual understanding that you can love other people and still disagree with them.”

Generally operating in more conservative environments, TPUSA chapters on Christian campuses face less opposition than peers at secular universities but aren’t exempt from controversy. In 2023, Whitworth University put their TPUSA chapter on probation after a free speech event encouraged students to write whatever they wanted on a beach ball, vulgarities included. A year earlier, a now-defunct TPUSA chapter at Calvin University in Grand Rapids drew backlash after advertising a Kanye West-themed event in the wake of West’s antisemitic comments.

“The tone of TPUSA social media, and the tone of Charlie Kirk’s rhetoric, to me, it seems there’s a conflict there between kind of that brand, and the more thoughtful political discourse that Christian colleges historically have been working to cultivate,” said Kristin Kobes Du Mez, professor of history and gender studies at Calvin University.

Since TPUSA launched its Faith Initiative in 2021, which partners with churches to host religious conferences, Kirk’s rhetoric about “reclaiming the country for Christ” has grown more bold, earning Kirk the label of Christian nationalist.

“If the church does not rise up at this moment, if the church does not take its proper role, then the country and the republic will be gone as we know it,” Kirk said at a May 2021 TPUSA Faith event at Dream City Church in Phoenix.

Kyle Spencer, whose 2024 book Raising Them Right chronicles America’s conservative youth movement, is unequivocal in describing Kirk as a Christian nationalist, but political commentator Isaac Willour, a graduate of the Christian Grove City College, called it an “obvious jump” to conflate “those who have a pop interest in TPUSA talking points” with “the actual radical right.” TPUSA, he noted, has distanced itself from radical conservatives such as Nick Fuentes and Morgan Ariel.

“There’s a very easy trap to fall into … that advocating for Christians who meaningfully use any kind of political process, anything that’s not really quietism, is Christian nationalism,” said Willour.

Stock said, “It seems like there’s a high demand for Christian nationalism in the media, but I think there’s a pretty low supply of it.”

Before TPUSA Faith, there was the Falkirk Center for Faith and Liberty, a think tank located at the evangelical powerhouse Liberty University in Virginia. The brainchild of Kirk and then-Liberty President Jerry Falwell Jr., the center, founded in 2019, brought Trump allies such as Eric Metaxas and Rudy Giuliani to campus but ultimately lost steam as Falwell encountered scandal and eventually resigned.

Kirk’s legacy lives on in the school’s TPUSA chapter, which ballooned from 175 members over the summer to over 600, according to Stutzman, crediting the election. (He also touts its pickleball, trivia and Shrek-themed “drain the swamp” movie nights.) Voter registration has been a top priority.

“Right now, Virginia is in a spot where it could flip,” said Stutzman, who was doorknocking for the Trump campaign as he spoke to RNS. “While we can’t endorse anybody, we can support our values, and we can work with college Republicans and other clubs that can endorse people, and we can provide them resources.”

Gen Z Christians Aren’t Sold on Trump or Harris

Harvest Prude in Grove City, Pennsylvania

Many TPUSA Christian college chapters have hosted debate watch parties and have plans for election night gatherings. At Liberty, local and federal politicians are expected to attend the chapter’s formal election night gala.

JJ Glaneman, a sophomore at Duquesne University, a Catholic university in Pittsburgh, told RNS he’d also recently been doorknocking for Trump and GOP Senate candidate David McCormick.  

Duquesne’s TPUSA chapter is unofficial. After attending TPUSA’s multi-day AmFest event in Arizona in December 2023, Glaneman filed to start a formal chapter in January but was denied by student government, who, Glaneman said, cited TPUSA’s values. Instead, Glaneman has co-founded a chapter of the 132-year-old College Republicans that they use as a “shield,” he said, to host conservative events on campus.  

According to Matt Boedy, a professor of religious rhetoric at the University of North Georgia, TPUSA’s “star-studded” conferences, big-name speakers and viral political debates make TPUSA a more attractive option than a College Republicans chapter.

There’s also TPUSA’s funding. Tax filings from June 2023 showed that TPUSA took in $81.7 million, up from $2.05 million in 2015. Stock said that while her group could apply for “like $50 a year” from Vanguard, “we just get everything from Turning Point.”

Claire Bettag, a senior at St. Mary’s Notre Dame, said the Indiana Catholic school denied her attempt to found a chapter in 2022 due to TPUSA’s messaging on LGBTQ issues. Despite the rejection, Bettag has maintained an unofficial TPUSA chapter and a College Republicans club at the school and said TPUSA encouraged her to speak out when St. Mary’s decided to offer open enrollment to applicants “who consistently live and identify as women,” which included transgender students.  

“We had met with the school board, the president, the vice president of the college, and we started multiple protests and did a lot of activism to get this policy reversed,” said Bettag. “I have confidence now to speak out about my conservative values that I never thought that I could ever have, and it’s because Turning Point really backed me up along the entire process.”

Saint Mary’s reversed its decision a month later, by which time, Bettag said, her unofficial TPUSA chapter had grown to 75 members.

Catholic University of America has also been hesitant to welcome TPUSA to its campus, as have some Protestant colleges. In 2021, Point Loma Nazarene University, a Church of the Nazarene school in San Diego, and Taylor University, an evangelical school in Upland, Indiana, said the national group conflicts with their mission statements.

The Grand Canyon University event shows that TPUSA’s efforts to enroll Christian students aren’t slowing down, and while Spencer said it’s still a question whether the campaign will translate to votes, Stutzman, at Liberty, said not all gains are political.

“Ultimately, at the end of the day, it’s not just political warfare,” he said. “It’s spiritual warfare that we’re fighting as well.”

The post Charlie Kirk Aims to Expand Turning Point USA to Evangelical Campuses appeared first on Christianity Today.

The trucks are then driven 80 miles east to the Piedmont Triad International Airport where they are loaded onto the nonprofit’s DC-8 aircraft specially configured to carry up to 84,000 pounds of cargo. From there the goods are airlifted to Poland and then trucked across the border into Ukraine.

This week, Samaritan’s Purse, headed by evangelical leader Franklin Graham, made its 30th airlift since Russia began its offensive against Ukraine in February.

The Christian relief organization estimates it has helped 5.5 million Ukrainians with medicine, food and water. Earlier in the conflict, it also operated an emergency field hospital in Lviv, and outpatient clinics across the country treating an estimated 17,758 patients. It now supports 30 medical facilities across the war-ravaged country.

The organization’s 160,000-square-foot warehouse and offices in North Wilkesboro employ 385 people who buy, repair, maintain and retrofit millions of dollars’ worth of medical equipment, generators and water filtration systems, much of them donated. The warehouse has six emergency field hospitals ready to ship, four with tents, hospital beds, anesthesiology equipment, X-ray machines, and surgical suites—all engineered to fold into a plane’s fuselage. There are also miles of plastic tarps, mountains of clothing and boxes full of small brown teddy bears with the Samaritan’s Purse logo—a cross inside a circle.

Samaritan’s Purse, now in its 52nd year, has become a powerhouse of faith-based international relief.

Ukraine is now drawing on much of that relief, but in any given year, the organization aids people in 110–120 countries. It sent supplies to Pakistan after unprecedented flooding from monsoon rains this past month. It has a mobile medical team at 11 different sites across civil war-torn Yemen. It is helping farmers in Iraq’s Sinjar Mountains plant strawberries.

And then there are multiple US-based recovery efforts. Samaritan’s Purse volunteer teams recently sawed off tree limbs and cleared damaged homes in Kentucky and Missouri where a rash of disastrous floods ruined homes and businesses.

The nonprofit’s mission is based on the parable of the Good Samaritan as told in Luke’s Gospel, in which a man is stripped, beaten and left for dead on the side of the road. He is rescued, not by those with power or authority, but by an outsider—a Samaritan—who bandages his wounds, takes him to an inn and pays the innkeeper to look after him.

To many, Samaritan’s Purse may be best-known for giving shoeboxes full of toys to needy children around the world. But over the past 10 years, it has grown into one of the largest US faith-based nonprofits, with annual revenues last year of $1 billion.

A review of its annual 990 IRS form shows Samaritan’s Purse’s revenue has doubled since 2014, and its assets have quadrupled. It now ranks at No. 23 in the Chronicle of Philanthropy’s 25 largest US charities, a list that includes mostly non-religious charities.

Today, Samaritan’s Purse is in a league with the American Red Cross, Catholic Charities, and Lutheran Services in America. In 2020, it surpassed in cash revenue the Christian charity World Vision, with whom it shares a founder: former missionary and evangelist Bob Pierce, Franklin Graham’s inspiration and mentor.

That growth has come largely on the strength of its frontline work in public health crises and natural disasters around the world.

Even before the COVID-19 pandemic, Samaritan’s Purse designed and assembled emergency field hospitals. In the past two years it put them to use in Italy; the Bahamas; New York City; Los Angeles; Jackson, Mississippi; and Lenoir, North Carolina. Its quick response to emerging health crises was tested in 2014, when two of its medical personnel contracted the deadly Ebola virus while treating people in Liberia. They were evacuated to Atlanta’s Emory University Hospital where they were treated and recovered.

“When we say we run to the fire, that’s not idle talk,” said Ken Isaacs, vice president of programs and government relations and the logistical and regulatory brain behind the group’s sophisticated international enterprise.

Samaritan’s Purse has built up a corps of Christian doctors, nurses and other medical professionals who volunteer on short-term trips to mission hospitals across the world and a cadre of domestic volunteers trained in debris removal, mud-outs, and light construction.

The organization’s headquarters are in North Carolina’s Blue Ridge Mountain town of Boone. It has warehouses in Coppell, Texas, and Fullerton, California, field offices in 17 countries across the world and a lodge in Alaska where it runs marriage seminars for wounded soldiers and law enforcement officers.

But unlike many other Christian charities, Samaritan’s Purse is distinct in a particular way: It has a galvanizing, and sometimes polarizing, leader.

“I think most people today would be hard-pressed to name the president of Catholic Charities, World Vision, or Compassion (International),” said David King, director of the Lake Institute on Faith & Giving. “Many organizations are not led by personalities in the same way that Franklin Graham leads Samaritan’s Purse.”

As the son and successor to Billy Graham and the president of the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association, Graham, 70, has outsize stature in the evangelical fold. With his 10 million Facebook followers and 2.5 million Twitter followers, he inveighs regularly on some of the hottest issues of the day, drawing as many supporters as detractors for his conservative and partisan views.

He is a staunch supporter of former President Donald Trump; most recently he blasted the FBI for raiding Trump’s Mar-a-Lago home, claiming, falsely, that Trump would return the documents, if asked. A culture warrior on the social issues of the day, whether it’s abortion, same-sex marriage, or sexuality, Graham regularly denounces what he sees as a godless America set adrift by secular culture. He applauded the Canadian Freedom Convoy. He labeled Disney a “moral failure” for its gay-friendly policies. He pushed a domestic abuse victim to return to her pastor husband.

But when it comes to running Samaritan’s Purse, he has also proven to be an effective leader committed to helping people in crisis in the most nimble and resourceful ways possible.

“Franklin always liked the challenge of getting on the ground fast and cutting through red tape and bureaucracy,” said Mark DeMoss, a now-retired public relations executive who represented Graham. “He wants to go where others can’t go, get set up quicker than others and show (people) you’re on the ground.”

Graham is unconventional in more ways than one. He doesn’t hire outside companies to produce direct mail appeals. He doesn’t socialize with charity professionals.

“We’ve never used outside fundraisers,” Graham said in a telephone interview. “We tell people what we’re doing, and people decide if they want to help us.”

Evangelicals have responded. Graham claims hundreds of thousands of people make small donations of $100 of less, and while that may not be entirely accurate, the charity draws from a large net of donors, many in evangelical circles.

Only 5.1 percent of Samaritan’s Purse’s revenue in 2021 came from federal dollars. In past years, it has partnered with the US Agency for International Development to provide aid in Iraq, Sudan, Congo, Liberia, and Colombia. It also worked with the United Nations’ World Food Program, the United Nations’ High Commissioner for Refugees, and the International Organization for Migration, another UN organization.

Despite Graham’s social views, Samaritan’s Purse is committed to providing services to everyone regardless of race, ethnicity, religion, or sexual orientation. It will, however, tell them about Jesus.

Part of Samaritan’s Purse’s growth and financial success may be due to the Graham brand. Graham inherited from his evangelist father a reputation for personal integrity and financial transparency.

“There was no scandal in Billy’s life, and I think that’s true of Franklin, too,” said Grant Wacker, a historian and the author of America’s Pastor: Billy Graham and the Shaping of America. “Whatever one thinks of his politics, he has stayed on track in terms of his personal ethics. What that does is it creates a consistency between the message and the public appeal.”

While some donors may be unaware of Graham’s politics, Wacker said, some give precisely because of it.

“The inclination to contribute is based on trust,” he said. “For evangelicals, both Black, white, and Latino, personal trust is to a good extent based on a perception of your personal life.”

Then there’s Operation Christmas Child. The longstanding program, begun by Samaritan’s Purse in 1993, partners with local churches, who in turn enlist members to buy small gifts and pack them in shoeboxes for needy children around the world. (It also helped Samaritan’s Purse to be reclassified by the IRS as an association of churches.) Churchgoers’ enthusiasm for the program knows no bounds. Samaritan’s Purse estimates it has 90,000 volunteers each year. In 2021, those volunteers packed and shipped more than 10.5 million shoeboxes worldwide.

Operation Christmas Child remains a signature program, but it is no longer the central focus of the organization. In 2001, more than half of the charity’s revenue came from Operation Christmas Child, and about two-thirds of the organization’s expenses were spent on that program, according to a 990 report. By 2021, less than a third of Samaritan’s Purse’s revenue came from Operation Christmas Child, and the program made up about 44 percent of the organization’s expenses.

But the relationships formed with churches who either donate shoeboxes or receive them for distribution has given the organization global reach and quick access when disaster strikes.

Sergii Syzonekno, pastor of Central Baptist Church in the Ukrainian city of Dnipro, had been participating in Operation Christmas Child for eight years. When the war began, he, like other churches already in Samaritan’s Purse’s Operation Christmas Child network, immediately received $5,000 in cash.

That support has now ramped up with weekly shipments of supplies. The church has opened its building to shelter Ukrainians fleeing the war. Some 430 people slept there one night at the height of the war. Church volunteers use their own cars to go out and evacuate people under siege from the Russians and deliver food and water.

“We are very thankful to Samaritan’s Purse for food, medicine and encouragement,” said Syzonekno. “We are partners. We are doing God’s work together.”

Charities Adapt to Save Christmas from COVID-19

Kate Shellnutt

If You Give a Tsunami Survivor a Crayon

Kate Shellnutt

The post Under Franklin Graham, Samaritan’s Purse Grows to a $1 Billion Powerhouse appeared first on Christianity Today.

What are pastors to make of this shift? We asked four church leaders what they think ministry should look like in post-Christian America. Their answers paint a picture of a church that praises God for its mission field and prepares to engage it with fervor.

A Pre-Christendom Church

Claude Alexander

What we call post-Christian culture strikingly resembles the pre-Christendom era—before Constantine, when the church was a fringe, marginal, prophetic body. Before it became mainstream, accessible, and synonymous with apple pie and Chevrolet. And a pre-Christendom era demands a pre-Christendom church.

Obligated to go out

A life in Christ is a life under obligation. Paul said, “I am obligated both to Greeks and non-Greeks” (Rom. 1:14). He didn’t see himself as a volunteer. He was under orders. In church, when we use the term volunteers, we imply that Christian service is a matter of choice. But if you understand the apostolic nature of the church, you understand members are not volunteering; they’re sent out due to the moral imperative of God’s providence. We are under obligation to provide obedient service, to live an evangelistic life. We owe people the gospel because we recognize the danger they’re in, the love God has for them, and the provision God has made for them.

Empowered by the Holy Spirit

If you looked at the followers of Jesus prior to Pentecost and someone asked you to bet that the church would last nearly 2,000 years, would you take that bet? I wouldn’t. But in Acts 2, the Holy Spirit endowed this pivotal group of people with a supernatural ability to surpass the limits of their spirit, their exposure, and their education to fulfill their assignment. Is that not what the Holy Spirit does for us? He empowers us to overcome our fears. He triumphs over every divisive and disruptive attitude to the fulfillment of God’s purpose.

United in community

In Acts 3, we see Peter and John walk in unity together. You couldn’t find two more different people than Peter and John. Both could have claimed primacy in the sight of Jesus. Peter was the one who declared, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God,” and Jesus responded, “On this rock I will build my church” (Matt. 16:16, 18). But John was the one who laid on Jesus’ breast, who was at the cross, and to whom Jesus entrusted his earthly mother. Both were alpha males who could have claimed, “I am the chief.” But here they are, walking together.

Jesus paired them together because he knew the church would need both. The church would need somebody deep and reflective like John, and the church would need somebody impulsive and active like Peter. The church could not do without either of them. They needed each other. We need each other, too.

Called to suffer

We are called to suffer on behalf of the world and to certify the truth of our message. Jesus said, “You will be my witnesses.” That word for “witness” is also used for “martyr.” It means “one who is willing to confirm the truth by death.” Jesus’ earliest followers rejoiced at the fact that they were counted worthy to suffer shame for his name. Not that they sought it out, but when suffering came their way, they were willing to embrace it.

In these tough political times, many churches are worried about losing their nonprofit status. That’s a matter of losing privilege. Is that something we would be willing to lose for the sake of Jesus Christ? How does that compare to the suffering experienced in the early church? That may be what we’re called to in this age. Yet our faith tells us, if that happens there is resurrection.

Claude Alexander is senior pastor of The Park Church in Charlotte, North Carolina.

A Courageous Church

Matt Chandler

Our world is changing. Even in the Dallas area, where there’s a church building on every corner, I can feel the weight of it. Fewer people are claiming Christ. The church is losing its credibility and influence.

We’re on the margins of culture—and where we’re not already there, just give it some time.

Amid the pressures of secularization and marginalization, we convince ourselves that the sky is falling and sound the alarms of the apocalypse. Fear grips us and cripples us. It dictates our lives and our ministries.

So before we start strategizing about what the church might look like in the days ahead, we need to answer this question: “Am I motivated by fear or courage?”

Initially, fear is fine. It’s normal. But it’s what we do with fear that matters. We can allow it to dominate and destroy us—and that won’t lead us into faithfulness and fullness of life—or we can look to the strength and power of the Lord and allow our courage in him to transcend our fear. That’s where we will begin to live faithfully and boldly and effectively in this age of unbelief.

Courage only comes from confidence in God and what he has done and is doing in Jesus Christ. It’s looking to the Scriptures and seeing that we serve a God who is infinitely bigger and better than anything before us. It’s understanding that, even if people say we’re on the wrong side of history, we know history has already been decided—we know how this thing ends.

Before we start strategizing … we need to answer this question: ‘Am I motivated by fear or courage?’

The Bible tells us again and again that we will go through trials and struggles and sufferings. Believers in the early church lived under the vicious rule of the Roman Empire, where persecution was unlike anything we’ve seen in the present-day West. In spite of their horrific circumstances, Christ told them, “I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matt. 28:20), Paul told them, “We are more than conquerors through him who loved us” (Rom. 8:37), and Peter told them, God “has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that can never perish, spoil, or fade” (1 Pet. 1:3–4). Regardless of how hateful and hostile our world becomes, we have nothing to worry about. The gates of hell shall not prevail against Christ’s church. On the contrary, we should count it joy because it’s an opportunity to bear witness to our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

So instead of starting with predictions and strategies for how the church might function in a world where Christians are being ridiculed and we’ve lost much of our social influence, let’s come back to this question: “Am I motivated by fear or courage?” If we’re full of courage, emboldened and empowered by the Lord, we’ve got the hardest part figured out.

Matt Chandler is lead pastor of teaching at The Village Church in Dallas/Fort Worth, Texas; president of the Acts 29 Network; and author of Take Heart: Christian Courage in the Age of Unbelief (The Good Book Company, 2018).

An Equipped, Sent Church

Danah Himes

I have worked with college students on a secular university campus for 17 years. About 10 years ago, we first began to experience the post-Christian culture in campus ministry. We used to see over 100 students show up to first-week-of-school events and worship services every year. Now, even though we pour the same amount of energy into quality events and have increased our publicity, we don’t draw the same crowds. Fewer students seek Christian fellowship when they come to the university, and fewer ask questions about faith because it is no longer normal for students to have been raised going to church.

To minister in this new context, we must first acknowledge that the culture is different. Then we can adjust our expectations and our approach to discipleship.

Gen Xers proudly wore the label of “Jesus Freak” in the 90s—thanks, DC Talk—but students today have to be more strategic in order to share their faith. While our Christian students are not ashamed of Jesus, they are afraid of what their peers will think of them. When classmates discover students are Christian, they expect them to be closed minded, to hate gay people, and to have a low view of women. At one time, Christians had a repository of trust on campus. No more. To share the gospel with non-believers in this culture, students must first develop relationships and, little by little, earn back that trust.

In a post-Christian context, we cannot rely solely on Sunday mornings to reach the lost. We can no longer “build it” and expect them “to come.” Remind your church members that they can be more effective missionaries in their workplaces and neighborhoods than any pastor, because they have the relationships and therefore the voice. Equip believers to communicate the gospel message and share their faith rather than just encouraging them to invite people to church. That may include basic training and role playing on how to initiate conversations, how to take conversations deeper, how to disagree well, and how to develop friendships—especially with someone from a different class, race, or political stance.

To prepare Christians to withstand false philosophies, ridicule, and apathy, teach the foundations of the faith again and again from different angles. Ground God’s people in truth. This is the only way to develop Christians who can cultivate their relationship with God independently, through Bible study, prayer, and spiritual disciplines.

In this post-Christian context, the American church will look smaller. Corporate worship won’t be the default Sunday morning activity as it was in previous generations. But do not be discouraged. Acknowledge and encourage those in your church who are not shrinking back, but have counted the cost to be counter-cultural and still follow Jesus. While church attendance drops, those who remain committed will get closer and stronger, relying on the Word, the Spirit, and the community of believers to help us fulfill God’s kingdom purposes.

Danah Himes is an associate campus minister at Christian Campus House at Eastern Illinois University in Charleston.

An Acts 17 Church

James Emery White

We have moved from an Acts 2 to an Acts 17 cultural context.

In Acts 2 we find Peter speaking to the God-fearing Jews of Jerusalem. Here, in essence, was his message: “You know about the creation, Adam and Eve, and the Fall; you know about Abraham and the chosen people of Israel; you know about Moses and the Law; you know of the prophets and the promised Messiah. So we don’t need to waste time on that. You need to know that Jesus was the Messiah, you rejected and killed him, and he rose from the dead and unleashed his church, which means you need to repent.”

It wasn’t even the length of a good blog post. The result? Three thousand people repented! Peter spoke to a group of people who were already monotheists, who already bought into the Old Testament Scriptures, and who already believed in a coming Messiah.

Now move forward to Acts 17, featuring Paul on Mars Hill speaking to the philosophers and spiritual seekers of Athens. Here was a spiritual marketplace where truth was relative, worldviews and gods littered the landscape, and the average person wouldn’t know the difference between Isaac and an iPad. Paul knew he wasn’t in Jerusalem, so he didn’t take an Acts 2 approach or give an Acts 2 message. He found a new way to connect with the people of this culture.

Paul surveyed the cultural landscape and found a touchstone: an altar to an unknown God. The culture was so pluralistic that the only thing they could agree on was that they couldn’t know anything for sure. “What if I could tell you that God’s name? Would that be of interest?” Paul began. He then went all the way back to creation and worked his way forward, laying a foundation for the understanding and acceptance of the gospel.

Different culture. Different approach.

This is precisely where Christians in the US find ourselves today. We are not speaking to the God-fearing Jews in Jerusalem. We are standing on Mars Hill, and we need an Acts 17 mindset with an Acts 17 strategy. Our primary cultural currency should be explanation. It’s not enough to move from a King James Version of the Bible to a contemporary retelling such as The Message. We have to begin by saying, “This is the Bible. It is a collection of 66 books, which are divided into two sections known as the Old Testament and the New Testament. It tells the story of God and us.”

And then we need to explain that story.

Unfortunately, many Christians suffer from the “curse of knowledge.” Once we know something, we find it hard to imagine not knowing it. It’s as if we have forgotten what it was like to be apart from Christ.

If we are going to minister in a post-Christian context, we need to remember.

James Emery White is the founding and senior pastor of Mecklenburg Community Church in Charlotte, North Carolina; the author of Meet Generation Z (Baker, 2017); and the ranked adjunctive professor of theology and culture at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary, where he also served as their fourth president.

The post What Should Ministry Look Like in Post-Christian America? appeared first on Christianity Today.

Imagine this: You’re visiting a church for the first time. As you approach the entrance, you spot the designated greeter, who is wearing a nametag and a warm smile.

You’re expecting the usual handshake and hello. Instead, the greeter suddenly drops to ground, lies face down at your feet, and pronounces a blessing of peace upon you.

If you were a medieval traveler, walking your way across what is now Europe, you’d be used to it. Every time you stopped to spend the night at a monastery on your journey, you’d be greeted that way.

There may have been no more welcoming place than monasteries of the Middle Ages. They took hospitality seriously, treating every guest as if he were Christ himself.

Isaac Wardell would like to see a little more of that in modern churches. Maybe not to the extreme of falling prostrate before every visitor, but at least in the spirit of such Benedictine hospitality.

That’s why Wardell, director for worship arts at Trinity Presbyterian Church in Charlottesville, Virginia, has launched The Porter’s Gate Worship Project, a self-described “creative movement aimed at reimagining and recreating worship that welcomes, reflects, and impacts both community and the Church.”

When Christianity Today recently sat down with Wardell after a Sunday morning worship service at Trinity, he was especially enthusiastic about discussing the “welcome” element of that mission statement.

“[As the church], we’ve lost a vision of ourselves as being a place where people come for welcome,” he says. “But it’s a beautiful opportunity for us: When a stranger walks through our doors, that stranger is Jesus to us.”

Practically speaking, The Porter’s Gate is an always-evolving collective of singers, songwriters, musicians, pastors, scholars, and others from a variety of traditions and backgrounds. They recently gathered in New York City to record a live album and a series of accompanying videos, packaged together as the project’s first album, Work Songs, modern hymns affirming vocation as an integral part of a life of worship.

The album features such musicians as Josh Garrels, Audrey Assad, Liz Vice, Stuart Townend, Will Reagan, and Sarah Hart.

Wardell, who also co-founded Bifrost Arts (with Joseph Pensak) and oversaw that collective’s three releases, talked to CT about the transition from Bifrost to The Porter’s Gate — including the story behind that name, which has everything to do with being a more hospitable church.

Let’s start with a little bit of your background.

I’ve led worship on Sunday mornings for 25 years, starting with my youth group at age 13. I had a Christian rock band back in the ’90s, The Eleventh Hour; we played Cornerstone Festival. By the time I got to college [Covenant College, where he studied music composition], I had eschewed contemporary Christian music.

After college, I led worship at a few church plants—in Tennessee, Georgia, and Brooklyn. Because I wasn’t listening to modern worship music, I was trying to bring the principles of hymnody to bear in those churches. The worship we were doing at that Brooklyn church [Resurrection Williamsburg, founded by Vito Aiuto of The Welcome Wagon] began having its own unique sound and feel. We decided to record the songs, and that became Bifrost Arts.

Lately, I’m recognizing that this Presbyterian, broadly Reformed tradition here at Trinity is like one strand of what God is doing all over the world, particularly in worship. As I’ve spent more time with worship leaders in other traditions—the Roman Catholic Church, African American churches, mainline churches—I’ve realized how impoverished some of the Bifrost Arts stuff was, when it was just coming out of my vision, because I wrote all the songs. I realized that Bifrost had run its course.

Is that when the idea for The Porter’s Gate came about?

Yes. And here’s the story behind that name. Greg Thompson, our pastor at Trinity at the time, did a series from the Book of Ruth, with the subject of missionary hospitality. He gave us a metaphor of a medieval monastery. He said, “Imagine you live anytime between about the 6th and 17th centuries, anywhere as far east as the Middle East, as far west as Spain, as far north as Ireland, and as far south as Northern Africa. If you were traveling alone, your eyes would search the horizon for one of those monasteries, because they were known as being places that would take you in. When they came to one of these monasteries, especially in the Benedictine tradition, these sojourners would find a person at the door, and that person was called the porter. He’s supposed to represent the church to the world, to extend hospitality, to get the visitor anything they needed. He lets the whole monastery know there’s a guest, so the monks and even the abbot would come out, bow down before the guest, kiss their feet and say, ‘You are Christ to us, Jesus in the flesh to us.’”

That image is powerful. It’s beautiful to think about that kind of opportunity we have as the church: When a stranger walks through our doors, that is Jesus to us. But it’s also a pretty haunting image, because people are still lost, still wandering, still seeking—but they’re not looking for welcome in churches.

Even sadder is that we’re not looking for them. We don’t have a porter at the door who’s saying, “How can I serve you? What can I do for you?” So we shouldn’t be surprised when people say, “Oh, the church, they hate gays, they don’t care about the marginalized, or it isn’t a welcoming place for people touched by disability.” Because we’ve lost a vision of ourselves as being a place where people come for welcome.

It’s not a perfect analogy, but I think those of us who lead worship on Sunday mornings are in many ways the closest thing to the role of a porter, in terms of making people feel welcome.

How did choose vocation as the theme for this album?

Greg Thompson did a video series fleshing out six virtues of what it looks like to be a welcoming church—identity, community, confession, vocation, formation, and context. We simply decided that, for the first album, we would focus on vocation. These are worship songs. Some are much better suited to congregational singing, while others are more like offerings to the Lord.

About a year ago, I reached out to musician friends from a broad spectrum of traditions—Calvary Chapel, Vineyard, Roman Catholic, Episcopal—for a collaborative project. But instead of bringing them in at the end of the creative process, I invited them in from the beginning. I said, “We have a dearth of resources on vocation.” I first noticed this when I was doing worship for Redeemer’s Faith and Work conference a few years ago, when they asked, “Can you sing songs about calling and vocation?” (laughs) I opened up the hymnal and I’m like, “All right, ‘Take My Life and Let It Be,’ and … nothing else.”

So I approached all these different writers and pastors asking if they had anything to contribute. Then we had a songwriting contest, 400 people writing in ideas for songs about calling and vocation. We did three different songwriting retreats.

Finally, we had an invitation-only gathering of about 50 folks in New York in June. By then, we had written all the songs, so that’s when we performed all the songs. We taught them to everyone, and everyone—even the non-musicians—sings on the album. We also invited a videographer, who set up three cameras and some audio recording gear, and we recorded these music videos live as we performed the songs.

What comes next?

It’s my intention to do a series of five more of these over the course of about 10 years. We can probably do one every 18 months. Some of the same people, and depending on the content of the next record, there will be different conversation partners too.

The next album will be about community. I’d like to include people like Barb Newman, who has spent her whole life equipping churches to welcome people of varying abilities. I want to bring in someone to help us think about aging and death in the context of community. I’d like to bring in Wes Hill or someone from the Spiritual Friendship community, to talk about singleness and sexual identity in community. And then a couple people helping us think through education, race, and class in community.

We’ll ask the questions about what kind of songs will help us better understand the topic of community. We don’t even know the questions yet! But we’re looking forward to asking them.

Watch Josh Garrels and other Porter’s Gate artists sing “Christ Has No Body Now but Yours.” The lyrics are from a prayer by Teresa of Avila, circa 1571.

CT editor at large Mark Moring is managing editor of Orbiter, a magazine exploring the intersection of science and meaning. He is also senior writer for Polymath, a creative agency.

The post Creating Worship Songs for a Welcoming Community appeared first on Christianity Today.

But maybe I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s rewind to the beginning. My parents met at a gay nightclub in San Francisco. My mother just wanted a safe place to dance. My father was the security guard. He abandoned my mother and me after abusing both of us physically. I didn’t even know he existed until I was 10, by which time my mother had remarried.

Growing up, I had no bedtime I can remember. I was allowed to watch horror movies at a young age. When it came to sex, nothing was hidden. There were jokes and stories and, when I was 10, I helped my mother clip images from an adult magazine for a bachelorette party.

At 14, I met my first boyfriend. We laughed at each other’s jokes, watched similar shows, and got along easily. But before long he and I broke up, as teenagers do.

A year later, I met my first girlfriend in an AP European history class. She was a senior, beautiful and popular. Since I excelled in the class, she asked me to come over and help her study. When we met at her house, something was different. Conversation flowed easily, rapidly, unexpectedly. I was struck by her beauty. The attraction felt like what other girls described feeling for a boy.

Over the next week, I began wondering, “Is it okay to feel this way about a girl?” I was vaguely familiar with the notion that church folk condemned such things, but as I tried puzzling out why, I came up empty. Little could I imagine ever understanding the Bible’s teaching on sexuality, let alone submitting to it.

The First Kiss

I set myself a goal: Before this girl went to college, she would kiss me. I lied about my sexual history, placed myself strategically in her path, and introduced topics to get romantic thoughts flowing.

Meanwhile, we were developing a deep and true friendship. She was the first peer with whom I could discuss ideas, literature, and other serious subjects. Soon enough, it ceased just being a game: I had fallen in love.

The following summer, she asked me what I wanted for my 16th birthday. My heart was pounding. I said I wanted her to kiss me. The moment it happened, and the many moments after, felt like a veil being lifted. The world I’d always seen in black and white suddenly burst forth in dazzling color.

Leaving my tiny high school for Yale University was exhilarating: I entered a selective humanities program for freshmen, met fascinating people from around the world, and enjoyed unlimited access to alcohol. It seemed too good to be true.

Then I heard the news: My girlfriend was cheating on me with an undereducated, semi-homeless guy out in Tahoe. When Christmas vacation came, I paid her a visit, but everything felt icy, still, frozen shut. On Christmas morning, as I read Don Quixote on her futon (while she had sex with her boyfriend in the other room), I wondered what my life had become.

Googling Jesus

Back at Yale, in my first philosophy class, we discussed Descartes’s famous statement, cogito ergo sum, “I think, therefore I am,” and how it influenced his understanding of reality and the nature of God. After some initial dismissiveness, I began compulsively wondering whether God could exist. Back in my room, I started Googling religious search terms like a middle-schooler searching for pornography. When my roommate entered, I would slam down the laptop lid and pretend I was doing French homework.

I couldn’t tell you what my search terms were. But in that wave of webpages, I started to encounter Jesus for the first time. It’s hard to describe the preconceived notions I would have been carrying; perhaps phrases like “ancient conservative” or “unthinking traditionalist” give something of the flavor. Yet the articles and Scriptures I found gave a decidedly different impression. Again and again, I saw how Jesus noticed, dignified, and served people I would have thrown aside. But I was troubled by a suspicion that my life was against his.

At the time, I knew two girls who were seriously dating each other. One was training to be a Lutheran minister. I wanted to know how they could reconcile their lives with Jesus and his teachings. They assured me that any appearance of conflict rested on historic misinterpretations of Scripture. They thrust a packet into my hands, and I ran back to my room to discover what the Bible really says about sexuality.

The packet had a neat internal consistency. It pleased me greatly. But as I looked up the verses it claimed to be expounding, I grew frustrated. These revisionist interpretations just didn’t line up with the plain meaning of the Bible’s words. Feeling duped, I threw the packet on the floor in disgust. Clearly, I had been foolish to hope that this old-fashioned religion had any room for me.

A few days later, I was in the room of a lapsed Catholic friend when I noticed an orange book spine bearing the name Mere Christianity. I knew nothing about C. S. Lewis or this book, but the title intrigued me—I quietly slipped it into my bag.

I read and read. One day, as I read between classes in the library, I set it down, mid-chapter, as it dawned on me: There was a God—my heart and my head could no longer deny it. Yet along with these glorious certainties came a panicked admission of my own wickedness. I had lied and cheated; I was cruel—I had even stolen that book from a sweet, unsuspecting friend! How would I face a pure and holy God?

But when I considered what Jesus had done—how he endured separation from God so that I could be joined—I knew I would be a fool to reject his offer. As my heart swelled with thankfulness, I clenched my eyes and prayed, surrendering myself to Jesus.

A Question of Trust

The following Saturday, Yale Students for Christ hosted a Valentine’s Day party. I still felt embarrassed about accepting Jesus, so I arrived late and pretended I had come by accident. When a sophomore girl asked why she hadn’t seen me before, I mumbled that I had just become a Christian two days earlier. She was a little stunned. She walked me over to some other freshmen, who invited me to freshman prayer Monday morning.

I showed up. They gave me a paperback Bible, answered my obnoxious questions, and invited me to Bible study the next night. I went, paperback in hand. Two juniors led us through a passage in Ephesians. This was amazing: real people, really examining the Bible and applying it to their lives.

Over the course of that semester, I followed these students around like a duckling, observing everything they did and said. But choosing Jesus didn’t answer all my questions. In particular, how would I deal with my natural, unshakable attraction to women? I knew the Bible was clear: What I wanted was off-limits. But I didn’t understand why. How could love, intimacy, and companionship be forbidden by this loving, intimate, companion-seeking God?

Thus I had to learn my first lesson of the Christian life: how to obey before I understood. My whole life had taught me to master a concept before I could assent to it. How could I possibly agree to something so costly without grasping the reason?

In the end, it came down to trust. I knew Jesus was worthy of trust, because he had made a greater sacrifice. He had left the bliss, the comfort, the joy of loving and being perfectly loved, to live a sorrowful life on earth. He took the pain and shame of a criminal’s death and suffered the Father’s rejection, all so I could be welcomed. Who could be more deserving of trust?

The obedience of faith only works when it’s rooted in a person, not a rule. Imposed on its own, a rule invites us to sit in judgment, weighing its reasonableness. But a rule flowing from relationship smoothes the way for faithful obedience. When a child doesn’t understand her mother’s command, the mother’s character plays a strong role in what happens next. A cruel, capricious mother is likely to meet resistance. But an affectionate, nurturing mother inspires trust, because you know she’s on your side, profoundly.

In one of Scripture’s most dramatic tests of trust, God told Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac. If Abraham had considered this command in isolation, surely he would not have obeyed. Abraham, however, was a friend of God. When tested, he did not hesitate, because he knew God’s character.

God had shown up for Abraham, and I knew he would show up for me—but how? Would he remove my attraction to women? Those first years of Christian faith included relationships with women that were spiritual, freeing, and intimate, yet non-erotic. But in other cases, personal and sexual chemistry lured me back into old patterns. Why wouldn’t God just fix me?

Slowly, I came to understand that “making me straight” wasn’t the answer. There is no biblical command to be heterosexual. Through study, conversations, and prayer, I eventually arrived at a crucial truth: that sex wasn’t something God discovered, then fenced about with arbitrary restrictions, but something he made—to teach and to bless us. When his teachings went against my instincts, denying my desires became a profound way of saying, “I trust you.”

This trust got stretched near to the breaking. My high-school girlfriend wanted a fresh start, but I couldn’t oblige. Then I fell for a senior girl at Yale, but love for Jesus called me away.

Joy and Healing

God saved his biggest stretch for a moment of despair, after I stupidly went back and had sex with my high-school girlfriend. As I labored to convince myself that even then I was forgiven, he brought a man into my life. We had met the summer before on a Christian mission. We were friendly, but I was not attracted to him. He knew all about my past.

He asked to come visit me at Yale during my junior year. I had a sinking feeling he was romantically interested. And sure enough, he arrived with flowers. I reminded him that I’d slept with more women than he ever would. But he wouldn’t budge: If Jesus had forgiven me, he had no business holding anything against me.

I wrestled. I wasn’t sexually attracted to him, but I did admire his goodness, his warmth, and our shared priorities. Was it wrong to keep seeing him when it didn’t feel like previous love affairs? Was our relationship a pious sham? Yet I saw that he loved me, that he would be a good husband and father, that he would call me toward Jesus. I even felt we could experience genuine physical love, albeit more learned than natural.

Step by step, Jesus opened my eyes to a kind of human love I hadn’t seen, one steeped in commitment and spiritual joy, rather than passion for passion’s sake. Once again, I obeyed before I understood; I married that young man before I really fell in love with him, because I loved Jesus first.

This is typically the juncture where people jump to conclusions. I’ve had gay and lesbian people question whether I was ever really attracted to women. I’ve had straight Christians proudly declare that God healed my homosexuality. They’ve tried to use me as a mascot for something I don’t actually embody.

The truth is, even 10 years into my marriage, when I experience attraction to someone other than my spouse, that person is female. Still, my marriage has been a place of joy and healing. When people ask me my orientation, my most honest answer is “married”—with the same blessings and burdens of other married believers, and with the same source of hope and power, the Holy Spirit.

I would never insist that marriage is the normal or “correct” road for every (or even most) same-sex-attracted Christians. Heterosexuality is not the end goal; faithfulness to God, and the joy that comes from relationship with him, is what we run for. For many believers, faithfulness to God will entail a commitment to lifelong celibacy. But unless we cast a vision for full-bodied, joyful family life amid the church, celibacy will look like a dead end. We can’t say no to something good unless we’re saying yes to something even better.

The community God calls us to be—one of intimacy, affection, truth, and grace—is his tool for keeping us, shaping us, and preparing us for being in his presence forever. Whether we’re called to marriage or singleness, every story of transformation in Christ is meant to happen in this community.

That’s why this is not the story of my becoming straight, which has never truly happened and is beside the point. It is the story of my becoming whole, which is happening every day.

Rachel Gilson is director of theological development at Cru Northeast. She blogs at rachelgilson.com.

Did this testimony resonate with you? Let us know here.

The post I Never Became Straight. Perhaps That Was Never God’s Goal. appeared first on Christianity Today.

“There are a lot of myths out there when it comes to dealing with religion at work. I want to put the record straight: It is OK to hold a party and send Christmas cards,” said David Isaac, chairman of the national Equality and Human Rights Commission.

This week, Christians and politicians alike welcomed Isaac’s assurance following the growing prevalence of more generic terminology in public and office celebrations, such as “season’s greetings” and “Winterval.”

“We have a very strong tradition in this country of religious tolerance and freedom of speech, and our Christian heritage is something we can all be proud of,” Prime Minister Theresa May responded. “We all want to ensure that people at work do feel able to speak about their faith and also feel able to speak quite freely about Christmas.”

The equality commission also released Friday a new report on anti-discrimination law for British workplaces. The report assessed current government policies, finding mostly reasonable, balanced guidelines for religious expression in the workplace—though employers don’t always follow them.

The assessment highlighted examples of Christian employees who were wrongfully discriminated against at work, including a daycare worker fired for responding to a question about homosexuality and a British Airways employee banned from wearing a cross necklace at the check-in desk. The report concluded that courts rightly ruled in their favor and against their employers.

In other cases, including a local government employee who used her work account to send emails criticizing LGBT Christian groups and a nurse banned from wearing a crucifix for health and safety reasons, the commission found the employers’ restrictions were reasonable and lawful.

“In our assessment, these judgments are consistent with one another and appropriate given the facts,” the report said. “Courts have balanced appropriately the right to manifest a religion or belief with other factors…. What the cases show is that each situation is different, and the outcomes in individual cases are sensitive to the particular facts in each instance.”

The review of anti-discrimination policies follows a series of high-profile cases that led to concerns that Christians in particular have been unfairly penalized in British workplaces.

Christian legal advocates applauded the equality commission’s defense of religious rights, but disagreed with the report’s conclusion that Britain’s 2010 anti-discrimination law, the Equality Act, provides sufficient workplace protections.

“It’s a relief to see the commission stand up for freedom of religion as a fundamental right and recognize that it should not be suppressed through fear of offending. However, the Commission is quite wrong to say that the current law does not need to be amended,” said Simon Calvert, spokesman for the Christian Institute. “We have long argued that equality law needs rebalancing so that courts have to take time to weigh up competing rights to see if both sides can be reasonably accommodated.”

Employers should consider all religious and belief-based requests seriously, and beyond what is required by law, try to accommodate unless they have objective reasons for refusal, according to the commission. For example, the report noted that a controversial decision by a theater chain to turn down Church of England ads including the Lord’s Prayer was lawful, but not in the spirit of free expression.

“Businesses should avoid taking decisions based on an overly broad view of what might cause offense, which could limit freedom of expression for religion or belief organizations,” it said.

The report reviewed policies for taking time off or opting out of duties for religious reasons, using the example of a Christian registrar in Britain who requested not to oversee same-sex civil partnerships, similar to Kentucky’s Kim Davis several years later.

The registrar and a counselor who declined to provide therapy for gay couples lost their case in European human rights court, due to employers’ “legitimate aim” to not discriminate against citizens or clients. “Opting out of work duties may be permissible where there is no actual or potential detrimental impact to other staff or to service users,” the report added.

The commission affirmed the rights of religious organizations and affiliated institutions to implement faith requirements or restrictions against LGBT individuals that reflect their core convictions. Such rights are not granted to commercial enterprises, such as a Christian bed and breakfast owner who turned down a same-sex couple.

“These cases raise the question of whether the exceptions should be widened so that commercial organizations that claim a religious ethos due to the owners’ religious beliefs can restrict employment or goods, services and facilities to reflect religious tenets,” the report said. “We consider that such an approach would be deeply flawed.”

One area the commission suggested the law could be improved was employment policies at religious schools. It urged the government to lessen restrictions around positions that do not require religious instruction or conviction. “The faith requirements applied to all teachers in (Catholic or Anglican schools), regardless of whether they are teaching religion, also seem to go beyond what is lawful in the EU Employment Equality Directive,” it stated.

The report described an atheist teacher who won his discrimination case after being unable to get promoted to a pastoral care position at a Catholic school: “The tribunal found that it was not essential for the position to be filled by a Roman Catholic, since only a few responsibilities of the job required knowledge of Catholic doctrine.”

While the equality commission does not see the need for additional “reasonable accommodation” protections for religious expression, another report released this week by British think tank ResPublica came to a different conclusion.

The group is lobbying to include reasonable accommodations—a legal provision that employers make adjustments to allow people to do their jobs effectively (typical applied to employees with disabilities)—added to a new British Bill of Rights to protect people of faith. ResPublica wrote:

Employers should no longer compel individuals to behave in ways that would contradict their sincerely held religious beliefs. We believe that the proposed Bill of Rights provides a unique opportunity to include a duty on employers and service providers to demonstrate reasonable accommodation towards those that wish to express their religious convictions in public.

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While I can only imagine the disappointment of music writer Bruce Broughton and lyricist Dennis Spiegel in the rescinding of their Oscar nomination, it in no way detracts from either the song's beauty or its message. I was humbled and honored to have been asked to sing it for the film, and was as surprised as anyone when I learned of the song's nomination.

I was grateful for the attention the nomination brought to this worthy song and the inspirational film behind it, as well as to the ongoing work of Joni and Friends to people affected by disabilities. The decision by the Academy to rescind the nomination may well bring even further attention, and I only hope it helps to further extend the message and impact of the song.

Regarding the reasons for the nomination being rescinded, it is not my place to speculate as I have no insights into the workings of the entertainment industry. I was honored to be invited to sing the song and it will always be a treasured experience.

In an interview, Tada told the Los Angeles Times: "If it was for reasons connected with a faith-based message, it shouldn't surprise us that Hollywood would shun Jesus. Jesus has been shunned by much weedier characters."

CT also examined what film experts think Christians can learn from the disqualification.

—–

Update (Jan. 30): The board of governors of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has rescinded the Oscar nomination for "Alone Yet Not Alone." The board concluded that writer Bruce Broughton "had emailed [some of the other 239] members of the branch to make them aware of his submission during the nominations voting period," according to a press release.

Courtesy of Alone Yet Not Alone

"No matter how well-intentioned the communication, using one's position as a former governor and current executive committee member to personally promote one's own Oscar submission creates the appearance of an unfair advantage," said Academy president Cheryl Boone Isaacs.

Since nominations were announced, the song—performed by quadriplegic Christian author and speaker Joni Eareckson Tada—drew criticism and confusion from Hollywood for beating out musicians featured in more popular films. The latest news stokes the debate even further, given that Oscar lobbying and campaigning are arguably common practices.

"I'm devastated," Broughton told The Hollywood Reporter. "I indulged in the simplest grassroots campaign and it went against me when the song started getting attention. I got taken down by competition that had months of promotion and advertising behind them. I simply asked people to find the song and consider it."

The Academy has decided not to replace "Alone Yet Not Alone" with another song, leaving the four remaining songs to compete for the Oscar.

The Hollywood Reporter's "awards analyst" Scott Feinberg explains why "the Academy is wrong" because "the punishment doesn't fit the crime."

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[Originally published Jan. 17, 2014, at 12:52 p.m. under headline "Hollywood's Latest Controversy: Oscar Nod for Christian Movie Song by Joni Eareckson Tada"]

Update (Jan. 21): Joni Eareckson Tada is just as surprised as everyone else.

"This is something that happens to Taylor Swift and Carrie Underwood, not me," she told The Hollywood Reporter, before noting:

The God of the Bible delights in using ill-equipped, unskilled and untrained people in positions of great influence, everyone from Joseph to David. It's all to show that it's not by human prowess or brassiness, but all by God's design. I don't know if that's what he's doing here, but it's worth giving pause and considering.

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A Hollywood nod to a Christian film has come as a shock to the entertainment world, as the song "Alone Yet Not Alone" (from the movie by the same name) was nominated for an Oscar.

The song beat out Coldplay, Taylor Swift, and Lana Del Ray to join the other four nominees for best original song: Frozen's "Let it Go"; U2's "Ordinary Love" from Mandela: Long Walk to Freedom; Pharrell Williams's "Happy" from Despicable Me 2; and Karen O's "The Moon Song" from Her.

What's more surprising, however, may be the person who performed the song in the end credits: Joni Eareckson Tada, quadriplegic Christian author and speaker, and one of CT's "50 Women You Should Know." (A video of Tada singing the song is below.)

The Los Angeles Times reports the song may have been nominated because it played a crucial, recurring role in the film. Bruce Broughton, a winner of multiple Emmy awards and a previous Oscar nominee (Silverado), was one of the composers.

Broughton also is a previous music branch governor of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, as well as a chair of the music branch. (Deadline claims Broughton made phone calls to his connections within the academy to consider the song). William Ross, composer of the film's score, has been a past music director for the Academy Awards as well.

Vanity Fair interviewed Broughton, who said, "I am not known as a songwriter—most composers don't get a chance to write songs. Because it is a faith-based film, it is probably the first one of its sort to get a nomination. And because it is for my song, it is particularly sweet."

The nomination has received negative reactions not for its quality, but for the film's endorsements by James Dobson, Rick Santorum, and Josh Duggar, executive director of Family Resource Council Action, among others. Film.com framed the movie as endorsed by "anti-gay hate group activists," while the Boston Globe headline reads, "The Oscar nomination that stinks to heaven." Hitflix writes: "There were audible gasps and chuckles when Cheryl Boone Isaacs began reading the list of nominees in the category, and first off the bat was "Alone Yet Not Alone" from, er, Alone Yet Not Alone…It doesn't seem a stretch to call this Christian drama the most obscure feature film nominated for an Oscar this year."

But Ken Wales, one of the producers of the film, told CT that the nomination comes "by the grace of God," and that regardless of the outcome, "to God be the glory." Wales, who also produced Amazing Grace­­—the acclaimed film about William Wilberforce—as well as Christy—a mid-90s TV show—said the song will be performed live during the March 2 Academy Awards event.

The film, based on the book by Tracy Leininger Craven, recounts the story of a German family immigrating to America in mid-1700s.

In 2010, CT discussed Alone Yet Not Alone as a film that "recognizes the power of hymns," specifically in reference to the Oscar-nominated song. The film will be released in theaters nationwide this June.

CT regularly reports on the Oscars and Christian films, including why a Christian film received an R-rating.

CT also interviewed Tada and her husband about their marriage following the release of the couple's book, Joni and Ken: An Untold Love Story.

Additional reporting by CT editor-at-large Mark Moring.

Below is a video of Tada performing the Oscar-nominated song:

The post Academy Disqualifies Joni Eareckson Tada’s Oscar-Nominated Song from Christian Movie appeared first on Christianity Today.