The meaning we derive from stories—especially religious stories we’ve heard and become familiar with since infancy—shape how we perceive and understand the world. Our beliefs are an amalgam of “my story” (my individual life experience in a specific context) shaped by another story. Who I am is heavily informed by particular narratives and their (often) codified interpretation.
I was raised on the doctrine of substitutionary atonement. Doctrine is an interpretation of story, the substance of which is thought of as “truth” by believers. The story informing substitutionary atonement is a familiar one, especially to those in Christian circles. Jesus of Nazareth, a Jew living during the Roman occupation of much of the Mediterranean region, was crucified circa 30 C.E. Jesus was a teacher who attracted many followers and often spoke (according to the writers of the gospels) of a coming Kingdom of God. This threatened Roman rule so the Romans killed him.
Is the story factually true? Perhaps. As with so many narratives that are passed down through generations, there are many versions. We find meaning (or not) in the story we have at hand. On one level, Jesus’ crucifixion demonstrates the lengths governments will go to in order to keep themselves in power, showing the oppression, fear, and suffering people endure under despotic rulers. On another level, substitutionary atonement (Jesus died to pay for humanity’s sins) is an interpretation of that story. So often the stories we carry with us, along with a specific interpretation (doctrine), become conflated. Rarely do we stop and unravel the story from the meaning we’ve been given and sometimes appropriated. Continue reading “Not My Story Anymore by Esther Nelson”

I am an annoying feminist. I annoy pretty much everyone about it, because I’m never NOT applying a feminist lens to every aspect of life: science (looking at you,
Have you forgotten yet? Have you forgotten what it felt like to go about your life pre-pandemic?
I have always loved Lent and Holy Week. When I was young, I enjoyed the challenge of fasting. Holy Week was the powerful culmination of it all, so I would try to make the fast even harder then, like a sprint at the end of a marathon. Chocolate quickly got boring, so once I gave up all desserts. Another year, I gave up lying. (I’m a PK – Preacher’s Kid; enough said.) And then there’s the famous year sometime in my 20s when I decided I’d better give up swearing. (PK, remember?) Both my sister Trelawney and my husband just love to remind me of how I literally swore while walking out of the Ash Wednesday service. And didn’t even notice. And when they finally explained why they were laughing at me, I, of course, immediately cursed again. Sigh. Well, I respond each time, that’s why I decided to give it up in the first place!
Daniel Deitrich, a worship leader in South Bend City Church, a “Jesus-centered community” in South Bend, Indiana, isn’t the first evangelical Christian to go up against fellow evangelical Christians who support the current U.S. president. Perhaps, though, he’s the
Over this past year, I’ve been in an uncomfortable place of searching and growth. Challenges and life transformations have left me struggling with my own identity, beliefs, and values and I continue to grapple with questions feeling a bit lost in this destructive world of political civil war here in the U.S. Having the privilege to teach, speak, and write publicly about my ideas, I have been particularly focused on is whether I am part of the problem or the solution.
I attend Czech classes twice a week. This time of year the courses focus on Christmas. I’ve attended three different schools over the last five years, and all handle Christmas similarly. Even though the Czech Republic is only marginally Christian, for many Czechs being Czech and observing Christmas seem to go hand-in-hand. In fact, Czech customs around Christmas even figure into the citizenship exam.