Christlike Acceptance across Deep Difference introduces and practices a model for Christian unity. The book grew out of the editors’ interest in the Winsome Conviction Project at Biola, seeking to apply those methods to the topic of LGBTQ sexuality. Rather than entering the debate between “affirming” and “non-affirming,” this book suggests a posture of “acceptance” despite disagreements. Including chapters from over twenty authors, it provides plenty to challenge readers, particularly those on the non-affirming side. I don’t “agree with” everything—and I don’t need to—but in reading this book, I got to listen to people who hold opposing viewpoints, and that formed me in Christlikeness.
The recurring refrain was, Despite where you are on the affirming/non-affirming spectrum, we can agree that it is Christlike to show love; acceptance does not require agreement. For example, author Amie Scott said, “Even if you believe that gender dysphoria is a result of the fall, any brokenness that trans people experience deserves deep compassion rather than moral blame.”
I found it interesting that the editorial voice was kept to a minimum to model this listening posture. Coeditors Ronald W. Pierce and Karen R. Keen wrote a brief introduction together and each contributed the first two chapters, modeling acceptance across their differences (a non-affirming professor from Biola and “an affirming, gay Christian woman” biblical scholar). Beyond that, there were neither part introductions nor conclusions to corral the voices of the writers. Whatever the editors did behind the scenes to shape the tone of the contributed chapters, in the final book, they let the chapter authors speak for themselves.
By including the voices of many Christians, both affirming and non-affirming, the editors undermined the assumptions that LGBTQ Christians automatically aren’t Christians or are inherently more sinful than heterosexual Christians. In fact, one author explains that “Anyone who identifies as LGBTQ or same-sex attracted and Christian has traveled a complex, confusing, and often painful journey to get there” (Eve Tushnet).
Part 1 explores hot-button Scripture passages from some new perspectives, asking, “What is the biblical wisdom in these texts that goes beyond the disputes?” Pierce’s opening chapter focuses on Paul’s command to “Accept one another as Christ accepted you” (Romans 15:7), showing that authentic love is more costly than mentally checking a box to be politically correct. While I appreciated the experimental attitude, I found some of the chapters in this part backing themselves into what they were trying to say, including Keen’s chapter on image bearing as empowerment to make ethical choices and David Bennett’s chapter on eunuchs in Scripture as theodicy.
One of the strongest chapters is Wesley Hill’s look at 1 Corinthians 6:9–10. Exploring Paul’s exhortation to the Corinthians that “Wrongdoers will not inherit the kingdom of God,” Hill writes, “Threatening the Corinthian believers with exclusion seems not to be the point. What Paul wants to emphasize is that the Corinthian Christians are different now, no longer defined before God by the past or shame of indulgence, and free to live in an entirely new, unencumbered way.” On a related note, J. R. Daniel Kirk explores connections through the whole book of Romans, showing that Paul’s message in Romans 1 isn’t that “those people” are terrible people, but that we were all sinners who have been saved by Jesus.
Part 2 addresses navigating differences. The first few chapters seem to offer generic tips in the midst of conflict, such as encouragement to humanize the other and listen before speaking. While these tips are applicable to any disagreement and need to be practiced, they feel too simplistic. Given the book’s emphasis, it would have been interesting for more chapters to directly respond to each other. The coauthored chapter titled “Loving through Difference: Navigating Side A/B Friendship” seemed to attempt this, but also felt too general.
I was glad to find Brad Harper’s thought experiment as an example of how to wrestle. Harper is the coauthor with his son of Space at the Table: Conversations between an Evangelical Theologian and His Gay Son. In his chapter in this book, he asks how a non-affirming church can still welcome LGBTQ Christians, considering motives and conscience. His hypothesis: “If an individual does not know or believe that an act is sin, then the act cannot be done out of a heart of disobedience and, therefore, it does not display contempt for God.” However, he acknowledges that in practice, we cannot discern motives in others or even ourselves.
Part 3 focuses on ministry with LGBTQ people, with chapters such as “Black LGBTQ Ministry,” ministry in the Transgender community, and ministry to parents of LGBTQ children. However, some of the chapters seem to lose sight of Christlike acceptance. For example, I didn’t feel that the chapter presenting research on Christian sexual and gender minorities added much to the conversation.
As another example, Amie Scott overstepped “acceptance” in an argument for using chosen names. While there are robust arguments that using chosen names can be loving, Scott claimed that “God honors chosen names” and listed biblical characters who had name changes. However, Abram didn’t choose for himself the name Abraham; Saul/Paul isn’t a name change; and I don’t see evidence that God honored Naomi’s choice of the name Mara.
One of the clearest ways I saw the costly Christlike acceptance model played out was in the encouragement to risk being misunderstood. “Christians with a ‘traditional’ belief might fruitfully ask ourselves where we’ve talked ourselves out of opportunities for service because we feared that others might interpret our actions as offering moral approval of same-sex marriages” (Tushnet in “A Shared Pilgrimage”). In her chapter “Courage is Ministry,” Sally Gary explores this risk even more. She points to how Jesus welcomed an interruption on the way to Jairus’ house (Mark 5): “Jesus prioritizes the unclean woman’s request over the powerful community leader’s request.” Jesus was willing to risk reputation to be present with people; may we be shaped in Christlikeness.

I thought that the premise of this book was very commendable and respect worthy. Too many times we in the church world do not have conversations that allow us to disagree and continue to move forward as brothers and sisters in the faith. I believe this book does a good job of introducing this concept of disagreement without turning hateful. The book is a refreshing attempt to act as a bridge in a topic that can become very murky.

I do however have some criticisms of the approach found in a few chapters namely on the side of the affirming stance. There was a lit of liberty taken with the interpretations of the biblical verses and a lot of eisegesis to the scriptures. Which in may opinion does not maintain the call to be faithful to scripture and not allowing personal beliefs and bias to inform the interpretation of the word of God.

I would recommend this book only to mature christians who have put in enough study of the Bible to critique the interpretations without bias.

Ultimately this is a good start to a conversation that is long overdue.

It is a painful truth that to be American today is to be a witness to the deep fissuring and fracturing of common ground. Nowhere is this more evident than in the church, where there remains very little room for loving disagreement about, well, most things. *Maybe* there is space for Christ followers to disagree on the small stuff, but when it comes to the hot button topics of the day—race, abortion, sexuality, gender, etc.—forget about it. If a church isn't lockstep on those things, it'll split down the middle, members will leave in protest, pastors will be fired, or the dream of Christian unity will die some other kind of grisly death.

Painful endings can be quite literally grisly: Christian history is infamous for resolving matters of dispute by burning heretics alive, drowning anabaptists, crusading against non-Christians, and fighting intra-Christendom wars of religion. Though the church eventually traded those horrors for the uneasy truce of denominationalism, the spirit of fundamentalism inspired countless churches to split and then split again from one another in the quest for a dogmatically pure membership. I am writing this review today from a small town in the Colorado Rockies with a population of only 2600 people, yet with nearly 20 churches (including multiples of the same denomination). Denominationalism is better than murdering one another over doctrine, but it hasn't changed the fact that we still have no idea how to disagree without division.

One way that I've seen churches manage to hold together is by diverting attention away from anything whatsoever that might divide and focusing instead on only safe topics. When the country draws battle lines between anti-racism and anti-CRT, you opt out and preach a sermon about biblical principles for managing your finances. When a Christian preacher goes out and murders a sitting lawmaker and her spouse in cold blood for political reasons, you preach a sermon about theories of the atonement. When the people in your pews are desperately seeking wisdom for how to care for their queer cousins, coworkers, or even themselves, you preach a sermon about whether the Millennium is literal or not. And listen, some of that instinct is correct: it's the tail wagging the dog for the news to drive the church's agenda. But the thing is, people *need* to see an example of how to talk about these things Christianly, and they mostly don't get that from fellow Christians. Instead, the only example they see is on the nightly news or on the "discourse" on social media.

Broaching these kinds of subjects is *always* hard (especially with grace and humility), so most of us are content to go along with the red-blue "Big Sort" of America and only talk about these things with people that we know already agree with us. Friends seek out like-minded friends. Preachers preach to the choir. Families move out of a neighborhood when there are too many of "those" signs in front yards. Is there any other way?

## *Christlike Acceptance across Deep Difference*

The answer is yes, according to a new collection of essays from Baker this summer that sets an example of what it can look like to have "Constructive Conversations on Sexuality and Gender," as the subtitle of the book puts it. Edited by Ronald W. Pierce and Karen R. Keen, this collection draws together their voices along with 16 others from both affirming and traditionalist perspectives. Scholars, pastors, lay ministers; Evangelical, Catholic, and Mainline—the very first thing I noticed is just how diverse a crowd this book represents. I confess that I was somewhat worried that it was going to be largely univocal with a token dissenting voice here or there to provide "diversity," but gladly this is not the case.

Through the course of 18 essays, contributors explore:
- What wisdom the Bible can offer us regarding *how* we have the debate
- How we can speak with and about our ideological opponents in a way that conveys a spirit of charity and godliness
- What it looks like to minster to the LGBTQ community, their friends, and their parents

You're guaranteed to disagree with some of the essays in the book; that's what happens when you engage with viewpoints other than your own. The book doesn't seek a definitive answer to the material questions of queer identities/relationships themselves, but rather tries to provide a template for how you and I might *converse well* about them when we find ourselves in similar territory. Furthermore, it pushes us to be more gracious and considerate in how we frame the position of "the other side." Traditionalists tend to want to present LGBTQ-affirming Christians as people who don't care what Scripture says, don't believe it has any authority over their bodies and what they do with them, and as basically just sex-crazed wolves in sheep's clothing. On the flip side, affirming Christians can paint their traditionalist brethren as if they're all bigoted, hateful, graceless legalists on the wrong side of history.

Without changing your convictions, it's possible to give a fair hearing to someone with whom you disagree. It is possible to welcome others and show them conversational hospitality as Christ has welcomed you (Rm. 15:7), similar to how you could cook a meal and offer a warm bed to someone, even if they don't share all of your exact same convictions. It is possible and even *right* to "be kind and compassionate to one another" (Eph. 4:32) and not just to those who are on your side. You can "love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you" (Mt. 5:44) even if you'd rather if everyone was on your side.

Speaking for myself, there are definitely essays in the book that I found relatively uncomfortable to read, in that I just viscerally disagreed with an author's conclusions. Still, I can't help but feel like it's a gift to be able to hear the inner thoughts of someone who in any other context would be unlikely to share them so freely.

The essay I appreciated the most was probably Karen Keen's *Genesis, Discernment, and God's Will.* It's a fresh perspective on an aspect of the *Imago Dei* that I had never thought too much about—that as God's images on earth, we are given "unique power to make consequential decisions." For Keen, this means that we bear responsibility to steward and cultivate the world the Lord has placed us within, and that includes making theological and ethical judgments.

I also deeply appreciated Wes Hill's essay on 1 Cor. 6:9-10 and how to think about the threat of divine judgment. In one of Keen's earlier books, she positioned sexual orientation and gender identity as something on which Christians of good faith could disagree. Hill raises the obvious question, though: How could this be a mere matter of dispute among Christians when Paul says that it is the sort of thing that places one beyond the pale of God's kingdom? Hill comes from a traditionalist perspective, but seeks to speak *to* traditionalists in his essay. His view is that a proof-texting approach to these verses overplays the traditionalist's hand, and that Paul's purpose there is less to instill eschatological terror and more to reinforce baptismal identity. I admire the essay for the way in which Hill sticks to his convictions, rejects proof texting, and interrogates the text as deeply, faithfully, and graciously as he can.

Beyond those two essays, I also very much appreciated the practicality of the middle section of the book: tips and wisdom about how to listen well, how to speak thoughtfully, and how to exist within a church when you don't find yourself all the way on the same page as those around you. A lot of the wisdom in those pages is applicable to far more than just the LGBTQ conversation, honestly. The last section of the book aims at the practicalities of queer ministry, and it is chock-full of learned lessons about how to do it well.

## Does the book succeed at its intent?

While I think it would do great good for as many Christians as possible to read this book, I also must admit that realistically I don't see that happening. Frankly, it's simultaneously too progressive and too conservative for it to ever fly off the shelves. I hope I'm wrong, but I can envision traditionalists passing it over because it gives any time of day at all to those who affirm queer identities and relationships. I can also envision many progressives for whom this book is unacceptable for legitimating viewpoints that threaten their identity.

Even so, I still think that this book will be of benefit to those who engage with it. It represents the kind of Christianity I want to be part of—one where each of us can work out the particulars of our faith with a fear of God rather than a fear of reprisal. Where we can work out our convictions and dialog with folks who see things from a different angle, and yet who also aim to honor God with their lives. Questions of sexuality, gender, and other hot-button topics have been around since the Bible was penned, and they will be long after we're gone, too—it behooves us to figure out ways to discuss our differences without letting them blow up our relationships. Our LGBTQ neighbors aren't going anywhere either, and it's our privilege and responsibility to think deeply and love well in this area instead of just parroting party lines. It seems fitting to me to end this review with a line from Justin Lee's essay, *Grace across the Divide:* "…in a world increasingly unable to communicate across lines of disagreement, our ability to love one another even when the stakes are high may be one of the most important ways we show the world who we are in Christ."

*DISCLAIMER: I received a copy of this book from the publisher for the purpose of a fair, unbiased review.*