Sermon from this week

Sermon 17^th May 2026 – Rev Chris

 

There is unmentioned argument that has been raging in the Church for over a century. And that is how we read the Bible.

 

This argument begins with a series of 12 pamphlets titled The Fundamentals: A Testimony To The Truth, published between 1910 and 1915. Interestingly, they were funded by oil tycoons in America.  The aim was to come up with a rock-solid creed that would not be threatened by liberal theology and the theory of evolution.

 

These pamphlets suggested that there were 5 core beliefs

·       biblical inerrancy. That everything in the Bible is factual and correct.

·       the virgin birth of Christ,

·       substitutionary atonement, That the point of the cross was to placate an angry God and pay for our sin

·       the bodily resurrection of Jesus,

·       and the historical reality of his miracles.

 

My point is that from the beginning, the invention of this theology was an intellectual circling of the wagons. It was never about exploration or learning or faith. It was about reducing faith to a few basic tenants and leaving it there.

 

This is different from reading the same text, doing some thinking and study and coming up with a different interpretation than someone else. There are many people you can respect and profoundly disagree with. Indeed, that is really part of our reformed DNA.

 

And while I have no problem with people believing different things from me, I do have a problem with reducing something to its lowest common denominator and telling people that is all that there is.  I have even a bigger problem when then people set themselves up as some sort of thought police to police their limited view of God,

 

Of course, fundamentalism isn’t just a Christian thing.  Every religion on earth has a similar movement. There seems to be something in the human tradition that wants to make us take complicated things and reduce them to something that is simple, and I would venture simplistic.

 

Not only does this deny people the excitement of exploring scripture and learning, discussing and growing but increasingly, we are seeing the toxic relationship between politics and religion. It is not surprising that over the last year we have seen several attempts for the far right to claim that we are a Christian nation and that they are the self-appointed guardians of Christianity.

 

I think we can all take pride in the fact that every tradition has firmly and clearly said not in my name.

 

So what is the antidote?

 

I think it is contained in our reading. It is opening the scriptures.

 

First, let us ask: what does it mean to open?

 

It’s simply this to take a piece of scripture, understand what it meant to the original hearers and then try to figure out what it might mean for us now.

 

There is an assumption in fundamentalism.  That the Bible was written for us. That everything is clear and ambiguous and easily understood. That there is little nuance and little curiosity about what things might mean.

 

But opening the scriptures begins differently. It begins with humility. It acknowledges that the scriptures were written by human beings, in specific times and places, wrestling with questions we still face today. These texts are not divine dictation, but divine inspiration mediated through human limitation. They bear the fingerprints of their authors—their biases, their blind spots, their cultural assumptions.

 

This demands we ask: Who wrote this? To whom? Why? What were they trying to accomplish? When Paul wrote about women keeping silent in churches, what specific situation was he addressing? When Jesus spoke of the mustard seed, what did his audience understand knowing that mustard seeds don’t grow into trees.

 

This is not disrespect. It means we take scripture seriously in its original context rather than flattening it to ignore the reality of its composition.

 

Consider the creation accounts in Genesis. A fundamentalist reading demands we choose between science and scripture.  Instead, we can ask What truth is this ancient poet trying to communicate about human dignity, about our relationship to creation, about our responsibility to the earth.

 

It also means we focus on justice. Throughout the biblical narrative, God shows up on the side of the marginalized. The Exodus is not merely a story about ancient Israelites—it is a paradigm for all people oppressed under Pharaoh-like systems. The prophets consistently condemn wealth accumulation while ignoring poverty. Jesus eats with tax collectors and prostitutes, touches lepers, and challenges religious authorities who prioritize purity over compassion.

 

This does not mean abandoning difficult texts. It means wrestling with them honestly.

We need to bring our different perspectives together, knowing that no single reader possesses the whole truth. The Holy Spirit speaks through us as the body of Christ, not just through individual minds.

 

Finally, when we open the scriptures, we do more than just process information. we read to be transformed. We ask: What does this text demand of us now? How does it challenge our comfort? Where does it call us to action?

 

Jesus said the greatest commandments are to love God and love neighbour. When scripture seems to contradict love, we trust love. When tradition seems to contradict justice, we trust justice. Not because we reject authority, but because we recognize that God's character is revealed most clearly in self-giving love.

 

This is not easy. It means sitting with ambiguity. It means accepting that some questions may not have easy answers. It means trusting that God is bigger than our interpretations.

 

But when we do this, we gain something precious. You will gain a living faith that can withstand doubt. You will gain a God who cannot be contained in your theology. You will gain the freedom to love without conditions, to serve without calculating reward, to hope without guarantees.

 

You will discover that the scriptures are not a rulebook but a love letter—one that continues to be written, one that continues to speak, one that continues to transform.

 

So, I invite you: open the scriptures. Open them with fresh eyes, with humble hearts, with courage to follow where the text leads—even when it leads beyond the boundaries you once defended.

 

Read with the marginalized. Read with the questioning. Read with those who have been hurt by religion. Read with the conviction that God is still speaking, still working, still calling us toward greater love.

 

The scriptures are not closed. They are not finished. They are alive. And they are waiting for us to open them with the heart of a child and the mind of a scholar and the courage of a prophet. Opening them means you find in them grace and not judgment. Not condemnation but invitation. Not a small place to defend but a landscape to roam in.

 

But more importantly you are trusting God. Trusting that God will journey with you in your journey of exploration your guide and staff supporting you as you journey in faith, hope and trust.

 

Amen.