Thabiti Anyabwile is one of the most thought provoking, genuine, and ecuminical brothers I’ve had the pleasure to come in contact with. I’ve benefited greatly from his book length writings, as well as his voluminous “Pure Church” blog, hosted over at The Gospel Coalition. I figured I might benefit by asking him a few questions and digging a little deeper, and I think you will too. So, without further delay, I give you—what I believe to be—an amazing interview with the man himself:
Before we start talking about you, let me ask you about this new thing that you’re a part of. What can you tell me about thefrontporch.org?
The Front Porch is a website dedicated to “conversations about Biblical faithfulness in the African American Church and beyond.” It’s a partnership with fellow pastors Louis Love and Tony Carter, to broker discussions with a range of voices on the Black Church, it’s history, practices, and mission.
Wow. That seems like something we should be spreading the word about. Switching gears here: You’ve written a ton of high-quality blog material, and in this day and age, that’s really saying something. Get it? I know that one of your most popular posts was “I’m a Complementarian, but…”. Why did you write that post, and why do you think it was so popular?
I wrote the posts because I’m concerned that a lot of complementarian practice exceeds biblical warrant. I’m concerned that some freedoms that Christ gives our sisters can be restricted out of a hyper-concern for biblical gender roles. In other words, we can too easily get the balance wrong. I think the complementarian vision is a biblical and a beautiful vision, but it needs to be protected from both those who oppose it and those who pursue it poorly.
I think the posts struck a chord because a lot of our sisters have been feeling wrongly restricted. They’re complementarians. They’re not seeking to rewrite biblical roles or oppose godly authority. But, when they raise questions about practice, they’re often responded to as if they are the enemies. I think some of those women appreciated a male voice stating what they’ve been trying to say for a long time. And I think there a good number of complementarian men who also chafe at what feels like a 1950s-style caricature of biblical gender roles. They feel pressed into one way of being a “biblical man,” and they want room to apply the teaching of scripture in a way that’s faithful to both the text of scripture and the way the Lord has shaped them.
You seem to be a big fan of spoken word and ” Christian” Hip Hop. Why do you think these mediums of communication have been so huge for the evangelical church as of late? Is it just a fad, or will these art forms continue to fruitfully serve the bride of Christ?
We’ll see if spoken word and hip hop are just fads in the evangelical world. There used to be a lot of people who said hip hop itself was a pass and would fade away. But it’s grown up to be arguably the most dominant cultural form in the world—spawning everything from music to clothing lines, to fragrances and movies. The cultural aesthetics of hip hop can hardly be resisted, whether you’re in Tokyo or Topeka. It’s that powerful.
So, personally, I think Christian hip hop is here to stay. As long as spoken word remains tethered to hip hop in some way, I think it has staying power, too. And I think these mediums have seemingly become hugely influential because the Christian hip hop generation is coming of age. The hip hop generation has finally reconciled the art form with the faith. That was much more difficult ten or twenty years ago. It’s not a question now, and consequently, that generation is coming out in significant numbers.
Then there’s the undeniable lyrical power of the mediums. It takes me 50 minutes to say in a sermon what these artists can communicate in 5 minutes. And they can do it far more powerfully! That’s the other explanation for its reach. Even cats that can’t bob with the music love the truth they hear. It’s simply powerful.
The challenge going forward will be whether it continues to become a part of the church or whether it sets itself apart from the church. I’d hate to see the spawning of another level of Christian segregation along these lines. The church is divided enough. We have to find a Romans 14-15 way of “accepting one another.”
True enough. Speaking of “accepting one another”, a young man on twitter recently said (rightly?), that minorities have more to offer than just an opinion on race, and that whites need to seek out minority expertise in other areas as well, e.g. systematic theology. A comment like that may be difficult for some white people because they often hear minorities saying “You don’t understand, you don’t listen, and you don’t ask to hear directly from us on race issues.” So, in light of those sentiments, whites try to do just that and ask minorities for their thoughts on race, and then they get the “We have other stuff to say, too, ya know!?” feedback. How are we to navigate this? Is it a case of each being right? Each being wrong? Are we just talking past each other?
Man, I don’t have great answers on this dynamic. Conversations about “race” are so fraught with peril that they have unexpected and unpredictable consequences for other conversations. Sometimes a good experience opens doors and builds credibility on other subjects. But sometimes a good experience pigeon holes you with some people. Then bad experiences can shut down all conversations, or they make you avoid conversations about “race.” I just don’t think this phenomenon is linear. It’s all over the map and that’s largely because “race” itself is an irrational and fictional construct. But that’s another interview.
I think the best we can do is commit to something that requires we remain in all kinds of conversations and exchanges—that is, Christian brotherhood and friendship. If I’m committed to you as a sister/brother and friend, then I’m actually interested in what you think about almost everything. I don’t limit our brotherhood to “race” or to one theological topic. Our friendship takes us naturally to a host of issues as they come up and usually without fear and trepidation. The most significant hindrance might be that we aren’t yet committed to one another as people—as brothers and sisters in Christ and friends—so we keep trying to have piecemeal conversations that never feel safe or natural. Trillia Newbell’s new book, United, puts wonderful emphasis on the power of friendship for having some of these discussions. I’d highly recommend it. You might also check Christena Cleveland’s new book, Disunity in Christ, for a very readable social psychological treatment of this issue. I highly commend that book, too.
Also, ethnic minority groups in the U.S. simply have to “do theology” and produce solid theological work where they’re at without worrying about white consumption. I know there’s an important conversation to have about inclusion at the academic and popular levels. That’s a real conversation. But sometimes I think we are far too concerned about what our white brothers and sisters think of us rather than getting on with the work and, if necessary, creating our own channels of distribution. It’s never been easier to publish, for example, than it is right now. You can start an imprint and self-publish online with minimal costs. Creating a web presence or hosting a conference is easy if there’s the will. So it’s likely that we simply need to produce more and broker our own conversations so that the theological movements in diverse communities mature without dependence on acceptance in white circles. Our white brothers can join us on those terms if they like. But we don’t have to always seek inclusion and approval from them. And where we are seeking that, we need to ask ourselves some hard questions, like “Why do I want or need it?” or “To what purpose am I putting this to use?”
Responding to the tweet mentioned in the previous question, someone responded “I would love to read more biblical/systematic theology from black authors, can you point me to some?” I’m not sure whether or not the person who made that comment was trying to make a point, but I can say that there is obviously much less theological literature being produced by minorities than non. Why is that, and are we on the path to changing it?
The reason there’s less in evangelical and Reformed circles is because there’s been less opportunity historically. Keep in mind African American participation in conservative theological institutions is pretty recent—since the 70s in most cases. Participation in liberal institutions occurred earlier, but even then the roadblocks to academic posts in theology have been tremendous. So the legacy of Jim Crow still lives in this disproportionate situation.
At the same time, African Americans have continued to give first place to the local church. So even when many pursued advanced studies they did so with an eye toward the pastorate, not the academy. There are many reasons for that, but the most basic reason is African Americans still hold the church and pastors in high regard. So practical theology programs and teaching posts attract a disproportionate number of African-Americans. I’m not sure how that tracks with other ethnic groups.
But I do think we’re seeing significant change on this front. On the left, academic theology has long received emphasis and financial support. The Seabury Consultation created a pipeline of African-American PhDs that reads like a who’s who among theologically progressive and liberal theologians. The conservative side has lagged, but some efforts are underway. Reformed Theological Seminary has its African-American Leadership Initiative program that offers some financial support. We need more of such efforts. But individuals are pursuing advanced degrees and producing solid stuff. I think of Jarvis Williams at Southern, Vincent Bacote at Wheaton, Anthony Bradley at King’s, and a host of others. The game is changing, even if slowly.
You’ve recently announced your move to Washington DC to plant a church. Why leave the glory of the Cayman Islands? Why DC?
The simple answer to that is a sense of calling. Not just my individual subjective sense, but also confirmation from my elders in Grand Cayman and from a number of trusted advisers. Going to Cayman was never about the “glory” of beaches and the like. It was always because the Lord gave me a love for the people of First Baptist Church—who I still love. But over the last two years, He has given me an increasing burden for seeing what we hope will be another solid work in DC.
Why DC? Well, the city became “home” for us when we moved there in 2000. The Lord saved me in DC in 1997. Southeast DC or East of the River, where we hope to plant, was our introduction to DC when we first began visiting in the late 80s. That was a different time. The crack epidemic was in full swing and DC was among the “murder capitols” of the country. Much of the city has changed since then. But East of the River has trailed that change and we want to be a part of the good news story happening there. We’re betting on the gospel. We want to see it take root in neighborhoods like Anacostia all over the country.
Out of the several books that you’ve written and contributed to, which one holds a special place in your heart, and why?
The Decline of African-American Theology is dearest to me of the books I’ve written. But that book was difficult to write both emotionally and intellectually. It required a lot of work in original source material and it told a story that needed to be told but hadn’t. It’s certainly been the most controversial, but usually among people who haven’t read it, or read it on its own terms (as a historical theology as opposed to a social history of the church), and among those who feel protective of the Black church for various reasons. But I think the book continues to fill a void in the literature on the church—even if it’s a tough story to take. And it’s written with the kind of love that risks telling the difficult truth about the one loved.
As for books I’ve contributed to, I think that would by Tony Carter’s (ed) Glory Road. Those ten testimonies are simply encouraging to read.
Your favorite theologian, and why. Go!
My mama. She raised me.
Your wife is trying to make you eat healthier. Is it hard being married to someone who hates you and wants you to be miserable?
Ha ha. Naw, she loves me and is trying to keep me alive. I appreciate it, even though I joke her relentlessly on twitter. Mainly she just tries to sneak green stuff into my food. But she has a sweet tooth, so we hit the cheesecake from time to time! 😉