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The danger of the single story, part 2: rebellion This series is exploring the holistic nature of the gospel by interrogating the unhelpful single-story theology that creates a dichotomy between word and deed or proclamation and social action.   In the first part of this series, we examined the creation story found in Genesis 1-2 and could find no sign of this “single-story” thinking. Word and deed are found as an integrated whole within the creation story. God’s word is always directed towards very specific ends that encompass all of creation.   An Alternative Voice: What is significant, however, is that unlike many Ancient Near Eastern creation myths, there is no great battle between, often evenly matched, foes that in some way resulted in the creation of our world and humanity. There is only one voice that speaks. One voice that creates. There are no rivals to be conquered or battles to be fought. The powerful Creator God speaks, and it happens. [1]   And then in Genesis 3, for the first time, we encounter an alternative voice. A voice whose narrative rivals that of the first voice. But, and this is a twist that would have caught the attention of the earliest listeners, this voice is focused not on the downfall of the Creator-God but on the downfall of the Created Ones.   In Genesis 1 and 2, it is God’s word that determines what is good, ordered, just, and right. It is God’s word that allows for abundance, dignity, and inclusion. Now the alternative voice of the serpent [2] appears, throwing doubt and suspicion on the words and the character of the Creator-God. “Did God really say…?”   “God may have said you can eat from any tree in the Garden, but what about that tree in the middle of the Garden? If you eat from that tree, you will be just like him. You will be gods, deciding for yourself what is right and what is wrong. You cannot trust God! He is a tyrant who, whilst claiming to have your best interests at heart, is holding back the best from you and keeping it for himself. Don’t trust him!” (Genesis 3:1-5)   At this point, the man and the woman have a choice to make: whose voice will they listen to? Whose voice can they most trust to speak truth about the nature of the world? Despite all the evidence to the contrary of the goodness and provision of God, they choose instead to trust the voice of the serpent.   Their unfaithfulness, though, cannot silence the voice of God. Humanity’s betrayal will not be allowed to have the final word. Instead, God speaks again, but this time not words of blessing and abundance but words of judgement and discipline. Words to restore order, limit destruction, and provide hope.     The First Rebellion is Holistic The story of the first rebellion told in Genesis 3 does not divorce the spiritual from the physical when it comes to judgement and enacting the curse of sin. God’s word of judgement affects all aspects of creation, both relational and structural.       In the biblical narrative, every aspect of shalom is broken at the first rebellion; both individual and communal, personal and structural, spiritual and material. Often our theological concepts of sin and the fall are far too focused on the individual and the spiritual, ignoring the structural and communal aspects of sin. Consequently, our understanding of sin, salvation and repentance is far too limited, or narrow.   In 1988, a group of South African Pentecostals put out an anti-apartheid statement, Relevant Pentecostal Witness, in which they argued that to deal only with the individual sins of the victims without dealing with the conditions in society which often give rise to this individual behaviour is akin to dealing only with the symptoms and not the cause. To preach only a “single message of repentance” in a land of such inequality, such as South Africa, is not only inconsistent with the biblical witness regarding repentance but also fails to consider the complex and multi-faceted nature of sin as both individual and structural. Repentance too, like sin, is complex and multi-faceted and requires the recognition of both individual, corporate, and structural sin. [3] The rebellion’s effects can be traced across seven interlocking relationships or systems:   (a) The Relationship Between People and God is Broken: The tone of the passage suggests that the relationship between God and the two people was one of a familiar intimacy. Even though never explicitly stated, we can assume that God walking in the Garden, visiting with Adam and Eve, was an established pattern. However, this time neither the man nor the woman can be found, and so God calls out, “Where are you?”   To which the man replies, “I was afraid, because I was naked, and I hid myself.” (3:10, NRSVue). Mistrust, selfish ambition, greed, shame, and fear have now entered and disrupted the relationship between humanity and God. Ultimately resulting in the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden (3:22-24).   (b) The Relationship Between Men and Women is Broken: Barely eight verses on from Adam’s declaration that “This at last is bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh” (2:23, NRSVue), their relationship is one of shame (3:7,10), guilt (3:6, 10), and blame-shifting (3:12-13). They are now “unsafe before each other.” [4] Perhaps most significantly is the word of judgement spoken to the woman, “your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you” (3:16, NRSVue). The relationship of mutual vulnerability and care is now replaced by a power struggle and ultimately by the man’s dominance over the woman.   Goldingay helpfully notes that “the two creation stories contained no pointers toward male “headship” in the sense that men or husbands are supposed to exercise authority or leadership over women or wives.” Patriarchy, however, was a reality built into Israelite society; “Genesis here tells

The Danger of the Single Story, Part 1: Creation In a 2009 TED Talk, entitled The Danger of a Single Story, Nigerian novelist Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie says, “How to create a single story: show a people as one thing, only one thing over and over again, and that is what they become… Power is the ability not just to tell the story of another person but to make it the definitive story of that person.” “Start the story with the arrows of the Native Americans, and not with the arrival of the British, and you have an entirely different story. Start the story with the failure of the African state, and not with the colonial creation of the African state, and you have an entirely different story.” “The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue but that they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story.”[1] I would argue that we have developed single-story thinking about the Story of God. We have created an unnatural divide between social justice and proclamation.[2] We have fallen into the trap of single-story thinking. We have defined ourselves, our churches, and who we associate with, depending on where we land on these issues. Early on in your association with the church, you had better decide on whose side you are; otherwise you will likely get eaten alive. At one point, there seemed to be a lessening of this divide, but in the last five years, many gains have been reversed. Instead, we have seen an intensification of these dichotomies and a hardening of the battle lines between “gospel” people and “justice” people. The biblical story is not single-dimensional, and by making it one, we have robbed it of some of its power, immensity, and ability to captivate our hearts and minds. The biblical story is a bigger, fuller, richer, and altogether more beautiful story than either side in this unnecessary dichotomy can adequately portray. We need to break out of this single-story mindset and instead embrace the gospel (story of God) as a multi-faceted, all-embracing story of restoration, grace, mercy, and justice with the death and resurrection of Jesus at the centre of the story. The Biblical Story is a bigger, richer, fuller, and altogether more beautiful story than either side can adequately portray. I am convinced that evangelism, proclamation, mercy, and justice are all integral to a proper understanding of the gospel. We need, therefore, to break out of the single-story, single-dimension mindset and instead embrace a multi-faceted, whole-of-life, story of restoration, grace, and mercy with the cross of Jesus firmly planted in the centre of the story. Creation It is impossible to read the Creation story and not see the centrality of God’s Word within that story. God speaks the world into being – “let there be…” (1:3, 6, 9, 11, 14, 20, 24,).” He speaks words of abundance, “eat from any tree in the garden” (1:29-30). He speaks words of order, separating, designating, and naming (1:4-5, 7-8, 10, 12, 14-17, 22, 25). He rules by his word “you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.” (2:17) Time and time again throughout the first two chapters of Genesis, we see that God’s Word is integral to his creation purposes. But God’s word is not simply a word that is an end in and of itself. It is a working word. A word spoken to accomplish something. The word is not the goal in and of itself but is spoken to accomplish some very specific ends. God’s Word Creates a World of: Shalom: The biblical word for this idyllic world is shalom. Roughly translated, it is the Hebrew word for peace. But the English word “peace” hardly does it justice. Shalom carries far more weight than simply the absence of conflict or a sense of inner tranquillity. Derived from the verb “to complete” or “make sound” (šālôm),[3] shalom carries the sense of wholeness, completeness, and security, “embracing both the physical and spiritual dimensions and relating not only to the individual, but also to entire communities and relationships among persons.”[4] Author and activist Lisa Sharon Harper further defines shalom as “when the image of God is recognised, protected, and cultivated in every single human.” Shalom is when all the interconnected relationships of the created order, between God, humanity, and creation, are working together to bring flourishing and healing to all of creation. It is crucial, however, to recognise that these relationships do not exist in isolation but are given concrete expression in religious, political, economic, and social structures and systems. The right working of these systems and structures, thus, forms an essential aspect of what constitutes shalom in God’s world. This systemic or structural aspect of shalom is often not given sufficient consideration. Shalom is thus both personal and structural, individual and communal, material and spiritual. Not a Single Story The story of creation, as told in the book of Genesis, is far from being a single story. Word and deed, material and spiritual, structural and personal, individual and communal, all form a dynamic interconnected whole, each integral to the state of shalom and flourishing in God’s created world. There is no discernible dichotomy between word and deed in the Genesis narrative. Next: Did the fall introduce a fundamental shift in the dynamic of God’s world and in how God relates to his world? Do the events of Genesis 3 introduce a fundamental dichotomy into God’s creation, such that God only relates to humanity in a spiritual sense now? [1] Adichie, C.N. (2009). The Danger of the Single Story. [TED Talk]. Available at: https://www.ted.com/talks/chimamanda_ngozi_adichie_the_danger_of_a_single_story/c. Accessed 18/6/2026. [2] In truth, the dichotomy is between proclamation (evangelism or Bible teaching) and anything else in life or Scripture. [3] Smith-Christopher, D.L. 2000. Peace. In: Freedman, N, Myers, A.C. and Black, A.B. (eds.)  Eerdmans Dictionary of the Bible. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, p.1021. [4] Myers, A.C (ed.). 1987. Peace. In: The

Some Things are More Important Than Football I have been sitting with this for a while now. Too scared to fully formulate the thoughts, never mind speak them out loud or capture them in writing. Articulating these thoughts will require a decision on my part. A decision I don’t want to make. At what point do fans completely boycott watching the FIFA World Cup? I realise there has been a big movement to boycott attending in person. But what about the rest of us? Do we simply sit back and enjoy the spectacle, all the while complaining about the injustices to black and brown players, officials, and fans? This is even before we mention the USA’s support for the Palestinian genocide and the repealing of the Civil Rights Act in their own country. If there is one thing you know about me, if you have spent any amount of time with me, it is that I love football. I can talk about football for hours. Ask the guys at the print shop across the road. I am honestly agonising over this decision. Can I, with any integrity, support the World Cup in the USA? Can I contribute to making this World Cup a success, sending a message to bigots and tyrants everywhere that, at the end of the day, they will get away with their behaviour? That football is more important than the lives of Palestinian children, the dignity of African athletes, or the civil liberties of black Americans. Can we allow Trump and his sycophant Infantino the opportunity to claim the moral victory of a successful World Cup, knowing that it is built on the backs of murdered children, white supremacy and detention centres? Hit ’em Where it Hurts The anti-apartheid movement taught me that the biggest weapon against injustice is that which affects the pockets of the wealthy. FIFA makes billions (projected to be $4.2 billion for this World Cup) in broadcasting rights alone. In the short term, a TV boycott will not significantly affect FIFA’s revenue, as broadcasting rights are generally sold up front and are non-refundable. [1] But the impact on future revenue could be significant. In 2026, broadcasting networks will lose billions if no one watches the adverts, causing sponsors to pull out of future events, merchandise sales to plummet, and broadcasting rights to be slashed for future World Cups. The USA should already have lost the right to host the World Cup. If FIFA will not stand up against injustice, then we must help them find their backbone by hitting them where it hurts most. When financial gain is threatened, you will be amazed at who suddenly finds a conscience. Prophetic Imagination As a theologian, I have been heavily influenced by Walter Brueggemann’s concept of the prophetic imagination. Defined as “the fostering of a capacity to see the world as it is but to move beyond that to imagine the world as it might be. A society shaped and transformed by God’s vision and values for this world.” [1] Prophetic Imagination, Brueggemann says, has a two-fold focus: namely, critique and energising. The prevailing systems and powers have numbed us to the pain and death of the systems and narratives of oppression and injustice loose in the world. The kind of attitude that says, “Stop making such a big deal about it, and just enjoy the football.” Numbness and death prevail. The Old Testament prophets, Brueggemann argues, used startling images, words and actions to disturb Israel’s illusion of the prevailing status quo, exposing the prevailing powers and systems as unable to deliver on their promises and claims, cutting through the numbness and death and provoking an alternative vision of reality. Protesting the Kiffness My mind first began to turn towards this form of prophetic imagination late last year in relation to South African artist The Kiffness‘ scheduled concert at Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens, in Cape Town. The artist, whose real name is David Scott, was accused by activists of supporting the genocide in Gaza and inciting Islamophobia. This, together with his previous comments supporting right-wing causes, spreading misinformation about race laws and the presence of a white genocide in South Africa, led to protests outside Kirstenbosch in the weeks leading up to the concert. [2] The protests, perhaps somewhat predictably, caused many self-proclaimed “defenders of free speech” [3] and those with views similar to Scott to rally around him, selling out the concert in the process. As disappointed as I was by the attendance and as much as I agreed with the protests, I could not argue that the protests had made the concert an overwhelming success. What could the protesters have done differently? Was there a better way to protest that did not benefit Scott or make him a martyr for free speech? What would prophetic imagination look like in this context? If protesting the concert taking place only fuels support for Scott, then let the concert go ahead… But what if protesters and those who oppose Scott all bought multiple tickets to the concert (I realise this is not always financially feasible)? What if they bought most (or all) of the tickets? And then just did not pitch. What if Scott’s moment of triumph is a handful of people spread out across a large venue? What if the only two people planted a large Palestinian flag on the grass right in front of Scott and then left? What if social media were filled with images of Scott standing alone on the stage before the largely empty venue, with only a Palestinian flag for company? What a powerful, silent critique of the prevailing systems and narratives of numbness and death. Scott remains free to exercise his free speech, but there just won’t be anyone to hear it. Like Scott, the protestors are free to exercise their rights to freedom of assembly (or not)! Scott would still get paid, so no making him a martyr either. But Scott and his narratives will stand naked and

How Did “good evangelical theology” allow apartheid? In 1857, the Dutch Reformed Church in South Africa debated for the second time, the first being in 1829,  whether “persons of colour admitted as members of the Church should be served Holy Communion equally with born Christians” (Elphick, 2012: 43). Both Desirable and Scriptural: After much debate, the synod declared (Ibid) that while it was both “desirable and scriptural that our members from the Heathen should be taken up and incorporated in our existing congregation, wherever that can be done; but where this rule because of the weakness of some should stand in the way of the advancement of Christ’s cause among the Heathen, the congregations raised up, or to be raised up, from the Heathen shall enjoy their Christian rights in a separate building or institution.” This is a paid post. To unlock the rest of this post, become a paid subscriber or purchase only this post on Patreon

Does the Bible Need to be Decolonised? From the time the Bible was collated as a collection of sacred books in the 4th century C.E., those who claim to follow its teachings have been responsible for untold destruction, pain and devastation in the world.[1] The Christian response has usually been to argue against the genuineness of the perpetrator’s faith or the deficient exegesis of those same interpreters. However, we choose to justify these actions, the fact remains that the Bible stands at the centre of a long history of violence, subjugation, and oppression. The 4th century C.E. “conversion”[2] and political manoeuvrings of the Roman Emperor Constantine saw the church move from the margins of society to the centre of power and wealth. In the process, the interests of the church were increasingly aligned with those of the empire. Captured by the values and adopting the tools of empire, the church began steadily amassing ever-increasing power and wealth for itself, usually at the expense of the poor and marginalised. The following centuries saw the church consolidate its power through political manoeuvrings, coercion, violent conquest, economic injustice, and forced conversions. Greed and a lust for power were justified using the language of extending the kingdom of God. From the brutal conquest and plundering of the Americas by the Spanish conquistadors, to the bloody “liberation” of Jerusalem by the Crusaders in the 11th-13th centuries, to the slaughter of the indigenous population of North America under the guise of American “manifest destiny”;[3] to the apartheid era baptism of white supremacy and ruthless suppression of anyone deemed “non-white”. [4] This is a paid post. To unlock the rest of this post, become a paid subscriber or purchase only this post on Patreon.

What is theology at walking pace? Theology at Walking Pace is about the slow meditative, contemplative turning over of ideas, the slow picking apart of problems, and the meandering journey toward the possibility of an answer. Theology at Walking Pace embraces a theological method that is slow, contemplative, contextual, relational, and historical. Thinking like walking is slow and time-consuming work. You need time to grapple with complex ideas, engage with diverse opinions, read widely, mull over, and allow thoughts to slowly marinate before serving them up for consumption. Walking allows you the time to process not only what you are seeing today, but also what you saw yesterday or the day before. Theology, like walking, is deeply contextual. There are few more contextual activities than walking. Traveling in a car allows you to pass through a community with little to no interaction with or conscious thought about that community. But walking requires you to inhabit that community – even if only briefly. When you walk, you have to be aware of your surroundings, you are forced to notice people, overhear snatches of disparate conversations, and take in the sounds, sights, and smells of your context. Walking invites you to notice a myriad of insignificant, and yet infinitely fascinating things. Things are easily missed with even the tiniest incremental increase in speed. Theology, like walking, is relational. Walking provides endless potential for conversation, with an old friend or even a stranger who just happens to cross your path. Walking allows the tentative crossing of deep cultural and economic divides through a greeting or a nod of the head. Theology, like walking, is historical. Walking means following in the footsteps of others, whether on a city road or a wilderness footpath. There are few genuinely original paths to walk. Good theology draws on the richness of the great traditions while developing a theology that speaks to the present and forges a path into the unknown future.

Empty shelves and a diseased imagination It was the first lecture of the semester. After dispensing with all the usual questions about assignments, textbooks, and “will this be in the exam”, the rather bemused third-year class found themselves being marched down to the seminary library. “Choose any section of shelf in the Biblical Studies or Theology section,” I told them. This is the shelf they chose. “Now,” I instructed, “remove from this shelf all books written by white men.” Five minutes later… When we were finished, we just stood in silence and stared at the near-empty shelves This was all that was left… 4 books! One book written by a white woman and two copies of the same book co-written by a white woman and a white man. Only one book was written by an African man. In fact, only one book was written by any person of colour! Even I had not expected it to look quite so stark. Perhaps other shelves might have fared better, but it was still difficult to deny the reality of the empty shelves before us. And this is at a seminary that is painfully aware of these dynamics and at which the student body is less than 10% white students. I can only imagine what other seminary libraries might look like.   As I stood looking at those empty shelves, my mind was drawn to the words of Willie James Jennings that “Christianity in the Western world lives and moves within a diseased social imagination… woven into processes of colonial dominance.” [1]   Those bare shelves are a damning symptom of that diseased social imagination. A form of theological colonisation that has embedded (often) unspoken hierarchies of power and worth throughout global Christianity. Indigenous and contextual theological reflection and methodologies are regarded as, at best, inferior and more likely theologically and intellectually suspect. Western theology is regarded as not merely superior but as “normal” or orthodox. The late Ecuadorian theologian Rene Padilla once said, during a graduate seminar at the University of Cape Town, that “the Church in Latin America is a church without a theology…” [2] By this, he did not mean that there was no theology present (theology is always present, whether acknowledged or not) but rather that there was little to none theological reflection that was specific to the Latin American context. Theology Padilla would later say, “cannot be reduced to the repetition of doctrinal formulations borrowed from other latitudes. To be valid and appropriate, it must reflect the merging of the horizons of the historical situation and the horizons of the text. It will be relevant to the extent that it is expressed in symbols and thought forms which are part of the culture to which it is addressed, and to the extent that it responds to the questions and concerns which are raised in that context.” [3] In fairness, there has been some improvement in the last forty or so years, but if the empty seminary shelves are not enough for you to recognise the enduring validity of Padilla’s statement, not just Latin America but most of the Majority World, then perhaps you ought to ask yourself: References [1] Jennings WJ 2010. The Christian Imagination: Theology and the Origins of Race. Yale University Press: New Haven. p6,9. Social Imagination is, for Jennings, “an imaginative capacity to redefine the social, to claim, to embrace, to join, to desire.” (6) [2] Padilla CR 1978. The Contextualization of the Gospel. In: Journal of Theology for Southern Africa 24: 12-30, September, p. 20. [3] Padilla, C. R. 1980. Hermeneutics and Culture: A Theological Perspective. In Stott, J.R.W. & Coote, R. (eds.) Down to Earth: Studies in Christianity and Culture. Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company p73. Photo by Suzy Hazelwood from Pexels.

Why write? Somewhere along the way, I lost confidence. I forgot how to write. I was scared to write. “Of making many books there is no end…” What did I really have to contribute that had not already been said? Did the world really need the musings of yet another white, middle-aged man? Words are provocative, powerful, playful; words in the hands of a master author can change worlds. If not, the world itself. The best writing ought to raise more questions than answers, provoking more possibilities than certainties. I thought I could write like that, but somewhere along the way, I lost my faith. Yet people kept telling me I should write. I did not believe them. Write. They are just being polite. Write. Perhaps I did not want to believe them. Write. They just feel sorry for me. Write! Write! Right? For too long, I listened to all the wrong voices. Voices that told me what I should do. Who I should be. What I should think. Voices that grew soft in the presence of doubt. And that fell silent in the midst of struggle. Voices disembodied and distant in the loneliness. Yet there were other voices… ever-present, embodied, voices. Voices that “bear all things, believe all things, hope all things, endure all things.” Trusted voices. “Write!” Do I dare to trust them?  Write!  “I believe; help my unbelief!” Welcome to my cynical, terrified, self-doubting writing space. Maybe that is good enough for now… Note: I am aiming to begin with a once-a-week posting on Fridays and, hopefully, increase the output as things develop. If you would like to see articles and other resources posted more frequently, or if you were one of those people who have been (firmly) encouraging me to write, please consider becoming a paid subscriber and help make that a reality. Photo by Min An from Pexels

The myth of normal theology Often, things that appear normal contain so much more complexity and depth than meets the eye. In fact, now that we are thinking about it, the very word “normal” itself is far more complex and ideologically loaded than it first appears. I mean, normal is just… well… normal, right? But what constitutes “normal”? Normal for who? Shampoo for normal hair – on special for R64.99 at Shoprite.[1] But what exactly is normal hair? Normal hair in Langa might well be substantially different from “normal” hair in Constantia or Lenasia. What about skin-coloured crayons or flesh-coloured plasters? I regard my childhood as fairly “normal”, but growing up in apartheid-era South Africa, my childhood would have been anything but “normal” for the majority of people my age. What about just going to a “normal” school? Or growing up in a “normal” family, in a “normal” house in a “normal” neighbourhood? Nothing about my experience was “normal” for the vast majority of people in our country to this day. And that is not even considering issues of gender, sexuality, blended families, divorce, single moms and physical or learning challenges.   There is nothing universally valid regarding our concept of normality. Theology with Adjectives What about “normal” theology? Why do some theologies have adjectives while others don’t? Black theology, feminist theology, African theology, liberation theology, womanist theology, Latino/a theology, Minjung theology… and the list carries on… Yet there is no need for descriptors like “white theology”, “male theology” or “Western theology”? The Hidden Adjective What we often call “normal theology” is largely Westernised theology shaped by European Enlightenment assumptions and supported and propagated through white Western power. This is the normalising “orthodoxy” against which all other contextual theologies will be “weighed and found wanting.” [2] Theological colonisation reserves for itself the right to declare what is “normal” or orthodox, both in terms of content and method. Relegating all other contextual theological wrestling to the scrutiny of this one true and uniquely orthodox theology. The question is not whether theology is contextual. All theology is contextual. The crucial question is what context gets called “normal.” Orthodoxy, built on Western Enlightenment methodology and assumptions, is neither neutral nor without adjectives but rather a contextual theology among many other contextual theologies.   White Theology: There are several characteristics of “white theology” which are often presumed to be normative for all theology, and thus exported, as such, to the rest of the world. Decentring and Decolonising: Naming white theology as contextual frees others to name their own contexts and theologies as equally valid. Decolonising our theology requires, among other things, the decentring of the European and the Western world, and a re-centring of those voices that have previously been ignored or silenced, those on the margins, the poor and the oppressed. This is not a call to “cancel” or ignore the theological contributions of white, Western men. There is a place for them (us) too in the Kingdom of God. Western theology must be de-centred and its sacral position as the sole or primary formulators and arbiters of theological method and “orthodoxy” must be rejected. White-male-Western theology is not inherently wrong, but it must be put back into its place as one contextual theology among many contextual theologies.[5]   [1] Inspiration for this idea comes from Micah Bournes’ incredible spoken word poem, Normal Hair https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v64z9wmoYls [2] Daniel 5:27 [3] Concerned Evangelicals 1986. Evangelical Witness in South Africa: A Critique of Evangelical Theology and Practice by South African Evangelicals. Eerdmans: Grand Rapids, p.28-31. The Kairos Document (1985) similarly refer to this type of theology as “Church Theology” as opposed to “Prophetic Theology”. [4] Molo Z 2025. Sharpening the Kairos Spear: A Theology of the People. The Warehouse https://www.warehouse.org.za/2025/10/07/sharpening-the-kairos-spear-a-theology-of-the-people/ [5] These ideas are developed from Carl Ellis’ book Free at Last: The Gospel in the African American Experience (1996. Downers Grove: IVP, p.142-147. Photo by Nothing Ahead

the Bible is clear… Theological colonisation seldom begins with violence. It begins with confidence. “The Bible is clear…” And when one community or people declare their interpretation as timeless, universal, and uniquely orthodox over every other community’s interpretation, then theological colonisation has begun. “The Bible is clear…” The problem with this kind of thinking is that even at the most basic level, it is not true to reality. Often, the Bible is not clear, makes conflicting statements, and appears to approve of things we might find reprehensible. If the Bible is so clear to understand, then why have well-intentioned and sincere Christians (even highly educated ones) been arguing over issues as seemingly fundamental as baptism, the Lord’s Supper, or the interrelation of faith and works (cue Paul and James), let’s not even get started on the role of women, church polity, or gifts of the Spirit. Most churches allow men to come to church with long hair and women without head coverings, but Paul expressly forbids both (1 Corinthians 11:5-6, 11-13). I don’t know anyone who has had to impregnate his deceased brother’s widow, in order to preserve his brother’s lineage (Deuteronomy 25:5-6). Despite God seemingly being fairly serious about this instruction, failure to do so could even result in death (Genesis 38:3-10). Many of us enjoy shellfish (Deuteronomy 14:9-10), don’t execute rebellious children (Deuteronomy 21:18-21) or false prophets (Deuteronomy 18:20), or force an unmarried woman to marry her rapists, with no possibility of divorce (Deuteronomy 22:28-29). We all instinctively know these passages require interpretation. No one I know gives money to everyone who asks (Matthew 5:42) or offers their mugger their shirt after being robbed of their jacket (Luke 6:29). Most people don’t make their wife sleep in a separate bed during her monthly cycle (Leviticus 15:19-23), build a parapet around the roof of their house (Deuteronomy 22:8) or condone slavery (Leviticus 25:44; Ephesians 6:5-6; 1 Peter 3:18). Again God, or the Bible at least, seems quite clear, at times, on most of those things. Forgive me if the above paragraph feels slightly disingenuous. Any frustration you feel is not likely because you find yourself in agreement with the ongoing validity or ethical virtue of the above scenarios, but more likely because you know that the above readings display almost no awareness of the historical background or use of the appropriate hermeneutical tools or principles. And that is exactly my point. None of us read the Bible “flat”, reading meaning straight off the surface of the text. We are always interpreting whatever we read. All theology is interpreted theology. There is just no other way. Even those who may claim to “just read the Bible” are constantly interpreting and contextualizing what they read. We may disagree on what methods or tools of interpretation we prefer, but that does not change the reality that we are always interpreting what we read. Durham University theologian, Stephen C Barton, reminds us that “Meaning is not something that is simply discovered in the text or ‘read off’ the surface of the text. It is, rather, created in the encounter between text and reader…”[1]  What we see in any given text, and especially what we understand the implications of that text to be, are all too often determined by what our experiences, socio-economic context, political affiliations, and cultural values have trained us to see. This may sound like I am advocating for rampant, unchecked relativism in biblical interpretation, and I am not. In a later post, we will discuss hermeneutical safeguards that keep us from plunging off the cliff of relativism, but for now, the key idea I want to focus on is that there is no such thing as a “pure” form of biblical theology unbounded by interpretation or context. We all read Scripture through a contextual lens. Or to put it another way, we all read Scripture from somewhere. It is impossible to read Scripture from a neutral perspective because each of us is a contextually located reader. The late South African missiologist David Bosch reminds us that “Interpreting a text is not only a literary exercise. Our entire context comes into play when we interpret a biblical text. One therefore has to concede that all theology… is, by its very nature, contextual.”[ Despite colonial-era Western missionaries claiming to “just preach the Bible,” they were never preaching a neutral understanding of the text. Instead, they were preaching an interpretation of Scripture filtered through the lenses of Enlightenment rationalism, imperialistic ideals, and deeply embedded assumptions of racial and cultural supremacy. Historically, claims for neutrality in interpretation have masked power and economic interests. Theological colonisation is when one contextual reading asserts its interpretation as the uniquely orthodox, universal, and self-evident interpretation, which must be exported unchanged and unchangeable to the rest of the world. To ignore the role of context in interpretation, claiming instead some sort of a-contextual neutrality as post-Enlightenment Western theology often did (and which conservative evangelical theology often still does), is not to escape from the problem of interpretative subjectivity but rather to allow context to sneak in unrecognised, through the back door of the interpretive process. The unacknowledged context does not weaken but grows in power, ultimately dominating the interpretation process.   And when that unacknowledged context is one of capitalist ambition, white supremacy, and Western Enlightenment philosophies, it cannot help but build theologies of dominance, greed, and raw power. The answer is not the abandonment of Scripture but the fostering of a greater epistemological[3] humility, as we learn to read Scripture in community with those unlike ourselves. Our interpretation of Scripture is not weakened by our finitude, but enriched, deepened, and disrupted when we engage with other equally limited but contextually diverse theologies and voices. [1] Barton, Stephen C. 2010. Historical Criticism and Social Scientific Perspectives in New Testament Study. In Green, Joel B. (ed) Hearing the New Testament: Strategies for Interpretation (Second Edition. Grand Rapids: Eerdmans. p47  [2] Bosch, D.J. 1991. Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology