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THE EXVANGELICALS: Loving, Living, and Leaving the White Evangelical Church. By Sarah McCammon. New York, NY: St. Martin’s Press, 2024. 310 pages.

                Much has been made in recent years about the decline in membership in the so-called Protestant Mainline. The decline has been steep. On the other hand, we’ve been told that conservative evangelical churches are growing. It’s true that huge megachurches have popped up all across the country, and that many of them are filled with young adults and their children. However, there is another trend underway. That trend involves scores of people, of all ages, but especially younger adults, leaving, even fleeing evangelical churches. The reasons are various but often have to do with matters of sexuality, politics, racism, science, and scandal. While some retain aspects of their faith others have completely walked away. So we’re beginning to see and hear the stories of these refugees from evangelicalism.

                Among those who have been telling these stories is Sarah McCammon, who is a National Political Correspondent for NPR and cohost of the NPR Politics Podcast. In other words, she’s a journalist who knows how to tell stories that connect with readers. She tells her own story and that of others, who like her, left behind their evangelical roots. She does so in the book titled The Exvangelicals: Loving, Living, and Leaving the White Evangelical Church.

The term Exvangelical is one of several that have been used to describe what is happening, especially among white evangelicals. She chose a term that is broader than another term that has become prominent, that is post-evangelical. The term post-evangelical tends to cover people who left evangelicalism but seek to find ways of reconnecting with the Christian community. Some join mainline churches, but others are seeking other forms of community. Exvangelicals include post-evangelicals, at least as I understand the terms, but also it includes people who are still searching or have completely left behind their Christian faith. They may be atheists, but not necessarily. 

I am grateful to McCammon for telling her story, and that of others, because it gives insight into the struggles that so many are having with evangelicalism, especially in the age of Trump. Although we need to acknowledge that Trump largely took over a “movement” that was already forming but simply needed a figurehead. Before I get into the book itself, I want to place myself in the larger story, because I believe McCammon has helped me distinguish my experience as someone who left evangelicalism decades earlier, but whose departure was more an evolution than a flight from evangelicalism. Perhaps one of the reasons for the differences, besides the generational one (I grew up in the 60s and 70s, while she grew up in the 80s and 90s), is that unlike McCammon and many of the people whose stories she shares, I was not raised in evangelicalism. I was born into an Episcopalian family. Then in high school, I “converted” to a form of Pentecostalism. I dove deep into the waters, but it appears that my roots weren’t as deeply planted. Thus, my “deconstruction” if you want to call it was not nearly as traumatic as what McCammon experienced as one born into a deeply evangelical/Pentecostal family. Unlike me, she was raised on the teachings of James Dobson and others like him. That makes a difference. 

What we have in this book is the story of the Exvangelicals, people who have been deconstructing from what had been their deeply held evangelical beliefs and practices. Many who make up this movement are LGBTQ+, non-white, female, or members of other marginalized identities.” They may be part of what she describes as a “loosely organized, largely online movement of people who are trying to make sense of the world as it is, and who they are in it” (p. 4). She traces the term to sometime around 2016 and is credited to Blake Chastain, who started a podcast with that title at that time. A movement emerged as former evangelicals seek to rethink their view of the world and themselves. She points out that those who form this loosely defined movement have pursued different pathways from working to reform evangelicalism to walking completely away from their faith. There may be a sense of relief at the freedom this brings, but also sadness, especially at the loss of former relationships, which can, as we see in the book, include broken family relationships.

Much of the book is rooted in McCammon’s own story, but it’s not just her story. We start, however, in chapter 1, titled “People Need the Lord,” with the beginnings of her childhood story, and the prayers she offered for her paternal grandfather, who was an atheist. She worried about him because she feared, as she had been taught, that unless he said yes to Jesus, he would be condemned to hell. We learn about her family and its deep commitment to their evangelical (Pentecostal) faith. For the most part, she lived a rather isolated and sheltered life, rooted in the church, family, and Christian schools.  Leaving evangelicalism has helped break through that isolation, and what she experienced is common to many others.

With that introduction to her evangelical origins, we move into Chapter 2, a chapter titled “A ‘Parallel Universe,’” to a deeper discussion of the evangelical movement into which she was born in 1981. She writes that the belief system she was raised in “took the fundamentalism of an earlier era, with its traditional gender roles and literalistic interpretation of the Bible, and repackaged it with a more accessible, modern gloss. This was more than merely a religion, or even a path to eternal salvation; the evangelicalism of my childhood offered a relationship with God and with a young, energetic community, led by confident, telegenic preachers who promised guidance and offered a vision for both families and a nation dedicated to carrying out what they saw as the will of God” p. 32). I was there during the early stages of this movement but didn’t stay long enough to be fully baptized into it. What she describes here is the alternative universe that included Christian schools that taught Young Earth Creationism and alternate views of history (A David Barton view). Interestingly, she reports that some who have left the movement itself have actually moved further to the right politically, but the seed was already planted.

The first two chapters provide the foundation for what is to come. It helps us understand the lay of the land. Then in Chapter 3, titled “An Exodus,” McCammon begins to share how and why those deeply rooted in evangelicalism began to leave, especially in the aftermath of Donald Trump’s election in 2016 and subsequent alignment with conservative evangelicalism. McCammon, who had already left her evangelical roots by then, was assigned by NPR to cover Trump’s campaign. Thus, she brought a distinctive view to the emergence of the Trump-Evangelical alliance.   

Her “Unraveling” (Chapter 4) came long before the rise of Donald Trump. In this chapter, we learn more about her experiences as a Senate page. Some of what she shares is rather disturbing. It is in this chapter that shares the beginnings of the unraveling of her faith, including her own sexual awakening and struggles to make sense of what she was feeling and what she had been taught. But we also learn about her exposure at college to life outside evangelicalism, including connecting with Muslims and Jews.

McCammon titles Chapter 5 “Were You There?” Here we return to the form of conservative evangelicalism to which she was exposed, one that embraced such things as Young Earth Creationism, as expressed through Ken Ham and Answers in Genesis. In this chapter, she shares how she and others found what they were taught at church incongruous with what scientists shared. That leads to the “Alternative Facts” of Chapter 6. This chapter explores the alternative Christian Worldview, that offered a different set of “facts,” a concept that the Trump campaign and White House embraced, but which conservative evangelicals were set up to embrace. This is rooted in a form of anti-intellectualism that pervaded the movement and has made the movement susceptible to conspiracy theories and anti-science views (see the resistance to COVID-19 vaccines and guidelines).

One of the baffling elements of the evangelical embrace of Donald Trump has been the abandonment of the belief that character matters, something explored in Chapter 7— “Whose ‘Character” Matters?” The same movement that rejected Bill Clinton because of his lack of moral character decided that character didn’t matter when it came to Donald Trump. Thus, James Dobson who emphasized the need for character decided that it no longer mattered, at least if they had a champion for their agenda, something Trump was willing to offer. This led to more exits from evangelicalism, as important figures in the movement such as Beth Moore broke with their denominations over the embrace of Trump. For some who exited evangelicalism, there was a determination to “Leave Loud” (Chapter 8). That is, some former evangelicals decided to make a loud declaration of their disgust at what was happening. In this chapter, McCammon shares the stories relating to race and racism as well as civil rights. If Chapter 7 explored the question of character, and Chapter 8 explored the question of race and evangelicalism, Chapter 9— Whom Does Jesus Love? —examines the question of sexual identity and orientation. Here again, is a leading cause of departure from evangelicalism, which remains largely anti-LGBTQ, such that those who either identify as LGBTQ or support them no longer feel able to stay within a movement that is a threat to their mental and physical health. Here, McCammon shares the story of that Grandfather who didn’t believe, but who also later in life came out as gay. This relationship allows her to tell the story of her own family and that of others.

A number of books have appeared lately that describe the “Purity” movement in evangelicalism. McCammon was introduced to it herself, so she has her own story as well the stories of others about the nature of this movement and the damage that it has done. These stories appear in Chapter 10: “A Virtuous Woman.” She discusses the question of sexuality further in Chapter 11: “Naked and Ashamed.” In this chapter, she talks about the questions of sexual anxiety and marriage. Chapter 12 takes the conversation another step, to the question of the role of children. That is, the call to “Be Fruitful and Multiply” and the evangelical embrace of the anti-abortion movement. At a young age, McCammon was introduced to this movement, even spending time as a teen volunteering at a “Crisis Pregnancy Center,” with the responsibility of talking women out of getting an abortion.  If Chapter 12 focuses on the anti-abortion movement, Chapter 13— “Suffer the Little Children” —focuses on childraising, especially as taught to evangelicals by James Dobson through such books as Dare to Discipline. Here we learn about some of the perhaps unintended consequences, such as child abuse.

The reasons for departing evangelicalism are many, as we’ve already seen. However, there is more to come. Thus, in Chapter 14, titled “Broken for You,” McCammon talks about the role teachings on the second coming and the rapture have played in the lives of evangelicals. She shares how these teachings were expressed and their impact on people. For her, and many, this was traumatic and one of the causes, though not the only cause, of religious trauma.

As we near the end of the book, McCammon turns to the aftermath of departures. She titles Chapter 15 “Into the Wilderness.” This is a chapter on the freedom experienced by many who leave evangelicalism and the question that emerges as to where one goes from there. She writes that she asks herself this question almost every day: “Once you’ve discovered that the world you called home is no longer a place you can comfortably reside in, where do you go? What will you find along the way? And who might you become? For those of us wandering out of evangelicalism, we can find ourselves in a foreign—and often frightening—spiritual and emotional wilderness” (p. 217). This is, I believe, a very important chapter because it’s one thing to leave something that has been formative of one’s view of the world, so leaving that behind can be traumatic in itself. So, she explores some of the pathways people take. One thing that those on the pathway are discovering, is that they’re not alone. One of the challenges faced by those who go into the wilderness is the accusation by those left behind of apostasy, something McCammon has been accused of by a member of her own family. So, she addresses these challenges in “Wrestling Against Flesh and Blood” (Chapter 16). The challenge for those who leave, especially those who have been ostracized, is avoiding a different kind of fundamentalism. She notes that “wounded people have a natural instinct to push back, to protect themselves. And for those who grew up in the culture wars—who’ve been trained to fight, and to fight hard—laying down the sword, taking off the armor, and tending those wounds is one of the biggest battles of all” (p. 247). I’ve seen examples of this, so it is a very real area of concern.   

The final chapter is titled “Into All the World,” which is a very biblical expression (Chapter 17). Here McCammon brings the story to a close, sharing something of her own sense of place at this moment. You can tell that she is at peace, but it was a struggle to get there. But for many the trauma continues to impact their lives. One thing she has discovered is that for her, she’s still attached to Jesus and his story. She may not believe that people need the Lord to thrive, but she finds in Jesus a calling, something she learned from her grandfather, and that is, to help others. That is what this book is about.

My journey with and out of evangelicalism, as I knew it, was different from what Sarah McCammon has experienced. Like many of earlier generations, I found a home in Mainline Protestantism (I’m a Disciples of Christ minister and theologian), but that doesn’t seem to be as common a destination today. I wish it were for the sake of our churches, but perhaps our realities do not provide the kind of home many need. That being said, reading McCammon’s book, along with others like it, has helped me better understand the traumas and challenges faced over the years by people raised in evangelicalism. Finding a sense of wholeness and healing is important. To get there it is helpful to know that you’re not alone. What McCammon does so well in telling her story and those of others is to let people know they’re not alone. That’s a good starting point for finding healing. What I’ve tried to do here is give a sense of what can be found in this very important book on The EXvangelicals, so that others whether evangelical, exvangelical, post-evangelical, or simply people of faith or no faith who seek to understand the realities faced by many who find themselves in the wilderness after leaving a world, White Evangelicalism, that had formed them and at times wounded them.  

   

Acts 10:44-48 New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition

⁴⁴ While Peter was still speaking, the Holy Spirit fell upon all who heard the word. ⁴⁵ The circumcised believers who had come with Peter were astounded that the gift of the Holy Spirit had been poured out even on the gentiles, ⁴⁶ for they heard them speaking in tongues and extolling God. Then Peter said, ⁴⁷ “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?” ⁴⁸ So he ordered them to be baptized in the name of Jesus Christ. Then they invited him to stay for several days.

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                In Acts 8, Philip, one of the Seven selected to assist the Apostles in caring for members of the community that had been marginalized, engaged in two missional events. First, he went to Samaria, where he shared the good news of Jesus, leading to a revival and an act of inclusion. Then, after that event, Philip was sent by an angel to engage with the Ethiopian eunuch who was also a court official to the queen. After sharing the message of Jesus from Isaiah, Philip baptized the Ethiopian, helping expand the community of Jesus' followers. Both of these events took place in Judea and Samaria, reflecting Jesus’ commission to the community to take the gospel to Jerusalem, Judea and Samaria, and then to the ends of the earth. We’ve moved, to some degree, to the third dimension of that calling, but there is another step that needs to be taken. This step will involve Peter and an act of baptism. As before, these steps are Spirit-inspired.

                Between Philip’s mission and our reading several important events take place, as discussed in Acts 9. First Saul of Tarsus has a vision of Jesus while on his way to initiate a persecution of Jesus’ followers who were living in Damascus. That persecution didn’t take place because Saul received a calling from Jesus. He would be baptized by a disciple named Ananias and filled with the Holy Spirit, such that temporary blindness was healed, and he was prepared to preach, something he did in Damascus, before having to flee from opponents of the new movement. He would end up in Jerusalem, where Barnabas, his future partner on his mission to the Gentiles paved the way for a meeting with the Apostles. As for the church in Judea, Galilee, and Samaria, it was thriving. It’s at this point that Peter once again enters the story.

                As Acts 9 comes to a close, Peter spends time in Lydda and Joppa (the later a coastal town). While at Joppa he would raise a woman named Tabitha from the dead. While there he stayed with Simon the Tanner. It’s while he’s staying with Simon that he has a transformative vision. You might even say he experienced a moment of deconstruction. When we turn to Acts 10, we meet a Roman centurion, known to be a God-fearing man who was well-disposed to the Jewish people. He has a vision/angelic visitation, which directs him to send for Peter. At the same time, Peter has his own vision that involves foods he would not eat due to his religious beliefs. When presented with the food and told to kill and eat, Peter responded to the angel that he wouldn’t touch anything unclean. When he said that he heard a voice from heaven that declared that what God deems clean is clean. It was at that very moment that Peter heard a knock on the door. Standing at the door were representatives of Cornelius, the Roman Centurion. He went with them to Cornelius’ house, where he crossed a boundary and shared good news with the household (Acts 10:1-33).   

                Our reading, as selected by the Revised Common Lectionary folks doesn’t include this part of the story, or Peter’s sermon (Acts 10:34-43). We pick things up in Acts 10:44, with Peter’s sermon winding down but not completed (at least I think he was winding down). A central theme of this sermon is found at the very beginning of Luke’s account in verse 34. Peter tells Cornelius and his household, the first Gentiles to be specifically addressed in the Book of Acts, that God does not show partiality “but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him” (Acts. 10:34-35). While the message was first given to the Jewish people, in God’s wisdom that witness is being expanded, for Jesus is Lord of all. This message is rooted in Jesus’ death and resurrection, the Easter message that we have before us during Eastertide.

                As he was preaching, the Holy Spirit fell on the gathered group. The Spirit didn’t wait for Peter to finish the sermon or even offer the invitation. There wasn’t room for an invitation hymn, and I need an invitation hymn to feel as if I was truly finished preaching. Peter’s companions, whom Luke tells us were all circumcised, that is Jews, are amazed at what they see and hear. Just to be clear this is an act of God’s Spirit, Cornelius and his household begin to speak in tongues (glossolalia), giving praise to God as they did so.

                After Peter sees what’s happening, he recognizes this for what it is, an act of God that confirms the message he had seen in his vision. God had truly deemed these Gentiles acceptable. After all, they received the Holy Spirit in the same way that Peter and his community had on the day of Pentecost. But the event is not yet complete. The Spirit came upon the gathering rather suddenly. To this point, Cornelius hadn’t walked the aisle to “Just as I Am.” He hadn’t made the Good Confession declaring Jesus to be the Christ, the Son of the living God, as Peter had in Matthew 16. It doesn’t appear they did anything but simply listen to Peter preach. Yet, the Spirit acted, leading Peter to recognize that God had chosen this group of people for inclusion in the community of faith.

                Once Peter recognized the Spirit’s leading in this matter he offered the same response offered elsewhere. That would be baptism. Philip baptized the Samaritans and the Ethiopian, marking boundary-crossing events. Here was another boundary-crossing event. Baptism seemed like the most appropriate response. Thus, Peter had everyone in the household baptized in the name of Jesus. While Peter and his companions were circumcised and thus Jews, Peter didn’t require circumcision. He simply offers baptism as the seal of their inclusion in the community of Jesus' followers. Some might ask who was baptized and by what mode. I’m a believing baptizing immersionist, so I lean in that direction. However, we don’t know if there were small children among those baptized. It does appear that Peter didn’t ask for a confession of faith before the baptisms. So, we are left with certain questions that aren’t easily answered. Those who baptize infants by “sprinkling” will continue their practice and others will immerse on the profession of faith. Acts 10 doesn’t resolve the issue.  What we can say is that baptism plays a significant role in the ongoing mission of God, such that in the Book of Acts, when people respond to the gospel, they get baptized. In this case, as before, baptism marks a boundary-breaking act.

                This brief reading ends with Luke remarking that “they invited him to stay for several days.” Peter brought good news to Cornelius and his household, and they responded by inviting him to spend time with them, expanding the community through an act of hospitality. You might say that while Baptism in the name of Jesus sealed the relationship between Jew and Gentile, by accepting this offer of hospitality, Peter reaffirmed that the Spirit had brokered a new relationship between Jew and Gentile. Willie James Jennings offers this intriguing comment as to the impact of this request of Peter by Cornelius:

The reading habits of the church tend to run past these slender words, but they capture divine design. This is what God wants, Jews with Gentiles, Gentiles wanting to be with Jews, and together they eat and live in peace. This is surely not the eschaton, not heaven on earth. It is simply a brief time before the chaos and questioning descend on Peter and the other disciples who will follow the Spirit, before the returning to the old regime, and before the lust for the normal returns. But in a quiet corner of the Roman Empire, in the home of a centurion, a rip in the fabric of space and time has occurred. All those who would worship Jesus may enter a new vision of intimate space and new time that will end up endless new possibilities of life with others Peter, however, must soon do a strange thing—he must give witness to the witnesses of Jesus and try to convince them that God transgresses.” [Belief: Acts, p. 115].

For this bridging of a formerly broken relationship, Peter must transgress boundaries and convince the rest of the community that God does the same. Yes, the God Peter proclaims, the God revealed in Jesus, transgresses our boundaries. Unfortunately, time and again, throughout history, Christians tore down those bridges and chose to persecute Jews, until the Holocaust opened our eyes. Unfortunately, anti-Judaism and antisemitism remain with us. The conflict in Gaza has only served to inflame them. One need not support the way Israel has occupied Palestinian territories or pursued their war against Hamas, to recognize that antisemitism is not the answer.

                If you read on into Acts 11, you will discover that Peter will have a bit of explaining to do. At least in Luke’s account, the expansion of the community may have included Samaritans and even Ethiopians (who may have been Jewish), but here is another group that must be dealt with. So, Peter must explain to the rest of the witnesses to Jesus' life and ministry, including his death and resurrection that God seems to be doing a new thing, which the Holy Spirit confirmed by inspiring Cornelius and his household to speak in tongues. The message that Peter delivers to the rest of the community is that they were serving a boundary-breaking God who declared things/people they assumed to be unclean to be clean, and therefore, they were free to fellowship with those God deemed clean.

                This passage serves as an invitation to the contemporary church to ponder who and what God might be declaring something/someone clean that the church has considered unclean. For a growing number of Christians, the full inclusion of LGBTQ believers fits this reality. While “traditional” forms of Christianity have deemed them unclean, it does appear that the Holy Spirit is changing the storyline by declaring them to be clean through the evidence of their own life of faith. Yes, the God revealed in Jesus through the work of the Holy Spirit transgresses boundaries, boundaries often erected in the name of God. What happens in Caesarea is an outworking of the promise Jesus made to the community at the time of his ascension (Acts 1:8). 

   

We all know about the slow decline of Mainline Protestantism. Over the years, the once-dominant denominations have declined significantly in numbers. There are numerous reasons for it, but the truth is these traditional denominations, including the one in which I’m ordained, have failed to retain their children and draw in new members. Many of the children of older Mainliners ended up Evangelicals. Now, we’re seeing a major shift within Christianity, as many evangelicals, especially ones who grew up in it are leaving. Not only are they leaving evangelicalism, but they’re also leaving the Christian faith. There are numerous reasons for that, including patriarchy, scandals, politicization (alignment with the Trump-led Republican Party), and a rejection of LGBTQ persons. Several books have appeared exploring these realities. At the moment, I’m finishing reading Sarah McCammon’s Exvangelicals (review forthcoming).

         I’m a Boomer. I was born and raised an Episcopalian but became part of a Pentecostal/Evangelical church in High School. Then I went to a Christian College, served as a youth minister in a conservative church, and then headed off to seminary (an evangelical seminary). Over time I shed much of the evangelical ethos and became more liberal in my politics and even my theology. One of the key moments for me was being fired from my teaching position at a Bible college for being too liberal. A second was the coming out of my brother, which led to my own reappraisal of my beliefs about LGBTQ. What is happening today seems different from what I experienced. It seems more intense, and people are simply exiting, though some are seeking to create Postevangelical communities. What that will look like is yet to be determined. I’m a bit concerned that the current communities are largely white and perhaps male-dominated. They tend to embrace LGBTQ persons, but my concern is that they become just another silo. But not everyone is staying.

                One of the current words for what is happening today is “deconstruction.” It is a term that has been around for a while but wasn’t something we talked about during my period of transition/transformation. Regarding deconstruction, I’ve been reading God After Deconstruction by Tom Oord and Tripp Fuller. A review of this book is forthcoming as well. They also describe the processes undertaken by evangelicals, mostly white, who are seeking to extricate themselves from the narrow confines of their evangelical experiences. As with those whom Sarah McCammon describes, most of those they speak of were born into a white evangelical subculture, such that they were fully enmeshed in this world.

                As I read these books, I realized that my story is different. I wasn’t born into this subculture, didn’t attend Christian schools, or was homeschooled, and I had friendship circles outside the subculture. I bought in, but it appears I was not as deeply rooted as some who are now undergoing deconstruction.

                As I read these books and watch the developments on the ground, I wonder how those who have been so affected by their past experiences might move beyond deconstruction to reconstruction. As Tom and Tripp suggest, there may need to be theological adjustments, though I’m not sure that Process theology is the only possible path out of the morass. For me, the people who contributed to my transition included Karl Barth, Hans Küng, Jürgen Moltmann, and Dietrich Bonhoeffer.

                One of the questions we face as we begin to put the pieces back together is where we find meaning and purpose. In my own journey, I discovered that there are pieces from the past and present that have helped form me. I call this spiritual DNA. As people deconstruct there is a tendency to toss out everything from the past, but I believe that there are pieces that can be reclaimed. If you are like me, and you have spent time in several traditions, you might have several strands of spiritual DNA. How then do we put things back together?

                In 2021 I published with Cascade Books (Wipf and Stock) a book I titled Called to Bless: Finding Hope by Reclaiming Our Spiritual Roots. In that book I share my own spiritual journey, what you might call a theological memoir, reflecting on the elements that have formed me, as I spent time in Anglicanism, Pentecostalism, Evangelicalism, and the Disciples/Restoration Movement. As I’ve reflected on the discussions about deconstruction, I believe that my book offers a possible path to reconstruction. The key piece is the thread that ties everything in the book together, and that is our calling as Christians, as spiritual descendants through Jesus of Abraham and Sarah, to be a blessing to the nations (Gen. 12:1-4). Here we find a purpose in life that is deeply rooted in our faith tradition. For me that discovery has empowered my own engagement with dear friends outside the Christian community as we each claim our calling to be a blessing.

                With this in mind, I invite you to pick up my book Called to Bless. From now until the end of May, you can order a copy from Wipf and Stock and receive a 40% discount. Just use the code:  CALLEDTOBLESSCORNWALL. You can also get the book at Amazon and other fine retailers.

   

Vincent Van Gogh, Vineyards with a View of Auvers

John 15:1-8 New Revised Standard Version Updated Edition

15 “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower. ² He removes every branch in me that bears no fruit. Every branch that bears fruit he prunes to make it bear more fruit. ³ You have already been cleansed by the word that I have spoken to you. ⁴ Abide in me as I abide in you. Just as the branch cannot bear fruit by itself unless it abides in the vine, neither can you unless you abide in me. ⁵ I am the vine; you are the branches. Those who abide in me and I in them bear much fruit, because apart from me you can do nothing. ⁶ Whoever does not abide in me is thrown away like a branch and withers; such branches are gathered, thrown into the fire, and burned. ⁷ If you abide in me and my words abide in you, ask for whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. ⁸ My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit and become my disciples.

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                A grapevine has branches. Those branches, which carry the fruit, are connected to the vine. Without the vine the branches are dead. The vine carries the life force of the plant to the branches, which produce the fruit. Jesus is the vine and we are the branches. As such, through our connection to the vine, we produce fruit. In both the Gospel of John and 1 John we see references to abiding in and with God, reflecting this image of the vine and branches. It is an image that has deep roots in the Old Testament, where Israel is depicted in several places as a vine and branches that God cares for and when necessary prunes.  

                The Gospel reading for this Fifth Sunday of Easter takes us back to the Gospel of John, and more specifically to Jesus’ final teaching session that follows his last meal with his followers. The final instructions and his prayer for the disciples make up chapters 14 through 17. The reading for the Fifth Sunday comes from the fifteenth chapter of the Gospel.  

                Our reading for the week from John 15 begins with Jesus declaring “I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinegrower.” In this role of vinegrower or vinedresser, the Father prunes the vine so that branches that fail to produce fruit are removed. You prune the vine to make it healthier and able to bear more fruit. As for the identity of the branches, Jesus tells his disciples that he is the vine and they are the branches. With that imagery in place Jesus tells his disciples who have gathered with him for that final meal, that if they abide in him, he will abide in them. Just as the branch can’t bear fruit unless it abides in the vine, the same is true for them. Deirdra Good notes that “Understanding of the images of Jesu as the true vine and disciples as branches, together with the repetition of ‘remain’ or ‘abide’, is intuitive and mystical. A vine, for example, is not separate but rather indistinguishable from its branches, and as the branches in turn may be cut off, their whole identity is nevertheless in the vine. Branches are never independent but always rooted and growing in Jesus.” [Connections, p. 260]

                While it is true that the branch requires the sustenance of the vine to bear fruit, if the branch is not connecting (abiding) with the vine, then it is of no value. Therefore, it simply withers away until it’s removed and tossed into a fire to be burnt up. Thus, this is the way it is for those who fail to abide in Jesus. They lose their sustenance and thus their ability to bear fruit. Therefore, they are pruned and tossed into the fire, which consumes them.

                While Jesus mentions the possibility of pruning branches, his expectation for his disciples is that they will abide in him and bear fruit. So he tells them that if they abide in him, and his words in them, they can ask of him whatever they desire and it will be fulfilled so that the Father is glorified. That sounds a bit like what you might hear from a prosperity gospel preacher. Just name it and claim it and it’s yours. While it might be used in that way, I don’t think that’s what Jesus has in mind. Rodger Nishioka helpfully writes “Because we abide in him and he abides in us, whatever we ask will be given. This promise is certain because as we remain in him, we grow more and more into his likeness. As we grow more and more into his likeness, what we desire will be more commensurate with what he desires. That is the result of abiding” [Connections, pp. 263-264]. In other words, if we’re abiding in Jesus and our desires mirror his, we won’t be asking for private jets and mansions.

It's appropriate that this passage has been chosen for this point in the calendar, at least in the Northern Hemisphere. With the onset of spring, we see the trees and vines begin to leaf out, bloom, and when appropriate show signs that fruit is to be expected. In other words, by viewing nature Jesus’ words are enhanced and affirmed.

                The word here speaks of connections between Jesus and the Father along with he and his disciples. There is a sense here of mutuality, such that there is a mutual indwelling such that Jesus abides in us and we abide in him. Therefore, we abide in God. The message throughout the “Farewell Discourse” is that Jesus envisions oneness among his followers. Later in the Discourse, as it comes to an end right before his arrest, he prays for his followers, asking that they would be one even as he and the Father are one: “I ask not only on behalf of these but also on behalf of those who believe in me through their word, that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me.” (Jn 17:20-21).

John uses several similar metaphors to describe his relationship with his disciples, as does Paul. The metaphor from Paul that I find most helpful is that of the church as the Body of Christ. Together his followers form his body on earth post-resurrection. Theologically, we might turn to the Greek word perichoresis to describe this relationship. This Greek word has played an important role in our understanding of Jesus' nature as truly human and truly divine, as well as the internal Trinitarian relationships, such that God is one and yet three. The idea here is that there is mutual interpenetration within the Godhead, a sense of abiding in each other, reflecting the unity of the Godhead and the unity of the Body of Christ. Catherine Mowry LaCugna puts it this way:

He is who and what God is; he is who and what we are to become. Jesus owes his whole existence, authority, identity, and purpose to God; he ‘originates’ from God, is begotten of God, belongs eternally to the life and existence of God. Through him we, too originate from God, are begotten of God, and belong eternally to the life and existence of God. [God for Us: The Trinity and Christian Life, p. 296].

We are one in the Spirit, such that we participate in the life of God through Jesus who abides in us, even as we abide in him. The goal is that we might bear fruit and express the love that is God.

                In John’s version of the Gospel story, we hear Jesus describe what it means to be his follower. It is a calling that he extended to the disciples and us. We are branches, connected to a vine. The expectation is that we will bear fruit (grapes for harvest). In doing so we reflect the presence of Jesus who dwells within us. What is the fruit? Perhaps we might want to consult Paul’s list of the fruit of the Spirit in Galatians 5: “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness,  gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things” (Gal. 5:22-23).

                When we abide in Christ, such that he abides in his, we express our dependence, perhaps even interdependence, with Jesus. Our spiritual lives depend on abiding in or participating in the life of Jesus, but it goes both ways, such that we are, as they say, Christ’s hands and feet. Jesus ministers to the world through us. As such, as we bear fruit in the Spirit, we bring glory to God.  

Image Attribution: Gogh, Vincent van, 1853-1890. Vineyards with a View of Auvers, from Art in the Christian Tradition, a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN. https://diglib.library.vanderbilt.edu/act-imagelink.pl?RC=55980 [retrieved April 23, 2024]. Original source: http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Vineyards_with_a_View_of_Auvers_1890_Vincent_van_Gogh.jpg.