More women consume true crime entertainment than men… by a lot.

Years ago, a male co-worker wondered out loud why this might be. As a woman who has walked to her car at night with her keys between her knuckles, I said,

“Oh, I think they’re probably practicing how to survive.”

Across different formats, women are estimated to make up around 60–70% of true crime audiences.

I think true crime entertainment is to women what survival shows are to men.

While I’ve been on the teams that have produced true crime television shows like A&E’s Casey Anthony’s Parents: The Lie Detector Test, I’ve never personally been one of those women who ravenously followed true crime stories in the media. Likely because, as a child of domestic abuse, it hits a little too close to home for me.

Which is probably why I hadn’t heard of Mica Miller or her former husband until everyone in my sphere started talking about them.

The couple is the focus of Death of the Pastor’s Wife, a three-part Netflix series examining Mica’s death and the abuse and coercive control she reportedly experienced in her marriage to evangelical pastor John-Paul Miller.

As someone who grew up in the evangelical church with a religiously abusive father, this story feels nauseatingly familiar.

My father used Scripture and theologies that were being taught from the pulpit to justify his own spiritual and physical abuse - and, in my mother’s case, sexual abuse.

And our experience is not a one-off.

Women and children face disproportionate risks of sexual violence. According to UNICEF, 1 in 8 girls and women alive today experienced sexual violence as children.1

1 in 8.

Stop for a moment and think about that terrible number.

Abuse happens in every sphere. You cannot be rich enough, smart enough, faithful enough, or strong enough to guarantee you will escape it.

And as this documentary series, public stories of abuse involving prominent Christian leaders, my own story, and so many other clerical abuse cases remind us, the church is not somehow exempt.

But why is this?

If the church is supposed to be a representation of God in the world, why does abuse still fester within our congregations and congregants’ homes?

“Everywhere we turned we were told to submit and obey - God, fathers, pastors. The message became part of us. Good girls and good women did as they were told and kept quiet about it. What a setup for abuse.”

— Surviving God: A New Vision of God through the Eyes of Sexual Abuse Survivors, co-authored by Grace Ji-Sun Kim and Susan M. Shaw

One doesn’t have to search very hard to find the story of a church that has minimized, brushed under the rug, or outright dismissed a person who said they were abused within the church.

And while we can’t stop abuse from ever happening again, we can look introspectively as an institution and ask whether there are things within our own structures and theology that make it easier for abusers to thrive.

Many churches look to security protocols to prevent abuse. And those are incredibly important.

But background checks, childcare check-in systems, and safety policies don’t assess the theology underneath a community - the biblical interpretations that can empower abusers, make women and children more vulnerable to violence, or force victims into the shadows.

That is also abuse-prevention work the church needs to do.

—

In an upcoming episode of Holy Uncertain, releasing in a week and a half, I speak with theologian and author Rev. Dr. Grace Ji-Sun Kim about the ways harmful theology and metaphors for God have enabled abuse, and what it might look like to embody something better.

Grace told me:

“The church, we allow such things to happen because of our misinterpretation of scripture and our bad theology. We tend to think that men are better, which is also tied in with our understanding of who God is. So once we have a really bad theology, the consequences are great.”

Biblical interpretation is human interpretation - and when our interpretations are producing harm, they need a full-stop reassessment.

Let me be clear.

• Teaching male authority over women and children - making men subordinate only to God - empowers abusers.

• Forgiveness expressed as a requirement for victims, rather than part of a long process of accountability, repair, and restoring what was broken by perpetrators and systems - empowers abusers.

• Hierarchical theologies that place pastors over congregants, men over women, and adults over children - empower abusers.

• Teaching female and child submission to men - empowers abusers.

• Treating God as male in ways that place men closer to divine authority - empowers abusers.

As I think about the many ways Scripture and theology have been used to harm victims of abuse, I’m reminded of something theologian David Dault said in last week’s episode when we were discussing his book The Accessorized Bible and how we read Scripture:

“Trying to get the truth right about the text misses the truth that is right in front of you, which is: I’m bleeding, I’m suffering, you’re contributing to that, stop.”

That line has stayed with me.

Because sometimes we can become so consumed with defending the “right” interpretation of Scripture, the right theology, the right denomination, the right pastor, the right institution - that we fail to see the bleeding person standing right in front of us.

LISTEN TO THE FULL EPISODE HERE:

Church people often point the finger at those who have walked away as being “unfaithful” or “just wanting to sin.”

But when a church protects its institution and its leaders above survivors, who can blame someone for walking away?

How can anyone honestly trust and believe in a god who seems to care more about protecting institutions and abusers than protecting women and children?

I don’t believe in that god.

The God I worship - the God I encounter in Jesus - so closely identifies with the oppressed and victimized that God became one of those suffering people.

Jesus was abused by people in power. He was beaten. Stripped naked. Publicly humiliated. Executed.

And rather than identify himself with those protecting their power, Jesus repeatedly placed himself alongside people who had been oppressed and victimized.

What might the church look like if we became like Christ in this way?

I believe the church has the capacity to do immense good - to be a place of healing, belonging, care, transformation, and community.

I’ve experienced that church.

When my own family was falling apart, people in our church brought us groceries when we didn’t have enough food. They cared for us. They showed up.

I know what the church can be.

And I also know that, far too often, it has failed to be those things.

Sometimes profoundly.

So I come back to that number:

1 in 8.

Those are girls and women who need support.

They need places to heal with people and systems they can trust.

The church can be that place.

But too often, we aren’t.

We have work to do.

Leave a comment

Stunned, I asked, “Why?!”

I couldn’t fathom why this loud and very proud gay man – standing in the gayest neighborhood in NYC, Chelsea – was saying something that sounded, to me, homophobic.

His face sank. “It’s really hard to be gay. I don’t want my child to have to go through that.”

My heart broke. He wasn’t homophobic… he was sad and scared.

That moment has stayed with me – which is why this week’s episode of Holy Uncertain matters so much.

Joined by writer, advocate, and Conversion Therapy Dropout author Timothy Schraeder Rodriguez to explore the impact of growing up gay in a Christian tradition that taught him his sexuality needed to change.

LISTEN TO THE FULL EPISODE HERE

Fast forward about 10 years later. I’m driving that baby in my belly – now a kid – and her friend.

My daughter shares that her sister is going to the new Buzz Lightyear movie.

Her friend raises her eyebrows. “Oh, I’m not allowed to see THAT movie.”

“Why not?” my daughter asks.

“There’s a family with two moms in the movie. They’re trying to brainwash people to be gay. You can’t be Christian and be gay.”

I grip the wheel, listening as this is stated like fact – something clearly taught as fact.

I take a deep breath, reminding myself this is not my child.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I say. “I can’t think of many kids’ movies that have two moms in them.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” the girls say.

I continue, “That makes me think of all the kids who come from families that look like that. Kids who have two moms or two dads. I bet it feels nice for those kids to have people who look like them in a movie.”

We sit in silence thinking. I change the subject, knowing anything further isn’t my place.

We drive on, and they move on just as quickly as they started.

But my heart aches.

I think of my friend’s words years earlier, and I wonder what it would be like for my daughter’s friend if she were to grow up to be gay.

“Thank you, Mrs. Ranzino!” she calls, slamming the door as she runs inside.

I sit there for a moment. I want to say something to my daughter – but I’m not quite sure what.

Like my daughter’s friend, I was raised in a Christian tradition that said you can’t be gay and be a Christian. But I also knew there were many established Christian denominations that saw no conflict with being gay and being Christian. And growing up in New York City, I personally knew and loved lots of gay people. And I knew how hard it was for them.

So when considering how I might answer God when accounting for how I treated LGBTQ people, I decided that even if I got it wrong, I would choose to love my gay neighbors without barriers – to reflect a God who says nothing can separate us from their love.

With that in mind, I slowly drove up the road, pulled over, put the car in park, and turned to my daughter.

“You know when your friend said you can’t be gay and be Christian?”

She nodded. The dome light cast a soft glow across her face. It felt like a sacred moment.

“Well,” I said, “there are things Christians share. That’s Jesus. Our hope is in Him. But how we follow Jesus… we don’t all agree on everything. And that’s okay.”

She nodded.

“So there are some Christians who believe you can’t be gay and be Christian. And there are others who believe you can. Our family – we’re those kinds of Christians. We believe nothing can separate you from God’s love.”

“Got it, Mom. Can we go home? I’m hungry.”

We drove home.

But that conversation – and my friend in Chelsea – has stayed with me.

The Bible, again and again, calls us to seek out those pushed to the margins and bring them in – to make space, to offer dignity, to extend love.

So today, I set the table for my LGBTQ friends.

You are fearfully and wonderfully made.
You are welcome.
You are endlessly loved.

Which brings me back to this week’s episode of Holy Uncertain.

Rather than asking listeners to arrive at a particular theological conclusion, our conversation invites us to listen to the story of someone directly impacted by these beliefs – Tim – and to consider the human consequences our theology can have.

If you’ve ever questioned the church’s teachings around sexuality or wondered how your deeply held beliefs impact others, this conversation offers a thoughtful place to listen, wrestle, and reflect.

You can listen to Holy Uncertain on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts.

And if this conversation resonates with you, consider sharing it with someone who’s been asking similar questions – or someone who might need to hear it.

Support us by subscribing, leaving a review, or sharing the episode with a friend. Every share and review helps more people find these conversations.

Learn more from Timothy Schraeder Rodriguez:

• http://www.timothysrodriguez.com/

• https://www.conversiontherapydropoutb...

• Instagram

Read Tim’s book:

• Conversion Therapy Dropout: A Queer Story of Faith and Belonging

Resources Tim shared in the episode:

• Church Clarity

• Q Christian Fellowship

Books:

• God and the Gay Christian by Matthew Vines

• Torn by Justin Lee

• Queer and Christian by Brandon Robertson

Documentaries:

• Pray Away

• 1946

  ---

  Leave a comment

  ---

“Just because you’ve been hurt by one church doesn’t mean you should give up on all churches.”

It’s a, this structure is more important than what you’ve been through, kind of statement.

I hate it.

Because more often than not, it shifts the burden onto the person who’s been hurt - asking them to carry the weight of their own healing and the responsibility of giving the institution another chance.

As if re-engaging with church is simply a matter of spiritual duty.

As if what happened to you wasn’t serious enough to change how you move through the world.

As if the risk of being hurt again is just part of the deal.

But what if the real question isn’t whether people should come back?

What if a better question is:

Can churches actually become safe for hurting people?

This week on Holy Uncertain, we sit down with and Adrienne Gibson to wrestle with that question.

Scot is a New Testament scholar and prolific author who has spent decades studying the church - both its beauty and its failures. Adrienne is a licensed therapist who works closely with people navigating trauma, including harm experienced in religious spaces. Together, they bring a rare and necessary perspective: one that takes both theology and psychological safety seriously.

LISTEN TO THE FULL EPISODE HERE

Drawing from their book The Traumatized Church, Scot and Adrienne invite us to imagine churches that don’t simply expect wounded people to return - but intentionally become safer places for them to heal.

In this conversation, we explore:

• Why so many churches unintentionally (and sometimes intentionally) cause harm

• How power, authority, and theology can create environments that protect institutions over people

• The role of pastors and church leaders in creating safer communities

• How church staff and leaders also experience harm

• Practical ways churches can become places of healing rather than harm

And maybe most importantly:

Whether “safety” in church is even something we’ve been taught to value or recognize at all.

Because for many of us, what was called faithfulness often required ignoring our own instincts.

What was called submission sometimes meant silencing our pain.

And what was called community didn’t always feel safe to live honestly inside of.

So when someone says, “Don’t give up on church,” it’s worth asking:

Has the church done the work to become something safe to return to?

If you’re someone who has been hurt in a church space:

Not everything is yours to fix.
You’re not wrong for hesitating.
And you’re not wrong for wanting something safer than what you experienced.

And if this conversation resonates with you, consider sharing it with someone who’s been asking similar questions.

You can support our work by subscribing, leaving a review, or sharing the episode with a friend. It genuinely helps more people find these conversations. You can find us on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Continue learning from Dr. Scot McKnight & Adrienne Gibson:

Read their book:
The Traumatized Church: What Paul’s Relationship with the Corinthian Church Can Teach Us About Healing Our Trauma and the Traumas of Those Around Us

Scot’s Substack
Scot’s Instagram
Adrienne’s Instagram

Read Scots other books:
The Blue Parakeet
Invisible Jesus: A Book About Leaving The Church and Looking For Christ
A Church Called Tov
And MANY more - Scot has written over 90 books

Leave a comment

I have.

I know for some reading this, that probably sounds… weird.

But growing up in the charismatic church, I remember people openly participating in speaking in tongues from as young as I can remember.

But as I’ve gotten older and moved away from charismatic churches that speak in tongues, I’m left with a lot of questions around the practice:

• What is happening when someone is speaking in tongues?

• Is it real? Fake? Or something more sinister?

• Is this something that can be learned?

• And why does this practice so often show up in churches shaped by fear, nationalism, and exclusion?

These are all questions we explore with Josh Brahinsky – researcher, psychological anthropologist, and author of Tongues of Fire.

WATCH THE FULL EPISODE HERE:

Within Christianity, speaking in tongues has long been debated, with some Christians claiming this practice ended with the earliest Christians at Pentecost and others believing it to be a continued sign of the Holy Spirit filling a person at salvation.

Josh Brahinsky, a Jewish researcher with no theological agenda, has spent over two decades studying this practice.

Doing everything from immersive fieldwork…
to putting people in MRIs while they pray.

Yes. MRIs.

And his findings are fascinating.

But here’s what makes it even more complicated.

The charismatic movement has its roots in radical, justice-oriented communities – anti-war, pro-women, deeply communal.

And yet today, in many Charismatic spaces, these same practices exist alongside fear-based theology, nationalism, and exclusion.

That version of charismatic Christianity is part of what pushed me away from the version of Christianity I grew up in.

And still…

Even after all of that, I haven’t been able to shake what I experienced.

Because when I spoke in tongues during one of the hardest seasons of my life, it didn’t feel fake.

It felt grounding, like something inside me had settled.

Talking with Josh helped me make sense of that.

His research suggests that when people speak in tongues, the part of the brain responsible for control and planning actually quiets down.

In other words:

People are practicing a kind of surrender.

And that surrender seems to open up new ways of thinking, new connections, new possibilities, even new paths forward - making them open to change.

But here is the part we can’t ignore:

That openness doesn’t just make us creative… it makes us more influencable.

So, if a person speaks in tongues during a church service that teaches them that they should love their neighbor – all people made in the image of God – they will walk away from church finding new paths forward to love all of their neighbors well.

BUT

If a person speaks in tongues during a church service that tells them to fear their neighbors – immigrants, women, LGBTQ people – that person will walk away from church more fearful and finding new paths forward to protect themselves against those neighbors.

Which helps explain something many of us have been trying to make sense of:

How deeply spiritual practices can coexist with deeply harmful ideologies.

I’ve walked away from this conversation no longer asking “Is this practice real?”

But rather,

“What kinds of people is this practice shaping us to be?”

Because while speaking in tongues is certainly being used in some spaces to shape fearful, reactive people…

it has also been used to shape people who are radically loving like Jesus.

If you’ve ever wondered what’s happening when someone speaks in tongues,

or why so many charismatic Christians are espousing fear-based theology…

this conversation is for you.

Listen, subscribe, like, and share it on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Continue to learn from Josh Brahinsky:

www.theprayerstudy.com

Josh’s published research can be found in academic journals.
Instagram: @theprayerstudy

Read Josh’s Book:
Tongues of Fire: How Charismatic Prayer Changes Evangelical Brains and Inspires Spirit-Filled Activism

Leave a comment

I know and love so many people whose lives have been touched by war – brave, loving, honorable people who now carry the weight of what they’ve seen and done.

So when I saw the news just a few months ago – images of an elementary school in Iran that had been bombed – those were the people I thought of first.

People like them are often the ones sent to carry out these acts. And I couldn’t stop thinking about what it means to carry those memories with you for the rest of your life.

And almost immediately, I heard political leaders framing it all as justified. Assuring us that we would win. That God was on our side.

But as I looked at those images, I couldn’t stop thinking about the children on the other side of those bombs.

Children God made.
Children God loves. Right down to knowing every hair on their head.

And in that moment, war didn’t feel like winning.

I couldn’t reconcile it with Jesus – the one who laid down his life in an act of nonviolent love for the whole world. I couldn’t imagine him endorsing this kind of violence.

So in that tension – in the heartbreak of that elementary school and the faces of the people I love – I reached out to Shane Claiborne.

Shane is an activist, author, and one of the most compelling voices on nonviolence in the Church today. He’s worked in war zones, advocated for peace on the ground, and co-founded Red Letter Christians – consistently calling people back to the way of Jesus.

And he graciously joined us for this week’s episode of Holy Uncertain.

WATCH THE FULL EPISODE HERE:

For most of my life, war has been framed as a binary choice.

Either we sit back and allow terrible things to happen to ourselves and others,
OR we fight to stop them.

But what if following Jesus offers a third way – one that is anything but passive?

That’s what we explore in this conversation.

We talk about the long history of Christianity being intertwined with violence…
The ways Scripture has been used to justify war…
And the deep tension many of us feel trying to reconcile the teachings of Jesus with the realities of the world we live in.

Because it is a tension.

On one hand, we live in a world where violence can feel inevitable – even necessary.
On the other, we see Jesus, who consistently moved toward love, embracing his enemies, and radical nonviolence – even to the point of death.

So what do we do with that?

Shane invites us to imagine a faith that refuses to baptize violence.
A God who is not aligned with empire or war.
A way of following Jesus that actually takes seriously the command to love our enemies.

This episode feels necessary.

Because what we believe about God has real-world consequences.

And maybe part of faith – real, honest faith – is being willing to ask these questions, even when they unsettle us.

Especially then.

If you’ve ever struggled with how Christianity has been used in the context of war…
If you’ve ever felt uneasy hearing God invoked to justify violence…
If you’ve ever wondered whether there’s another way to hold your faith…

This conversation is for you.

Listen and subscribe on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts.

Please listen, like, and share it.

Continue to learn from Shane Claiborne:

• www.shaneclaiborne.com

• Instagram: @shane.claiborne

• Red Letter Christians

• The Simple Way

Read Shane’s Books:

• Rethinking Life: Embracing the Sacredness of Every Person

• The Irresistible Revolution

• Jesus for President

• And more

Leave a comment

I don’t believe that anymore.

For me, doubt has been the vehicle for knowing God more deeply, and for that, I’m so grateful.

Season 2 of Holy Uncertain is here.

In our premiere episode, we sit down with Meredith Miller — pastor and author — to talk about the ways many of us were taught to understand faith and doubt… and what it might look like to hold both in a less anxious, more life-giving way.

WATCH THE FULL EPISODE HERE:

In this conversation, we explore:

• Why doubt might be a developmental stage — not a failure

• How many of us were formed in systems that prioritized certainty over curiosity

• What it looks like to make space for questions instead of rushing to answers

• And how a faith that can stretch, evolve, and even break at times… might actually be the kind of faith that lasts

If you’ve ever been afraid that your doubts meant you were losing your faith…

Or felt like you’re rebuilding something you didn’t choose to tear down…

This conversation offers a more generous way to understand what might actually be happening.

Listen and subscribe on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts.

And if it resonates, we’d love for you to share it with someone.

Continue learning from Meredith Miller:
www.meredithannemiller.com
Instagram: @meredithannemiller
Substack

Read Meredith’s Books:
Woven: Nurturing a Faith Your Kid Doesn’t Have to Heal From
Wonder: 52 Conversations to Help Kids Fall in Love with Scripture

Reweaving Devotional (for adults)
Use Code: podcast for 50% off

Have a question or topic you want us to explore?
Email us: questions@holyuncertain.com

Leave a comment

Every night before I go to sleep, I look up at the arched window above my bed and try to find just one star.

Living in dense suburbs, just a stone’s throw from New York City, some nights the light pollution is so bright I’m lucky if I can make out one or two. Other nights, the clouds are so thick that not even the moon is visible.

And still, I look.

Because, for whatever reason, stars have always been a reminder to me of the presence of God.

As a teenager on Long Island, I would lie on the beach at night, drinking in the sky as waves crashed in the darkness — resting in the awareness that, like God, the stars required nothing of me. Their beauty didn’t depend on my attention. They would be there whether I could see them or not.

On Friday, we released the final episode of season one of Holy Uncertain.

WATCH THE FULL EPISODE HERE:

If this season has taught me anything, it’s this:

I’ve learned that God is bigger, wilder, and more expansive than any tradition can fully contain.

When I can’t find God, I can trust that God is still there.

But I can also start to get curious about what is obscuring my view.

Maybe it’s distorted things I’ve been taught. Or maybe it’s the pain I carry from the brokenness of life — like a blanket of light pollution and shifting clouds, obstructing what’s actually right in front of me.

And somewhere along the way, my image of God has shifted — from a fixed set of beliefs I have to get right, to something more like lying beneath a star-filled sky.

Something I can experience.
Something that can change me.
Something I will never get to the end of.

A few years ago, I chaperoned my youngest daughter’s trip to the Liberty Science Center. At the end of the day, we piled into the planetarium to watch a presentation of NASA’s latest Hubble Images.1

As the lights dimmed, the room exploded with color — galaxies swirling, stars igniting, vastness unfolding across the curved ceiling.

I wasn’t expecting it, but tears started streaming down my face.

Because those small, faint stars I strain to see from my bedroom window?

They hold a magnitude, a brilliance, a wildness far beyond what my eyes can perceive.

So much bigger than I could ever ask, think, or imagine.

I pray that you may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.

Now to him who by the power at work within us is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

- Ephesians 3:18-21

Now, when I look up at the sky at night, I thank God for the stars when I can see them.

Seeing feels like a kind of grace.

But on the nights when the sky is blank — when the light pollution is too strong, or the clouds cover everything — I hear a quiet whisper:

They’re still there.

And something in me settles.

Reminded that what is true is not limited to what I can see.

That beauty, mystery, and presence exist beyond my perception.

That God has never been confined to my clarity.

—

This image of the night sky is what’s pressed on my heart as this season of Holy Uncertain comes to a close. Reminding me that:

Faith isn’t simple.
It doesn’t tie itself into neat, finished answers.
It’s bigger than that.

There is always more to discover.
And there will always be more we can’t fully grasp.

And somehow — that doesn’t diminish faith.

It deepens it.

Doesn’t that make your heart swell?

Mine does.

“The value of doubt is to keep you open to God’s revelations. If you don’t doubt, you don’t change. If you don’t ask questions, you stay stuck wherever you were. If you have to have finite answers to infinite questions, you’re not going to move.”

— Madeleine L’Engle, author of A Wrinkle in Time2

We’ll be back in about a month with season two of Holy Uncertain.

In this next season, we’ll be talking with theologians, authors, activists, pastors, and thinkers — continuing to ask the questions that won’t let us go. Questions that push us beyond the “light pollution” we’ve projected onto God, beyond the clouds that obscure our view… toward even a glimpse of something truer, deeper, and more expansive.

Knowing, of course, we’ll never reach the end of it.

And maybe that’s the point.

In the meantime, you can catch up on any episodes you missed. Season one is available on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts.

And if this season meant something to you, consider sharing it with someone else who might be looking for stars, too.

Do you know that there are over 2,000 verses in the Bible that call for justice for the marginalized and oppressed? 1

Jesus himself identifies directly with the marginalized in his parable in Matthew 25:

“For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.”

Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food or thirsty and gave you something to drink?”

And the king will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me.” 2

For me, caring well for the marginalized and oppressed has always felt like an unquestionable imperative of the Christian faith.

So why has “justice” become a controversial word in Christianity?

And how did the Church get to a place where caring for people needs defending?

These are the questions we explore in our newest episode of Holy Uncertain with , author of The Justice of Jesus.

WATCH THE FULL EPISODE HERE

As someone who used to run a justice nonprofit, The Love Alliance, this question has weighed on me since the summer of 2009 — when my husband David and I noticed a sharp shift in how many Christians responded to justice.

In my twenties, we spent years on the road working music festivals and building a community centered on loving people well in tangible ways — clean water, poverty, modern-day slavery. We helped people learn about justice issues and gave them practical ways to step in and make a difference.

And for a while, it was beautiful.

People showed up.
They wanted to learn.
They wanted to love people well.

Seventy action groups formed across the globe—people committed to caring for their neighbors in real, meaningful ways.

It was incredible.

But in the summer of 2009, something shifted.

Especially in Christian spaces.

As media voices began speaking out against “social justice,” calling it dangerous or even evil, we started to hear those same words echoed back to us.

And suddenly, we weren’t just talking about loving our neighbors — we were defending it.

How did we get here?

This is what we explore in our newest episode of Holy Uncertain with Joash Thomas —who offers historical context for how the gospel has been shaped, and at times distorted, over centuries.

Our conversation doesn’t tie everything up neatly.

We still live in a world that challenges the validity of loving our neighbors — all neighbors — well.
We’re still navigating a Church that can sometimes feel more influenced by news personalities than by the life and teachings of Jesus.

But this conversation gave me something I didn’t realize I needed:

A renewed confidence that to oppose injustice in all its forms is to love God.

You can listen to this episode of Holy Uncertain on YouTube, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts—and subscribe for new episodes each Friday.

And if this conversation stirred something in you — questions, frustration, hope — I’d really encourage you not to sit with it alone. Share this episode with someone you trust and talk about it together.

We’re not meant to navigate these questions in isolation.

Continue learning from Joash Thomas:
Read: The Justice of Jesus
Website
Substack:
Instagram: @joashpthomas

Leave a comment

In our latest episode of Holy Uncertain, my co-host Chris McLeod introduces me to John Bucher — a mythologist, award-winning storyteller, and Executive Director of the Joseph Campbell Foundation — and we explore what it means to search for meaning within the Bible and Christian tradition.

And I’ll be honest… before this conversation, I thought the “myth” in “mythologist” meant fake.

I was wrong.

In our conversation, I learned that myth points to the underlying meaning. And when we begin to see the Bible through that lens, something shifts.

Instead of approaching Scripture as something to defend or prove, we’re invited to enter it. To notice the patterns. To sit with the tension. To ask not just “Did this happen?” but “What is this trying to show us?”

Watch the Full Episode Here:

As modern Christians, we’ve often been taught to flatten stories into facts—to resolve mystery instead of letting it do its work. But in doing so, we may have lost something essential.

Because the Bible was never just meant to inform us.

It was meant to transform us.

And transformation doesn’t usually come through certainty. It comes through encounter. Through metaphor. Through sitting with the tension that mystery stirs in us.

This episode is an invitation to reconsider what we mean by truth, to loosen our grip on overly rigid ways of reading Scripture, and to rediscover the depth that might have been there all along.

If your faith has started to feel more like rules or going through the motions, this conversation is a search for the meaning that inspires both our belief and our practice.

And if you’ve ever felt caught between taking the Bible literally or walking away from it altogether, this conversation offers another way.

A more spacious way.
A more honest way.
Maybe even a more faithful way.

🎧 You can listen to this episode of Holy Uncertain on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts. Be sure to subscribe if you haven’t already. And if it resonates with you, send it to a friend.

Continue learning from John Bucher:

Website: www.tellingabetterstory.com
Substack:
Instagram
Joseph Campbell Foundation: https://www.jcf.org/

Leave a comment

In our latest episode of Holy Uncertain, we sit down with —pastor, songwriter, and co-author of Invisible Jesus: A Book about Leaving the Church and Looking for Christ — to wrestle with that question honestly.

Watch the full episode here:

Tommy, along with his co-author , have noticed a growing number of people who aren’t walking away from Jesus…

…but are walking away from the structures, systems, and expressions of church they were handed.

And if I’m being honest—

When I think about the early church we were taught about,
it’s hard to find much resemblance to the modern Western version of the church.

So it makes me wonder

What would it look like to actually build communities that reflect the way of Jesus?

In our conversation, Tommy points to a vision of church that feels disarmingly simple:

• shared meals

• honest dialogue

• mutual care

• leadership shaped more by humility than hierarchy

Centered on community rather than production.
Closer to a table than a stage.

If you’ve ever felt uneasy with church…
If you’ve ever wondered if there’s another way…
If you’ve ever found yourself asking questions you weren’t sure you were allowed to ask

This conversation is for you.

🎧 You can listen to this episode of Holy Uncertain on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts.

And as always, I’d love to hear from you:

What has church been for you — and what do you hope it could become?

Continue to learn from Tommy Preson Phillips:

• Read his book: Invisible Jesus: A Book about Leaving the Church and Looking for Christ

• Follow him on Instagram

• Read his Substack:
  

• Listen to his music Preson Phillips

Leave a comment

And when I realized that, unplanned, yesterday’s episode of Holy Uncertain would be coming out this week, I squealed for joy at what feels like God’s timing.

That is because this week’s episode opens with the work of Charlie French — a fine artist with Down Syndrome who graciously allowed us to share his art, and whose work has deeply shaped me.

His art is vibrant, layered, and full of life.

For me, Charlie’s work offers a glimpse of what the world might look like if the barriers placed on people with disabilities were removed.

And his art led me to a question that sits underneath this entire episode:

What if the problem was never disability… but the limits this world has placed on people who have them?

Watch the full episode here:

This is the question we explored with Dr. Amy Kenny — disabled scholar, author, advocate, and inaugural director of Georgetown University’s Disability Cultural Center. We discuss the ways our beliefs — especially within the church — have too often limited people with disabilities from living full, expansive lives.

We talk about theology, assumptions, language, healing, and the subtle (and not-so-subtle) messages many of us have absorbed about:

• whose bodies are “whole,”

• whose lives are “complete,”

• who needs to be “fixed,”

• and who is “worthy of being learned from.”

If you’ve ever wrestled with how faith intersects with disability,
or if you’re beginning to recognize assumptions you’ve inherited but never examined,

I hope this conversation invites you into something more honest, more expansive, and more human.

You can listen to the latest episode of Holy Uncertain on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts. Subscribe and share with a friend.

Learn more from Dr. Amy Kenny:

Website

Instagram: @dramykenny

Books:
My Body Is Not a Prayer Request: Disability Justice in the Church
My Disability Is Divine: A Joyful Witness That Defies Ableist Nonsense (preorder)

And if Charlie’s work moves you the way it moved me, then take some time today to honor World Down Syndrome Day by following him on Instagram, sharing his story, and seeking out and supporting artists, creators, and voices that deserve to be seen not as exceptions, but as essential.

Leave a comment

For many of us who grew up in evangelical spaces, evangelism wasn’t just encouraged — it was central.

We were told the most loving thing we could do for someone was to make sure they believed the right things.

So we learned strategies.
Memorized scripts.
Practiced conversations

As a child, I was given bracelets with colored beads meant to remind me of the talking points for “leading a person to salvation.” Before I was a teenager, I was in Evangelism Explosion Sunday school classes. Before the age of 20, I had been on at least seven mission trips.

And in all that training and outreach, the assumption was always the same:
We had something others didn’t, and it was our job as Christians to bring it to them.

To save them.

But over time, that stance started to feel incredibly condescending to me. It assumed that God wasn’t already moving everywhere, all the time, throughout the world.

Even with that growing discomfort, though, it was hard to reconcile those feelings with what many of us were taught were the last words of Jesus in the book of Matthew:

“Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.”
— Matthew 28:19

So in this episode, we look to Indigenous theologian, Cherokee descendant, and missiologist Dr. Randy Woodley to help us wrestle with this question.

His work explores Indigenous perspectives on faith, community, and the ways the Western church has often misunderstood both.

WATCH THE FULL EPISODE HERE

Together, we explore questions like:

• The difference between sharing good news and imposing belief

• How Platonic ideas shaped modern evangelism more than the teachings of Jesus Christ

• What a more humble, relational approach to faith might look like

  ---

This conversation challenged so many of the assumptions I was raised with in the evangelical church—in the best possible way.

Because if the point of Christianity is love of neighbor…

Then the way we share our faith should probably look like love, too.

You can listen to the full conversation on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get podcasts. Feel free to subscribe and share it with a friend.

And as always, I’d love to hear from you:

What was your experience with evangelism growing up?

Continue to learn from Dr. Randy Woodley:
www.randywoodley.com

Instagram:
@eloheheagleswings
@randywoodleyauthor

Substack:
Elohe Indigenous Center for Earth Justice

Leave a comment

For many of us, it didn’t just shape how we dated.

It shaped how we understood desire, relationships, and even our worth.

And for a lot of people, that influence came with real harm.

So in this week’s episode, we sit down with Joshua Harris — not just to rehash the past, but to ask a question that feels bigger than purity culture:

When someone causes harm, what does it actually look like to make things right?

Can a leader repair the damage their ideas created?
Is apology enough?
What responsibility remains once the platform is gone?

Over the past several years, Joshua Harris has publicly grappled with these questions — apologizing for the impact of his work and listening to people affected by purity culture.

But the deeper issue isn’t just about one person.

It’s about how communities deal with harm when it comes from within their own leadership.

In this conversation, we talk about:

• what accountability looks like after influence
• whether leaders can ever truly repair the harm their ideas caused
• the difference between apology and repentance
• and whether it’s worth speaking up when we’ve been harmed

Whether you grew up in the evangelical church in the 90s or 2000s or not, these questions reach far beyond purity culture. They’re about power, responsibility, and whether redemption is possible when real harm has occurred.

You can listen to the full episode on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts.

And if the conversation resonates with you, consider sharing it with a friend — these are the kinds of questions that are often easier to wrestle with together.

In the meantime, I thought I would share my path from full-time television production into making a podcast about Jesus.

Fall of 1998. I was sitting in 9th-grade Earth Science, listening to Mrs. Wattoff as she taught about how the Earth was formed. Lord knows how I connected rock formations to a personal story, but if there were a story to mine, I would find it and impulsively share it.

I started in on my story, hand still raised, when Matt from my class loudly – and mortifyingly – asked, “Do you have a story for EVERYTHING?”

I took a slow breath and put my hand down as my face turned red.

I don’t remember answering Matt’s question. So, to clear things up 27 years later—yes. Yes, I do have a story about everything, Matt.

And lucky for me, the incomparable television producer Lauren Eskelin saw my storytelling as a skill and hired me for my first job in reality television in 2007—a move that would snowball into a career spanning over a decade and a half.

For ten of those years, like the majority of the unscripted television industry, I was freelance, and I had the pleasure to work as a Story Producer.

You read that right… a story producer. A person whose whole job is to care about the story.

Does it connect?
Does it make sense?
Is it compelling?

It felt like I had been training for this job my whole life.

Being freelance meant working on a new show every five to six months. I would dive headfirst into the minute details of events, industries, and lives I knew nothing about—finding their stories and whittling them down into content that could be entertaining and understood by even a child.

Thanks to the many wonderful shows I had the pleasure to work on, I can now talk in depth about wedding dress silhouettes, hypno-birthing, Louboutin-clad housewives, a prison in Connecticut where you can do yoga, and don’t get me started on Titanic (oh, the stories).

By the fall of 2024, I had been telling stories on television for over 15 years. But it was around that time that I had an unshakable thought: we only get one life. And while I can spend an entire glorious afternoon revisiting the dramatic and hilarious moments from even one season of The Real Housewives of Atlanta, I now want to spend my life investing in stories that are more personal to me.

So I decided to step away from full-time television production to figure out what’s next.

If you’ve ever sat with me in a long edit or across a meal, we’ve probably talked about life, faith, and inevitably — God. As a lifelong Christian and theology major who cares deeply for people, these are the waters my brain swims in.

And over the years, as I’ve lived a life immersed in story, I’ve realized that many of the stories I was told about how the world works — and who God is — weren’t living up to my experience.

But unraveling stories for television was a lot less complicated than unraveling the stories I’ve built my life on, so until now, this was work I mostly did in private.

But as fall turned to winter, I became more and more convinced that exploring the questions forming in me — and in so many others — about Christian faith, practice, and story was where I felt led.

So I began developing a podcast to hold space for those questions, having conversations with some of today’s most insightful thinkers who have devoted their lives to studying them. And six weeks ago, my old friend (and now co-host) Chris McLeod and I officially launched that podcast, Holy Uncertain.

We’ve now posted 5 episodes that I’m incredibly proud of, where we ask questions like:
What Is the Gospel? with Lisa Sharon Harper

Have I Been Reading the Bible Wrong? with Zach Lambert

Do I Stay Christian? with Brian McLaren

Can We Stay Connected When We Disagree? with Sara Billups

What Is Holy Uncertain?

If you haven’t listened yet, I’d love for you to use this week to give it a try. And if you like it, please subscribe — it genuinely helps others find us.

We all have our reasons for the questions that we have. And most of them start with something very personal. So that’s where every episode begins… with a story that’s led to questions.

We built Holy Uncertain for people who are thinking deeply but don’t always feel safe saying it out loud. This is a space to wrestle with faith — honestly and without fear.

So I’ll ask you what I’ve asked many of our guests:

What’s something you’re uncertain about?

Comment below, or email us at questions@holyuncertain.com — and yes, bonus points if you include a story.

Leave a comment

I am. And I’ve been one my whole life.

Not because I’ve stopped following the way of Jesus — I haven’t — but because some of the most public displays of “Christian” feel nothing like the faith I hold dear.

In Episode 04 of Holy Uncertain, I sit down with writer and journalist to talk about what happens when our beliefs begin to diverge from the people who shaped them — and whether it’s actually possible to stay connected when they do.

Sara reflects on how fear-based theological frameworks from the 80s and 90s shaped an entire generation of Christians — from rapture narratives to the political entanglements that now feel almost inseparable from American faith. These weren’t just ideas we held; they were stories that formed our nervous systems. They taught us who was safe, who was dangerous, and what it meant to be “in” or “out.”

So what happens when those frameworks begin to crack?

If you’ve ever felt caught between what you believe and who you belong to, this conversation offers language for a way forward that doesn’t default to cutting people off — or cutting yourself off in the process.

New episodes of Holy Uncertain drop every Friday. Listen on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts. Be sure to subscribe, share, and like to help others learn about the podcast.

Learn more from Sara Billups
www.sarabillups.com
Substack: The Bitter Scroll
Instagram: @sara.billups

Read Sara’s Books:
Nervous Systems: Spiritual Practices to Calm Anxiety in Your Body, the Church, and Politics
Orphaned Believers: How a Generation of Christian Exiles Can Find the Way Home

Leave a comment

Today on Holy Uncertain, we sit down with Brian McLaren to explore what it means to stay in a faith tradition with your eyes wide open to its failures — and what it means, for some, to step away.

In this episode, my co-host and friend of more than 20 years, Chris, shares something he rarely has publicly: his journey from worship pastor to ultimately leaving the Christian faith.

Chris’ story is one that so many people raised in this faith experience quietly and alone. I’m incredibly proud of him for bringing his questions into the light — and for reengaging the faith of his youth with courage, clarity, and curiosity. My hope is that anyone grappling with their own honest questions might feel a little less isolated.

Rather than offering a formula or final answer, this conversation wrestles with the cost — and courage — of both paths.

And, whatever you decide, you will always have room at my table.

New episodes of Holy Uncertain drop every Friday. Listen on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, YouTube, or wherever you get your podcasts. If it resonates, subscribe and share with someone who might need it.

Learn More from Brian McLaren

• Website.

• Center for Action and Contemplation

• Read his books like, Do I Stay Christian?: A Guide for the Doubters, the Disappointed, and the Disillusioned

Leave a comment

The latest episode of Holy Uncertain just dropped, featuring my conversation with pastor and author of Better Ways to Read the Bible, Zach Lambert.

Together, we explore the different ways we’ve been taught to read the Bible – some that lead to real harm, and others that can lead to healing and flourishing. But before we get there, I begin the episode by sharing a story I’ve struggled to tell for a long time. Not because it isn’t important – quite the opposite – but because it involves people I love deeply, and I’ve wanted to honor them with care.

There are moments in life that divide everything into before and after. The day my friend’s children’s lives were taken was one of those moments for me. The world shook that day, and every day after, rattling anything unstable from its hinges. And it was in that moment, when I needed my faith the most, that the theological frameworks I was taught at a young age failed me.

Watch the full episode here:

This episode forced me to sit with grief I didn’t realize was still so close to the surface — grief for these children’s lives that should never have been so short, grief for my friends moving forward in a reality they never would have chosen, and grief for loving the Bible while carrying the weight of distorted readings and weaponized theology that failed to support me when I needed it most.

Talking with Zach didn’t make everything feel resolved. But it did help me name what felt so wrong about some of the ways I was taught to read the Bible – approaches that caused harm rather than healing – and it offered something that feels like a safer path forward.

If you’ve ever felt conflicted, confused, or hurt by the way the Bible has been taught to you, you’re not alone. And if you’re still trying to find a way forward that doesn’t require pretending everything is fine, I hope this conversation gives you hope.

Listen to this episode of Holy Uncertain on YouTube, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts. If it resonates, please like, subscribe, and share.

Support Vision Zero in eliminating future traffic fatalities.

Leave a comment

I was raised with an understanding of the Christian faith that prioritized our eternal soul over our lives right now – but after weeks like these, that ticket into heaven gospel feels, quite frankly – empty.

This is what we unpack with theologian, activist, and author Lisa Sharon Harper, on our newest episode of Holy Uncertain that just released today.

If you’re feeling worn down by the headlines or disillusioned by versions of Christianity that seem disconnected from the real world, I’m with you.

This episode was recorded quite a while ago, but listening back, it feels especially poignant for this moment. Lisa’s words remind me that the gospel, at its heart, is not an escape from this world – but good news for it.

Resisting spiritual shortcuts that bypass grief – Lisa invites us to a faith that, at its center, does not avert its eyes from suffering, but asks what it means to love our neighbors here and now.

You can listen to this episode of Holy Uncertain on YouTube, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts — and subscribe for new episodes each Friday.

If this conversation with Lisa speaks to you, please share it with others.

Continue to learn from Lisa Sharon Harper:
www.LisaSharonHarper.com
Instagram: @lisasharonharper
Substack

Read Lisa’s incredible books:
The Very Good Gospel
Fortune: How Race Broke My Family and the World--and How to Repair It All
And MANY MORE here.

Leave a comment

I hugged her and told her I’d be down in a minute. I lay in bed for a moment, looking up at the rainbow-shaped window above my head, and happily thought of the Bible verse, “This is the day the Lord has made; I will rejoice and be glad in it.”1

I made my way downstairs and, despite all my unnatural pride about not being on social media much, reached for my phone and opened Instagram. And that’s when – about fifteen minutes after I rolled out of bed, standing in front of my kitchen sink – I watched a man be shot to death at close range by masked ICE agents.2

I scrolled, trying to find more information as the room swayed, only to learn that two-year-old Chloe Villacis had only just been returned to her mother after being taken by ICE and transported out of state, against a judge’s order to return her. 3

My breath left my body.

Terrible things are happening outside. At any time of night and day, poor helpless people are being dragged out of their homes [...] Families are torn apart; men, women and children are separated. Children come home from school to find that their parents have disappeared.
—Anne Frank, Diary
January 13, 1943

Chloe wasn’t the first child – just one with a face we can see. Less than a week ago, another one of those faces was four-year-old Liam Ramos, forcibly taken by ICE agents in front of his Minneapolis home as his pregnant mother pleaded in fear from an open window and teachers and neighbors begged them not to take him.4

This has to stop. Please, God, let this stop.

Just over a week before Liam was taken, I was driving my daughter to school, talking with her about her biography book report. Her grade was presenting that week, dressing up as the historical figures they had read about. My daughter was presenting on Sacagawea—a member of the Shoshone tribe who was kidnapped at the age of twelve, forced into marriage as a teenager, and traveled over 4,000 miles with her baby on her back while translating for Lewis and Clark, a service she was never paid for. History and the present are heartbreaking.

As we talked about the report, she shared that one of her best friends was dressing up as Anne Frank. The wheels in her head turned, and then she asked,

“Didn’t Anne Frank get sent to the place where they made people get in showers, but they were really killed?”

What a terrible question for a nine-year-old to have to ask. And what a terrible thing that my honest answer was, “Yes.”

We talked about how awful the Holocaust was. I shared that the law in Anne’s country at that time made it illegal for people to hide Jewish families – but that law was evil. And so Anne’s father’s employees broke the law to hide them, as they should have.

Our conversation naturally shifted to Corrie ten Boom – someone my mother-in-law called “Tante,” or aunt, and someone I had idolized as a pillar of faith since childhood. Just this summer, my daughters listened to their Gigi recount visiting Corrie’s watch shop with her, shortly after my husband’s Papa, Jamie Buckingham, had co-written Corrie’s second book Tramp For The Lord.5

As a teenager, I read a leather-bound copy of Corrie ten Boom’s The Hiding Place, which detailed how she, her father Casper, and her sister Betsy risked their lives to hide Jewish neighbors in that very watch shop – decades before my children’s Gigi and Papa would visit it with Corrie herself.

Corrie and her family decided to hide their neighbors there after witnessing the treatment of Jews by the ruling Nazi government and asking:

“Was this what God wanted in times like these? How should a Christian act when evil is in power?”

The ten Boom family’s decision to break terrible laws that harmed their neighbors would eventually lead to their arrest and imprisonment at Ravensbrück concentration camp – a sentence that would claim the lives of Corrie’s father and sister.

Corrie would go on to spend the rest of her life writing and speaking about loving neighbors – and even enemies – with the unending love of God.

This is the Christian faith that I hold.

Corrie, Casper, and Betsy’s sacrificial love reminds me of the story in the Bible when a religious ruler came to Jesus and asked, “Teacher, which commandment in the law is the greatest?” Jesus replied, “‘You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the Law and the Prophets.” 6

In the book of Luke, this man immediately followed up: “And who is my neighbor?” — looking for a boundary where his compassion could end.

In response, Jesus told the story of a man beaten, robbed, and left for dead on the side of the road. Two religious leaders passed by and chose to walk on the other side of the road – loving themselves more than their wounded neighbor. Then a Samaritan came along. In that culture, Samaritans were thought to have incorrect religious beliefs and were considered religiously unclean.

This is the person Jesus used as the example of faithful obedience.

In the story, the Samaritan acted decisively. He lifted the wounded man onto his own animal, brought him to an inn, and paid out of his own pocket for his care. Jesus did not tell us the wounded man’s nationality, because it wasn’t significant. What mattered was that a vulnerable human being – made in the image of God – had his suffering made personal by a neighbor. 7

Corrie ten Boom and her family did the same. They made their neighbors’ suffering their own.

I am moved in this moment by their example.

As Christians, we hold at the core of our identity that we are not citizens of any political kingdom, but citizens of the Kingdom of God — whose King has told us, in no uncertain terms, that the greatest commandment is to love our neighbors as ourselves. 8

When I consider Liam Ramos and Chloe Villacis, and the countless other children forever marked by their removal and confinement in government facilities; when I consider the government-sanctioned brutality documented daily against people of color and protesters at the hands of ICE officials; when I consider the murders captured on camera of mother and wife Renee Good and ICU VA nurse Alex Pretti; when I consider the horrors of the Holocaust and what increasingly resembles ethnic cleansing within our own borders — this is no longer a political issue.

This moment is not one that Christians can stand apart from. If you have declared “Jesus is Lord,” then your neighbors are waiting for your faith to take action.

What that looks like will differ for each of us. For me, I did the only things I knew to do yesterday. I prayed for our country with what felt like my last shred of hope, asking God to be faithful to His promise that if His people would humble themselves and pray, seek His face, and turn from our wicked ways, that He would heal our land.9 I emailed my state senators, pleading with them not to vote for any package that would fund ICE operations — legislation that will be before them this week.10 And I messaged my governor, asking her to act decisively to restrict ICE in our state and protect our most vulnerable neighbors. 11

Brothers and sisters, join me in loving our neighbors as ourselves.

And God help us.

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

The first episode dropped today on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, and YouTube. We discuss why we started the podcast and what it’s all about. Check out the first episode below:

Raised in a church culture where doubt felt like a dirty word, Chris and I know how hard it can be to question openly. So on this podcast, we do it for you — honestly seeking clarity without pretending to have it all figured out.

We will be talking with incredible guests like Lisa Sharon Harper, Brian McLaren, Zach Lambert, Dr. Randy Woodley, Sara Billups, Joash Thomas, Flamy Grant, Joshua Harris, Derek Vreeland, Tommy Preson Phillips, Meredith Miller, and many more—asking questions like:

What is the gospel?

Who gets to belong?

Can people in power change?

Am I reading the Bible wrong?

How do I find a safe church?

New episodes drop every Friday. Subscribe now on YouTube, Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you get your podcasts — and if you like what you hear, please spread the word far and wide.

Leave a comment