f2PointEight

I’ve long felt uneasy with the way Christianity talks about itself. Not so much in what it says about God, but in how it decides who belongs, where truth is allowed to live, and how tightly it must be held to remain safe. Faith often begins with relief. A sense of having found something that makes life feel steadier, that draws love and hope into focus, and offers a way forward. Over time, that relief can solidify into allegiance. Belief becomes something to defend, and belonging something to guard. Right belief, right worship, right community. Wrong belief, wrong posture, wrong people.

Even when belief still felt possible to me, that marker of identity never made much sense. The idea that the infinite mystery Christians call God would tether salvation to a recently developed theological configuration which emerged from a particular corner of the Western world, always felt implausible to me. Not offensive, just illogical. It required too much coincidence, too much historical luck, too much confidence in our own arrival at the centre of things.

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