“The gospel is for all creation.” It’s a theological proclamation that is sometimes offered flippantly, words to check an ideological box marked “creation care,” disappearing only moments after they pass the speaker’s lips. When Dr. Andrew Wymer says them aloud, however, he is cleareyed that this conviction demands dramatic transformation for both how preachers address ecological concerns from the pulpit and the way many congregations view the relationship between God, humanity, and the natural world. Garrett Seminary’s Associate Professor of Preaching and Worship doesn’t claim to be an expert in ecotheologies, but insights from the field and his work in local environmental justice advocacy are prompting him to ask significant questions—ones that reframe how homiletics engages nature and neighbor—and invite students to do the same.

 

In many churches, the relationship between preaching and ecology still only extends to an Earth Day sermon, or perhaps questions of land sovereignty on Indigenous People’s Day. In those moments, the climate crisis looms large; an existential threat that, in the speakers’ telling, indicts our failure to serve as good stewards of the Earth. “To limit our thinking about creation to this present duress, to confine it neatly within ‘environmentalism,’ doesn’t fully reflect the record of ancient scriptures.” Dr. Wymer notes. “It doesn’tengage what it means to consider non-human actors in the biblical narratives and Christian tradition. But the other thing that is often missing from Earth Day or the Season of Creation is a critical awareness of power, the understanding that there are broader, systemic forces at play creating environmental and climate injustice.”

 

Indeed, the past two decades have witnessed much conflict in environmental non-profits about how climate messaging has often reflected and prioritized white, privileged concerns and downplayed environmental racism and other systemic harms. A parallel reckoning in churches is long overdue. “Single-issue environmentalism can be very dangerous and harmful to systemically marginalized communities,” Dr. Wymer says. “The job of the preacher, then, is to expand awareness—find out what is happening in your area and draw the connections between environmental injustice, racial injustice, poverty. This is not something you have to make up. You have to be attentive to where creation is not being cared for appropriately and how that is differently experienced by members of the community.”

 

But connecting environmental harm to other pressing justice concerns isn’t the only challenge that faces ecological preaching. There’s also an underlying anthropocentrism that is difficult to change. “If the gospel is for all creation, we can’t only center humans. What is the good news for the animals, plants, soil, and water in your neighborhood?” Dr. Wymer asks. “What does it mean to think of all creation praising God—that we worship in a broad and interconnected ecology of praise? What would it mean to learn how to preach from the birds—what creative possibilities could that lend to us in thinking about the structure of sermons, or how we engage a liturgical moment?” These questions reflect a strong influence from indigenous theologians and other voices who have advocated non-human personhood, unsettling long-held Western assumptions about a hierarchy within creation. “The systems changes we want to see in our world,” Dr. Wymer points out, “also require a systems change in our preaching.”

 

It’s fertile terrain he plans to explore with Garrett students. “In the coming year, I’m offering a course called ‘Praying with the Earth,’ and we will spend the entire course outside,” he notes. “I want to find ways and patterns and approaches to prayer that draw us into relationship with a wide variety of ecological contexts.” It’s not clear from the outset where that journey will lead, but Dr. Wymer wants that experience of collective discovery to be part of what he and students learn together, creating space for the Spirit to move in unexpected ways.

 

This inquisitive disposition is something he suggests more preachers follow. “It’s crucial to demonstrate to your congregation that you don’t always have to be the expert. You can model learning and expanding your own awareness,” he observes. It’s an approach that will likewise serve congregations as they seek to better understand ecological justice concerns in their communities. “A colleague and I did a research project in Flint, Michigan years ago. The lesson I took away from there at the direct urging of people who experienced the Flint Water Crisis was, ‘Go back to your home, because this is happening there, too. Find out where.” Dr. Wymer reports. “The relationships we build in our community and the justice work that we do together can be more important than any sermon we’ll preach.”

 

This calling is at the heart of Garrett’s Center for Ecological Regeneration, which is currently building a Midwest Bioregional Hub to nurture relationships between churches who are asking these crucial questions, and who will offer a . These offerings and more seek to partner with ministers and congregations to discern how to transform “creation care” from a siloed concern into an integrated part of their justice work—one that demands new theological frames. “Get embedded in your place,” Dr. Wymer counsels. “We can be in deep partnership with one another, and with creation.”

 

 

Dr. Kate Ott is the Jerre and Mary Joy Stead professor of Christian social ethics at Garrett Seminary, and director of the . She is also one of the scholars building the , a research study compiling hundreds of abortion stories across multiple religious traditions, recorded through in-depth interviews. At a moment when 41 states have legislated either full or partial abortion bans, these stories offer crucial context that is typically overlooked in our national debates. I took the opportunity to interview Dr. Ott about her research—what she feels it can offer to women who are discerning reproductive healthcare choices, religious leaders, and a cultural dialogue that badly needs more complexity and nuance. A transcription of our conversation is below, edited for length and clarity.

 

Benjamin Perry (BP): Debate about abortion is often portrayed as “secular folks who want abortions” set against “religious folks who oppose abortions.” What does that cultural framing miss?

 

Dr. Kate Ott (KO): First, many, many women or pregnant people who have abortions are religious.1 They come from all major religious traditions, but overwhelmingly in the United States, they’re Christian. It’seasier to have a public debate about abortion if we create neat boxes for how people can approach the issue—labels like “pro-life” and “pro-choice.” What I have experienced overwhelmingly in these interviews is that this framing causes extreme stress for women who are deciding whether to seek an abortion. They think “If I’m Christian, I can’t do this,” or “If I’m a mother, I can’t do this,” because we also have this myth that people who have children don’t have abortions, which is absolutely not true. Many women choose to have an abortion because they’re trying to care for the children they already have. These boxes serve political agendas, and what our study is trying to demonstrate is that if we listen to real women’s lives and the complexity of their decision-making, all of these dichotomies fall apart.

 

BP: You interview Catholic women for the study. What factors do you hear in these interviews that influence their moral decision-making process?

 

KO: Most women I interview are experiencing what scholars would describes as “moral stress.” That’s partly because they’ve grown up with an absolutist narrative that says, “if you have an abortion, you’re going to hell.” So, in their moral reasoning, they do mental gymnastics. They can repeat back what they’ve heard is church teaching, but then they’ll say things like “I hope at some point God will forgive me.” In other cases, women will say things like “God is with me. I don’t know what that means as it relates to church teaching, but no one is going to tell me that God is not with me.”

 

BP: Have researchers who interview women from other religious traditions also noticed this moral stress?

 

KO: Yes, colleagues who are listening to women in Protestant traditions, in Jewish traditions and Islam, repeatedly hear that women have internalized that same teaching, regardless of whether their institution supports abortion as a moral choice. So, for example, many of the Protestant women come from traditions that have explicit doctrines that are so supportive of women’s access to reproductive healthcare, decision-making, and abortion, and yet they are still subjected to this moral imaginary that abortion is always wrong—that God and churches do not support it. Part of what we want to do is help religious traditions who do want to support women understand that—when they stay silent because they think they’ve already done enough teaching about this, or because they’re in a state that has better abortion access—women are still hearing loud, contrary voices. The whole purpose of this study is to break the silence, but that responsibility should not only fall on women who have had abortions. It must be picked up by our religious leaders, across traditions.

 

BP: Why does it seem like there are fewer institutional voices who praise reproductive decision-making as a moral good, when compared to an issue like celebrating queer people in religious spaces?

 

KO: If we look at scholarship on abortion in the theological circles that affirm women as whole humans who can make moral decisions, the library is far smaller than it should be. In the ‘80s we get Beverly Harrison’s and Dan McGuire was doing lots of writing through the 90’s, but for the most part within academic settings—because of how much religious institutions control theological education—many scholars were silenced, creating a significant scholarship gap. Recently we get Rebecca Todd Peters’ , we have Tara Carlton and Jill Snodgrass’ , and now Emily Reimer-Barry’s new book —all three are radical texts. But if we’re thinking about a tradition of theological work on a significant social issue, it probably has the least amount of attention. And I would argue that so much of that is the product of a very organized silencing—the repercussions that came for scholars if they talked about abortion.

 

BP: How do you locate yourself, as a scholar, in the movement to push back against this kind of academic censorship? How can we begin to shift those deeply-entrenched public narratives that create moral stress for women who seek an abortion?

 

KO: It’s interesting, the most feedback I’ve received for something I’ve written on abortion is from a very short piece I contributed to an edited volume of public theology, where I talked about my own experience of having an abortion. I often talk publicly about it, partly because it breaks the silence, but also because it puts everyone off their stereotypes. I was married. This was a child we wanted. We had already been given a diagnosis of fetal demise. My health was at risk. When you put all those together, people generally say, “Well, of course you should be able to get an abortion in that context.” In fact, many don’t even want to label that procedure an abortion. But then they’re forced to admit that we are still legislating against exactly this kind of healthcare choice—one where I knew nothing would happen to me, where I could be with my loved ones and we could say goodbye to this child that we very much wanted. Most women in the United States now can’t make that same choice.

 

BP: A central emphasis of this study is to record stories of women like yourself. Why is storytelling such a crucial part of changing our public imaginary?

 

KO: On many sides of the political divide around abortion, people have chosen to avoid stories because they’re complex. They also deploy certain stories: The story of someone who’s gotten an abortion and has experienced extreme mental stress over it, to suggest that everyone will experience that. Or, on the other side, a radical individualist approach that says women’s lives are not impacted at all by abortion. Neither reduction is helpful to women making these choices, but complexity is not politically expedient. Recording these stories pushes back against those simplistic narratives.

 

BP: How do you care for the women who are sharing this moral stress with you?

 

KO: The practice we’ve developed is that, when the interview is done and the recording is off, we will share other supportive theological resources within their tradition. But also, one of the questions I ask is what they would tell another woman in their tradition who is seeking an abortion. If they have given me an answer that runs counter to theology they espoused about how God will judge their own choice, I repeat their own words back to them. I’ll say something like, “You said, ‘I want them to know that God is always with them, that this is an extremely difficult decision, but they should know that their love for everyone around them will carry them through it.” So I end by saying, “I want you to know that this is not just true for someone else. It’s true for you, too.“

 

BP: As an ethicist, how has the experience of conducting these interviews changed the way that you think about abortion?

 

KO: My past advocacy experience and this research have taught me that there is no perfect abortion story. In ethics debates, like political debates, we want to create clean categories of good and bad moral reasoning and divide good and evil into neat, predetermined outcomes. Most ethical decisions are complex. Reproductive health decisions are even more difficult because of the interlocking systemic, communal, and personal factors involved. It requires we do ethics grounded in justice and care, which necessitates listening and giving voice to this moral complexity. 

 

“People persevered during their experience of dark times because faith sustained them, faith connected them, and faith gave them the courage to act according to the will of our righteous Lord.” When the Rev. Dr. Gina Robinson (G-ETS ’23) preached at Garrett Seminary in one of the Black History Month chapels organized by Garrett’s Center for the Church and the Black Experience (CBE), she wasn’t shy about naming the overwhelming violence and political injustice, but she also refused to grant these broader circumstances the final word. “The same faith that made our ancestors mighty makes us mighty,” Dr. Robinson continued. “We are blessed to carry forward this faith-filled work that was started before us. And we do not do this work alone because the great cloud of witnesses never leaves our side.”

 

It was exactly the kind of testimony that M.Div. student Medomfo Owusu hoped would flow when she and Ph.D. student Rev. Candace Simpson organized the chapel series—an interconnectedness that spans generations and lends strength in dire moments. “We will rejoice and be glad in this day not because of what is happening around us, but because of who is with us,” Owusu explains. “The fact that God took our ancestors out of colonialism and enslavement, from insidious acts of lynching, rape, and segregation—the gospel of Jesus says there will be life beyond that death. You survive your era by reflecting on the cloud of witnesses from the past and in birthing future clouds of witnesses.” Subsequent preachers carried forward the theme that Dr. Robinson began, with MAPCC student Rev. William Mack Jr. and Garrett alum Rev. Demetrius Davis likewise offering hope that faith will illuminate a future beyond our current crises.

 

That overarching message is part of what CBE director Rev. Dr. Reggie Blount believes the center offers both the Garrett community and the world beyond our doors. “Black America knows racial authoritarianism. These are not new times,” Garrett’s Murray H. Leiffer Associate Professor of Formation, Leadership and Culture says with wearied determination. “Even in oppressive moments, Black America has found ways to thrive and flourish—to see itself through challenges and keep hope alive.” Through liturgy, Owusu sought to instill chapel attendees with that embodied hope. “It’s something I wanted people to encounter,” she notes. “We speak about the body so much, but we don’t experience what it means to live out embodied liturgies on the regular—so when people feel warmth in their hearts or like they want to react to what the sermon stirs within them, they often don’t know what to do with those emotions.” Owusu observes that what outside observers often describe “spontaneity” in Black worship styles is frequently interplay between a carefully prepared order of service and the embodied reactions that hymns and proclamation elicit among those gathered.

 

For Dr. Blount, this tether between enfleshed, liturgical hope and Black communities isn’t incidental—it has always been a core feature of Black theologies. “Even when oppressive persons and groups try to make us think or feel like we are less-than, it’s an ability to return to a rootedness that reminds us that we’re made in God’s image,” he explains. “We do not allow external forces to define who we are in our essence.”

 

Part of that power for Owusu came from interacting with alums who used their experience at Garrett to launch vibrant ministries. “When you’re in seminary it can feel really overwhelming and exhausting,” she confesses. “It’s a joy to see people who have made it, who are thriving in the call that God has placed on them, especially as a Black person.” That exchange brings joy to Dr. Blount, as well. “Being able to witness how these graduates walk alongside God in the in the work that they’re doing—becomingleaders who pass on knowledge, guidance and direction—it brings gratitude to see that I have been a faithful steward of the students who’ve been entrusted to me,” he says. “I’ve reached the stage where part of my responsibility is to pass on wisdom, to remind younger generations that there’s really nothing new under the sun.”

 

For students like Owusu, it’s an invitation to step into that long tradition of Black theological excellence at Garrett—a lineage that includes intellectual giants like Dr. James H. Cone and Dr. Emilie M. Townes—and claim her place as someone who can bring healing into the world’s shattered places. “I’m asking, ‘Even in a moment where it feels like death, how is life still operating?’” she shares. “That doesn’t mean that we negate the despair that’s happening. But Black history and theologies contend that even if someone is putting a chokehold on me, I still need to breathe. This may be our reality, but I will dream of the next thing. I can use my laments to create light and birth new things in this time, because tears nourish the soil. Life will emerge from it.”

 

 

“There is a saying: When you are healthy, you belong to yourself; when you are sick, you belong to the community. So, when one person is unwell, the community is not well.” As the Reverend Dr. Kenneth Ngwa speaks about public health, he habitually blends African hermeneutics and cutting edge research—a synthesis that shapes Garrett Seminary’s Religion and Global Health Forum (RGHF), where he serves as director. Now, however, his voice also carries a palpable anger and sorrow for policy decisions that endanger and end people’s lives. “What is happening in the United States is unfortunately an encounter with most people’s experience of healthcare throughout the world,” he says gravely. “I grew up in a country where individuals are left to fend for themselves, where government does not help people but pushes them further to the margins to amass privilege for a few—which is what is currently happening in our health sector.” Amid a broken infrastructure, he believes churches and clergy can play a pivotal role helping people to access care, mending tattered relationships between vulnerable communities and medical professionals, and boldly speaking out for desperately needed change.

 

As Dr. Ngwa notes, in countries like his native Cameroon, people are often forced to make costly decisions between accessing healthcare and other basic subsistence needs—. “When people can’t afford healthcare, they don’t go in for early checkups or routine screenings, and you end up with many deaths from preventable diseases,” he says. “But there’s also an issue of trust: Social relationships must be grounded in an ethic of empathy and care—qualities that have been violated by the medical apartheid that has existed for Black people and poor people in this country and around the world.”

 

Churches and ministers are uniquely positioned to address both crises. “There’s a built-in trust that Christians have with their clergy and other parishioners,” he observes, “If you look at most pews, you will find medical professionals sitting there. Let’s use the medical expertise that God has planted in our midst! Then, it’s not someone coming from outside to talk to you, it’s the medical professionals who sing the same hymns as you, who pray and read the Bible with you.” Hosting medical Q&As can be a way to cut through swirling misinformation, but Dr. Ngwa believes that clergy also have a responsibility to help congregants receive treatment. “Churches can also work with medical facilities to create opportunities for medical professionals to come and offer primary healthcare services,” he says. That way, the church becomes something of a “health hub.” This vision is being developed by the RGHF in partnership with the Global Health Catalyst, a concept that has been .

 

“The Good Samaritan parable also includes conversation about cost and payment. The Samaritan says, ‘Whatever costs you incur, I will pay.’ So at the RGHF, we also help clergy and churches think about what it might mean to include healthcare costs in their budget.”

 

The RGHF uses the acronym C.A.R.E. to help religious professionals think through these issues: First, congregations can connect people with “Care.” Second, they can be an Advocate against the death-dealing circumstances that currently afflict far too many. There are also opportunities to participate in Research. “At the National Institute of Health, there is work being done about the importance of spirituality and whole person health,” Dr. Ngwa notes. “It would be fantastic if churches and clergy decided they wanted to be at the forefront of this work.” Lastly, they can Educate through health campaigns, increasing awareness about prevalent diseases and developing communal responses. On February 24, Garrett’s monthly Let’s Talk Globally conversation will feature Dr. Ngwa speaking with Kudzanai Muzarari (an MDiv student with a passion for health advocacy) and Makengo Olivier Sundika (an MAPCC student and former medical professional in Zimbabwe). Together, they will help students discern how congregations can weave these four responses to expand sustainable healing.

 

In this season, however, Dr. Ngwa believes that clergy and churches also have a moral responsibility to confront those in power who perpetuate harm. “The administrative approach has been ruthless and cruel,” he observes bluntly. “It has taken a razor to one of the basic fabrics of human existence.” This is certainly true within the United States as , but it is even starker abroad where . “U.S. bureaucracy is massive, and when you bring its power down heavy on the world, the consequences are brutal,” Dr. Ngwa explains. “In Sub-Saharan Africa, for example, what this means is people no longer had access to medication that kept them alive. Thousands and thousands of people have died in the Congo, in Cameroon, in Zimbabwe. Millions of more people will, if nothing is done.”

 

Continuing to reflect on the Good Samaritan, Dr. Ngwa observes that one group is conspicuously absent from the parable: The people who attacked the traveler in the first place. “Clergy have a responsibility to name and force people to see who or what has committed this crime,” he contends. “Part of the prophetic work must be to consistently raise our voices about the policies that are causing this devastation, to talk about the implications of what it means to cut off humanitarian funding or to hollow out medical expertise at the CDC.” Clearly identifying the harm is also essential for determining how we can mend it. Dr. Ngwa and the RGHF are currently exploring ways that the center can work to connect philanthropic organizations with international communities, to ensure that medical aid goes where it’s needed most. “We have to imagine what comes after this,” he determinedly concludes. “Clergy must lean into this space and lead.”

 

“Stories keep us human, connected to the core of who we are and what we want to pass on to future generations.” Passion kindles behind Kaitlin Curtice’s eyes as she discusses her most recent book, Everything Is A Story: Reclaiming the Power of Stories to Heal and Shape Our Lives. On March 11, Curtice will lead , the capstone event in a visit to Garrett Seminary where she will also guide students about how they can employ storytelling in their ministries. The library event, however, is free and open to the public—inviting everyone and anyone to consider how our lives are shaped by stories, and the ways we can harness narrative to better root ourselves for growth and healing. Organized and sponsored by Garrett’s Center for Ecological Regeneration, this expansive invitation bears the characteristic generosity of Curtice’s prose, beckoning the world toward transformation. “Stories are the music we set to our own survival as humans,” she observes. “Communities, peoples, and cultures have survived, thrived, and endured really difficult times through storytelling.”

 

Throughout Everything Is A Story, Curtice uses an oak tree to describe a story’s life cycle. Sprouted from the acorns we gather as children, narratives provide the tender shoots that nurture our dreams and longing. As in any garden, some of those nascent stories don’t survive, clearing space for others to flourish. Others continue to grow, yielding sturdy branches that support our weight and offer shelter from life’s passing storms. Some may even become towering trees that linger long past our own finite lives, offering acorns to the people who follow. “We don’t know which stories will become the past for future generations,” Curtice notes. “But we can hope that the ones we focus on today will help prepare them for the journey.”

 

An enrolled citizen of the Citizen Potawatomi nation, reflection on indigeneity has been a fixture of Curtice’s work since her widely-acclaimed debut . Here, this focus manifests as both praise for the role elders play as oral storytellers and a corrective against ever-shorter, market-driven attention spans. “The colonized mindset doesn’t honor our relationship to seasons or the earth, and its linear focus also doesn’t have space for thinking and living cyclically,” she explains. “I was with an elder recently where the whole point of us being together was just so I can listen to him, to be a sponge for a while. The Western mindset doesn’t value the patience and humility it takes to really sit with someone and listen to their story.” This Evanston Library gathering will create space for a deliberate slowness, to open participants to the rewards it offers. “We don’t sit well. We don’t listen well,” Curtice laughs. “Stories call us back: When they’re spoken into the air, they’re a gift from the person offering them to the people receiving them. That reciprocity is a sacred act.”

 

We will gather, however, while living through myriad stories’ disastrous effects. Curtice is not shy in naming that—while stories are uniquely powerful—power can cause harm as well as healing. “I categorize stories as loving, lethal, or liminal,” she explains. “Some stories are about kinship, care, and how we connect with each other. Some foster war, oppression, hatred, colonialism, and greed. Other stories are liminal—we’re not quite sure what to do with them, and it’s okay not to know where a story fits.” But understanding how widespread calamities are grounded in lethal stories provides a lens for how we can mindfully engage. “We have to decide how we want to be a part of those cycles,” Curtice says. “We’re not made for the bombardment of stories that we are experiencing right now, our nervous systems’ literally are not designed to hold all of this. Solidarity, kinship and care matter on every level, but we also must focus that energy.” Sometimes, a liberative ethic means confronting lethal stories. Other times, it means disentangling from narratives that confine our moral imagination so we can invest in a love that might supplant them. “We have to choose where and how we align our work,” she concludes.

 

Ultimately, Curtice hopes this collective gathering can offer participants tools for that discernment. “From the micro stories we tell ourselves or our families to the macro stories that structure our world, I want us to consider and understand them as living beings,” she says. “Whenever I spend time with people, I want them to leave feeling empowered—to know that they have agency in the stories they’re part of, and to know that engaging them will look different for each of us. But life can be overwhelming and difficult, and I want us to remember we’re never alone.”

 

“James Cone and Emilie Townes’ gift is the invitation to participate in a broader struggle.” Dr. Anthony Reddie offers a broad smile as he shares how their trailblazing legacy ignited his own passion for theological inquiry. On March 19, Oxford University’s Professor of Black Theology and director of the Centre for Black Theology will deliver Garrett Seminary’s third annual James H. Cone & Emilie M. Townes lecture. Looking forward to his address, Dr. Reddie is quick to name how both thinkers fundamentally shaped how he understands colonialism and white supremacy. “They’re heroes of mine, whose work profoundly informed and influenced me,” he says. “So, I’ll partly be sharing personal reflections on the significance of their scholarship to my life as a Brit. But I’ll also describe why their work will continue to be crucial, particularly given the rise of nationalism and the ways that a certain type of Christianity have been weaponized.”

 

If it wasn’t for Dr. Cone, Dr. Reddie might never have become a theologian in the first place. He originally intended to be a dramatist until a chance encounter changed his life forever. “I ducked into an Afrocentric bookshop just to get out of the rain, looking for a place to stay dry,” he laughs. “The book I picked up to kill time was Cone’s co-edited Black Theology anthology vo.1. I read it until the owner of the shop took the book out of my hands with the classic interjection, ‘Sir this is not a library, it’s a bookshop. Either buy the book or put it down.’” Dr. Reddie bought the book, then swiftly purchased A Black Theology of Liberation and Black Theology and Black Power. “Within a few months, that was it,” he reflects. “I didn’t want to be a playwright anymore; I wanted to be a theologian.”

 

Dr. Cone provided the initial spark, but it was Dr. Townes who nurtured that flame and expanded his sense of what was possible. “Cone may have given me content for Black theology but, right from the outset—because I am much more of a practical theologian and creative writing is part of my background—Townes was more influential for the form of my work,” Dr. Reddie reflects. “I’m very moved by the way she and other womanists use poetry and creative writing more generally, as ways of undertaking Black theological discourse. I even published a book called ‘Dramatising Theology’, in which I used drama as a means of doing Black Theology in Britain. While both scholars primarily address a U.S. context, Dr. Reddie quickly observed how their work also spoke to his experiences as the child of Jamaican immigrants in the United Kingdom. “Black theology has always been clear about what it feels like to be in a body that is seen as problematic,” he notes. “What does it mean to be treated as someone who does not belong, someone whose presence makes other people feel uncomfortable, angry, or disturbed?”

 

That perspective couldn’t be more timely, as influential politicians across the U.S. and the U.K. vilify migrants for myriad social ills, often dressing that nativism in Christianity’s clothes. “Christianity has a very ambivalent relationship to empire and migration,” Dr. Reddie explains. “At best it has been the means of resistance of those who are on the margines, those who are colonized. At worst, it has been how the empire colonized people.” Black theology, he contends, helps reclaim Jesus from leaders who would wield him for violence. “It locates Jesus not as Christus Victor, the all-powerful Christ who exerts the force of God,” he reflects. “Instead, it’s the Jesus of history—a Jew in the midst of the Roman Empire who’s perceived as a problem within the body politic, which is precisely why he gets crucified.”

 

In this age of ascendant nationalism, Dr. Reddie expresses appreciation for the way Drs. Cone and Townes resisted the lure to replace one form of hegemony with another. “It’s interesting that neither Cone nor Townes are Black nationalists,” he reflects. “Speaking truth to power means they insist on that work in all occasions, even when it applies to the Black church itself. Particularly for Townes, she’s sharply critical when that institution becomes patriarchal, when it becomes homophobic. Black folks don’t get a pass simply because they’re Black.” He’s also grateful for the way their scholarship encourages all people to participate in God’s work for liberation. “It’s why I will use my experience to help the audience think, ‘How does this map onto your particularities? What similarities do you see?’” he says. “I want them to reflect on how this enables them to participate in the broader project all of us are in.”

 

As much as he appreciates how Black theology speaks to wider liberation, Dr. Reddie will root his address in how the discipline specifically nurtures and celebrates Black culture. “In the Jamaican context, for example, it helps me see how patois—now officially called the Jamaican language—has always been a form of resistance,” he notes. “For a long time, it was condemned as bad and broken English spoken by poor, working class people. But there’s been a reclamation of that in my context to describe how this comes out of slavery, of people creating their own codes. Put simply, if someone can’t understand what you’re saying, that gives you a degree of agency to plot subversion while still within the white gaze.”

 

In a moment when Garrett has more international students than ever before, many of whom are navigating their own countries’ legacies of colonialism, Dr. Reddie hopes his story will offer an entry point for how Drs. Cone and Townes can empower that project. “While our stories are not the same, they are more alike than unalike because the issue is power, how what it normative is made central and what gets pushed to the margins is attacked,” he concludes. “It’s an invitation for all of us to collectively put our shoulder to the wheel and be involved in this anti-hegemonic struggle.”

 

We invite you to join us on March 19 at 4:00 p.m. CST in-person at the Chapel of the Unnamed Faithful or streamed online. Click here to RSVP and receive more information about the lecture.

“You’re my yesterday and I’m your tomorrow.” In just seven words, Korean MAPM student Hayoung Esther Suh captures the glorious interconnection that sits at the heart of Garrett Seminary’s radical expansion in hybrid learning. Garrett now offers students the opportunity to complete several degree programs fully-online, including the MDiv, and the result has been a dramatic rise in the number of international students who enter the campus’ virtual doors. What has surpassed even remote education advocates’ wildest dreams, however, is how this shift increases access and broadens moral imagination. “Sometimes we get stuck where we are, and this offers flexibility and gives us a space of letting go,” Suh says. “God takes us beyond time and place, reminding us that we are not the center of the world. The classroom gives us a chance to move toward a truly communal center.”

 

There are many reasons that students choose to study online. For some, like second-year Myanmar MDiv student Mai Lin Lin Khaing, the visa process can present an obstacle to study in Evanston. “I thank God for the Garrett community. I’m so grateful to President Javier and the Garrett team for making such a strong visa recommendation and also for offering me a full tuition scholarship—without that, I would not have been able to enroll. Unfortunately my visa was still rejected,” Khaing shares. “But, now I’m grateful to have joined Garrett online because it has taught me to manage my time and energy effectively and has also greatly reduced my expenses, since I don’t have to worry about housing and other costs. Additionally, I’ve been able to apply what I learned in class to my ministry, like the way Dr. Teasdale’s evangelism class has enriched, inspired, revived, and equipped me to share the gospel of Jesus Christ boldly and authentically.”

 

Other students prefer to study online so their communities of accountability can shape their education. Chilean MDiv student Daniel Contreras, for example, serves as a missionary in Honduras, where he supervises more than 20 local pastors and offers training to ministers and laity. He’s seeking this degree so he can become an ordained UMC elder but did not want to uproot his life and ministry to pursue that dream. “This program is awesome because it allows me to serve full-time as a missionary but also devote time to studying,” he says. “I also needed to balance career and family—I’m a parent to 11- and 14-year-old kids. Now I can follow my call but also be there for my children.”

 

Similarly, MDiv student Makonga Mutombo reflects that the church he serves would face great difficulties if he were to leave and study in the United States, but he is working on training young adults to take over whenever he is not around. Mutombo fled the Democratic Republic of the Congo as a refugee but found purpose serving a church in South Africa, even preaching for a year when the pastor was on compassionate leave. “I’m directing the choir, teaching a confirmation class, and am ready every week to step into the pulpit in case we don’t have a preacher that Sunday,” he says. “My presence here, it helps a lot. If I’m not there, the church would struggle.” The reduced cost for an online degree also enables students to pursue graduate education who would otherwise be shut out. “I’m so grateful for this program and for my scholarship,” Contreras says with a wide smile. “It’s the only way I could afford this education.”

 

Regardless of the road that leads students to study online, what they find when they open their laptops is a global community full of passionate learners from five continents eager to share contextual knowledge that deepens any syllabus. “Sometimes it can be challenging to understand things from another point of view, but I’ve found that those different perspectives actually give us deeper insights,” Khaing notes. “The teaching style at Garrett welcomes everyone and respects their opinions, so we truly see and taste the beauty of that diversity.” As Mutombu remarks, it offers professors a wealth of experiences that transcend their own. “When they talk about Africa, they want to hear from us: What are we experiencing in our churches? We do research here and then share with others,” he says. “The same thing happens with students Korea, India, or Latin America. We all study together, and talk on an international WhatsApp group, mixing our perspectives. Now I have friends from all corners of the world!”

 

Suh brings a unique perspective to the online classroom because she studied in-person at Garrett during her MDiv program. Her program was interrupted by the 2020 COVID outbreak, so she has experienced both residential education and early forays into online instruction before starting this degree. “Online students who come to Garrett are so focused and passionate about their learning, it enriches all our classroom conversations,” she says. Just a couple weeks ago, she completed a group presentation with students from Indonesia, Minnesota, and Evanston. “We used Teams and shared Google documents, but the discussion about our presentation topic was so rich that I didn’t feel at all like I was missing out on the Garrett experience,” she reports. “I felt just as connected and lively in that moment as I did in conversations in the dorms.”

 

It’s also been a joyful surprise to witness the technological and pedagogical advancements Garrett has made over just a few years. “Those early online classes were held on Zoom, which is a very temporary space. Links disappear, it’s hard to keep notes,” Suh says. “Now the professors are so tech-wise: They upload to Moodle or Canva, they’re very active in reading the chat where online students are offering comments, they employ Padlet, Mentimeter, and other interactive tools. But their mindset has really changed as well—I don’t have to remind them about time zones, and they’re flexible with deadlines so mine isn’t at 2:00 a.m.” Online students also receive broad access to the Styberg Library, thousands of theological resources just a click away. “The library is huge,” Mutombo laughs. “It really stretches our knowledge.” The nature of online education also means that students build their own database of digital files and resources, collected along their journey. “Microsoft OneDrive has all the folders, all the files that we can access anytime,” says Contreras. “It makes it very easy, but it also keeps you accountable.”

 

Each student carries their own intentions for the ministries they will pursue upon graduation, leadership and knowledge rippling from Evanston to communities thousands of miles away. Khaing wants to enter children’s ministry, creating safe spaces where students are encouraged to think critically and freely about their faith. Mutombo wants to return to the D.R.C., helping to nurture congregations in the Eastern part of the country that has been ravaged in the civil war. “They will need more pastors to go and start from the roots, rebuilding churches,” he says. “I want to work in those fields. I like the bush, the rural areas—I’m a farmer by profession and studied agronomy at the university. I want to go home and serve the church.”

 

While those dreams are still on the horizon, what’s immediately visible is the love and beauty that grows in their midst. “I’m mesmerized, speechless by how the Holy Spirit moves across so many places, through so many people,” Contreras offers with reverence. “My class is wondrously diverse—it’s beautiful. Different nationalities, all colors; this is God’s work. It’s a garden, blessed with the fruit of love, and I am grateful to be there.”

Since its beginning, the Styberg Preaching Institute has sought to support preachers amidst the frustrations and challenges of both church life and contemporary culture. The 20th Anniversary event on October 7-9 was no different.

 

The workshop gathered nine preachers and presenters for a three-day conversation with Dr. Gennifer Brooks and Dr. Andrew Wymer on the topic of “Faithful Preaching for our Times.” Rev. Dr. Marvin McMickle, Rev. Dr. Luke Powery, Rev. Dr. Gerald Liu and Rev. Dr. Otis Moss III offered plenary addresses that explored the meaning and challenge of faithful preaching. Rev. Dr. Valerie Bridgeman, Rev. Dr. Sarah Travis, and Rev. Dr. Michael Woolf expanded on the theme with explorations of disinformation, authoritarianism, and Christian nationalism, respectively. A “Pastor’s Panel,” which included Dr. Woolf along with Rev. Grace Imathiu and Bishop Dwight Riddick, Sr., delved into the implications of these crises for the church.

Throughout the event, speakers emphasized the importance of naming these challenges. During a panel discussion of his plenary address, Dr. Liu did so by reflecting on something he’d heard Jim Wallis, author of God’s Politics, say once: that cynicism is the opposite of hope. “I personally would counter that by saying it’s impossible to hope right now unless we’re cynical,” he said, “because without cynicism, I don’t think we can name what is actually evil about what’s happening. The reality is, we need to be cynical about what’s happening. We can’t stop there, and we also can’t become frustrated if we don’t see society or the kindom of God advancing the way we want it too.”

 

Over the last 20 years, the Styberg Institute has helped countless preachers to speak truth and inspire hope. Endowed by lifelong United Methodists Ernest and Bernice Styberg, the institute has carried out its mission under the leadership of Dr. Brooks. Garrett students as well as preachers within and beyond the United Methodist Church have benefitted from the creation of the Styberg Teaching Fellows position, facilitation of peer preaching groups, support for organizations like the Academy of Homiletics and Black Clergy Women of the United Methodist Church. The Institute has also hosted numerous workshops, in person and online, both domestically and overseas.

 

The Garrett community was invited to celebrate this history with a special chapel service and dinner, which included the launch of the second edition of Dr. Brooks’s book and the Good News Preaching video course, now available on the 91PORN. During the chapel service, Dr. Brooks presented special awards to two people who had been of particular service to the work of the institute. She told stories of Rev. Jacqueline Ford’s readiness and willingness to help in the early days of the institute and today and of Dr. Wymer’s good work as a student and then as a colleague.

 

“God sends people into your life at a time of need,” Dr. Brooks said as she presented the awards.

The preacher for the evening was Bishop Riddick, who named the stormy situation of the present day even has he found an anchor in Jesus: “To be sure we’re living in a season where the confidence of so many people has been shattered,” he said. “We look around and we see cultural chaos, mass shootings, political division, moral confusion, racial tension and economic uncertainty, our young dying in the streets. Like the disciples, it feels like the wind and the waves are beating against the boat and we ask, ‘Lord, where are you in all of this?’ We are witnessing the unchecked decisions that are flowing from our nation’s capital like a mighty rushing flood and no one in authority seems to be saying a word.”

Wind and waves were only some of the powerful images offered to describe both the present moment — with its authoritarianism, nationalism, and historical revisionism — and the call to preach faithfully. Rev. Dr. Marvin McMickle advised attendees not to “preach us into content with the status quo” or to “imagine a time when it is ever acceptable for a Blackhawk helicopter to hover over an apartment building…in Chicago,” in reference to the recent immigration raid. Rev. Dr. Valerie Bridgeman drew on the maxim that “falsehood flies around the world” to invite listeners to slow down enough to find truth in the midst of so much disinformation. Rev. Dr. Sarah Travis referenced the popular children’s book to say that “the emperor may be naked, but the emperor still has the nuclear codes” as she named both the risks and the resources for speaking the truth when the empire “wants us to believe that our subversive speech is like spitting into the wind.” Rev. Dr. Otis Moss III envisioned the preacher as a DJ and asked listeners to consider whether there is enough musical variety in their crate, and a variety of perspectives in their preaching.

 

Rev. Dr. Luke A. Powery also evoked the musical tradition in his plenary address as he shared a story about teaching a divinity school course on the spirituals in a federal prison. After a class discussion on lament and hope in the spirituals, specifically “There is a Balm in Gilead,” one of his incarcerated students showed him a drawing of the word “lament.” He had drawn a box around the middle four letters, demonstrating to Dr. Lowery that there is an “amen” in every lament.

 

“I’d been researching lament in preaching and theology for like 20 years, and I had never seen that. A so-called threat, a prisoner, became my homiletics professor on that day,” Dr. Lowery said. “Faithful Christian preaching voices the ‘amens’ amid our laments. It allows us to hear the bombs exploding in life yet also helps us hear the balm in life. One might even say that faithful Christian preaching is a balm amidst the bombs, an articulation of an incarnate hope.”

“Garrett has taken all the excuses away,” reflects Kent Lundy.

 

Kent and his wife Marti are Garrett Seminary “admissionaries,” people committed to representing Garrett to those who may be sensing a call to ministry, to theological education, or to a time of broader exploration and discernment. Admissionaries stay up to date on seminary news, meet with prospective students one on one or at educational events, and help connect prospective students with Garrett’s admissions team for further conversation.

 

Kent, a military chaplain himself, is excited to speak with those interested in military chaplaincy about the many resources available to them — including financial assistance through the United States Air Force chaplain candidate program — and, of course Garrett Seminary. Garrett, he says, has found the “sweet spot” balance between residential and online opportunities, one of the many reasons “there shouldn’t be any excuses for not seeking a seminary education anymore.”

 

Logistics of life at Garrett, particularly financial aid, are often a top concern of the prospective students. Fabiola Grandon-Mayer, Director of Connectional Ministries for the Northern Illinois Conference and a Garrett Trustee, encourages prospective students to “think big” about what might be possible in theological education whether they are interested in pastoral ministry or in something else altogether. To support those big ideas and aspirations, she also walks with them as they navigate logistics and financial barriers. For her, it’s an important way of giving back.

 

“I’m from Chile,” Grandon-Mayer said, “and I only had the opportunity to go to seminary because I was given a 100% scholarship from the institution where I did my MDiv. There are other people out there who have the passion, have the call, but don’t have the opportunities or don’t know the route. I feel called — first as a Hispanic woman then as Hispanic clergy — to help others the same way I was helped, the same way that I was shown the path to go.”

 

Admissionary Justin DaMetz, who regularly lunches with students at his alma mater, Oklahoma City University, also encounters considerable questions about the practical details of life at Garrett and in Chicago. As he describes the city, classes, professors, and the strong sense of community, he emphasizes that Garrett is a place for exploration, where questions are welcome. He also finds that many students are glad to hear that Garrett is open and affirming, and DaMetz is grateful to be able to offer this example of progressive Christianity.

 

“There is a fracturing culturally around who our image of a Christian is at a national level,” he said. “Cultivating the next generation, giving a different vision of what Christianity means, that’s really important work. If we don’t do that, if we aren’t cultivating people who want to go to seminary and kids who want to think about religion more seriously whether they go to seminary or not, then we’re ceding this religious ground to folks who are clearly bad actors and who want to use it in a way that harms people.”

 

The fractured culture DaMetz describes is also reflected in a fracturing church, making the prospect of theological education that much more challenging and that much more important. Admissionary Marti Lundy has served as the district superintendent of the Northern Lakes region for about five years, a period that has included both the pandemic and disaffiliation, when so many Methodist congregations left the denomination over issues of sexuality. During that time, she was encouraged by those who felt called to serve as United Methodist pastors and who were looking for “that grounded Wesleyan United Methodist theology” that Garrett offers.

 

“There were many times during that process when someone would come to me saying, ‘You know, I feel like God is calling me into ministry,’ and I would respond, ‘Really? Look at the mess that we’re in right now.’ And they would say, ‘Yes, God is still calling me and I want to be a United Methodist pastor. I want to move us forward as a denomination,’” she recalls. “That filled me with a lot of hope in some really dark days.”

 

For these admissionaries, prospective students are a source of reassurance even as they face very real challenges. It’s a good thing, then, that Garrett has not only removed so many barriers to theological education but is already living into what the church might become. As Grandon-Mayer describes it, Garrett works to “give access to everyone, regardless of race, gender, or ordination status. There are people who might never think to enter a seminary building, but now the seminary is going to them.”

 

For those interested in becoming admissionaries themselves, there is something they should know, Grandon Mayer says: “They can be certain that Garrett is a trustworthy institution with the legacy, the commitment, and the passion to change people’s lives. And they will be blessed in this work by more than what they expect to receive.”

 

If you’re interested in serving as a Garrett admissionary, please email Grant Showalter-Swanson.