The First Three Chapters

By Tom Vandergriff

In this book, the author explores the negative consequences of the predominant Christian interpretation of the first three chapters of the Book of Genesis and offers an alternative idea for how the relationship between God and humanity got started. Rejecting the notions of "The Fall" and "Original Sin," the author suggests such concepts, which dominate the Christian psyche, should be discarded and replaced with ideas more in line with the current context of Christian life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: tlv publishing
• Release date: Mar 22, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393073253

Tom Vandergriff

Tom Vandergriff is a husband, a father of two and has been a Presbyterian minister for over 25 years. He loves the life he has built with his wife and best friend, Kelly. Together they enjoy spending time with their two fantastic children, Landon and Lainey, and with friends and relatives. Rev. Vandergriff is a graduate of Wabash College and Louisville Presbyterian Theological Seminary and has served as pastor of Fourth Presbyterian Church in Louisville, Kentucky for over 18 years. He loves sports, music, reading and theological discussions.

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Prologue

Vandergriff is hung up on religion.

That was a direct quote, apparently. One friend of mine said another friend of mine thought I was hung up on religion. I suppose he might have been right, but probably not in the way he thought.

I suspect he thought my hang up with religion was that I thought my beliefs were right and what others believed was wrong. I suspect, too, he thought I was hung up on religion because he considered me a goodie two shoes. He thought I was hung up on trying to be good, obedient and holy and he considered that pitiful.

I’ve hung onto those words a long time not because they hurt me, but because they intrigued me. He was probably right. I was perhaps a little hung up on religion. Perhaps I still am. However, my hang up was not born of a desire to be a good little boy, as I suspect my accuser believed. The truth of the matter is, I was hung up on religion because so much of it did not make sense to me. So much of what I learned regarding religion seemed contradictory. So much of it seemed contrary to the experience of life I was living. My hang up was not that I thought my religion was always right. My hang up was that I could see it was frequently wrong.

When you believe your whole life that your religion is right, it is not the easiest thing in the world to admit there may be flaws in it. It is not easy to feel like you may be betraying your faith when you question what you’ve been taught. It can be scary to entertain ideas about God and faith that are contrary to your religious tradition. On the other hand, I have always wanted a faith strong enough to wonder. I want a faith strong enough to question and entertain ideas about my relationship with God that may be contrary to traditionally held beliefs. Being held in tension between tradition and new truth is what authentic faith is to me. 

Furthermore, authentic faith is authentic precisely because it wrestles with ideas and beliefs. To blindly accept ideas about God and our relationship with God without asking questions or wondering how it all makes sense is simply being told what to believe. That isn’t faith, that is indoctrination. Authentic faith engages physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually the values and practices it espouses. Authentic engagement leads to a deeper relationship with God which is precisely what I want. There is no fear of betraying God when the engagement is with God.

As a result, I now have faith strong enough to wonder. I have faith strong enough to question. I have faith strong enough to make my own claims about who God is and how God relates to humanity. I have faith strong enough to examine traditional Christian claims about God, religion, and the Bible and to draw conclusions of my own without fear of betraying God. In fact, such authentic examination brings me closer to God because my trust is not in the traditions of the church, but in God, who I seek to understand.

This has been incredibly liberating and empowering for me. No longer do I feel like I’m wearing hand-me-down clothes of faith that don’t fit. I’m wearing my own clothes of faith. Ideas about God that don’t make sense to me have been replaced by ideas that do make sense to me. How my faith relates to life, meaning and purpose is more genuine now.

In the end, my hang up with religion all those years ago was that I wanted answers. I wanted things to make more sense. How could it be, for example, that God creates us to be who we are (I knew you before you were in your mother’s womb), but then blames us for being it. If God is the potter and we are the clay, as the scriptures contend, why would God condemn us for being what the potter made the clay to be? Why are we taught God judges us, but that same God urges us to not judge others? Why would an omniscient God need to test us when that same God is said to know us better than we know ourselves? How can the Bible always be right when we know it has obvious errors? And perhaps my biggest question (and frustration) is how we are to blame for our brokenness? We don’t choose to be born. We don’t choose who we are. We receive who we are by getting thrown into this world and then must make the best of it by utilizing the abilities and resources we’ve been given – or not given, as the case may be. I hate the doctrines of original sin and the fall. That we would be estranged from God by no fault of our own then held accountable if we don’t accept the salvation offered in Jesus is patently unjust. We don’t need saving from God’s wrath or judgment. We need saving from our condition – our condition of existence.

These and many more questions have always bothered me, and yet even as I was wrestling with the inconsistencies I found in the Christian faith, I still felt (and still feel) it has value. The process of developing a life of integrity, character and principles is a good thing. Aspiring to live a productive, constructive and giving life is a worthy target at which to aim. Religion, I believe, can be practiced in such a way that it helps the world more than it hurts the world.

Don’t get me wrong, I know plenty of damage has been done in the name of religion, but plenty of good has been done as well. Religion has value, even as I must admit that I have struggled to make sense of it all. When I express this struggle to other people of the Christian faith, they often say, it’s a matter of faith, as if ignoring facts and obvious inconsistencies is what faith is about. That’s not faith. That’s willful ignorance. Faith should make sense in some way or why continue to practice it?

This is precisely why I have worked out my own understanding of the Christian faith in fear and trembling. I’ve never really wanted to walk away from the Christian faith, but neither have I enjoyed trying to defend ideas I didn’t truly believe. As I noted, it is a scary thing to reject what you have been taught is the correct Christian belief and replace it with something else. Afterall, who am I to do such a thing? But that is faith – journeying in uncertainty toward your truth armed only with a supreme trust in God.

Genuine faith is faith that is growing, becoming, and sometimes changing. This is where it becomes scary because it is easier to hold onto the familiar beliefs of the past than to boldly embrace a future with unknown outcomes. Too often we would rather control the outcomes than rest secure in the belief that God is really in charge and is moving us toward a promised land even as we cannot see or be in charge of where we are going. We would rather codify our faith so that we can have control over it, master it and sit safely in its security than march into an unknown future armed only with faith in God. And yet, isn’t that precisely what we lift up as true faith in the biblical characters we admire?

The goal of this book is to share the ways I have worked out the inconsistencies in my understanding of Christianity and how that has helped me develop a Christian faith that makes more sense to me and empowers me for life. I wrote the book because I have gotten into conversations with people about what I believe and cannot finish my thoughts before either a) they lose interest, b) they get angry and walk away, or c) the conversation gets derailed and never gets back on track. There’s just too much to cover in one conversation, which, I suspect, is one reason we have written biblical material today. It’s just too much to try to express an understanding or experience of God in one conversation. I gave up trying and instead have written this book.  

In the end, I want to practice a faith that helps me live the life I want to live and enjoy the life God has given me. I want a faith that helps me navigate the struggles of life. I want to worship a God who loves everyone and not just people who think, believe and look like me. I want to worship a God who is on our side, not a god who sits in judgment of us. My understanding of the faith allows for this – all of this.

It feels risky to share my views in this way because I know some will reject it outright as heretical, but I thought perhaps sharing it might help others in their journey of faith. To that end, I went ahead and wrote it.

Blessings,

Tom

I Did It

Tom: I did it.

Doug: You did what?

Tom: I have been working on this for a long time and I have finally come up with something that truly works for me. I cannot begin to tell you how good it feels.

Doug: How good what feels? What are you talking about?

Tom: It all makes sense - well, not all of it, but more of it. So much more, that it changes everything.

Doug: What makes sense? What changes everything?

Tom: Doug, I have finally figured out what I truly believe. For the first time in a long time, I have a faith I actually believe.

Doug: Seriously? That’s why you invited me over, to tell me you have a faith you actually believe? What the hell? You’re a minister and have been for over twenty years. Are you telling me you just now have a faith you believe? That’s why I’d never join your church.

Tom: I don’t think you understand. You don’t know what it’s like to try to preach a sermon every Sunday when you’re not completely sure you believe everything about your own faith. Try writing a Christmas or Easter sermon when you’re not sure exactly what Jesus is supposed to be saving people from. Try writing any sermon about Jesus when you don’t believe he saves us in the way you’ve always been taught.

Doug: What are you saying that you don’t believe Jesus is a savior? That’s a pretty big problem for a Christian minister.

Tom: Not that Jesus isn’t a savior, but that Jesus isn’t saving us from what we’ve been told Jesus is saving us from.

Doug: What?

Tom: I’ve been told all my life that Jesus saves us from God’s wrath; a wrath we would incur because of our sinfulness if Jesus didn’t intervene. I’ve been told we’d go to a place called hell, with torture and pain and fire for all eternity if we didn’t accept Jesus in our lives.

Doug: Right. That’s Christianity.

Tom: But that doesn’t make any sense. That makes absolutely no sense.

Doug: Yes, it does. People sin and if they don’t repent, they will be punished. It’s pretty clear and simple.

Tom: Yes, but what if it’s wrong?

Doug: What?

Tom: What if it’s wrong! What if God isn’t sitting in judgment over us? What if Jesus doesn’t save us from God’s wrath? What if Jesus doesn’t save us from the sin we inherited from Adam and Eve?

Doug: I don’t know, Tom, it sounds like you are losing your faith.

Tom: That’s just it, Doug. I’m not losing my faith; I’ve finally found it. That’s why I feel so good. I know clearly what I believe, and it feels wonderful. No more trying to make sense of a loving, just God who punishes people for all eternity. No more trying to defend a Bible I think has it wrong sometimes. No more trying to write sermons defending what I don’t wholeheartedly believe.

Look, there are two times of the year people show up to church hoping that somehow the minister will convince them of what they want to be true but can’t figure out how it might be true. Christmas and Easter are two of the hardest times to preach because people come to church curious and slightly hopeful that they’ll hear a message that convinces them of what they want to be true but can’t quite believe. They don’t believe and so you try to write a sermon that makes sense, but even you know what you’re preaching doesn’t hold together. You know the loopholes in your argument better than they do and so you project your doubts onto everyone sitting in a pew.

I’ve tried writing a lot of sermons anticipating what the doubters are thinking so I can convince them that this way of life is best. It’s brutal because my thinking often aligns more with their questions than it does with my proposed answers. Try writing with conviction while anticipating the doubts of your listeners; doubts you share. Try to preach then. Try standing in front of people week after week trying to offer a word of religious encouragement when you don’t believe it’s right. Then imagine finally discovering for yourself exactly what you believe and why. Oh my gosh, it is the most liberating feeling in the world. This I can preach with confidence and conviction. This I can preach without a hint of skepticism. This I can preach without feeling like I’m telling half-truths or that I’m doubtful of my own words