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Christlike Acceptance across Deep Difference: Constructive Conversations on Sexuality and Gender
Has your faith community been torn apart over sexuality and gender?
While affirming and traditionalist Christians wage culture wars, many believers have left the church entirely because of disputes over how best to respond to LGBTQ people.
Ronald Pierce and Karen Keen show us a different way to approach the controversy. In Christlike Acceptance across Deep Difference, they bring together a broad range of contributors--scholarly and pastoral; affirming and traditionalist; evangelical, mainline, and Catholic--who demonstrate a more constructive response to LGBTQ concerns. You'll discover
· fresh readings of Scripture from diverse theological perspectives,
· models for respectful dialogue in church communities,
· first-person insights into ministering to LGBTQ people,
· pastoral guidance for supporting their parents, friends, and family, and
· communication strategies for navigating deep theological differences.
Despite their differences, the contributors unite in their commitment to biblical authority and Christlike love of neighbor. They invite the church to join them in this new and better way.
Perfect for pastors, church leaders, and any Christian worried about polarization, this timely volume shows us how to forge a future shaped by Christlike acceptance.
While affirming and traditionalist Christians wage culture wars, many believers have left the church entirely because of disputes over how best to respond to LGBTQ people.
Ronald Pierce and Karen Keen show us a different way to approach the controversy. In Christlike Acceptance across Deep Difference, they bring together a broad range of contributors--scholarly and pastoral; affirming and traditionalist; evangelical, mainline, and Catholic--who demonstrate a more constructive response to LGBTQ concerns. You'll discover
· fresh readings of Scripture from diverse theological perspectives,
· models for respectful dialogue in church communities,
· first-person insights into ministering to LGBTQ people,
· pastoral guidance for supporting their parents, friends, and family, and
· communication strategies for navigating deep theological differences.
Despite their differences, the contributors unite in their commitment to biblical authority and Christlike love of neighbor. They invite the church to join them in this new and better way.
Perfect for pastors, church leaders, and any Christian worried about polarization, this timely volume shows us how to forge a future shaped by Christlike acceptance.
269 pages, Kindle Edition
Published August 26, 2025
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71 people want to read
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Displaying 1 - 4 of 4 reviews
October 27, 2025
Between 2.5-3/5.
The first time I partook of the Eucharist in the aftermath of the COVID-19 pandemic was at St. Mary's Episcopal Cathedral in Edinburgh in the fall of 2022. My friend who lived in the city invited me to accompany her to a morning prayer and Holy Communion service. It took place in one of the church's side chapels. For whatever reason, whether it be still-lingering fears of contracting the virus, people too busy rushing off to their work, or simply sheer secularism, we were not a very large congregation; there were only a handful of us who approached and knelt at the altar, I next to my friend (with plenty of room in between!). But just before the priest began administering the sacrament, another worshipper belatedly came forward and knelt between my friend and I. Only after the service did I realize this person was transgender. I was shocked but found myself reacting in alternate ways. On the one hand, like many traditionalists, I wondered, "Am I in communion with this person? Are we both part of the one loaf?" On the other hand, here was a sinner like myself, who had taken the time and effort to worship the LORD on a dreary midweek morning - and was that not admirable, not a sign of faithfulness?
I was looking forward to reading Christlike Acceptance Across Deep Difference: Constructive Conversations on Sexuality and Gender. It's no secret that the Church, Christ's body, has been rent by often vicious and brutal battles over sexual ethics and gender identity. It's also become wearying reading the same old arguments (both traditional and reformist) and so a book offering proposals for how to navigate profound differences among believers is one that is welcome. Although some fundamentalists will no doubt disagree, we are at a stage in the Church in the West where there are congregations that hold to the orthodoxy of the classic creeds and yet who have also liberalized their stances on LGBTQ issues; these churches and Christians can't just be dismissed as hopelessly heretical.
And yet, I must confess, I found this book to be rather disappointing. Certainly, there are fruitful pieces of wisdom to be gleaned here and there, but I don't think this collection of essays advances the conversation as constructively as I had imagined. It is divided into three sections. The first focusing on some different, even unconventional ways of exegeting some familiar biblical passages that pertain to sexual issues. The second section explores ways Christians can steer through contentious issues. The final section spotlights ministry towards LGBTQ Christians.
To put my cards on the table, I am traditional on LGBTQ issues, with the most affinity for the posture of the "Side B" paradigm (exemplified by the likes of Revoice and Spiritual Friendship; indeed, more conservative approaches to sexuality, such as the ex-gay movement or the "Side Y" paradigm aren't really represented in this collection, except for mostly being alluded to as oppressors of sexual minorities). I've read a decent amount on the ongoing debates. While I appreciate as a Protestant that we must ground our convictions upon the authority of Scripture, I found the first section a bit distant and detached, especially compared to the other two sections that focus more on the relational dynamics of deep differences.
The second section was the most practical, though some of the content seemed obvious too. I did particularly appreciate the co-written essay with Steven Lympus and Taylor Telford, not only because Lympus, who is same-sex attracted and in a mixed-orientation marriage, is a graduate of Regent College, but also because this essay actually models how to constructively produce a project (in this case, an essay) despite divergent views. I wish this section had been larger and throughout the book, I wish there were more co-authored essays that could tangibly showcase how Christians holding to differing sexual ethics could collaborate together, as far as they could.
Christlike Acceptance Across Deep Difference features both Side A and Side B contributors, but the last section leans heavily towards Side A (it is difficult to determine, but my read is that either five or six of the eight essays in this section affirm a reformist stance on LGBTQ issues). And I admit, it contributed to my more negative assessment of the book. One could chalk it up to me being traditionalist but I found that the Side A essays didn't deliver on how to reasonably work through differences. The general argument among the Side A essays were that Christians are called to offer each other the inclusive, liberationist, unconditional love that Jesus offers us. This especially comes out in Candace E. Hardnett's and Amie Scott's essays. I wish there were more examples of ministry among Side B Christians who don't have the ease of affirmation but who are still often suspected by traditionalists. I wish there had been a essay addressing "conscience rights" for traditionalists who continue to inhabit and operate in liberal/mainline denominations; could an evangelical minister remain in the Anglican Church of Canada or in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America and could their convictions that disallow them to marriage same-sex couples be respected?
Of course, the Side A contributors have obviously spent years - lifetimes - working out how their faith and their sexual identity can co-exist, be in harmony, but for all the talk of how Jesus models this unconditional love because of how he was constantly consorting with sinners, there is very little "go and sin no more" (and yes, I know that John 8:11 isn't in the earliest biblical manuscripts, but make no mistake, Jesus doesn't invite us to indulge in antinomianism). And this gets to the heart of the divide; for those who hold to a Side B sexual ethic, persistent same-sex behaviour is a sin. Churches are full of those who are "simul justus et peccator," both saints and sinners, but unfortunately, in this battlefront of the Christian culture wars, the difference isn't one of secondary doctrine, but of the nature of sin (some of the Side A contributors point out that Christians have different views of eschatology or baptism and yet we don't consider those with differing views to not be Christian; I'd point out that in the sordid history of Christ's Bride, those who held to different views on baptism were in fact killed for their beliefs and so today's forms of social exclusion, heartrending though they can be, are also not as obviously violent; the larger point is that reasonable Christians today wouldn’t consider holding to Calvinism or premillennialism to be a sin in the same way we have more grave concerns over sexual ethics). I'd also point out that virtually all those who hold to Side B beliefs when it comes to LGBTQ issues would agree with Staci Frenes that her daughter's "feelings of affection for someone of the same sex" is not a sin; it is the likes of fundamentalists like Rosaria Butterfield and Denny Burk who would call an unchosen feeling to be a sin (p. 235).
Marcus George Halley, a gay, black Episcopal priest closes this book. I appreciate his clarion call for pluralism. God has created a diverse, heterogenous world and through and despite our differences, we help each other glimpse multivalent aspects of the truth. There is something indeed, to be said about how even our denominational differences showcase the validity of this. But my positivity towards pluralism is outweighed by my pessimism. I think in an age where followers of Jesus have such profound differences over sexual ethics, it is impossible to faithfully, consistently, hold to some kind of "third way" that can be hospitable both to Side A and Side B. Given all the lament and trauma that is attested to by the Side A contributors, it is far, far easier to be a forthrightly traditionalist or affirming church instead of vaguely "accepting." This also relates to one's view of the church; Christians are called to be on mission, but is the church the locus of evangelization or is its fundamental purpose to offer right worship to God? My sense is that the Side A contributors privilege mission and so they have no real qualms about what is appropriate or inappropriate in church, whereas those on Side B, while not denying the importance of mission and evangelism, would carry out those functions in day-to-day encounters rather than on Sunday mornings.
The first time I partook of the Eucharist in the aftermath of the COVID-19 pandemic was at St. Mary's Episcopal Cathedral in Edinburgh in the fall of 2022. My friend who lived in the city invited me to accompany her to a morning prayer and Holy Communion service. It took place in one of the church's side chapels. For whatever reason, whether it be still-lingering fears of contracting the virus, people too busy rushing off to their work, or simply sheer secularism, we were not a very large congregation; there were only a handful of us who approached and knelt at the altar, I next to my friend (with plenty of room in between!). But just before the priest began administering the sacrament, another worshipper belatedly came forward and knelt between my friend and I. Only after the service did I realize this person was transgender. I was shocked but found myself reacting in alternate ways. On the one hand, like many traditionalists, I wondered, "Am I in communion with this person? Are we both part of the one loaf?" On the other hand, here was a sinner like myself, who had taken the time and effort to worship the LORD on a dreary midweek morning - and was that not admirable, not a sign of faithfulness?
I was looking forward to reading Christlike Acceptance Across Deep Difference: Constructive Conversations on Sexuality and Gender. It's no secret that the Church, Christ's body, has been rent by often vicious and brutal battles over sexual ethics and gender identity. It's also become wearying reading the same old arguments (both traditional and reformist) and so a book offering proposals for how to navigate profound differences among believers is one that is welcome. Although some fundamentalists will no doubt disagree, we are at a stage in the Church in the West where there are congregations that hold to the orthodoxy of the classic creeds and yet who have also liberalized their stances on LGBTQ issues; these churches and Christians can't just be dismissed as hopelessly heretical.
And yet, I must confess, I found this book to be rather disappointing. Certainly, there are fruitful pieces of wisdom to be gleaned here and there, but I don't think this collection of essays advances the conversation as constructively as I had imagined. It is divided into three sections. The first focusing on some different, even unconventional ways of exegeting some familiar biblical passages that pertain to sexual issues. The second section explores ways Christians can steer through contentious issues. The final section spotlights ministry towards LGBTQ Christians.
To put my cards on the table, I am traditional on LGBTQ issues, with the most affinity for the posture of the "Side B" paradigm (exemplified by the likes of Revoice and Spiritual Friendship; indeed, more conservative approaches to sexuality, such as the ex-gay movement or the "Side Y" paradigm aren't really represented in this collection, except for mostly being alluded to as oppressors of sexual minorities). I've read a decent amount on the ongoing debates. While I appreciate as a Protestant that we must ground our convictions upon the authority of Scripture, I found the first section a bit distant and detached, especially compared to the other two sections that focus more on the relational dynamics of deep differences.
The second section was the most practical, though some of the content seemed obvious too. I did particularly appreciate the co-written essay with Steven Lympus and Taylor Telford, not only because Lympus, who is same-sex attracted and in a mixed-orientation marriage, is a graduate of Regent College, but also because this essay actually models how to constructively produce a project (in this case, an essay) despite divergent views. I wish this section had been larger and throughout the book, I wish there were more co-authored essays that could tangibly showcase how Christians holding to differing sexual ethics could collaborate together, as far as they could.
Christlike Acceptance Across Deep Difference features both Side A and Side B contributors, but the last section leans heavily towards Side A (it is difficult to determine, but my read is that either five or six of the eight essays in this section affirm a reformist stance on LGBTQ issues). And I admit, it contributed to my more negative assessment of the book. One could chalk it up to me being traditionalist but I found that the Side A essays didn't deliver on how to reasonably work through differences. The general argument among the Side A essays were that Christians are called to offer each other the inclusive, liberationist, unconditional love that Jesus offers us. This especially comes out in Candace E. Hardnett's and Amie Scott's essays. I wish there were more examples of ministry among Side B Christians who don't have the ease of affirmation but who are still often suspected by traditionalists. I wish there had been a essay addressing "conscience rights" for traditionalists who continue to inhabit and operate in liberal/mainline denominations; could an evangelical minister remain in the Anglican Church of Canada or in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America and could their convictions that disallow them to marriage same-sex couples be respected?
Of course, the Side A contributors have obviously spent years - lifetimes - working out how their faith and their sexual identity can co-exist, be in harmony, but for all the talk of how Jesus models this unconditional love because of how he was constantly consorting with sinners, there is very little "go and sin no more" (and yes, I know that John 8:11 isn't in the earliest biblical manuscripts, but make no mistake, Jesus doesn't invite us to indulge in antinomianism). And this gets to the heart of the divide; for those who hold to a Side B sexual ethic, persistent same-sex behaviour is a sin. Churches are full of those who are "simul justus et peccator," both saints and sinners, but unfortunately, in this battlefront of the Christian culture wars, the difference isn't one of secondary doctrine, but of the nature of sin (some of the Side A contributors point out that Christians have different views of eschatology or baptism and yet we don't consider those with differing views to not be Christian; I'd point out that in the sordid history of Christ's Bride, those who held to different views on baptism were in fact killed for their beliefs and so today's forms of social exclusion, heartrending though they can be, are also not as obviously violent; the larger point is that reasonable Christians today wouldn’t consider holding to Calvinism or premillennialism to be a sin in the same way we have more grave concerns over sexual ethics). I'd also point out that virtually all those who hold to Side B beliefs when it comes to LGBTQ issues would agree with Staci Frenes that her daughter's "feelings of affection for someone of the same sex" is not a sin; it is the likes of fundamentalists like Rosaria Butterfield and Denny Burk who would call an unchosen feeling to be a sin (p. 235).
Marcus George Halley, a gay, black Episcopal priest closes this book. I appreciate his clarion call for pluralism. God has created a diverse, heterogenous world and through and despite our differences, we help each other glimpse multivalent aspects of the truth. There is something indeed, to be said about how even our denominational differences showcase the validity of this. But my positivity towards pluralism is outweighed by my pessimism. I think in an age where followers of Jesus have such profound differences over sexual ethics, it is impossible to faithfully, consistently, hold to some kind of "third way" that can be hospitable both to Side A and Side B. Given all the lament and trauma that is attested to by the Side A contributors, it is far, far easier to be a forthrightly traditionalist or affirming church instead of vaguely "accepting." This also relates to one's view of the church; Christians are called to be on mission, but is the church the locus of evangelization or is its fundamental purpose to offer right worship to God? My sense is that the Side A contributors privilege mission and so they have no real qualms about what is appropriate or inappropriate in church, whereas those on Side B, while not denying the importance of mission and evangelism, would carry out those functions in day-to-day encounters rather than on Sunday mornings.
July 29, 2025
It is a painful truth that to be American today is to be a witness to the deep fissuring and fracturing of common ground. Nowhere is this more evident than in the church, where there remains very little room for loving disagreement about, well, most things. *Maybe* there is space for Christ followers to disagree on the small stuff, but when it comes to the hot button topics of the day—race, abortion, sexuality, gender, etc.—forget about it. If a church isn't lockstep on those things, it'll split down the middle, members will leave in protest, pastors will be fired, or the dream of Christian unity will die some other kind of grisly death.
Painful endings can be quite literally grisly: Christian history is infamous for resolving matters of dispute by burning heretics alive, drowning anabaptists, crusading against non-Christians, and fighting intra-Christendom wars of religion. Though the church eventually traded those horrors for the uneasy truce of denominationalism, the spirit of fundamentalism inspired countless churches to split and then split again from one another in the quest for a dogmatically pure membership. I am writing this review today from a small town in the Colorado Rockies with a population of only 2600 people, yet with nearly 20 churches (including multiples of the same denomination). Denominationalism is better than murdering one another over doctrine, but it hasn't changed the fact that we still have no idea how to disagree without division.
One way that I've seen churches manage to hold together is by diverting attention away from anything whatsoever that might divide and focusing instead on only safe topics. When the country draws battle lines between anti-racism and anti-CRT, you opt out and preach a sermon about biblical principles for managing your finances. When a Christian preacher goes out and murders a sitting lawmaker and her spouse in cold blood for political reasons, you preach a sermon about theories of the atonement. When the people in your pews are desperately seeking wisdom for how to care for their queer cousins, coworkers, or even themselves, you preach a sermon about whether the Millennium is literal or not. And listen, some of that instinct is correct: it's the tail wagging the dog for the news to drive the church's agenda. But the thing is, people *need* to see an example of how to talk about these things Christianly, and they mostly don't get that from fellow Christians. Instead, the only example they see is on the nightly news or on the "discourse" on social media.
Broaching these kinds of subjects is *always* hard (especially with grace and humility), so most of us are content to go along with the red-blue "Big Sort" of America and only talk about these things with people that we know already agree with us. Friends seek out like-minded friends. Preachers preach to the choir. Families move out of a neighborhood when there are too many of "those" signs in front yards. Is there any other way?
## *Christlike Acceptance across Deep Difference*
The answer is yes, according to a new collection of essays from Baker this summer that sets an example of what it can look like to have "Constructive Conversations on Sexuality and Gender," as the subtitle of the book puts it. Edited by Ronald W. Pierce and Karen R. Keen, this collection draws together their voices along with 16 others from both affirming and traditionalist perspectives. Scholars, pastors, lay ministers; Evangelical, Catholic, and Mainline—the very first thing I noticed is just how diverse a crowd this book represents. I confess that I was somewhat worried that it was going to be largely univocal with a token dissenting voice here or there to provide "diversity," but gladly this is not the case.
Through the course of 18 essays, contributors explore:
- What wisdom the Bible can offer us regarding *how* we have the debate
- How we can speak with and about our ideological opponents in a way that conveys a spirit of charity and godliness
- What it looks like to minster to the LGBTQ community, their friends, and their parents
You're guaranteed to disagree with some of the essays in the book; that's what happens when you engage with viewpoints other than your own. The book doesn't seek a definitive answer to the material questions of queer identities/relationships themselves, but rather tries to provide a template for how you and I might *converse well* about them when we find ourselves in similar territory. Furthermore, it pushes us to be more gracious and considerate in how we frame the position of "the other side." Traditionalists tend to want to present LGBTQ-affirming Christians as people who don't care what Scripture says, don't believe it has any authority over their bodies and what they do with them, and as basically just sex-crazed wolves in sheep's clothing. On the flip side, affirming Christians can paint their traditionalist brethren as if they're all bigoted, hateful, graceless legalists on the wrong side of history.
Without changing your convictions, it's possible to give a fair hearing to someone with whom you disagree. It is possible to welcome others and show them conversational hospitality as Christ has welcomed you (Rm. 15:7), similar to how you could cook a meal and offer a warm bed to someone, even if they don't share all of your exact same convictions. It is possible and even *right* to "be kind and compassionate to one another" (Eph. 4:32) and not just to those who are on your side. You can "love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you" (Mt. 5:44) even if you'd rather if everyone was on your side.
Speaking for myself, there are definitely essays in the book that I found relatively uncomfortable to read, in that I just viscerally disagreed with an author's conclusions. Still, I can't help but feel like it's a gift to be able to hear the inner thoughts of someone who in any other context would be unlikely to share them so freely.
The essay I appreciated the most was probably Karen Keen's *Genesis, Discernment, and God's Will.* It's a fresh perspective on an aspect of the *Imago Dei* that I had never thought too much about—that as God's images on earth, we are given "unique power to make consequential decisions." For Keen, this means that we bear responsibility to steward and cultivate the world the Lord has placed us within, and that includes making theological and ethical judgments.
I also deeply appreciated Wes Hill's essay on 1 Cor. 6:9-10 and how to think about the threat of divine judgment. In one of Keen's earlier books, she positioned sexual orientation and gender identity as something on which Christians of good faith could disagree. Hill raises the obvious question, though: How could this be a mere matter of dispute among Christians when Paul says that it is the sort of thing that places one beyond the pale of God's kingdom? Hill comes from a traditionalist perspective, but seeks to speak *to* traditionalists in his essay. His view is that a proof-texting approach to these verses overplays the traditionalist's hand, and that Paul's purpose there is less to instill eschatological terror and more to reinforce baptismal identity. I admire the essay for the way in which Hill sticks to his convictions, rejects proof texting, and interrogates the text as deeply, faithfully, and graciously as he can.
Beyond those two essays, I also very much appreciated the practicality of the middle section of the book: tips and wisdom about how to listen well, how to speak thoughtfully, and how to exist within a church when you don't find yourself all the way on the same page as those around you. A lot of the wisdom in those pages is applicable to far more than just the LGBTQ conversation, honestly. The last section of the book aims at the practicalities of queer ministry, and it is chock-full of learned lessons about how to do it well.
## Does the book succeed at its intent?
While I think it would do great good for as many Christians as possible to read this book, I also must admit that realistically I don't see that happening. Frankly, it's simultaneously too progressive and too conservative for it to ever fly off the shelves. I hope I'm wrong, but I can envision traditionalists passing it over because it gives any time of day at all to those who affirm queer identities and relationships. I can also envision many progressives for whom this book is unacceptable for legitimating viewpoints that threaten their identity.
Even so, I still think that this book will be of benefit to those who engage with it. It represents the kind of Christianity I want to be part of—one where each of us can work out the particulars of our faith with a fear of God rather than a fear of reprisal. Where we can work out our convictions and dialog with folks who see things from a different angle, and yet who also aim to honor God with their lives. Questions of sexuality, gender, and other hot-button topics have been around since the Bible was penned, and they will be long after we're gone, too—it behooves us to figure out ways to discuss our differences without letting them blow up our relationships. Our LGBTQ neighbors aren't going anywhere either, and it's our privilege and responsibility to think deeply and love well in this area instead of just parroting party lines. It seems fitting to me to end this review with a line from Justin Lee's essay, *Grace across the Divide:* "…in a world increasingly unable to communicate across lines of disagreement, our ability to love one another even when the stakes are high may be one of the most important ways we show the world who we are in Christ."
*DISCLAIMER: I received a copy of this book from the publisher for the purpose of a fair, unbiased review.*
Painful endings can be quite literally grisly: Christian history is infamous for resolving matters of dispute by burning heretics alive, drowning anabaptists, crusading against non-Christians, and fighting intra-Christendom wars of religion. Though the church eventually traded those horrors for the uneasy truce of denominationalism, the spirit of fundamentalism inspired countless churches to split and then split again from one another in the quest for a dogmatically pure membership. I am writing this review today from a small town in the Colorado Rockies with a population of only 2600 people, yet with nearly 20 churches (including multiples of the same denomination). Denominationalism is better than murdering one another over doctrine, but it hasn't changed the fact that we still have no idea how to disagree without division.
One way that I've seen churches manage to hold together is by diverting attention away from anything whatsoever that might divide and focusing instead on only safe topics. When the country draws battle lines between anti-racism and anti-CRT, you opt out and preach a sermon about biblical principles for managing your finances. When a Christian preacher goes out and murders a sitting lawmaker and her spouse in cold blood for political reasons, you preach a sermon about theories of the atonement. When the people in your pews are desperately seeking wisdom for how to care for their queer cousins, coworkers, or even themselves, you preach a sermon about whether the Millennium is literal or not. And listen, some of that instinct is correct: it's the tail wagging the dog for the news to drive the church's agenda. But the thing is, people *need* to see an example of how to talk about these things Christianly, and they mostly don't get that from fellow Christians. Instead, the only example they see is on the nightly news or on the "discourse" on social media.
Broaching these kinds of subjects is *always* hard (especially with grace and humility), so most of us are content to go along with the red-blue "Big Sort" of America and only talk about these things with people that we know already agree with us. Friends seek out like-minded friends. Preachers preach to the choir. Families move out of a neighborhood when there are too many of "those" signs in front yards. Is there any other way?
## *Christlike Acceptance across Deep Difference*
The answer is yes, according to a new collection of essays from Baker this summer that sets an example of what it can look like to have "Constructive Conversations on Sexuality and Gender," as the subtitle of the book puts it. Edited by Ronald W. Pierce and Karen R. Keen, this collection draws together their voices along with 16 others from both affirming and traditionalist perspectives. Scholars, pastors, lay ministers; Evangelical, Catholic, and Mainline—the very first thing I noticed is just how diverse a crowd this book represents. I confess that I was somewhat worried that it was going to be largely univocal with a token dissenting voice here or there to provide "diversity," but gladly this is not the case.
Through the course of 18 essays, contributors explore:
- What wisdom the Bible can offer us regarding *how* we have the debate
- How we can speak with and about our ideological opponents in a way that conveys a spirit of charity and godliness
- What it looks like to minster to the LGBTQ community, their friends, and their parents
You're guaranteed to disagree with some of the essays in the book; that's what happens when you engage with viewpoints other than your own. The book doesn't seek a definitive answer to the material questions of queer identities/relationships themselves, but rather tries to provide a template for how you and I might *converse well* about them when we find ourselves in similar territory. Furthermore, it pushes us to be more gracious and considerate in how we frame the position of "the other side." Traditionalists tend to want to present LGBTQ-affirming Christians as people who don't care what Scripture says, don't believe it has any authority over their bodies and what they do with them, and as basically just sex-crazed wolves in sheep's clothing. On the flip side, affirming Christians can paint their traditionalist brethren as if they're all bigoted, hateful, graceless legalists on the wrong side of history.
Without changing your convictions, it's possible to give a fair hearing to someone with whom you disagree. It is possible to welcome others and show them conversational hospitality as Christ has welcomed you (Rm. 15:7), similar to how you could cook a meal and offer a warm bed to someone, even if they don't share all of your exact same convictions. It is possible and even *right* to "be kind and compassionate to one another" (Eph. 4:32) and not just to those who are on your side. You can "love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you" (Mt. 5:44) even if you'd rather if everyone was on your side.
Speaking for myself, there are definitely essays in the book that I found relatively uncomfortable to read, in that I just viscerally disagreed with an author's conclusions. Still, I can't help but feel like it's a gift to be able to hear the inner thoughts of someone who in any other context would be unlikely to share them so freely.
The essay I appreciated the most was probably Karen Keen's *Genesis, Discernment, and God's Will.* It's a fresh perspective on an aspect of the *Imago Dei* that I had never thought too much about—that as God's images on earth, we are given "unique power to make consequential decisions." For Keen, this means that we bear responsibility to steward and cultivate the world the Lord has placed us within, and that includes making theological and ethical judgments.
I also deeply appreciated Wes Hill's essay on 1 Cor. 6:9-10 and how to think about the threat of divine judgment. In one of Keen's earlier books, she positioned sexual orientation and gender identity as something on which Christians of good faith could disagree. Hill raises the obvious question, though: How could this be a mere matter of dispute among Christians when Paul says that it is the sort of thing that places one beyond the pale of God's kingdom? Hill comes from a traditionalist perspective, but seeks to speak *to* traditionalists in his essay. His view is that a proof-texting approach to these verses overplays the traditionalist's hand, and that Paul's purpose there is less to instill eschatological terror and more to reinforce baptismal identity. I admire the essay for the way in which Hill sticks to his convictions, rejects proof texting, and interrogates the text as deeply, faithfully, and graciously as he can.
Beyond those two essays, I also very much appreciated the practicality of the middle section of the book: tips and wisdom about how to listen well, how to speak thoughtfully, and how to exist within a church when you don't find yourself all the way on the same page as those around you. A lot of the wisdom in those pages is applicable to far more than just the LGBTQ conversation, honestly. The last section of the book aims at the practicalities of queer ministry, and it is chock-full of learned lessons about how to do it well.
## Does the book succeed at its intent?
While I think it would do great good for as many Christians as possible to read this book, I also must admit that realistically I don't see that happening. Frankly, it's simultaneously too progressive and too conservative for it to ever fly off the shelves. I hope I'm wrong, but I can envision traditionalists passing it over because it gives any time of day at all to those who affirm queer identities and relationships. I can also envision many progressives for whom this book is unacceptable for legitimating viewpoints that threaten their identity.
Even so, I still think that this book will be of benefit to those who engage with it. It represents the kind of Christianity I want to be part of—one where each of us can work out the particulars of our faith with a fear of God rather than a fear of reprisal. Where we can work out our convictions and dialog with folks who see things from a different angle, and yet who also aim to honor God with their lives. Questions of sexuality, gender, and other hot-button topics have been around since the Bible was penned, and they will be long after we're gone, too—it behooves us to figure out ways to discuss our differences without letting them blow up our relationships. Our LGBTQ neighbors aren't going anywhere either, and it's our privilege and responsibility to think deeply and love well in this area instead of just parroting party lines. It seems fitting to me to end this review with a line from Justin Lee's essay, *Grace across the Divide:* "…in a world increasingly unable to communicate across lines of disagreement, our ability to love one another even when the stakes are high may be one of the most important ways we show the world who we are in Christ."
*DISCLAIMER: I received a copy of this book from the publisher for the purpose of a fair, unbiased review.*
October 23, 2025
Christlike Acceptance across Deep Difference introduces and practices a model for Christian unity. The book grew out of the editors’ interest in the Winsome Conviction Project at Biola, seeking to apply those methods to the topic of LGBTQ sexuality. Rather than entering the debate between “affirming” and “non-affirming,” this book suggests a posture of “acceptance” despite disagreements. Including chapters from over twenty authors, it provides plenty to challenge readers, particularly those on the non-affirming side. I don’t “agree with” everything—and I don’t need to—but in reading this book, I got to listen to people who hold opposing viewpoints, and that formed me in Christlikeness.
The recurring refrain was, Despite where you are on the affirming/non-affirming spectrum, we can agree that it is Christlike to show love; acceptance does not require agreement. For example, author Amie Scott said, “Even if you believe that gender dysphoria is a result of the fall, any brokenness that trans people experience deserves deep compassion rather than moral blame.”
I found it interesting that the editorial voice was kept to a minimum to model this listening posture. Coeditors Ronald W. Pierce and Karen R. Keen wrote a brief introduction together and each contributed the first two chapters, modeling acceptance across their differences (a non-affirming professor from Biola and “an affirming, gay Christian woman” biblical scholar). Beyond that, there were neither part introductions nor conclusions to corral the voices of the writers. Whatever the editors did behind the scenes to shape the tone of the contributed chapters, in the final book, they let the chapter authors speak for themselves.
By including the voices of many Christians, both affirming and non-affirming, the editors undermined the assumptions that LGBTQ Christians automatically aren’t Christians or are inherently more sinful than heterosexual Christians. In fact, one author explains that “Anyone who identifies as LGBTQ or same-sex attracted and Christian has traveled a complex, confusing, and often painful journey to get there” (Eve Tushnet).
Part 1 explores hot-button Scripture passages from some new perspectives, asking, “What is the biblical wisdom in these texts that goes beyond the disputes?” Pierce’s opening chapter focuses on Paul’s command to “Accept one another as Christ accepted you” (Romans 15:7), showing that authentic love is more costly than mentally checking a box to be politically correct. While I appreciated the experimental attitude, I found some of the chapters in this part backing themselves into what they were trying to say, including Keen’s chapter on image bearing as empowerment to make ethical choices and David Bennett’s chapter on eunuchs in Scripture as theodicy.
One of the strongest chapters is Wesley Hill’s look at 1 Corinthians 6:9–10. Exploring Paul’s exhortation to the Corinthians that “Wrongdoers will not inherit the kingdom of God,” Hill writes, “Threatening the Corinthian believers with exclusion seems not to be the point. What Paul wants to emphasize is that the Corinthian Christians are different now, no longer defined before God by the past or shame of indulgence, and free to live in an entirely new, unencumbered way.” On a related note, J. R. Daniel Kirk explores connections through the whole book of Romans, showing that Paul’s message in Romans 1 isn’t that “those people” are terrible people, but that we were all sinners who have been saved by Jesus.
Part 2 addresses navigating differences. The first few chapters seem to offer generic tips in the midst of conflict, such as encouragement to humanize the other and listen before speaking. While these tips are applicable to any disagreement and need to be practiced, they feel too simplistic. Given the book’s emphasis, it would have been interesting for more chapters to directly respond to each other. The coauthored chapter titled “Loving through Difference: Navigating Side A/B Friendship” seemed to attempt this, but also felt too general.
I was glad to find Brad Harper’s thought experiment as an example of how to wrestle. Harper is the coauthor with his son of Space at the Table: Conversations between an Evangelical Theologian and His Gay Son. In his chapter in this book, he asks how a non-affirming church can still welcome LGBTQ Christians, considering motives and conscience. His hypothesis: “If an individual does not know or believe that an act is sin, then the act cannot be done out of a heart of disobedience and, therefore, it does not display contempt for God.” However, he acknowledges that in practice, we cannot discern motives in others or even ourselves.
Part 3 focuses on ministry with LGBTQ people, with chapters such as “Black LGBTQ Ministry,” ministry in the Transgender community, and ministry to parents of LGBTQ children. However, some of the chapters seem to lose sight of Christlike acceptance. For example, I didn’t feel that the chapter presenting research on Christian sexual and gender minorities added much to the conversation.
As another example, Amie Scott overstepped “acceptance” in an argument for using chosen names. While there are robust arguments that using chosen names can be loving, Scott claimed that “God honors chosen names” and listed biblical characters who had name changes. However, Abram didn’t choose for himself the name Abraham; Saul/Paul isn’t a name change; and I don’t see evidence that God honored Naomi’s choice of the name Mara.
One of the clearest ways I saw the costly Christlike acceptance model played out was in the encouragement to risk being misunderstood. “Christians with a ‘traditional’ belief might fruitfully ask ourselves where we’ve talked ourselves out of opportunities for service because we feared that others might interpret our actions as offering moral approval of same-sex marriages” (Tushnet in “A Shared Pilgrimage”). In her chapter “Courage is Ministry,” Sally Gary explores this risk even more. She points to how Jesus welcomed an interruption on the way to Jairus’ house (Mark 5): “Jesus prioritizes the unclean woman’s request over the powerful community leader’s request.” Jesus was willing to risk reputation to be present with people; may we be shaped in Christlikeness.
**received early access on NetGalley from the publisher**
**this review was originally posted on Englewood Review of Books: https://englewoodreview.org/ronald-pi...**
The recurring refrain was, Despite where you are on the affirming/non-affirming spectrum, we can agree that it is Christlike to show love; acceptance does not require agreement. For example, author Amie Scott said, “Even if you believe that gender dysphoria is a result of the fall, any brokenness that trans people experience deserves deep compassion rather than moral blame.”
I found it interesting that the editorial voice was kept to a minimum to model this listening posture. Coeditors Ronald W. Pierce and Karen R. Keen wrote a brief introduction together and each contributed the first two chapters, modeling acceptance across their differences (a non-affirming professor from Biola and “an affirming, gay Christian woman” biblical scholar). Beyond that, there were neither part introductions nor conclusions to corral the voices of the writers. Whatever the editors did behind the scenes to shape the tone of the contributed chapters, in the final book, they let the chapter authors speak for themselves.
By including the voices of many Christians, both affirming and non-affirming, the editors undermined the assumptions that LGBTQ Christians automatically aren’t Christians or are inherently more sinful than heterosexual Christians. In fact, one author explains that “Anyone who identifies as LGBTQ or same-sex attracted and Christian has traveled a complex, confusing, and often painful journey to get there” (Eve Tushnet).
Part 1 explores hot-button Scripture passages from some new perspectives, asking, “What is the biblical wisdom in these texts that goes beyond the disputes?” Pierce’s opening chapter focuses on Paul’s command to “Accept one another as Christ accepted you” (Romans 15:7), showing that authentic love is more costly than mentally checking a box to be politically correct. While I appreciated the experimental attitude, I found some of the chapters in this part backing themselves into what they were trying to say, including Keen’s chapter on image bearing as empowerment to make ethical choices and David Bennett’s chapter on eunuchs in Scripture as theodicy.
One of the strongest chapters is Wesley Hill’s look at 1 Corinthians 6:9–10. Exploring Paul’s exhortation to the Corinthians that “Wrongdoers will not inherit the kingdom of God,” Hill writes, “Threatening the Corinthian believers with exclusion seems not to be the point. What Paul wants to emphasize is that the Corinthian Christians are different now, no longer defined before God by the past or shame of indulgence, and free to live in an entirely new, unencumbered way.” On a related note, J. R. Daniel Kirk explores connections through the whole book of Romans, showing that Paul’s message in Romans 1 isn’t that “those people” are terrible people, but that we were all sinners who have been saved by Jesus.
Part 2 addresses navigating differences. The first few chapters seem to offer generic tips in the midst of conflict, such as encouragement to humanize the other and listen before speaking. While these tips are applicable to any disagreement and need to be practiced, they feel too simplistic. Given the book’s emphasis, it would have been interesting for more chapters to directly respond to each other. The coauthored chapter titled “Loving through Difference: Navigating Side A/B Friendship” seemed to attempt this, but also felt too general.
I was glad to find Brad Harper’s thought experiment as an example of how to wrestle. Harper is the coauthor with his son of Space at the Table: Conversations between an Evangelical Theologian and His Gay Son. In his chapter in this book, he asks how a non-affirming church can still welcome LGBTQ Christians, considering motives and conscience. His hypothesis: “If an individual does not know or believe that an act is sin, then the act cannot be done out of a heart of disobedience and, therefore, it does not display contempt for God.” However, he acknowledges that in practice, we cannot discern motives in others or even ourselves.
Part 3 focuses on ministry with LGBTQ people, with chapters such as “Black LGBTQ Ministry,” ministry in the Transgender community, and ministry to parents of LGBTQ children. However, some of the chapters seem to lose sight of Christlike acceptance. For example, I didn’t feel that the chapter presenting research on Christian sexual and gender minorities added much to the conversation.
As another example, Amie Scott overstepped “acceptance” in an argument for using chosen names. While there are robust arguments that using chosen names can be loving, Scott claimed that “God honors chosen names” and listed biblical characters who had name changes. However, Abram didn’t choose for himself the name Abraham; Saul/Paul isn’t a name change; and I don’t see evidence that God honored Naomi’s choice of the name Mara.
One of the clearest ways I saw the costly Christlike acceptance model played out was in the encouragement to risk being misunderstood. “Christians with a ‘traditional’ belief might fruitfully ask ourselves where we’ve talked ourselves out of opportunities for service because we feared that others might interpret our actions as offering moral approval of same-sex marriages” (Tushnet in “A Shared Pilgrimage”). In her chapter “Courage is Ministry,” Sally Gary explores this risk even more. She points to how Jesus welcomed an interruption on the way to Jairus’ house (Mark 5): “Jesus prioritizes the unclean woman’s request over the powerful community leader’s request.” Jesus was willing to risk reputation to be present with people; may we be shaped in Christlikeness.
**received early access on NetGalley from the publisher**
**this review was originally posted on Englewood Review of Books: https://englewoodreview.org/ronald-pi...**
October 18, 2025
This is more of a 4.5, in my opinion. The five-star rating is for the value of this as an edited volume and not for the value of any particular piece. There are some weak pieces in the volume. Some of the reasoning will not do much to bridge any gaps. Still, the volume models, theologically and ministerially, something that church people have really struggled to do: accept and promote the flourishing of people they disagree with without first eliminating their disagreement.
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