Reflections on Julie Moore, the Conference on Faith and History, and Baylor University's Faith and Character Study

A Plea to My Colleagues in Christian Higher Education

My interview with Jemar Tisby at the Racism & the White Church Symposium (Truett Seminary) in February 2023.

I have never feared for my job.

In 2016 when my husband lost his job as a youth pastor, every part of our life was disrupted except for my work as a professor. I was an Associate Professor of History at Baylor University. I had just become the Graduate Program Director. I was also the Vice President of the Conference on Faith and History, poised to become the president in 2018. Teaching, mentoring students, and research became my sanctuary. My work helped me breathe.

Sometimes my job seemed surreal. I mean, the hour my husband was fired was the same hour my first PhD student was orally defending her comprehensive exams. In the midst of emotional turmoil I had administrative duties to do as I shepherded her into PhD candidacy. My husband and I sat in shocked silence that first night, after putting the kids to bed. But I couldn’t stay frozen in a chair. I had lectures to prepare and papers to grade. I was presiding as conference organizer over the 2016 Conference on Faith and History in just a few weeks (where Jemar Tisby and Kate Bowler were to be featured as plenary speakers). The normalcy of my day-to-day job, the comfort of teaching, the smiling faces of my graduate students as we drove to a different academic conference the very week my husband was fighting for mediation at our church—my job as a professor at Baylor University and my role within a community of Christian scholars were the only places I felt safe.

Two years later I began speaking out on The Anxious Bench. Not so much about what had happened to my husband but about women in the church, tying my historical perspective to current issues (such as the 2018 firing of Paige Patterson and the controversy over Beth Moore preaching for Mother’s Day). I felt safe on the Anxious Bench, too. Several of my writing colleagues were members of the Conference on Faith and History alongside me, some serving in leadership too. My voice became stronger and, in 2018, I presented a presidential speech at the Conference on Faith and History titled, “Paul, Medieval Women, and Fifty Years of the Conference on Faith and History.” Most people in the audience represented a Christian college or university—indeed, the conference was hosted by Calvin University. I knew many folk there would probably be surprised by the medieval evidence I presented about Paul, but I wasn’t worried they would reject me. I was right. They didn’t reject me. They gave my presidential address a standing ovation.

I almost cried.

At a time in my life when hope was hard to find, my colleagues representing Christian colleges around the nation gave me hope. The Conference on Faith and History gave me hope. They were supporting the writing and lectures of folk like Jemar Tisby, Kate Bowler, Kristin Du Mez, and myself. They didn’t always agree with us, but we shared community together. We were listening to each other.

My presidential address shows the hope I felt in 2018 for Christian higher education. Listen to some of what I wrote:

“That original vision of a community of faithful scholars committed to scholarship as Christians has, in many ways, remained the same. Comfortable continuity. But it also has grown to include more voices. I cannot tell you how excited and encouraged I was to hear from Jemar Tisby at the undergraduate conference plenary session. In his own words, he became a historian because he found that historians had the most useful responses to the problem of racism. He reminded me how powerful and influential the voices of historians can be. Historians really can help change the world; which means we can also change the church.”

I continued talking about initiatives of the CFH reaching out to women, Christian scholars in Latin America, and even intentionally reaching out to high school history teachers. I concluded my talk with a highly personal narrative that, at the time, I fully believed.

“To conclude, when I first came to know Kate Bowler, I remember running into her several times at this one meeting of the American Historical Association/American Society of church History. Every time she ran into me, I was with different folk. Finally, when we ran into each other (both alone), she asked me an interesting question: ‘Beth, who are your people?’ As a medieval Catholic historian who personally is a committed Protestant (Baptist), who works in women and gender studies, mostly in England, but also in religious history, and who works in academia but is committed to reaching the broader Christian church, I was being asked a fair question—where do I belong? After being a part of this conference for many years, I have an answer for Kate. The Conference on Faith and History is my people. Not just because of where it has been, the original vision, but also because of where it is going. It is my privilege to be serving as your president.”

Two years later I included the CFH in my acknowledgements for The Making of Biblical Womanhood. “The Conference on Faith and History gave me a rich community when I had lost the community of my church. It has been such a privilege to serve as your president.”

I was so hopeful.

I believed that Christian higher education could help change the church. I believed that Christian scholars could help the church look more like Jesus and less like the world around us. I believed that Christian higher education would listen to the voices of people like me, Jemar Tisby, and Kristin Du Mez, recognizing us as faithful Christians whose work was shedding important historical light on white evangelical Christianity. I believed that, even if they didn’t agree with us, they would be willing to listen.

I believed.

Four years after I gave my hopeful CFH presidential address, I am no longer so hopeful. I’ll tell you why.

First, last November, some members of the CFH who I had served in leadership with for several years were involved in the publication of a piece that shattered me. Not only was the piece written by someone I had served closely with (I was Vice President when he was President), but it was published by the person who had served as Vice President while I was President, and—when I responded in absolute shock—other CFH members told me that it wasn’t personal and I was overreacting.

Except I don’t think I was.

I won’t rehash the entire episode, and some of the folk involved have apologized, including the author of the article. However, I think the category in which I was placed is revealing. Along with Kristin Du Mez, Shane Claiborne, Danté Stewart, and Jemar Tisby, I was described as an “emancipatory maximalist.” This is what an emancipatory maximalist is: (and I have pulled these quotes from Kristin Du Mez’s substack which links to the original article; it is important to note that names were after the fact removed from the original article, but enough people read the original and commented that you can see the evidence my name was explicitly listed in this category).

Emancipatory Maximalists exercise a religious fervor intent on rooting out racism, sexism, transphobia, and homophobia. They aren’t keen on “persuading” their opponents. They wish instead to use coercive power to produce conformity to an unyielding dogma that regulates speech, artistic representation, and institutional policy. Speech that doesn’t conform to these concerns is “harm,” and “Silence is violence.” We must pursue “whatever it takes” to cleanse society of the “evils” that have been visited upon “the marginalized.” Such endangered communities will not be “safe” until every part of society has been brought into conformity with these goals. 

Emancipatory Maximalists have gone after “religious carveouts” that allow churches, Christian schools, and other religious organizations to discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation and gender identity.... They have made headlines in recent years for shouting down and “de-platforming” campus speakers whose views do not hue closely enough to the canons of contemporary race and gender orthodoxy. A great multitude among them has abandoned Christianity, viewing it as wholly complicit with white supremacy, homophobia, and anti-trans ideologies. Nevertheless, various versions of “progressive” Christianity have aligned themselves with these cultural orthodoxies and are easy to find among mainline Protestant churches and seminaries. Operating within politically aligned rainbow-flag-waving Christian organizations and churches is tolerable for some, while others are “deconstructing” their faith or moving away from it all together.

Because I wrote a book calling out the danger of patriarchy, what I believe to be an un-Christian practice practiced by too many Christians, and revealing how it is rooted in history, I was labeled as exercising “religious fervor,” using “coercive power to produce conformity to an unyielding dogma,” “pursuing ‘whatever it takes’ to cleanse society of the evils.” Me, a moderate Baptist pastor’s wife who just preached a sermon on why I am not leaving my faith because I believe in Jesus Christ, was associated with folk who have “abandoned Christianity” and deconstructionists “moving away” from faith altogether.”

Just writing this makes me feel shattered again.

Which brings me to the second reason my hope is faltering. Kristin Du Mez rightly noted that many of the folk labeled as “emancipatory maximalists” were women and people of color who write about race and gender. Each of us have called out significant problems within white evangelical Christianity and, for our efforts, have been labeled as “other,” dangerous, by fellow Christian scholars.

While I do not believe any of the folk involved in writing that article would advocate for firing faculty members for including Jemar Tisby on a syllabus, I believe the impulse to label people like me “emancipatory maximalists” is similar to an impulse within Christian higher education: the impulse to silence and condemn rather than to engage and listen.

Take, for example, what happened to Julie Moore. Following in the footsteps of Grove City and Palm Beach Atlantic, Taylor University fired Moore, an associate professor of English and director of the Writing Center, as she just announced. Why? It seems because she used her training and experience as a scholar to write the syllabus she believed would best equip her students. As Bob Smietana wrote, “Moore’s hope was to help her students, most of them white, develop some racial literacy and to see how the issue of racial justice related to their faith.” Moore quoted Jemar Tisby on her syllabus and did not include ‘suggestions’ made by the interim provost.

Her contract was not renewed. In the RNS article the Taylor Provost Jewerl Maxwell specifically mentioned Jemar Tisby as the main problem. I cannot fathom Julie Moore’s experience right now. My heart is shattered for her, too.

While I know that labeling me an emancipatory maximalist is a far cry from Julie Moore losing her job, the reasoning behind both is the same: we have been condemned as dangerous. Me for writing against Christian patriarchy; Jemar Tisby for writing about white evangelical complicity in racism; and Julie Moore for admiring Tisby and citing him in her syllabus.

Y’all, I’ve read almost everything Jemar Tisby has written. I’ve heard him speak (preach) on multiple occasions. I have neither seen nor heard anything that indicates Jemar Tisby is other than a faithful Christian. His message is desperately needed by the white evangelical community. We should be listening to him instead of condemning him.

For the life of me I cannot figure out how Christian universities that claim to be following the Great Commission can cancel a brother like Jemar Tisby. Of course, for the life of me I cannot figure out how anyone would label me an “emancipatory maximalist,” either…..

The hope that I felt in 2018 has dimmed.

But it hasn’t gone out.

I still have hope because I know that most of my colleagues in the Conference and Faith and History do not consider me dangerous. I’m not going to walk away from a community that has been so important for me as well as for Christian academia. I may not agree with everyone in the CFH, but they are still my brothers and sisters in Christ. I am willing to engage and listen to them; maybe they will be willing to do the same for me.

I still have hope because I know that Christian colleges and universities can be different. You see, I have been in the classroom at Baylor University since 2002. I have included multiple voices on my syllabus. Just this semester I have taught the writings of Sojourner Truth and Mary Church Terrell. I have taught my students about precarity, intersectionality, sexism, and racism.

I do not fear for my job.

I have never felt pressure from my university either to include or exclude texts on my syllabus.

I have never been afraid to talk about Jemar Tisby. Indeed, quite the opposite, I have invited Jemar to talk at Baylor more than once; I invited him as a plenary speaker to the 2022 Conference on Faith and History hosted by Baylor; I have helped host two reading groups with students, both of which Jemar joined us virtually for a conversation. I keep extra copies of his books on my bookshelf to give out to students (I do this also with Jesus and John Wayne).

I also have hope because, contrary to the claims of those trying to silence folk like Jemar Tisby, the students at Baylor University are not losing their faith. Quite the opposite, actually, and we have the evidence to prove it.

Since 2018 Baylor has conducted a Faith and Character study to “track the long-term impact of a Baylor education on a person’s faith and character.” This is not something that most Christian colleges and universities do. As the authors of the 2021 preliminary findings (which include my colleagues and lead authors Kevin Dougherty and Perry Glazer) write, “the reality is that relatively few institutions have undertaken university-wide longitudinal efforts to evaluate students’ spiritual and moral development during their undergraduate years.” (In other words, most of these CCCU institutions firing professors aren’t doing it based on faith and learning evidence.) Baylor does have areas that need improvement, but overall the majority of our students have strong faith that endures beyond their college years. “More than two-thirds (70%) of seniors reported that their religious beliefs were stronger than when they first started college….66% of alumni believed that their religious beliefs grew stronger during their time in college.” What I find especially interesting is that what influenced (for better or worse) the faith of students most was relationships—with their friends, their churches, and their faculty. Only 12% of alumni and 16% of seniors stated that coursework had a role in weakening their faith.

In other words, for 88% of seniors and 84% of alumni, coursework was not stated as a contributing factor to the weakening of their faith. The study concludes that, “early (nonlongitudinal) findings give reason for optimism about students’ religious and moral development while attending Baylor University. Self-reports from students and alumni suggest that positive developments in faith and character are occurring during their time at Baylor…Church attendance was remarkably consistent for first-year students, seniors, and alumni; Christian orthodoxy appeared slightly higher for students and alumni.”

I think it is worth nothing that around this initial period of the Baylor Faith and Character study (2018-2022), Jemar Tisby spoke at Baylor University (in person and virtually) at least four (maybe five) times…..three times of which were invitations from me (CFH plenary and two virtual book groups). He also gave a packed out lecture on campus for the launch of The Color of Compromise and spoke at least one other time. Did you catch that I said the faith of Baylor students remained strong during this entire period?

If Christian colleges and universities want to know what strengthens and/or weakens the faith of their students, I suggest they do the research before implementing politically-motivated/donor driven ‘solutions.’ I suggest they be quicker to engage and listen than they are to silence and condemn. I suggest that Christian scholars spend less time labeling each other as “emancipatory maximalists” and more time standing up for each other as brothers and sisters in Christ.

Julie Moore had the courage to stand up for her students at Taylor University.

I think it is time for the rest of us to stand with her.

Please see Jemar Tisby’s substack story to support Julie Moore financially.

Baylor Faith and Character Study: Kevin D. Dougherty, Perry L. Glanzer, Jessica A. Robinson, Juliette L. Ratchford & Sarah A. Schnitker (2022) Baylor Faith and Character Study: Methods and Preliminary Findings, Christian Higher Education, 21:3, 168-190, DOI: 10.1080/15363759.2021.1929564