When Gospel artist Yolanda Adams referred to God as “he, she, or it,” the internet lost it’s mind.
Critics accused her of abandoning scripture, conforming to culture, even joining the Illuminati. But beneath the outrage lies a more unsettling question: Why do some people choose to interpret religious texts in ways that harm others, when they could choose interpretations that liberate?
This isn’t really about theology. It’s about us.
The same Bible that enslavers used to justify bondage was wielded by abolitionists to dismantle it. Segregationists found divine validation for inequality in scripture, while civil rights leaders found their call to justice in those same pages. With over 10,000 Christian denominations and 4,500 translations, interpretation isn’t neutral—it’s a mirror reflecting what we already carry inside.
Some people need certainty more than compassion, because compassion requires sitting with nuance and mystery. Others feel righteous only when someone else is deemed more sinful, chosen only when others are rejected. For many, a punitive God allows them to stay small and call it obedience, avoiding the uncomfortable work of expansion and self-confrontation.
Fear plays a starring role. Fear of being wrong, fear of losing community, fear of the unknown. Liberation is terrifying because it demands we confront the possibility that God might be bigger than the boxes we’ve built over lifetimes. It requires accountability, courage, and the willingness to sit with uncomfortable questions.
The real question isn’t “What does God say?” but “Why do you, with your mind, heart, and history, choose the version of God that requires someone else to shrink so you can feel saved?” Your interpretation says less about scripture and more about what you’re protecting, what you’re hiding, and who you’re afraid to become.
The discomfort of that question? That’s the first step toward honesty—and liberation.