Cultural critic bell hooks (1952–2001) reminds us to nurture the self-love that is our birthright:
Self-love is the foundation of our loving practice. Without it our other efforts to love fail. Giving ourselves love we provide our inner being with the opportunity to have the unconditional love we may have always longed to receive from someone else…. We can give ourselves the unconditional love that is the grounding for sustained acceptance and affirmation. When we give this precious gift to ourselves, we are able to reach out to others from a place of fulfillment and not from a place of lack….
In an ideal world we would all learn in childhood to love ourselves. We would grow, being secure in our worth and value, spreading love wherever we went, letting our light shine. If we did not learn self-love in our youth, there is still hope. The light of love is always in us, no matter how cold the flame. It is always present, waiting for the spark to ignite, waiting for the heart to awaken and call us back to the first memory of being the life force inside a dark place waiting to be born—waiting to see the light. [1]
Feminist author Audre Lorde (1934–1992) emphasizes the need to practice self-love, especially for communities who have often been denied such love or tenderness:
I have to learn to love myself before I can love you or accept your loving. You have to learn to love yourself before you can love me or accept my loving.… Until now, there has been little that taught us how to be kind to each other. To the rest of the world, yes, but not to ourselves. There have been few external examples of how to treat another Black woman with kindness, deference, tenderness or an appreciative smile in passing, just because she IS; an understanding of each other’s shortcomings because we have been somewhere close to that, ourselves. When last did you compliment another sister, give recognition to her specialness? We have to consciously study how to be tender with each other until it becomes a habit because what was native has been stolen from us, the love of Black women for each other. But we can practice being gentle with ourselves by being gentle with each other. We can practice being gentle with each other by being gentle with that piece of ourselves that is hardest to hold, by giving more to the brave bruised girlchild within each of us, by expecting a little less from her gargantuan efforts to excel. We can love her in the light as well as in the darkness, quiet her frenzy toward perfection and encourage her attentions toward fulfillment. Maybe then we will come to appreciate more how much she has taught us, and how much she is doing to keep this world revolving toward some livable future. [2]
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| Total Dependence vs. Total Depravity Why ‘We’re All Equally Sinful’ Protects Injustice By Anthony Parrott • 16 Sept 2025 Off to bed. Hope I don’t die before I wake up! |
| Anyone else remember this prayer?Now I lay me down to sleep I pray the Lord my soul to keep And if I should die before I wake I pray the Lord my soul to take Is that not horrifying for an eight-year-old to have to pray? At some point in my childhood, I was taught that before I went to bed, I needed to frantically search my memory for every sin I’d committed that day. Had I been mean to my cousin? Talked back to my teacher? Said a naughty word? I needed to confess them all before I fell asleep, because if I died with unconfessed sin, even as a child, God would have no choice but to send me to hell. Night after night, I scraped the inside of my soul, desperate to make sure I was clean enough before God. This scrupulosity was born from a theology that taught me my existence as a child was so fraught with sin and evil that God’s default position toward me was judgment and damnation.That eight-year-old was living under the weight of total depravity—the belief that humans are fundamentally corrupt, “utterly incapable of any good,” as Calvinist theologians like to put it. And while most people think this is just an abstract theological concept debated in seminary classrooms, it turns out these esoteric pieces of theology actually do have practical implications. In Tom Holland’s Dominion, the historian traces how a 4th-century theological debate between Augustine and Pelagius has shaped Western civilization’s approach to poverty and inequality for over 1,600 years. Theology Creates Policy In the early centuries of Christianity, one of the most controversial questions the church wrestled with was: can the wealthy be saved? Pelagius, a monk, said no—in order to be saved, the wealthy needed to give up their wealth. Humanity can and should work to eradicate poverty entirely.Get rid of the rich man, and you will not be able to find a poor one. Let no man have more than he really needs and everyone will have as much as they need, since the few who are rich are the reason for the many who are poor. —Pelagius, “On Riches” Augustine, however, was more of a pessimist. Pelagius’ view was unrealistic, he argued. Humans are too corrupted by sin to create a truly just society. We have to wait for the end of the world for that. Until then, we must settle for charity—almsgiving that treats the symptoms of poverty without addressing its root causes.These competing visions of human nature led to completely different approaches to social problems. If you see humanity as capable of doing good, as Pelagius did, you might aim for a more utopian society; the Kingdom of God realized. If you see humans as totally depraved, as Augustine did, you create systems that work within the constraints of human selfishness; the Kingdom of God delayed. This same divide shows up in contemporary politics—the progressive belief that humans are essentially good and capable of creating a more just society versus the conservative conviction that humans are basically selfish, so we need to work within those limitations rather than trying to transform systems entirely.Interestingly, Augustine’s theology of total depravity had a leveling effect that ultimately undermined justice. If everyone is equally guilty and depraved before God, then the wealthy enslaver is just as much in need of God’s grace as the enslaved person. This then created a theological framework where the primary question wasn’t addressing systemic oppression, but rather individual salvation from a wrathful God.And, no surprise, you see this play out in church history. Once the question shifted from “can the wealthy be saved?” to “of course they can, because we’re all equally guilty,” there was less impetus to deal with wealth inequality at all. The enslaver and the enslaved were both just sinners in need of grace. No need to examine power structures or systemic harm—we’re all equally depraved. Total Depravity’s Claims Here’s what the doctrine total depravity teaches. Both Calvinists and Arminians affirm this doctrine, so this isn’t just a Reformed issue. As Arminian theologian Roger Olson notes, even Arminius himself declared that because of Adam’s fall, human free will:is not only wounded, maimed, infirm, bent and weakened; but it is also imprisoned, destroyed, and lost: And its powers are not only debilitated and useless unless they be assisted by grace, but it has no powers whatever except such as are excited by Divine grace. —Arminian Theology, Roger Olson The doctrine teaches that:Every human is born fundamentally corrupted by sinWe are “utterly incapable of any good” apart from divine intervention Our nature is so corrupt that we “uniformly prefer and choose evil instead of good”This corruption affects every aspect of human nature (hence “total”)And when this gets applied to children—as we see with teachers like Voddie Baucham calling infants “vipers in diapers” who would “kill their parents in their sleep” if they were bigger—it creates the kind of soul-scraping terror I experienced as an eight-year-old. I’m Suspicious of the Fall. I’ll admit this the doctrine of total depravity been very hard for me to let go of. I have the Five Solas of the Reformation hanging up on my office wall, and I’m loathe to let my Protestantism go. I’m not a Pelagian in so far as I don’t believe humans can save themselves. But I’ve come to believe that total depravity is an answer to the wrong question. First, “the fall” as a theological concept isn’t something Jewish readers of the Hebrew Bible tend to recognize. The idea that Adam and Eve’s disobedience fundamentally corrupted all human nature is a later Christian interpretation, not the plain reading of the text. Jewish theology recognizes the yetzer hara (evil inclination) alongside the yetzer hatov (good inclination), but maintains that humans have the capacity to choose good. As the Talmud puts it: “Everything is determined by heaven, except one’s fear of heaven”—meaning our choice to be righteous or wicked is left to our free will. Second, I think we’re asking the wrong question entirely. Instead of “Are humans fundamentally good or evil?” we should be asking “What is the nature of our relationship with God and each other?”Dependence, Not DepravityScripture much more naturally can be interpreted to teach total dependence—we all have an inherent need for God and salvation from the disease of sin. We need saving from wrath; but not God’s wrath, but the wrath of evil. Yes, we need God, but this should be reframed more like a biological need than anything. The fact that humans need oxygen and nutrients isn’t a failure or deficiency or proof that our lungs are depraved—it’s just part of our nature as created beings. Irenaeus, the second century bishop, offers a better framework than Augustine. Instead of seeing humans as having fallen from perfection, Irenaeus saw Adam and Eve as innocent—like children who needed to develop and grow. Even if there had never been a “fall,” Irenaeus argued, we would still need God’s salvific work to achieve perfection. Perfection isn’t an immutable state we lost, but an ever-evolving process we’re growing into.When I read Romans 5 and 6, I don’t see a story about individual moral failure. I see the defeat of cosmic powers—Sin and Death as actual characters in the drama, not just personal weaknesses. Paul writes about Sin and Death as forces that “reign” and compete with God’s authority. The problem isn’t that humans are fundamentally corrupt; the problem is that we’re enslaved to external powers that have been defeated by Jesus.This makes sense of why Paul can say in Romans 8:1, “Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” It’s not that we’ve become morally perfect, but that we’ve switched allegiances—from participation in the cosmic powers of Sin and Death to participation in Christ’s death and resurrection. Dependence and Responsibility The distinction I want to make is that all people are equally dependent on God, but not everyone is equally guilty before God.Yes, the wealthy enslaver and the enslaved person are both equally dependent on God’s grace for liberation from systemic Sin and Death. But the slaveholder absolutely bears more moral responsibility because they’re actively participating in oppressive systems. There are indeed gradations of moral responsibility based on power and privilege.This shouldn’t be confused with “works righteousness” because salvation is still entirely God’s initiative. The Exodus comes before the Law. Jesus forgives sins before the cross. Forgiveness and liberation are acts God has always been in the business of doing. But as Ephesians 2 says, we are saved by grace through faith in order to accomplish the good works that Jesus has prepared for us. As James says, faith without works is dead.Grace that erases moral guilt and responsibility creates a world where the eight-year-old child apologizing to God for saying the F-word and the enslaver are both equally “diseased by sin.” But sanctification—purification—should look very different for the child than for the enslaver. Jesus Takes Sides The biblical witness is clear: Jesus takes sides. Jesus is willing to declare both “Blessed are the poor” and “woe to the rich.” The Magnificat declares that God “has cast down rulers from their thrones and exalted those who are lowly, filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.” The prophets consistently show God’s anger at those who “grind the face of the poor” while offering protection to the vulnerable.Yes, there’s absolutely universality to God’s liberative work—God is working for the liberation of all people. But that requires side-taking to be just. If God’s goal is the liberation of all, then removing rulers from power and wealth from the wealthy is actually their liberation too. As the church fathers said, there are no such thing as riches honestly gotten. Freeing the oppressor from their role as oppressor is ultimately for their good, even if it feels painful as they’re cast from their thrones.This is why total depravity theology can be so dangerous when applied to social justice. It neuters the possibility of conversations about race or gender by insisting that white people and racialized minorities are equally guilty for racism, that men and women bear equal responsibility for patriarchy. It flattens power dynamics in ways that protect the status quo.When someone says “we’re all equally sinful,” it can serve as a shut-down for calls for systemic change. But that’s not what the gospel demands. Raising Children Who Know Their Beauty I think about that eight-year-old version of myself, frantically confessing sins before bed, and I want something different for my children. We should raise children with an inherent belief in their beauty and goodness. Not because they’re incapable of wrongdoing (hardly), but because they’re made in the image of God and God desires to be close to them.God doesn’t see us as so awful that God had to turn away from us. The incarnation is God choosing to get closer, not farther. When Jesus encounters children in the Gospels, he doesn’t see “vipers in diapers”—he sees the Kingdom of God. He says we must become like children to enter that kingdom.This doesn’t mean children don’t need guidance, boundaries, or formation. But it means we start with their inherent dignity rather than their supposed corruption. We teach them about sin as a power that affects all creation—including them—but not as their fundamental identity. A Theology for Transformation I’m still working through some of this. I want to maintain the relationship between creator and created. I don’t believe humanity is capable of its own salvation—God is the primary mover in the universe, moving us toward shalom. But I also believe we’re capable of participating in that work of transformation.We can work toward a more just society because we’re made in God’s image and empowered by God’s Spirit. We can reject systems of oppression because we’ve been liberated from the cosmic powers of Sin and Death. We can hold people accountable for harm while still believing in their capacity for repentance and restoration.Total depravity theology tells us we’re fundamentally broken and need to settle for charity as a band-aid. But what if we’re fundamentally dependent creatures designed for relationship with God and each other? What if the brokenness we experience comes from systems and powers that have been defeated, not from some intrinsic corruption within ourselves?That eight-year-old lying in bed, scraping his soul clean—he wasn’t experiencing healthy spiritual formation. He was living under a theology that had turned God into a cosmic accountant keeping track of infractions. But the God Jesus reveals isn’t interested in our misery or our terror. God is interested in our flourishing, our liberation, our becoming who we were always meant to be. We can do better than total depravity. We can embrace total dependence while refusing to flatten moral responsibility. We can recognize our need for God without believing terrible things about ourselves or our children. And we can work for the transformation of the world because that’s exactly what God is already doing.Living this means raising children who know they’re beloved. It means taking sides with the oppressed. It means believing that a more just society is possible because God is already working to make it so. The question isn’t whether we’re fundamentally good or evil—the question is whether we’ll participate in God’s work of liberation or resist it. |
