Sermon preached by Rev. Wesley King, August 3, 2025
This morning’s text is one that I normally would shy away from because these types of texts have been used—and misused—to try and assert control or shame people for many, many years.
This entire book, actually—the book of Colossians—has been used and misused many, many times. This book contains a version of the “wives, submit to your husbands” text. It also contains the “masters, be just and fair to your slaves” text. But I decided that instead of trying to shy away from this text and choosing an easier one, I wanted to possibly turn this into a teaching moment. It’s why I’m right here instead of up there. I’m also down here because I want us to truly tackle this text together this morning. And I want you to know that I expect both of us to put in a little bit of work.
So, if you’d like to actually grab that pew Bible and go to page 2011, I invite you to do so. And while you do so, allow me to pray over our time together.
Spirit of the living God, fall afresh on me. Melt me and mold me. Fill me and use me. Spirit of the living God, fall afresh on me. Amen.
Okay, you don’t have to raise your hands, actually, but how many of you grew up during, adjacent to, or just knew about—or remember—purity culture? Hello.
If you are unaware of what I’m talking about, purity culture was an evangelical movement from the ’90s that placed a really strong emphasis on abstinence before marriage. This is where you start getting uncomfortable in your pews. It also laid out that abstinence was the only sexual ethic outside of marriage and thus did not leave any space for anything or anyone that did not fall into that heteronormative assumption.
It instructed women and girls to cover up and dress modestly, though that same instruction was often not given to the men or the boys. Purity culture also emphasized traditional gender roles and asserted that men must be the head of the household, the main moneymaker, and that women must be more submissive. They must stay home. They must provide whatever is needed for their husbands. Dating was discouraged or heavily confined—mostly to avoid premarital sex. Self-pleasure was highly discouraged, though more strongly discouraged for women than men.
You’re really getting nervous now.
And lastly, purity culture established comprehensive moral systems in which sexual behavior was closely tied to your spiritual identity, your gender roles, and your communal belonging—meaning if you did not believe this way or act this way, you were out.
Texts like this passage from Colossians were central to purity culture.
Now, some still proclaim that it was the right decision and are happy to have participated in this movement. Others, though—and truthfully, most of the people that I’ve heard from, talked to, or read about online—have shared that all it did was turn them off to church, make them repressed and confused.
All of that to say that what we do here, the words we share here, has weight. These texts—these words—are long-lasting, for better or for worse. And that is why what we do here must be intentional, and we must be invested in what that message is.
So today I want to talk about this text. But more than that, I want to talk about how we read and engage texts like these—specifically, three different ways that I want you to use, or invite you to use, rather, moving forward.
And the first way is this: you have to ask yourself, Who wrote this? Who were they writing to, and why?
The letter to the Colossians is considered a disputed letter. That means that biblical scholars do not believe that Paul literally wrote this letter. In fact, Colossians is perhaps the first letter written in Paul’s name after his death.
My Bible professor at LTS, Dr. Jerry Sumney, said this: “Paul personally did not found the church at Colossae. But the language is more powerful if Paul had already suffered a martyr’s death.”
So if Paul didn’t write it, who did? Most scholars suspect Ephesus—someone who was on Paul’s mission team—probably wrote this. And I’m also not saying that we shouldn’t listen to him just because Paul didn’t write it. But it does pose the question of how much weight we give it, or how much authority we give it over our lives, knowing that Paul himself didn’t give the instruction.
Moreover, we have to understand that Paul and his mission partners believed that Jesus’s return was imminent—so much so that in some of his letters to the Corinthians and the Ephesians, Paul even discouraged folks from getting married altogether because he believed that Jesus could return at any moment. And thus, perhaps this text too was written with that same kind of urgency in mind.
Next, the Colossian church had several leaders come through proclaiming that you had to have seen visions in order to secure your place with God. That is mentioned one chapter before this, in chapter 2. And so Paul’s purpose in this letter—or in this text—was to instruct, or possibly re-instruct, what his theology is when it comes to spiritual living and salvation.
Keep in mind that the early church did not have thousands of years of theological tradition. Many ideas and theologies and understandings flowed through the early church. And part of Paul’s purpose in writing his many letters was to institute what they believed and why.
These details are crucial because if we read these passages at face value, we are only hearing our 21st-century understanding of a text that was never intended for us. Now, that isn’t to say that we can’t learn something from it—but it is to say that it was not written to us with our 21st-century context in mind.
Here’s an example of what I mean: if I write the words, I want a Mountain Dew, and I give that note to Margie, she’s going to assume that I want the soda, Mountain Dew. But if I put that same note in a time machine and send it back a hundred years—before the invention of the best soda, Mountain Dew—they’ll assume that I’m talking about actual dew from an actual mountain. And if I send that note 100 years into the future, who knows what they’ll think I’m talking about.
That context—that historical context—is key.
Understanding that this passage was written to an early and young church about spiritual living in a time when women were still property to be owned and used to barter business deals, and where slavery was common practice, is crucial in discerning the weight that we give this passage and the authority that we give it over our lives.
Which leads us to the second way to read and understand scripture: discerning what is contextual about a passage and what is universal.
I always get really frustrated when I hear somebody say, “The Bible says it. I believe it. And that settles it.” Because if that’s the case, then what do you do about the parts that say, “Don’t get married because Jesus is coming back”? What do you do about the part one chapter later than this text in which we instruct masters to be just and fair to your slaves, in a society in which we denounce slavery? What do you do about the fact that the details of the four Gospels are all different—and sometimes even contradictory?
The Bible says... what you believe... what is settled...
The Bible is not univocal—meaning, it does not have one writer. This book was assembled over the span of 1,200-ish years and has been translated umpteen times. That’s not to discredit it at all—but it is to say that it takes more work than that.
The author of our text says in verse 5: “So put to death...”—again, words we probably wouldn’t use now—“Put to death the parts of your life that belong to the earth, such as sexual immorality, moral corruption, lust, evil desire, and greed, which is idolatry.”
Now, when I was growing up, this verse was interpreted to mean what my 1990s Sunday School teachers understood it to mean—and that’s what they taught me. But what did it mean to the writer?
Well, people much smarter than me think that it likely meant sexual practices as a part of pagan worship at that time. It likely meant adultery—specifically for the woman or the wife—as the men were not always expected to adhere to that same standard. It could have meant any practice that did not lead to pregnancy, as procreation was always the main goal. It could have meant sexual practices between married men and women that the society or the culture deemed inappropriate.
The point is: biblical scholars think it could have been a number of things pertaining to that time.
And so to you I ask: What is contextual from this passage, and what is universal? In other words, what was written for a very specific historical context—a very specific point in time—and what might we glean from it today in 2025?
I do believe that God holds a sexual ethic for us. And I believe that that message is universal. But surely the actual practice of said ethic is not the same as the first century.
So then, what is it?
I believe a key part of Christian discipleship is engaging with scripture and discerning God’s will—not just accepting something because someone told you so many moons ago. And in that same mindset, don’t just accept what I have to say today because I’m up here wearing this.
The writer had a specific intention in mind—as did our Sunday School teachers and preachers growing up. But I’m asking you: What do you think it means?
Growing up, I was told that drinking alcohol was sinful—any alcohol at all. But as I’ve grown older, though, I’ve come to realize that, for me at least—only speaking for myself—drinking alcohol isn’t inherently sinful. I’ve had many parties, dinner parties, celebrations, or just nights out with friends in which beer, wine, or rye bourbon (which is my favorite) was shared—as were cherished memories and stories. Bonds were built, relationships and friendships forged, and they remain to this day.
But I’ve also misused alcohol at times—made poor choices, said or did things that I might regret. And so I’ve had to learn my limits and how to conduct and control myself. And so I wonder if maybe our sexual ethic is similar.
The truth is: the Bible does not convey the message of “abstinence only before marriage.” Those words—or that message—is just simply not in the book. That’s just how people have interpreted it.
Which is fine, by the way. For some people, maybe it works. And for others, maybe it doesn’t. Because I know people who waited until marriage and wish that they hadn’t. And I know people who didn’t wait and wish they had.
So maybe sexual morality is more complex than that. Maybe a godly sexual ethic is for you to discern with God.
Perhaps it’s more about honoring the act, treating people with dignity and respect, emphasizing communication, and not treating sex as something of power or gain or control—but as caring for and perhaps loving somebody else.
Verse 7 of that text begins:
“These are the ways that you once followed when you were living that life. But now you must get rid of such things—wrath, anger, malice, slander, abusive language from your mouth. Do not lie to one another, seeing that you have stripped off your old self with its practices and have clothed yourself with a new self, which is being renewed in knowledge according to the image of its creator.”
To me, this message is universal. It surpasses historical context and speaks through time and space. Christ has called us to love our neighbors as much as we love ourselves. And here, Paul—or someone writing on Paul’s behalf—is reminding us that in order to love our neighbors as Christ has commanded, we must put away anger, put away wrath, put away malice and slander and abusive language that hurts and harms our neighbors if we are to be set apart.
The beginning of this passage describes us as being raised with Christ—meaning that when Christ was resurrected from the dead, we too were raised, leaving behind earthly behaviors that hurt and harm. For when we are raised with Christ, it is to be more like Christ.
Lastly, the third way that I want you to understand scripture is not only personally—how does it affect you and your walk—but communally. In scripture, in the original text and in the original languages, these authors and speakers are rarely using the singular “you.” So much of these teachings were meant for the entire community.
So with that in mind: What does it mean to respond to this text as a community?
Perhaps we end sexual immorality by working to end human trafficking.
Perhaps we end moral corruption by ensuring that our communities are registered to vote so that their voices are heard and counted.
Perhaps we end lust and evil desire by training people to communicate what they want and what they need, but also recognizing consent and honoring the “no” as much as the “yes.”
Perhaps we end greed by ensuring that funds and resources are not hoarded but are flowed and given back to the community.
Maybe a country made up predominantly of Christians doesn’t look very Christian at times because for far too long, the majority of us have just been on autopilot—not engaging with the text, not engaging with God—just accepting it at face value and then never questioning, never digging deeper, never re-evaluating or asking ourselves these questions.
And to be fair, many of us were taught, especially at young ages, not to question—and that actually doing so was antithetical to our discipleship.
Wasn’t going to tell this story, but after my grandfather died, my grandmother was really doing poorly. And I went and visited her, and she began to share with me all these questions that she had: Why did this happen? Why could God let this happen? And then she very quickly cowered and said, “I know you’re not supposed to question God. I know you’re not supposed to question.”
And I asked her. I said, “Gran, the Bible is full of people questioning God. The Psalms, the lamenting Psalms—everybody is questioning God. Why would you let this happen, God? How long, O Lord, must we wait?” But that speaks to the fact that she—like myself—was taught that questioning meant that you were not a good Christian.
And I’m not saying to throw away the things that we learned growing up. We wouldn’t have made it this far without the amazing parents, grandparents, teachers, preachers, and everybody who taught us the stories of God and of God’s abundant love.
But in those moments that we find ourselves questioning, perhaps instead we lean into it—not as an act of defiance, but as an act of taking agency over what we believe and why.
Friends, we follow a God whose time spent here on earth ministering was spent asking questions—both of his own followers and of religious authority. He often said, “You have been taught this, but what I tell you is this.”
I believe that that is another way that we are raised with Christ. Jesus’s example on earth was many things, and one of them was an eagerness to seek love despite laws, to seek mercy despite mandates, to seek compassion despite codes of conduct.
This led him to questioning the man who was accusing—or actually the men who were accusing—the woman of adultery and were ready to murder her for it.
This led to Jesus questioning religious authority when he healed the man on the Sabbath, despite it being against the law.
This also led to the Ethiopian eunuch questioning Philip as to why he couldn’t get baptized despite his racial, sexual, and gender differences.
This led to the Stone-Campbell movement ordaining Rev. Clara Hale Babcock in 1889—despite her being a woman—because the first people who shared the gospel were women.
This led to Vine Street Christian Church in the 1960s questioning why anybody would be barred from the table of God because of the color of their skin, when our own Savior had brown skin.
This led to our denomination questioning why anyone would be barred from membership or ordination or any other facet of the church because of their orientation or their gender, back in 2013—because these people too are children of God.
Friends, I hope that this has given you not any answers but more questions. But I hope that you take these frameworks and apply them to the scriptures you read. Ask these questions. Be empowered to ask these questions.
And I think in doing so, we will find and follow Christ’s example.
So may we question.
May we inquire.
May we discern.
May we pray and seek God’s will.
And in doing so, may we be raised with Christ—leaving behind earthly things that may hurt or harm ourselves or our neighbors.
And may it be so.
But may we make it so with our living and with our loving, and with the help of God.
Amen.