By Tish Harrison Warren
Opinion Writer
New York Times
In my early 20s, I attended an event where Tim Keller, an orthodox, evangelical Presbyterian pastor, was having a public debate with a secular humanist. In the nearly 20 years that have passed since the event, I still recall one moment distinctly. The secular humanist struggled with a point he was making and was unclear, something that happens often enough in public speaking. Keller could have chosen to go in for the kill rhetorically and make his opponent look foolish. Instead, he paused and asked, “Is this what you mean?” Keller then restated the secular argument in a clearer, better way, arguing against his own point of view. The other speaker agreed that was what he had meant, and Keller continued, countering the (now much stronger) point.
This generosity and understanding toward those with whom we disagree helped shape the way I now see the world. It had more of an impact on me, as a Christian, than any argument could. Keller refused the easier route of debate, insisting on finding the best argument of others, even if it meant strengthening his opponent’s case. He was in pursuit of truth and kindness, not point scoring. That night I saw what Christian leaders should be like.
Keller died this month, at 72, from pancreatic cancer. He was best known for planting and pastoring Redeemer Presbyterian Church in Manhattan, which despite being a theologically conservative church in a secular, progressive city, grew to be over 5,000 people, mostly young professionals. Last week, Peter Wehner described Keller in The Atlantic as, “one of the 21st century’s most influential and revered church leaders — a pastor and theologian; an author who sold an estimated 25 million copies of his books; the co-founder and driving force behind Redeemer City to City, a nonprofit that promotes church planting and gospel movements in the great cities of the world.” Keller had a remarkably brilliant mind and an ability to communicate complicated theological ideas in simple, relatable ways. He was courageous yet profoundly humble. What I will most remember him for, though, is his generous kindness.
Six years ago, out of the blue, Keller emailed me. I had published a controversial piece and was being hammered online, a common occurrence these days for any public writer, especially one who, like Keller, doesn’t fit neatly into left or right boxes. He wrote simply to encourage me, to tell me to keep my chin up and keep writing. It meant the world to me. After that, Tim became a chief source of cheerleading and guidance in my life — a protective older brother or father figure, a life coach and a spiritual sage combined. Over the past few years, any time I was being piled on after a controversial piece, my phone would ring, and it would be Tim, just checking in. He wanted to hear how I was feeling, to encourage me and then to discuss ideas and theology. Mostly, Tim wanted to talk about the hope and beauty he found in Jesus and how we might best communicate that hope in our moment.
Tim’s relationship with me was yet another example of his investment in people across difference. He was in a denomination that doesn’t ordain women, and he believed the Bible calls for distinct roles for men and women within the church and the household. I am a woman who is an ordained priest. We discussed our disagreements openly, but the conversations were never hostile. We found far more unity in our mutual faith in Christ and commitment to the Bible than our differences could undo. Our theological differences about gender roles didn’t keep him from supporting my work in ways he could. A few years ago, he found out I didn’t have a literary agent and chastised me, in a kind, concerned way. A week later, his agent contacted me. Tim had called him. Even this month, in his last weeks, when he was very sick, he made time to offer me wisdom and advice. Tim had nothing to gain from giving me his time. He was simply generous, even to the very end.
In our last conversation, he spoke fondly about his ministry at Redeemer, his love for the church and his concerns about American Christians. As a pastor and Christian leader, Tim refused to be politically captive to either party. In a 2017 piece for The Times, he wrote, “While believers can register under a party affiliation and be active in politics, they should not identify the Christian church or faith with a political party,” insisting that the church must never devolve into “one more voting bloc aiming for power.” He continued: “For example, following both the Bible and the early church, Christians should be committed to racial justice and the poor but also to the understanding that sex is only for marriage and for nurturing family. One of those views seems liberal and the other looks oppressively conservative. The historical Christian positions on social issues do not fit into contemporary political alignments.”
Tim was criticized by some for being too theologically conservative, by others for being too liberal and by others for being too moderate. However, he never seemed bitter or upset by the criticism. He took it all in stride and encouraged me to as well, signing emails with advice like, “Keep that skin thickening!”
Tim seemed so secure in his relationship with God that he wasn’t threatened by anything. He was at ease with disagreement and difference. He did not fret over the future of the church. He did not even fear death. Some Christian critics say that the Tim Keller model of engagement — his winsome, gentle approach to those with whom he disagreed — is outdated. They say that increased secularization and progressive hostility toward traditional Christianity requires the faithful to hit back, respond in kind, dominate or humiliate those who oppose us. But Tim wasn’t kind, gentle and loving to others as some sort of strategy to win the culture wars, grow his church or achieve a particular result. Tim loved his neighbors, even across deep differences, simply because he was a man who had been transformed by the grace of Jesus. As he wrote in The Times, he believed and lived as if “the Gospel gives us the resources to love people who reject both our beliefs and us personally.”
The Christian Scriptures describe “the fruit of the Spirit” — what grows in us as we walk with God — as love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Tim’s life was marked by these things. And these dispositions are not a political strategy. They are not a part of a brand. They are not a way to sell books, gain power, win culture wars or “take back America for Christ.” Tim inhabited these ways of being not as a means to any end but as a response to his relationship with God and love for his neighbor. The last 10 years or so have been hard on orthodox or traditional Christians who are wary of Christian nationalism, hyperpartisanship and the politics of bitterness or resentment. “Keller’s passing leaves a void in the nascent movement to reform evangelicalism,” wrote Michael Luo in The New Yorker, “and today’s social and political currents make the prospects for change seem dim.”
Younger Christians, many of whom feel disaffected and disillusioned by the tone, antics and political idolatry of a flailing American church, have few older leaders to look up to, few public guides who have walked further down life’s hard road. Tim, of course, wasn’t the only one, but he certainly was a shining light that proved that Christian leaders could steadfastly exhibit intelligence, integrity, graciousness and countercultural kindness. He showed us a way of being. As I read many tributes from others this past week, I realized that I’m mourning not just a friend and mentor but also the loss of Tim’s uniquely luminous public witness.
When I interviewed Tim for The Times last year, he spoke, in a moment that didn’t make it into the published version, of his desire to encourage people, especially younger Christian leaders coming behind him. He added with a laugh, maybe “even a female Anglican priest writing for The New York Times.” I can say, without a doubt, that Tim encouraged me. That mission was accomplished.
I am not sure what I — or the broader American church — will do without Tim Keller. He will be dearly missed. Yet he’d be the first to say that the same grace that transformed him is available to us all, even now.
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