A few months ago, the name James Talarico started showing up all over the news. Talarico is a Texas politician, a former teacher, and a Presbyterian minister. And among the things he said that got a lot of attention was this provocative statement: “God is nonbinary.” I have to admit, that sentence makes me want to take a deep breath before I say anything else.
People immediately began arguing about what he meant, whether it was biblical, whether it was theological nonsense, whether it was progressive Christianity gone off the rails. Eventually, Talarico clarified that he was trying to make the point that God is beyond gender, and acknowledged that perhaps some of his phrasing had missed the mark. But here's the interesting thing: what if the basic theological instinct behind that provocative sentence is actually pretty biblical?
Not necessarily the phrase “God is nonbinary.” You don't have to use that language. But the idea that God is beyond our categories of male and female is not some new idea invented by progressive Christians. It's right there in Scripture.
So let me begin with something very simple and very clear: God is not a sexed being. God is neither male nor female. God is the ground of all being and the source of all life. God is God. And yet—and this is where things get interesting—the Bible talks about God using both masculine and feminine images, as well as all kinds of other images. Scripture gives us a much bigger, richer, more mysterious picture of God than many of us were handed growing up. And here’s the danger: if the only picture we have of God is male-centered, our language and theology risk becoming unbiblical even idolatrous.
In Deuteronomy 4, Moses reminds Israel that when God spoke to them at Mount Horeb, they heard God's voice but did not see God's form. Moses specifically warns them not to make an image of God in the likeness of a man or a woman (Deuteronomy 4:12, 15–16). Jesus says it plainly: “God is spirit” (John 4:24).
So when Scripture calls God “Father,” we should not imagine that God is literally an old man somewhere in the universe. When Scripture calls God “King,” God isn't literally sitting on a throne wearing a crown. When Scripture says God is a rock or a lion, God isn't made of granite (Psalm 18:2) and doesn’t have a tail (Hosea 13:7). And when Scripture compares God to a nursing mother, God isn't literally a being with female anatomy.
These are all metaphors. And biblical metaphors aren't less true because they aren't literal. They are truthful ways Scripture helps us encounter a God who is both/and, as well as beyond, our words and images: God is Father and Mother, Shepherd and Rock, Lion and Lamb, Fire and Potter, Warrior and Wind.
And in Isaiah 42, Isaiah gives us perhaps one of the clearest examples of how radical biblical language about God can be. The chapter begins with the Lord described as a warrior going out to battle (Isaiah 42:13). God raises the battle cry and triumphs over God's enemies. But then, almost without taking a breath, God says: “For a long time I have kept silent... but now, like a woman in childbirth, I cry out, I gasp and pant” (Isaiah 42:14).
A warrior. And then, in a blink of an eye, a woman in labor. Isaiah puts those images side by side. Both are images of God's determination and passionate involvement in the world. And this warrior God is not simply coming to defeat enemies but also labors like a woman giving birth to redemptive realities (Isaiah 42:16).
God's power is not merely the power to conquer. It’s the power to give birth, bring people home, open eyes, guide the lost, and make a way where there wasn't one. The warrior image and the birthing image point toward the same God: a God passionately committed to bringing us and all of creation toward life.
But let's be honest. Many of us aren't as comfortable with the Bible’s male/female combo. Most of us inherited a solely masculine picture of God. We heard God called “Father,” “Lord,” and “Warrior.” All of those are biblical. There is nothing wrong with calling God Father. Jesus calls God Father (Matthew 6:9; John 17:1). But there is a difference between saying that “Father” is a biblical image of God and saying that God is actually male. Scripture doesn't say that. In fact, Scripture keeps interrupting that assumption with feminine images. In Isaiah 49, God self-identifies as a nursing mother (Isaiah 49:15) and later says, “As a mother comforts her child, so I will comfort you” (Isaiah 66:13). Scripture offers us visions of God as a mother eagle nurturing her nestlings (32:11), a caring mid-wife (Ps. 22:9), a mother bear protecting her cubs (Hosea 13:8) The feminine images of God that Scripture gives us are significant—not because we need to make God female, but because we need to make God more biblical. Female images are also Biblical.
By the way, Jesus understood that. Looking over Jerusalem, he says, “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a mother hen gathers her chicks under her wings” (Matthew 23:37). And in Luke 15, Jesus tells two stories back-to-back about God: a shepherd searches for one lost sheep, and, in the blink of an eye, a woman searches through her house for one lost coin (Luke 15:3–10). A man searching. A woman searching. Both reveal something about the heart of God.
The point isn't that God is sometimes male and sometimes female. The point is that God is neither male nor female—and yet both male and female experiences can become windows through which we glimpse something true about God.
And this matters not only theologically. It matters because what we repeatedly say about God shapes what we imagine God to be like. And who we imagine God to be like shapes how we understand ourselves. Worship is not merely about God. Worship teaches us. Prayer teaches us. The songs we sing, the prayers we pray, and the words we share with our children form our relationship with God and our relationship with one another.
There is research suggesting that our language for God matters deeply. A 2024 study found that masculine imagery of God created a greater sense of life purpose for men but a lower sense of life purpose for women. The researchers were careful not to say that masculine imagery automatically caused harm, but the study suggests that one-sided gendered-language for God is not psychologically neutral.
Imagine what happens when the only images of ultimate authority, holiness, wisdom, power, and divine action are masculine. Even if we never say it explicitly, a troubling message can seep in: the closer you are to maleness, the closer you are to God. When authority looks male. Leadership looks male. Wisdom looks male. Power looks male – women will look down and be looked down upon.
Our daughters need to hear that God can be imagined as a mother who comforts, a woman who searches, a nursing parent who cannot forget her child, and a mother hen who gathers vulnerable chicks beneath her wings. Those images don't make God less powerful. They expand what divine power means. They also teach us that the capacity to nurture, comfort, protect, create and give life is not somehow less godlike or less important.
And this isn't only liberating for women. It's liberating for men, too. If God is imagined almost exclusively through stereotypically masculine traits—strength, control, conquest, authority—men can absorb the message that vulnerability is weakness, gentleness is secondary, and tenderness is somehow less divine. But Scripture itself refuses that narrow definition. When a man comforts a hurting child, sits beside someone who is grieving, expresses tenderness, or responds to suffering with deep empathy, he isn't moving away from God. He is reflecting God.
So this isn't about replacing “Father” with “Mother.” It isn't about banning masculine language or pretending Jesus wasn't male. Jesus was a first-century Jewish man. That's part of the beauty of the incarnation: the Word of God entered human history as a particular human being—male, Jewish, poor, vulnerable (John 1:14). But Jesus' maleness does not mean that God is essentially male any more than Jesus' Jewishness means that God has ethnicity. God is Spirit (John 4:24), Jesus says. God is not a superhuman male. The incarnation means that the invisible God chooses to become visible in Jesus—not because God is a male, but because God loves us enough to become one of us in order to heal all of us.
So our task is not to choose our favorite image of God and throw away the others. Our task is to let Scripture stretch us. Sometimes the Bible's job isn't to make us comfortable. It’s job is to make our picture of God stranger. And I think that matters especially when we talk about gender. Human beings have always had a tendency to make God look suspiciously like ourselves. We create God in our image, and then—conveniently—God agrees with us about everything. God likes the people we like. God dislikes the people we dislike. God supports the social order we support. And the Bible keeps challenging us: You thought God looked like you? No. You were created in God's image. God was not created in yours. (Genesis 1:27)
And precisely because God transcends gender, women do not have to become less female to bear God’s image. Men do not have to become more stereotypically masculine to bear God’s image. The God we worship creates male and female together in God's image and blesses them both (Genesis 1:27–28). And that's where all of this finally leads—not toward an argument about pronouns or a culture-war debate about whether we're allowed to call God “nonbinary,” but toward wonder. Toward humility. Toward more gender equality. Toward more Biblical worship. Because every time we speak about God, we are reaching for words that can never contain the One we're trying to describe. So call God Father. Yes. Call God Mother. Yes. And then remember: God is more than both.
So the question isn't simply, “What pronoun should we use for God?” The deeper question is: What kind of God are we imagining when we use that pronoun? Are we allowing Scripture to make God bigger? Don't be afraid of the mystery. Don't be afraid of the feminine images. Don't be afraid of the masculine ones. Because those unexpected images are there precisely to remind us: God is bigger than the God we have imagined.
And that's good news. God is not like us. God is not confined by us. God cannot be reduced to us. But we—male and female, all of us, each of us —are invited to reflect this mysterious God together. That's why we need one another. We need perspectives we don't always see. We need experiences we haven't lived. We need images that make us uncomfortable. We need Scriptures that challenge our assumptions. We need a God who is bigger than all of us.
And so, rather than trying to put God in a box, perhaps our invitation is simply this: Behold your Father. Behold your Mother. Behold the Lion. Behold the Lamb. Behold the Rock. Behold the Wind. Behold the God who cannot be reduced to any of these images—and yet meets us through all of them. Behold this God who is bigger than you imagined. Amen.
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