There’s a word the Church has always been uncomfortable with: heretic.

It sounds sharp — like accusation or exile.
It brings to mind people pushed out, silenced, burned, or branded for daring to ask questions too soon, or too loudly.

But lately, I’ve been thinking that maybe “heretic” isn’t always the insult it seems.
Maybe it’s a word for people who love God enough to wrestle with what’s broken.

All through history, the ones we called heretics were often the ones who refused to let fear win — the ones who said the Church could be better, the world could be kinder, the truth could be bigger.

People like Pauli Murray, who refused to believe God’s image came in only one color or gender.
Like Delores Williams, who said God doesn’t will suffering but walks with us through it.
Like John Shelby Spong, who dared to imagine a faith that grows instead of calcifies.
Like Miguel De La Torre, who reminds us that Jesus wasn’t polite — He was prophetic.

And maybe you’ve known some heretics too — the kind who ask hard questions in Sunday School, who love the church enough to tell the truth, who risk belonging in order to be honest.

Because that’s what holy heresy really is:
Not a rejection of faith, but a refusal to stop evolving.
Not rebellion for rebellion’s sake, but devotion that’s brave enough to grow.

When Jesus healed on the Sabbath, ate with outcasts, and overturned tables, people called Him a blasphemer — a heretic. But maybe He was just showing us what holy love looks like when it refuses to fit inside our comfort.

So if your faith has been changing, expanding, or becoming harder to define — maybe that’s not failure. Maybe that’s fidelity. Maybe the Spirit is still speaking, still stirring, still undoing what needs to be undone so something truer can rise.

Because the gospel has never been about keeping everyone in line.
It’s always been about setting people free.

“For the Spirit blows where it will…” — John 3:8