Whose Side of History Did We Inherit?

We inherited a version of history, not a seat above it. Listen beyond the familiar account and ask what our faith gains when we stop confusing our vantage point with the whole view.

By Pastor Chris Cahill · October 26, 2026 · 4 minute read · New reflection

One person’s discovery is another person’s invasion. One nation’s expansion is another nation’s displacement.

Where we stand when the story begins can change what we notice. That deserves a closer look, especially when our own side always seems to come out spotless.

We often hear that history is written by the victors. That is incomplete, but it gives us a useful question: How much of what we call history is what happened—and how much is the meaning someone gave it?

Consider America’s westward expansion. “Manifest Destiny” framed the nation’s growth as providential progress. From the perspective of Native nations losing their homelands, that same progress involved dispossession. The Smithsonian documents how the belief that expansion was divinely ordained helped justify Indigenous removal. [1]

Watch the language. Once we call something destiny, it becomes easier to stop asking whether it was just.

Ancient rulers understood the power of framing. Egyptian accounts celebrated Ramesses II’s triumph at Kadesh, although both sides claimed victory. Centuries later, Octavian portrayed Cleopatra as a corrupting foreign threat, helping frame his struggle against Antony as a defense of Rome. Scholars still examine how that propaganda shaped her reputation. [2] [3]

Even defeat does not prevent people from shaping the story. The Confederate “Lost Cause” recast the Civil War as a noble struggle while minimizing slavery’s central role. Sometimes the people who lose a war still influence how later generations remember it. [4]

Winning the battle and winning the memory are different achievements.

What happens when we bring that awareness to Scripture?

The Hebrew Bible tells Israel’s story through covenant, promised land, judgment, and restoration. It is reasonable to ask how the communities preserving these writings understood their place in God’s purposes.

Yet calling this simply “history written by the victors” misses something essential: much of this tradition was shaped by defeat.

Yale scholar Christine Hayes explains how biblical writers interpreted the destruction of their kingdoms and the experience of exile. Their question was urgent: How could they understand national catastrophe while continuing to trust God’s promises? [5]

Their scriptures also preserve devastating criticism of their own people and leaders. Being chosen did not place them beyond judgment. In an influential Jewish interpretation articulated by Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, chosenness concerns responsibility rather than inherent superiority. [6] [7]

Christians need to sit with that before we rush to claim the better seat.

We inherit these scriptures through Jesus and the earliest Christian communities. When Paul describes Gentile believers as branches grafted into an existing olive tree, he also warns them against arrogance toward the other branches. Belonging is an invitation to humility. [8]

Taking a text’s human setting seriously helps us read carefully. It does not, by itself, decide whether that text is divinely inspired. We can keep those questions distinct without treating either as a threat.

Ask who is speaking, what they have endured, and what they are trying to preserve. Then listen for the experience we have overlooked. Humility gets practical when another person’s perspective is allowed to challenge our first reading.

Then comes the question closest to home:

When we read a sacred story, why are we so quick to assume we would have been its heroes?

Perhaps we would have been the frightened disciple, the comfortable ruler, or the religious person certain that God endorsed our side.

Perspective gives us room to consider those possibilities without abandoning faith.

Read one familiar passage again this week, without casting yourself as its hero. Talk it through with someone willing to see it from another angle. Faith can mature when we let the story examine us, then carry what we learn into a kinder conversation.

Faith, hope, and love in action through Christ and kindness.