Whose Side of History Did We Inherit?

How a wider perspective can deepen our faith.

Chris Cahill · October 26, 2026 · 4 min read · New reflection

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

Sometimes, the difference is where we stand when the story begins.

We often hear that history is written by the victors. That statement is incomplete, but it raises a worthwhile 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]

The language matters. Once we call something destiny, we may 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]

That should give Christians pause.

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]

Recognizing a text’s human setting does not settle whether it is divinely inspired. It helps us read with greater care.

We can ask: Who is speaking? What have they endured? What are they trying to preserve? Whose experience might help us understand what we have overlooked?

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.

And perhaps that is one way faith matures: we become more willing to let the story examine us.

Wisdom · Unity · Grace