Overrealized Eschatology?

I’ve been trying to wade through the differences in how we can be faithful to Jesus but also encounter the culture(s) in which God has sent us for a long time now. There is a vast array of differences between teams on how this should be done. But, here are some thoughts that can help us think through these things, in the bigger picture:

1. Shalom will not ultimately be achieved through human means, and is not promised until the new creation.

2. The depth of the effects of sin on shalom will be experienced until the new creation.

3. But, we have been given promises that are for the present. The future we await should empower us in the present. Jesus is building His Church, and we are indwelled by the Spirit to participate in God’s mission to redeem all of creation. Present transformation is substantial, but not total.

I think this framework is very helpful when thinking about how much can actually be done in the present. If we believe that by our efforts we can achieve “another world,” then we will all be continually frustrated. This completely ignores the holistic effects of sin on all of creation. But, if we so stress that truth and ignore the promises given to us in the present, that God’s Kingdom has been and will continue to spread, then we won’t do anything.

Maybe this is too simplistic, but when I hear about pacifism/nonviolence, this is typically where my mind goes. If we truly believed that another world was possible, then we would outlaw prisons and locks on our houses. That is anarchy, and that is not a world I want to live in. Yes, power has been and will continue to be abused. But, we can’t be so naive as to think that allowing bad things to happen to those we love will somehow change the world in the present. Sin is a big deal, and there have to boundaries.

Rhythms of Mission: Confessing Our Idols

Last night went really well. Most of the group stuck around to ask questions and discuss, so it was definitely less depressing than I had foreseen. I’d love to get some interaction with this:

http://www.mediafire.com/?vd2mzl0lmyu

Industrial Sexuality

I’ve been rereading through Colossians Remixed preparing for the Rhythms of Mission class, and I’m discovering a lot more than I remember from the first time I read it. I could post a lot of different thoughts about it, but something that stuck out to me specifically is the discussion on sexuality. I’ll try to summarize here:

The second half of the book is called “Praxis” (and I’ve stolen that title for the fourth week of the class). Basically, if we are all rooted in some basic story, some foundational worldview, then by default we will be driven toward an ethic based on that foundation. The two are inseparable. The authors restate the reason why I’m beginning the class with a discussion on idolatry: “If all the maps are provided by the empire, if all the reality we can see is what the empire has constructed as reality for us, then our praxis will never be creative, and it will never be subversive that empire.” Basically, if all we know is what we’ve learned as residents in an alien culture, then we won’t be able to live out the praxis of the new creation, the new community that we’ve been called into.

They ask, “So what kind of an ethic is this?” and respond with six basic themes: resurrection, ascension, liberated, eschatological, relational and narrative. They go into each theme specifically, and then move onto the theme of secession, taking cues from Wendell Berry. “Secession is always from something in order to join with something else. Berry calls us to secede from a culture of concomitant self-gratification and self-annihilation (they are, in the end, the same thing) into a life of care, for one another and for the good gifts of creation. This is an ethic of gift in the face of a culture of commodity.”

Now, the section on sexuality… “Why would we ever be tempted to buy into a self-loathing rejection of our sexuality?” They answer this question rooted in the Jewish tradition of “life and prosperity versus death and adversity.” “He calls the Colossian Christians to put to death certain patterns of human relationships because those patterns are themselves deadly.” This is a life-and-death struggle. It isn’t simply that we don’t sin because it’s wrong (though it is) or because God hates it (though He does). But, “all the sins or vices he attacks in this section of the letter are things that tear community apart, and all the virtues he recommends enhance its growth and flourishing.” I’ve heard Tim Keller say basically the same thing when addressing specific sins. They then go on to paraphrase Paul: “Put to death what is earthly means put to death the remaining vestiges of an imperial imagination and praxis that still have a grip on your lives. Put all of this to death before it kills you.”

Then they attempt to answer the question of how sexual sin, greed and idolatry are related. “Because sexual sin is fundamentally a matter of covetousness, an insatiable, self-gratifying greed that has the control and consumption of the other person as its ultimate desire… It replaces the pleasure and sexual enjoyment of two people in a loving relationship with a self-centered gratification of sexual longings that can never be fulfilled apart from commitment. Such sin breaks the back of trust that is at the heart of community.” They then quote Berry again: “Both marriage and commitment require trust, patience, respect, mutual help, forgiveness – in other words, the practice of love as opposed to the mere feeling of love.”

Berry then goes on to describe industrial sexuality: “Like any other industrial enterprise, industrial sexuality seeks to conquer nature by exploiting it and ignoring the consequences.” The authors go on to point out that “none of Paul’s injunctions make any sense to a world in which all of life is reduced to marketable commodities. In a world in which sexuality is a matter of sexual encounters with no strings attached, Christian marriage is all about tying the knot. In an anxious world of covetousness and competition, we choose a path together rooted in trust, intimate self-giving and a shared life. In place of utility we see affection, corporate control is replaced by personal risk, and disposable consumption gives way to enduring enjoyment.” They then juxtapose our culture of “cold economic efficiency” with the “ridiculously inefficient life of committed love.” Those whose sexuality is shaped in this way “believe that their relationship, their love, is enough. And there is no word more offensive to a culture driven by unlimited economic growth than the word enough.”

They then conclude their section on sexuality with the following statements: “Sexual practices are always of a piece with larger socioeconomic and cultural practices. It is precisely an ideology of unlimited economic growth that engenders an insatiable sexual desire of unlimited partners… If the empire is all about economic growth driven by a lifestyle of consumption, then all of life becomes a matter of consumption… Multiple sexual partners is just good capitalism… There is no point in getting all morally absolute about sexual promiscuity if Christians are screwing around with the same consumerist way of life as everyone else.”

Some pretty harsh statements to deal with, but remember that the connections being made are based on Paul’s seemingly strange connection between various sexual sins, greed, and idolatry (Colossians 3). Somehow, the three go together. I don’t think Walsh and Keesmaat have taken too much liberty in drawing out concrete ideas of what this actually means.

Our greatest challenge?

I’ve recently been doing a lot of reading trying to understand globalization and its effects. A few years ago I watched The Corporation and did some research on Enron, and came away convinced that most of our American economic ideals should not define Christ-followers in any way. In preparing for the Rhythms of Mission class in a couple of weeks, I want to address some of these issues.

In 2000, Brian Walsh wrote a great article about how globalization “is a religious movement of previously unheard of proportions. Progress is its underlying myth, unlimited economic growth its foundational faith, the shopping mall (physical or online) its place of worship, consumerism its overriding image, ‘I’ll have a Big Mac and fries’ its ritual of initiation, and global domination its ultimate goal.” (Would you like fries with that faith?)

Richard Bauckham wrote a great little book in 2003 called Bible and Mission. In it, he makes a similar claim. He says that globalization is “the new imperialism.” He points out that there is no doubt that globalization has had the effect of making rich countries richer and poor ones poorer, which has widened the gap between the two. He poses three questions when considering the global effects of economic growth:

1. Does it benefit the poorest people?
2. Does it destroy the environment?
3. Does it destroy other values which are at least as important as economic prosperity?

He asks, “What do we really need in order to recognize and to resist this new metanarrative of globalization?” He then answers that the Christian metanarrative can only adopt the role of “countering the global dominance of the profit motive and the culture of consumption” if it “resists becoming a tool of the forces of domination.” He concludes this section with the fact that Rene Padilla has called economic globalization “the greatest challenge that the Christian mission faces” right now.

He then goes on to compare our current cultural situation with that of the Roman Empire’s dominance of the known world during the first century, and how the Church responded to it. The mission of the gospel spreading “to the ends of the earth” would’ve been a direct, political statement against Rome’s global mission of power. But, the Church’s mission was completely different than that of Rome’s, a different kind of power altogether. Recently I started thinking about how much that empire would have influenced the early Church’s understanding, so we are going to start studying that culture together as a family.

I just wanted to get some of these thoughts out with this post. I’m hoping that through the class we will be able to address these things, and all come away with specific commitments to subvert the empire that is dominating every aspect of our lives.

Canaan - Unique Violence

Up until fairly recently, I hadn’t though much about the story of Israel. We’re New Testament Christians, so the Old doesn’t matter, right? Most of us probably wouldn’t say that directly, and obviously that’s not true. I believe that what it means that the gospel is “to the Jew first” is that we have to understand what it meant that Jesus and His earliest followers were Jewish; so we have to understand the whole biblical story – History.

Probably the most difficult part of the story to understand (and try to justify) is how Israel “took possession” of the land that they were promised to inherit. We see the conclusion of this in Joshua 21:

Thus the Lord gave to Israel all the land that he swore to give to their fathers. And they took possession of it, and they settled there. And the Lord gave them rest on every side just as he had sworn to their fathers. Not one of all their enemies had withstood them, for the Lord had given all their enemies into their hands. Not one word of all the good promises that the Lord had made to the house of Israel had failed; all came to pass.

We all know that this has been the fuel behind many subsequent “conquests” done by those claiming the name of Jesus. From the other end of the spectrum, though, there are those who have to twist the historical reality of these stories to end up with an extreme non-violent stance, which leaves no room for the reluctant necessity of violence in a sinful world. Obviously, Jesus is our example, but hopefully this post will help us think through how we can fit the conquest of Canaan into the story, without relativizing or centralizing it.

John Piper preached a sermon about this back in 1981, which I think is helpful in a few ways. In it, he outlined a three-part answer to the following question: “How can this unprovoked aggression of a foreign power against the Canaanites be justified, even to the point where it is a cause for worshipping God?”

1. “The period of redemptive history from the Exodus to the incarnation, from Moses to Jesus, is unique. In this period God’s will was that his people have a national form with a land. He willed that it be a political body, and not just a religious one. In this way, God typified that the land is his and foreshadowed that one day his people will inherit the whole earth. And by giving his people the form of a nation for a span of history, God secured for them a prominence which guaranteed that the lessons he wanted to teach through them would be known to all the world… No nation today may claim to be the people of God as Israel was and presume to execute God’s historical judgments.”

2. “As the unique people of God, the exploits of Israel were not her own doing but God’s. God was her commander-in-chief. He gave all the orders, and he himself fought for them (Joshua 6:16; 11:20; 23:10). When they acted against his orders, they were defeated (Numbers 14:39–45; Joshua 7:1–5). Therefore, we must conceive of Israel as the weapon of the Lord, the instrument by which he accomplished his historical judgments on the nations.

3. “The destruction of the nations of Canaan was not just to make a place for Israel; it was a judgment on the wickedness of those nations.”

To help understand this third point, we can look at the warning of Deuteronomy 9:4-5: “Do not say in your heart after the Lord your God has thrust them out before you, ‘It is because of my righteousness that the Lord has brought me in to possess this land,’ whereas it is because of the wickedness of these nations the Lord your God is driving them out from before you, and that he may confirm the word which he swore to your fathers, to Abraham, to Isaac, and to Jacob.”

The situation is unique, yes, but a God who does not hate and punish sin is not a loving God at all. Paul addressed this in Romans chapter 2: “Do you presume on the riches of his kindness and forbearance and patience, not knowing that God’s kindness is meant to lead you to repentance? But because of your hard and impenitent heart you are storing up wrath for yourself on the day of wrath when God’s righteous judgment will be revealed.”

Also, we see that God is the one who meted out this destruction. We have no justification to inflict violence “with God on our side,” ever. We are to love those who hate us. We are to do good to everyone.

But, in the end we see that the question is not, “How could God do this?” but rather, “Why does God not punish us all for our sin?” To which we can only beg for the mercy of God, in Christ alone.

Satan

During last week’s Gospel Class I took a longer than expected tangent to talk about Satan and demons. I don’t think that I communicated the way I was hoping to, and after going back to research further what the Bible says about these things, I have realized a couple of assumptions that I had made.

This is one of the dangers with systematic theology. We tend to come up with a preconceived idea of something that we want to address, and then use the Bible to support our assumptions. The Bible does mention some type of “fall” of the angels, which obviously would have had to have taken place sometime between the creation of the world and the tempting of Eve. Beyond that, we don’t know much. But, here is what the Bible does say:

• 2 Peter 2:4 - For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but cast them into hell and committed them to chains of gloomy darkness to be kept until the judgment…
• Jude 1:6 - And the angels who did not stay within their own position of authority, but left their proper dwelling, he has kept in eternal chains under gloomy darkness until the judgment of the great day.
• John 8:44 - “[The devil] was a murderer from the beginning.”
• 1 John 3:8 - “The devil has been sinning from the beginning.”

I’m sure there is more, but I did want to bring these few verses up to at least paint a brief picture of this idea. I haven’t done much contextual study into what John means by “from the beginning” — from the beginning of when? From the beginning of time? From the beginning of the creation of the angels? From the beginning of the creation of humanity?

The two passages in the Old Testament that I remember being quoted multiple times as describing Satan’s fall aren’t actually about that at all. But, I do agree with Chris Wright here, that they are “typical” descriptions of creation’s rejection of God’s authority:

• Ezekiel 28:11-19
• Isaiah 14:4-23

Here’s some more related to this from Sam Storms:
http://www.enjoyinggodministries.com/article/isaiah-14-and-ezekiel-28

The Kingdom of God is at hand…

This is one of the most prevalent ideas in the Scriptures, and, more specifically, in Jesus’ own teaching. Jesus continually urged people to “repent,” to turn around, for the Kingdom of God was breaking into the present. But, what did that really mean? And, why should it matter?

I think we need to give a short background before addressing Jesus’ own words regarding the Kingdom. Israel, before the monarchy, consistently claimed that God was their King. The idea of kingship came into Israel in response to their request of God to anoint a king. The kings thus appointed were both installed by God (as all kings are) and were judged by God. They weren’t simply put into power with absolute freedom, but that they were to live exemplary lives through the Torah. As time went on, more frequent prophetic voices rang for a new true King, a King who would in one sense defeat all of Israel’s enemies and in another sense bring together both Jew and Gentile under that same King. Several texts within the Old Testament name this figure as the Messiah. The Jewish people anticipated the coming Anointed One for centuries.
John the Baptist is an introduction to Jesus’ ministry. He begins with the challenge of the Kingdom of God. But, he tells them that he is not the One, but that he is pointing to the One. He is simply a messenger. Then, he baptizes Jesus as both the initiation of His ministry, and as a symbol of Jesus’ substitutionary life, death and resurrection. But, the anticipated One did not come as many were expecting. The prophetic voices were not so “literal” as many people today want them to be. They were more promise than prediction; reminding the people of what God had done and promising what God would continue to do. These promises were fulfilled in this Jesus. The Messiah did not come onto the scene ruling in the way they had expected. He came not to be served, but to serve. He was not only the King, but also the Servant. Not only the Lion, but the Lamb.

So, in one sense this Kingdom had already come. God obviously had been the Lord from the creation of the earth. God put rulers in power and removed them – they were all relativized, and subject to Him. God had been the only true, sovereign King. Jesus was not the reversal of God’s rule, but rather the fulfillment and embodiment of it. He lived His life in the Kingdom like no other had, because no other could. But, in another sense, the Kingdom had not been fully realized. The expectation of God literally obliterating Israel’s enemies was misunderstood. The Messiah had arrived in the flesh, but it took understanding His life, death, and resurrection to fully grasp in what sense that arrival changed things.

From Adam to Abraham to Jesus, the way to “live the Kingdom” was the same – to walk with God in fidelity, in obedience, to love righteousness and act justly. Jesus shows us how that should look as humanity, He suffers in our place for it, and He rises from death to vindicate His rule over all (including death itself). He shows us that living this Kingdom means complete submission to His reign, which includes the risk of suffering for His sake. The sin that shattered shalom, which God desires for His Kingdom, was dealt with through His death. And, that death led the way to new life, new humanity, securing the promise that we too look forward to a redeemed earth, where the Kingdom is fully and finally realized and experienced.

So, there are basically two errors that we can fall into regarding the Kingdom. We can either think the Kingdom has already fully arrived, or we can think that the Kingdom has not come at all. If we are aware of the presence of evil in the world, the latter seems to be much easier to fall into. But, if we are more optimistic, we may assume that God’s Kingdom is already here. This is subtly aligning with the modern idea of progress – that humanity is getting better through our own power. The error of pessimism, though, leads to a lack of love and action in the present. The error of optimism undercuts the power of sin still fighting against the Kingdom.

A biblically informed understanding will lead to neither optimism nor pessimism, but rather seeing the Kingdom as inaugurated in Jesus, and thus anticipating the final realization of the Kingdom through our lives. Experiencing the Kingdom in this way will not allow us to ignore the present power of sin, which affects not only our individual lives but the whole world in which we live, including addiction, poverty and affluence. It will also not allow us to think that our own efforts are the cause of God’s inbreaking Kingdom, but rather that God is always at work, and our response is simply reflecting His work into the world.

This is not in any way a full treatment of this subject, but hopefully it can help us think through who the King is and what the Kingdom means.

God-Centered Mission

Toward the end of The Mission of God, Chris Wright outlines some important questions/thoughts which he says are “disturbingly subversive” and which “uncomfortably relativizes one’s own place in the great scheme of things.”

• We ask, “Where does God fit into the story of my life?” when the real question is, “Where does my little life fit into this great story of God’s mission?”
• We want to be driven by a purpose that has been tailored just right for our own individual lives… when we should be seeing the purpose of all life, including our own, wrapped up in the great mission  of God for the whole of creation.
• We talk about the problems of applying the Bible to our lives… What would it mean to apply our lives to the Bible instead, assuming the Bible to be the reality - the real story - to which we are called to conform ourselves?
• We wrestle with the question of how we can make the gospel relevant to the world… But in this story, God is about the business of transforming the world to fit the shape of the gospel.
• We argue about what can legitimately be included in the mission God expects from the church, when we should ask what kind of church God expects for his mission in all its comprehensive fullness.
• I may wonder what kind of mission God has for me, when I should ask what kind of me God wants for his mission.

These seem pretty simple, and may even seem obvious, but I think if we look at our individual and corporate lives, we will recognize that we aren’t asking these questions or thinking these thoughts. May God shatter our narcissism and reveal His mission to redeem all of creation.

The New Christians, Part 2

I just finished Tony Jones’ chapter entitled “The Theology, Stupid.” To me, this seems like the most telling section of written material that I’ve read to date regarding the emerging church. I feel like I’ve been on a personal mission to help incite more vigorous theological interest for the past few years. You don’t have to look too hard to find that most people who call themselves Christians are basically ignorant to anything except that which seems to affect their individual lives (politics, sports, music, etc.). The biblical and theological literacy in the U.S. is seriously disgraceful.

But, I will also say that the two things that originally attracted me to emerging church authors had nothing to do with theology at all: a sense of “hipness” or “coolness,” which was drastically different than what I had previously experienced; and a bitter reaction against traditional/institutional forms of church. Maybe others have not been drawn to the movement for similar reasons, but that’s my story.

I’ll briefly highlight two (of multiple) experiences that sent my ignorant, but passionate, pursuit of God toward a dead end. Both of these happened while I was attempting to help lead a youth ministry several years ago. The first was when I was going through a “training” seminar to help get me ready to lead. The pastor made the statement that we were free to take in American culture (movies, music, etc.), but that we should never talk about it to the kids. The second happened when I went to an Acquire the Fire youth camp (as a leader) in Texas. At the time I had just gotten a new tattoo (I only had a couple back then). The whole time I was there I felt like the staring was burning a hole in me. But, one of the girls in our youth group flat out told me “you can’t be a pastor with tattoos.” Sounded harmless at the time, and I probably ignored it and laughed. But, what that event led to was my serious introspection into how I could possibly be called to lead anyone, if all of the people around me would outright reject me because of appearance.

I still think both of those experiences were ridiculous, but the questions I sought weren’t ultimately answered by anyone in the emerging church. They were answered by pastors who were committed to understanding Scripture, while also trying to engage culture.

Anyways, on to the book… Later in the chapter, Jones attemps to define “the gospel,” but that only seems to contradict the following statement: “The Christian gospel is always enculturated, always articulated by a certain people in a certain time and place. To try to freeze one particular articulation of the gospel, to make it timeless and universally applicable, actually does an injustice to the gospel.” On the surface, he’s pointing in the right direction. I know what he’s reacting to, the traditional Romans Road/Four Spiritual Laws reductionisms of the gospel. To articulate something is to “put something into words,” which is a very difficult thing to do. An unarticulated gospel would be nonsense. But, behind the articulation, is there not an actual “it” that the articulation is pointing to? At several points in the book, Jones outlines his own articulation(s) of the gospel. For the most part, honestly, what he says resonates with much of historical theology.

An example is when he begins to respond to the false system of theology called dispensationalism. He articulately describes a historic (traditional) understanding of the nature of God here: “These theologies ultimately make God subservient to human beings… It requires the activity of the Creator to hinge on the activity of the creation, specifically on humans. But God is a being whose activity is, by definition, not contingent. God can forgive whomever God wants to forgive… It’s farfetched to manufacture a God who’s handcuffed until our human actions release him.” Amen, Mr. Jones. But, on the flipside, are these statements not to be taken at face value as “true,” and if so, are the free to be done away with, based on the culture that we live in? Case in point: open theism. Greg Boyd and others who purport that theology have close ties with the emerging church (preaching in their churches, endorsing their books, etc.). Are they “within the bounds” of Christian theology? If everything is up for grabs (the message as well as the method), then how can Tony make such a dogmatic statement about God? Maybe I’m missing something here…

I also appreciate his desire to bridge the gap between theology and life. He says “bad theology begets ugly Christianity.” I concur. But, how far can we take that statement? Anyone can say something and live completely contradictory to it. We’re all at risk. If we take this too far, though, we make God contingent upon humans, do we not? Personally, I much prefer to say that if our actions contradict our words then what we say we “believe” is actually not the case. Faith and works are always connected. But, our faith is not the object, it is simply the means, the method, the channel. The object is God.

Jones lays out a short definition of the gospel here: “The irreducible good news of God, ultimately delivered in the person of Jesus Christ.” Humorously, he goes on to say that it is “a reality that cannot be summed up in a call-out box.” I agree. But, using the term “irreducible” doesn’t really say anything. I don’t know anyone who would say the gospel is not complex. But, obviously the “good news of God” is not a myriad of other things. I think this is where D.A. Carson is going in his book on the emerging church, that the Bible makes many statements about things that happened, about things we are required to do, etc. Simply saying “it’s complicated” doesn’t help anyone. He says, “the more emergents read the Bible, the more complex it becomes.” I have no problem with responding to questions with questions (Jesus was pretty good at that), but at certains points questioning is actually a rejection of what God has said to us. Ignorance and immaturity (refusing to make positive statements about anything) can become sinful.

He also makes the statement about the “unknowableness” of God. I remember one of the first solid theology books I read was AW Tozer’s “Knowledge of the Holy.” He begins the book explaining the exact same point, so again, the emerging church isn’t offering anything “new” here.

He says, “emergents are pretty humble about the positions we hold today and about the issues that we consider most important.” Claiming humility, though, is not the same as being it. CJ Mahaney actually begins his book on humility saying that he wishes he was humble, rather than making a blanket statement which includes himself. Maybe comparing the two isn’t the best idea, but my point is that I’ve seen overreactions from all kinds of people, including the emergents, and within the streams that I swim. Humility isn’t the natural stance of someone who has an opinion about anything.

He then goes on to defend what is a typical critique of the emerging church, relativism. He basically says that everything is relative, because we are finite humans (though he might actually disagree with that statement). He says “we make the best choice that we can at a particular point in time, with all of the evidence we can muster, and we live into that choice. That’s the human condition.” He’s specifically talking about choosing a translation of the Bible here, and I think he makes some good points. But, applying that to everything simply does an injustice to the text, and to God himself.

Toward the end of the chapter, he goes into some pretty difficult parts of the Scriptures, and addresses the attempt to dumb down what’s really there: “one is not free to twist the story to make God more palatable.” Okay, I agree, but why not? Where would that kind of authoritative statement come from? I thought we couldn’t make bold, confident statements about what the Bible says about anything. At what point does humility actually become passivity (which he outright rejects)?

He also puts in a fictional conversation between three people, with the emergent (of course) coming out on top. In the conversation, the emergent says “it’s just not possible to be a true and perfect literalist when it comes to the Bible.” His caricature is of a fundamentalist, which we would all outright reject as inconsistent (and impossible). But, is he implying that the Bible cannot be taken as “literature” either? I’m sure he wouldn’t say that, but, again, I don’t know of any responsible scholar/pastor who would reject the genres, etc. of the Bible itself as irrelevant to intrepretation.

The New Christians, Part 1

My journey back into following Jesus was initiated by a few writers who are now associated with what has become Emergent Village. When I was younger and very bitter about my own experiences within American Christianity, the questions being raised were very important to me. Two of the books that helped to fuel what I now perceive was a downward spiral into confusion were Robert Webber’s “The Younger Evangelicals” (2002) and Brian McLaren’s “The Church on the Other Side” (2000). I no longer own either of these books, and I honestly can’t recall much of what the books were about, other than that they were very instrumental to my questioning of everything that I had assumed Christianity was about. Much of what I read resonated with me, and at the time, seemed to motivate me to not walk away from it altogether.

But, recently I’ve walked away from that whole “conversation.” I don’t know much about what the emerging/Emergent church(es) think or believe. I honestly can’t remember the last book I read or podcast I listened to that came directly from those writers/pastors. But, I’ve recently realized that more people than I want to admit are in the phase that I was previously in, and they’ve got similar questions. Rather than simply writing off the whole “movement”, I feel the need to be aware of where there are legitimate resonances with the gospel, and where there seem to be dividing lines to be drawn.

A quick note, though, before I proceed. I will unapologetically admit that I’ve been drawn to certain authors that Emergent-types are also drawn to – authors such as NT Wright, Walter Brueggemann, and Lesslie Newbigin. In that sense, I guess I could fear guilt by association, but if all truth is God’s truth, then we should rejoice when we find those resonances, wherever we find them. Also, those authors themselves have had their own critiques of the movement, so I think we’d all be better off to not make assumptions before we can say we fully understand where someone is coming from.

So, why the background? In response to various questions I’ve been asked related to the emerging church, I thought it would be good for me to get caught up on where the movement “is” presently. The only thing I ever seem to hear are critiques, but when it really gets down to it, both sides seem they are only talking past each other. Both sides are coming with their own assumptions and understandings, but seem to be totally misunderstanding each other. I’ve realized over the years that I tend to be a mediator. In the past, that has been a vice for sure, but I think in another sense I should use that in order to find some common ground between two opposing parties who may actually have more in common than either wants to admit.

Many have made distinctions between the “emerging church” and the “Emergent church.” I, for one, would prefer not to use the labels at all. But, as far as this post is concerned, I will be using the terms interchangeably to describe the same movement.

I guess there are a few books out there right now that I could have sought for this understanding. The one I landed on, though, is Tony Jones’ newest, “The New Christians.” Jones is currently the “national coordinator” of Emergent Village, the hub of the emerging church. I haven’t previously read anything he has written, but he seems to be “the voice” of the movement (although I’m sure he would wince at owning up to that, perhaps similarly to Luther’s complaint about the word “Lutheran”). From the outset, though, maybe CS Lewis’ comment about “newness” is relevant: that in seeking to be innovative we may end up being unfaithful, but by seeking to be faithful we may end up being innovative. Is there anything truly “new” under the sun? What does this newness entail? Hopefully from the upcoming posts related to the book the picture will be a little more clear.

From the endorsements of the book, Jim Wallis says that Jones is describing a movement of those who are “desperate to move beyond simplistic polarities inherited from the past.” I concur, but is the emerging church actually providing solutions to those problems, or are they only creating new problems? Of course, that’s a very generalized question, which I’m sure most within the movement would take issue with. But, I do think it’s a legitimate question to pose. Dan Kimball says that this is “the” book to get. Thanks for the tip, Dan. Tony Campolo says that the movement “must be taken seriously,” that it will “change the face of the religious landscape.” I agree, according to book sales and interviews and the like, but is the change for the better? And, no, when I ask that question I’m not saying “better for the American church” or “better for individual Christians.” If the gospel is God’s redemption of all of creation, is the emerging church urging people from all nations to respond to the King and His Kingdom? Or, is it simply creating yet another institutional form of reaction against something (think of the hijacking of Luther’s goal of reforming the church into a completely separate “ism”)?

This post may end up completely polemical, and that is not my goal. There are a lot of legitimate things to be considered within the pages I am about to highlight. And, I will add that the tone of the book so far has been engaging, honest and (mostly) humble. Hopefully more from the opposing side will be of a similar gentle spirit.

And, on with the content… In the introduction, Jones describes a similar movement that simply seeks to contextualize the unchanging theology into changing contexts. But, he says that “these twin impulses of rethinking theology and rethinking church are driving the nascent growth of emergent Christianity.” This really doesn’t say a lot, yet, though. In one sense, all attempts at explaining who God is will be (or should be) creative. The stringing together of words and phrases is not simply copying and pasting what has been said before. Creativity is wired into our DNA. But again, is this “rethinking theology” simply a reaction to abuse, or is it truly a desire to be faithful to God?

In Chapter 1, Jones goes on to say that “the desire of the emergents is to live Christianly, to build something wonderful for the future on the legacy of the past.” But, it’s hard to discern what, according to Jones, that legacy is. He seems to on the one hand reject the legacy but on the other hand want to affirm it. Maybe it’s my own modernistic tendencies that are causing me to think so linearly. I agree that we must always critique and commend, to “test the spirits” if you will, but to me it seems difficult to find out where Jones makes the distinction between the two.

He goes on to reject the “outmoded denominational structure,” but he also admits that many within the emerging church exist in that structure. Again, it’s good to always be aware of the good and the bad, but is it not contradictory to criticize something as a “real problem” that is actually being endorsed by the same people? For example, consider the fact that Jones himself is highly critical of the whole seminary system, but is actively pursuing his doctorate from Princeton Seminary.

One margined, highlighted quote is that “a new church is emerging from the compost of Christendom.” But, I’m not sure what he means by Christendom. Is he referring to the time of Constantine, when Christianity ultimately became the means by which those in power tried to force people into the Kingdom? Or, is he referring to the myth that America is a “Christian nation” (or at least was)? I don’t know many people who believe either of those are ideal, but those people aren’t part of the emerging church either. So, I would say this so-called “new church” isn’t really new at all, it’s simply the Church being faithful to its calling – a calling which has never included using legislation or the sword to force people into submission.

I’m sure there still are some fundamentalist voices out there within the evangelical world that would agree with the following statement, but the gospel I’ve been drawn to (and which I believe Scripture teaches) says otherwise: “The primary emphasis of evangelicalism is the conversion of the individual.” That’s a pretty big generalization to make, and I’m sure most of those I’ve been influenced by would disagree. I can’t think of one author or pastor who wants to bifurcate the individual from the corporate, but maybe I’m just not paying attention to whatever is considered mainstream or popular within evangelicalism. Either way, the idea that the emerging church has the solution to this problem is a bit pretentious.

Jones makes a pretty dogmatic statement about the purpose of a church: “The church that doesn’t challenge its members to face the core ethical issues that confront them every day at work is the church that has abdicated its responsibility.” Obviously, I agree, but from where does the authority for this statement come? I, for one, am continually frustrated with others and my own attempts to prooftext every statement. But, so far I am unaware of a common understanding of where this kind of authority should come from, within the emerging church. Maybe that will come later, or maybe I missed it.

In Chapter 2, Jones says that “the gospel, which [Jesus] breathed into fullness, calls Christians to affiliate first and foremost – if not exclusively – with him.” I’m not sure whether to read the “if not” as a definitive statement or a question. Again, maybe this is my own modern tendency toward polarity coming out. Or, maybe this is an instance of avoiding owning up to a controversial claim that Jesus Himself made.

As I’m preparing to teach a five-week class on the gospel with Joel Fruits, this statement is an honest wake-up call (that I do agree with): “the gospel cannot possibly be commodified into Forty Days of Purpose… the gospel can’t be packaged, and its calling on a human life cannot possibly be completed (or even figured out) in six weeks.” This is a truth that we all run the risk of ignoring, thus my own attempt to understand Jones and his friends. This seems to resonate with Newbigin’s statement that we don’t claim to have omniscient, “indubitable” certainty about people we physically interact with, so how much more of an arrogant claim to have that kind of knowledge of God?

Jones also addresses one of the fundamental misunderstandings of what the emerging church is: It’s “an attempt to both maintain one’s distinctive identity while also being truly open to the identity of the other… the emergent response to pluralism is always ad hoc, always contextual, always situational.” He goes on to say that emergent churches “look quite different from one another.” The movement is not a denomination nor does it have a shared statement of beliefs. To use their own language, it is a “conversation” between friends. In reality, we should all have these kinds of relationships. If we are never challenged about our own thinking and actions, we will have huge blind spots. Newbigin has gotten a lot of flack for his ecumenical ideals, but rather than assuming that having a broader range of influence would lead to a dumbed down theology, he believed the opposite, that coming together through our differences would actually lead to more concrete understanding both of our own ideas and those of others.

A statement a couple of paragraphs later is also important to consider: “Emergents are unwilling to blindly accept the underlying assumptions of the stories they’ve been given.” This is something I honestly fear for my own children, trying to raise them in the “paideia” of God. I constantly want to allow them to question and even to oppose what they’re told. But, at certain points, as their father, I must interject and silence their questioning with some kind of comfort. But, this is really just Christian Theology 101: the Psalms (and other sections of Scripture) are full of questioning, doubting, complaining against God; and the Bereans were considered “noble” because they would not simply blindly accept what they were told. Maybe that’s not what a lot of churches are telling people, but to me that seems pretty basic (not just a characteristic of the emerging church despite everyone else).

Jones drops in a quote from Rowan Williams that I think needs to be considered: “If church is what happens when people encounter the Risen Jesus and commit themselves to sustaining and deepening that encounter in their encounter with each other, there is plenty of theological room for diversity of rhythm and style, so long as we have ways of identifying the same living Christ at the heart of every expression of Christian life in common.” This statement was a response to the emerging church movement in the UK. To me, it’s a beautiful statement about how we should unite as the Church. But, within the statement is at least one telling remark. He mentions the “Risen Jesus,” obviously a reference to the fact (factum, “something that happened) of Jesus’ Resurrection; this is a dividing line that must be drawn, a boundary that cannot be crossed, in whatever category we want to put on it. If I am reading Williams correctly, this is not an optional piece of the puzzle; it is central (and I obviously agree).

One statement, though, seems to come from out of nowhere: “It’s an all-or-nothing state, and a half-hearted embrace of these dispatches from the frontier will inevitably lead to frustration.” So, what Jones wants to commend to others is this movement toward inclusivism and friendship, but which actually leaves no room for process. Maybe I’m misreading his statement, and by “half-hearted” he means something different than I’m understanding him to mean. I know quite a few people who are resonating in a few ways with the emerging church, but who are unwilling to go all the way. I myself would fall into that category in some sense (which is obvious from this post). Maybe this is his way of calling out those of us who, on the flipside, refuse to simply “go with the flow,” but are willing to discern/test the waters.

In Chapter 3, he remarks that “some have charged that emergents are a little too much like adolescents in rebellion from the parents who gave them life,” but then goes on to say that this is “patronizing.” Maybe it is, but simply saying that doesn’t really do anything to counter it. He seems to go on to own up to the critique, but then is it really patronizing if it’s true?

He says that the emerging church is a “tricky middle path between the certainties of evangelicalism and the openness of liberalism.” Okay, so again, I refuse to use the emerging label, but I think that’s where a lot of us are on our journeys. This “middle way” doesn’t just define the emerging church, it also defines those who simply want to be faithful, but who see that there are some problems within both poles.

He goes on to explain a conversation that he and Doug Pagitt had with John Piper (though he doesn’t use his name). This seems to be another case of two teams talking past each other, of completely misunderstanding each other. He says that Piper said “if you reject his understanding of the gospel, you are rejecting the gospel in toto, and so, by logical extension, you are not a Christian.” That’s a pretty large leap to make, and I don’t know that I’ve ever heard those words come out of Piper’s mouth. I think Piper would be hesitant to make such a claim on another individual’s standing with God, especially based on a “belief.” That, to me, completely contradicts the Calvinism that Piper himself propagates.

Before I retire this post, I want to address an implication that can be drawn from some of Jones’ statements regarding Mark Driscoll’s original involvement in the movement. From Driscoll’s side, I have heard him say nothing but positive things regarding his ongoing friendships (but not their theology) with those in the movement. But, similar remarks from Jones regarding Driscoll are not found in the pages of this book (unless I missed them). The only thing I see is a negative portrayal. For instance, he says that on a panel Mark “vehemently stated that women should not be pastors,” which made things “uncomfortable.” Considering that Mark’s belief is shared by many within the emerging church movement, I’m not sure why “everyone else in the room was dumbfounded.” He mentions an instance where Brad Cecil asked Mark not to “swear” while preaching at his church, but Mark used the F-word anyway. The final paragraph regarding Driscoll’s involvement seems to highlight the animosity most directly. He says that “the young emergents were gaining a reputation as arrogant, foul-mouthed, and angry young preachers,” but then basically puts all the blame on Driscoll for this, saying it was “very much a result of Driscoll’s outbursts.” So, the negative stereotype of the movement can be traced back to one individual. To put it bluntly, this is ridiculous reductionism, and it’s honestly disgusting.

I’ll end on that high note.