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Of Gulls and Men

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Flock_of_Seagulls

A Reflection for Lent

I read Tortilla Flat by John Steinbeck recently.  There’s this terrific moment when one of the main characters, Pilon, has a sacred encounter with sea gulls:

“These birds are flying across the forehead of the Father.  Dear birds, dear sea gulls, how I love you all.  Your slow wings stroke my heart as the hand of a gentle master strokes the full stomach of a sleeping dog, as the hand of Christ stroked the heads of little children.  Dear birds,” he thought, “fly to our Lady of Sweet Sorrows with my open heart.”

And then he said the loveliest words he knew, “Ave Maria, gratia plena –”

There was, nor is, nor ever has been a purer soul than Pilon’s at that moment… A soul washed and saved is a soul doubly in danger, for everything in the world conspires against such a soul.  “Even the straws under my knees,” says Saint Augustine, “shout to distract me from prayer.”

Pilon’s soul was not even proof against his own memories; for, as he watched the birds, he remembered that Mrs. Pastano used sea gulls sometimes in her tamales, and that memory made him hungry, and hunger tumbled his soul out of the sky.  Pilon moved on, once more a cunning mixture of good and evil.”

We looked at Jesus in the desert at our house church gathering this past Sunday, and noted how this episode of temptation came right after a high point: his baptism in the Jordan River.  Is this paradigmatic of human life?  Are we most vulnerable when we’ve just come through a profound spiritual moment?

Lent is a season to consider new spiritual practices, or to incorporate some new habits.  Yet, as Augustine notes, even our best intentions are easily undone by distractions shouting at us from around and beneath us.  This is probably true these days as ever, amid Facebook notifications, Twitterfeeds, and busy schedules.  But that also makes this season of Lent as needed as ever.

In the coming weeks, we might do well to intentionally spend some time in the straw, adding a new spiritual discipline or practice, while paying attention to what it is that distracts us from these higher pursuits.

And who knows, perhaps a moment of sublimity such as Pilon knew will come our way.

Just watch out for Mrs. Pastano’s tamales.

–
Bryan Berghoef writes and tweets from the nation’s capital.  His book: Pub Theology: Beer, Conversation, and God invites you to engage in deep conversations over a good beer.  You can follow Bryan on Twitter @bryberg.

Pontifexit: Pope to Step Down

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pope_benedict
Pope? Nope.

ROME (NY Times) — Citing advanced years and infirmity, Pope Benedict XVI stunned the Roman Catholic world on Monday by saying that he would resign on Feb. 28 after less than eight years in office, the first pope to do so in six centuries.

Not six decades.  Six centuries!  600 years!$!  The last pope to resign was apparently Gregory XII, who left the papacy in 1415 to end what was known as the Western Schism among several competitors for the papacy.

Surprising.

As a Protestant, I don’t have a lot to say on this, other than that I hope his successor is more serious about transparency over the church’s failures (particularly as regards priests and children), more open to the idea of ordaining women, and less dogmatic about maintaining untenable practices and doctrines.

The Pope (or Ex-Benedict, as he’s being called on twitter) was apparently a quite progressive fellow early in his career, but something changed. The New York Times notes:

…he moved theologically and politically to the right. Pope Paul VI named him bishop of Munich in 1977 and appointed him a cardinal within three months. Taking the chief doctrinal job at the Vatican in 1981, he moved with vigor to quash liberation theology in Latin America, cracked down on liberal theologians and in 2000 wrote the contentious Vatican document “Dominus Jesus,” asserting the truth of Catholic belief over others.

When he was Cardinal Ratzinger, Benedict was known as “the pope’s Rottweiler” —he was the church’s official doctrinal watchdog.  Harvey Cox relates: “He had disciplined and silenced several theologians who, he believed, had strayed over the line… including two friends of mine, the German Hans Küng (side note: I love Küng’s book Does God Exist?), and [he silenced] his own former student, the Brazilian liberation theologian Leonardo Boff.”

What was the office that Benedict headed while in this roll?  The “Holy Office of the Inquisition.”  Only now, since 1965 it’s been officially known as the Congregation for the Doctrine of Faith.  But with such silencing of needed alternative voices, one doubts whether the church really has moved very far from its past.

And of course, the Times notes, Benedict’s tenure was caught up in “the growing sexual abuse scandals in the Roman Catholic Church that crept ever closer to the Vatican itself.”  And Benedict cannot get off the hook on this:

In one disclosure, news emerged that in 1985, when Benedict was Cardinal Ratzinger, he signed a letter putting off efforts to defrock a convicted child-molesting priest. He cited the priest’s relative youth but also the good of the church.

These scandals will forever mark his legacy, for better or worse.  Joe Paterno’s fall from grace at Penn State was surprising and shocking, but at least outside of the church, when the truth finally came out, change was sweeping and serious.  One just wishes it had come sooner, and one wishes the church might realize that sometimes you just have to own up to what you’ve done (or allowed to be done).

Will the church ever learn?  Hopefully the next pope decides its time to stop living in the past.

—
Bryan Berghoef writes and tweets from the nation’s capital.  His book: Pub Theology: Beer, Conversation, and God invites you to engage in deep conversations over a good beer.  You can follow Bryan on Twitter @bryberg.

Religion May Not Survive the Internet, Then Again… It Might.

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"Does your pastor know that?"
“Does your pastor know that?”

The End of Religion?

An article appeared several days ago on Salon.com entitled: Religion May Not Survive the Internet.  (Originally written by Valeria Tarico for Alternet.)

I was curious about this, so I checked it out.  Perhaps my favorite line was the following:

“Tech-savvy mega-churches may have Twitter missionaries, and Calvinist cuties may post viral videos about how Jesus worship isn’t a religion, it’s a relationship, but that doesn’t change the facts: the free flow of information is really, really bad for the product they are selling.”

I get it.  There are many approaches to religious faith that seek to maintain a following through controlling what information is accessible (and acceptable) to its adherents.  I recall a church expressly forbidding its members from reading books by a certain author.  Not just: we disagree with that theological approach, but: “If you want to be a member here you will NOT read those books.”  The article states: “Such defenses worked beautifully during humanity’s infancy. But they weren’t really designed for the current information age.”  Precisely.

To me, such an approach to faith and to God is getting it backward, and perhaps its for the best if these narrow religious approaches do not survive the internet.

After all, when did telling a group of people not to do something prevent everyone from doing it?  It’s a losing approach from the start, particularly in today’s info-accessible age.

The article goes on to note:

“A traditional religion, one built on “right belief,” requires a closed information system. That is why the Catholic Church put an official seal of approval on some ancient texts and banned or burned others. It is why some Bible-believing Christians are forbidden to marry nonbelievers.  It is why Quiverfull moms home school their kids from carefully screened text books.”  (This really does happen!)

Per my recent post on Harvey Cox’s book The Future of Faith, I think there is a shift in religious circles away from exclusive focus on “right belief”, particularly of the closed-system sort, toward a faith that embraces mystery, and seeks to engage one’s life in all of its facets (spiritual, emotional, physical; work, play, relationships; art, nature, beauty).  Less and less folks are content to be told: “You have to believe this, and you cannot read this.”

I hope the Internet does as the author of this article suggests: kills such approaches.  Perhaps they’ve been allowed to thrive for too long as it is.

"This online communion just isn't the same."
“This online communion just isn’t the same.”

My own sense is not that religion will not survive the internet, but the converse: religion will thrive in the age of the Internet.  A healthy approach to religion embraces the free flow of ideas.  This is exactly the idea behind my book: Pub Theology: Beer, Conversation, and God.  That our faith grows when exposed to a diverse set of ideas and approaches, and that when we don’t engage  other religious and philosophical approaches, it stagnates, closes in on itself, and eventually goes on life-support.  The faith life of many is being given new life as the Internet age opens up new vistas of spiritual perspectives and practices.  Additionally, through online connections many new relationships are allowed to begin and flourish as people find willing conversation partners and co-collaborators.

The Salon article goes on to praise the wonders of science (who am I to argue?), but goes further than I would in declaring that science and a materialist worldview are as sufficient as, or perhaps superior to, any religious approach.  I certainly wouldn’t go that far, though I sympathize with the desire to see humanity move toward a more open, inquiring approach to life, one that doesn’t see differing ideas as competitors as much as different lenses through which to look, and through which one might see something one hadn’t noticed before.

Does the Internet spell the end of faith?  Maybe for a few (like those who aren’t allowed to use it).  But for myself and many others, it is a resource that allows us to engage God and each other at new levels.

The Return of Faith

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Sometimes a step back is necessary for us to move forward.

Faith vs. Belief

Every once in awhile I run across a book that keeps me up late and has me excited to wake up in the morning.  Harvey Cox’s The Future of Faith is one such book.

In the first chapter he notes that contrary to earlier predictions, faith and religion are as vibrant as ever.  But things are shifting.  People are turning to religion more for support in their efforts to live in this world and make it better, and less to prepare for the next.  “The pragmatic and experiential elements of faith as a way of life are displacing the previous emphasis on institution and beliefs.”  In short, Cox claims that we are moving from an era of ‘belief’ to an era of ‘faith.’  But aren’t belief and faith the same thing, you ask?  No, and understanding the difference is vital, not only for one’s own spiritual journey, but for grasping the undercurrents of the larger shifts in the world of spirituality.

An excerpt from Chapter One:

It is true that for many people “faith” and “belief” are just two words for the same thing.  But they are not the same, and in order to grasp the magnitude of the religious upheaval now under way, it is important to clarify the difference.  Faith is about deep-seated confidence.  In everyday speech we usually apply it to people we trust or the values we treasure.  It is what theologian Paul Tillich (1886-1965) called “ultimate concern,” a matter of what the Hebrews spoke of as the “heart.”

Belief, on the other hand, is more like opinion.  We often use the term in everyday speech to express a degree of uncertainty.  “I don’t really know about that,” we say, “but I believe it may be so.” future_faith_book_520Beliefs can be held lightly or with emotional intensity, but they are more propositional than existential.  We can believe something to be true without it making much difference to us, but we place our faith only in something that is vital for the way we live.  Of course people sometimes confuse faith with beliefs, but it will be hard to comprehend the tectonic shift in Christianity today unless we understand the distinction between the two.

The Spanish writer Migual Unamuno (1864-1936) dramatizes the radical dissimilarity of faith and belief in his short story “Saint Manuel Bueno, Martyr,” in which a young man returns from the city to his native village in Spain because his mother is dying.  In the presence of the local priest she clutches his hand and asks him to pray for her.  The son does not answer, but as they leave the room, he tells the priest that, much as he would like to, he cannot pray for his mother because he does not believe in God. “That’s nonsense,” the priest replies. “You don’t have to believe in God to pray.”

The priest in Unamuno’s story recognized the difference between faith and belief.  He knew that prayer, like faith, is more primordial than belief. He might have engaged the son who wanted to pray but did not believe in God in a theological squabble.  He could have hauled out the frayed old “proofs” for the existence of God, whereupon the young man might have quoted the equally jaded arguments against the proofs.  Both probably knew that such arguments go nowhere.  The French writer Simone Weil (1909-43) also knew.  In her Notebooks, she once scribbled a gnomic sentence: “If we love God, even though we think he doesn’t exist, he will make his existence manifest.”  Weil’s words sound paradoxical, but in the course of her short and painful life—she died at thirty-four—she learned that love and faith are both more primal than beliefs.

Debates about the existence of God or the gods were raging in Plato’s time, twenty-five hundred years ago.  Remarkable, they still rage on today, as a recent spate of books rehearsing the routine arguments for and against the existence of God demonstrates.  By their nature these quarrels are about beliefs and can never be finally settled.  But faith, which is more closely related to awe, love, and wonder, arose long before Plato, among our most primitive Homo sapiens forebears. Plato engaged in disputes about beliefs, not about faith.

Creeds are clusters of beliefs.  But the history of Christianity is not a history of creeds.  It is the story of a people of faith who sometimes cobbled together creeds out of beliefs.  It is also the history of equally faithful people who questioned, altered, and discarded those same creeds.  As with church buildings, from clapboard chapels to Gothic cathedrals, creeds are symbols by which Christians have at times sought to represent their faith.  But both the doctrinal canons and the architectural constructions are means to an end.  Making either the defining element warps the underlying reality of faith.

The nearly two thousand years of Christian history can be divided into three uneven periods.  The first might be called the “Age of Faith.” It began with Jesus and his immediate disciples when a buoyant faith propelled the movement he initiated.  During this first period of both explosive growth and brutal persecution, their sharing in the living Spirit of Christ united Christians with each other, and “faith” meant hope and assurance in the dawning of a new era of freedom, healing, and compassion that Jesus had demonstrated.  To be a Christian meant to live in his Spirit, embrace his hope, and to follow him in the work that he had begun.

The second period in Christian history can be called the “Age of Belief.” Its seeds appeared within a few short decades of the birth of Christianity when church leaders began formulating orientation programs for new recruits who had not known Jesus or his disciples personally.  Emphasis on belief began to grow when these primitive instruction kits thickened into catechisms, replacing faith in Jesus with tenets about him.  Thus, even during that early Age of Faith the tension between faith and belief was already foreshadowed.

Then, during the closing years of the third century, something more ominous occurred.  An elite class—soon to become a clerical class—began to take shape, and ecclesial specialists distilled the various teaching manuals into lists of beliefs.  Still, however, these varied widely from place to place, and as the fourth century began there was still no single creed.  The scattered congregations were united by a common Spirit.  A wide range of different theologies thrived.  The turning point came when Emperor Constantine the Great (d. 387 CE) made his adroit decision to commandeer Christianity to bolster his ambitions for the empire.  He decreed that the formerly outlawed new religion of the Galilean should now be legal, but he continued to reverence the sun god Helios alongside Jesus.

Constantine also imposed a muscular leadership over the churches, appointing and dismissing bishops, paying salaries, funding buildings, and distributing largesse.  He and not the pope was the real head of the church.  Whatever his motives, Constantine’s policies and those of his successors crowned Christianity as the official religion of the Roman Empire.  The emperors undoubtedly hoped this strategy would shore up their crumbling dominion, from which the old gods seemed to have fled.  The tactic, however, did not save the empire from collapse.  But for Christianity it proved to be a disaster: its enthronement actually degraded it. From an energetic movement of faith it coagulated into a phalanx of required beliefs, thereby laying the foundation for every succeeding Christian fundamentalism for centuries to come.

The ancient corporate merger triggered a titanic makeover.  The empire became “Christian,” and Christianity became imperial.  Thousands of people scurried to join a church they had previously despised, but now bore the emperor’s seal of approval.  Bishops assumed quasi-imperial powers and began living like imperial elites.  During the ensuing “Constantinian era,” Christianity, at least its official version, froze into a system of mandatory precepts that were codified into creeds and strictly monitored by a powerful hierarchy and imperial decrees.  Heresy became treason, and reason became heresy.

…Neither the Renaissance nor the Reformation did much to alter the underlying foundations of the Age of Belief… The Age of Belief lasted roughly fifteen hundred years, ebbing in fits and starts with the Enlightenment, the French Revolution, the secularization of Europe, and the anticolonial upheavals of the twentieth century.

Still, to think of this long middle ear as a nothing but a dark age is misleading.  As we have seen, throughout those fifteen centuries Christian movements and personalities continued to live by faith and according to the Spirit.  Confidence in Christ was their primary orientation, and hope for his Kingdom their motivating drive. [I cut a fair bit of this and the preceding paragraph for the sake of brevity.]

Now we stand on the threshold of a new chapter in the Christian story.  Despite dire forecasts of its decline, Christianity is growing faster that it ever has before, but mainly outside the West and in movements that accent spiritual experience, discipleship and hope; pay scant attention to creeds; and flourish without hierarchies.  We are now witnessing the beginning of a “post-Constantinian era.” Christians on five continents are sharking off the residues of the second phase (the Age of Belief) and negotating a bumpy transition into a fresh era for which a name has not yet been coined.

—
So, can we make a distinction between ‘faith’ and ‘belief’?

The book, as best I can tell (I’m into Chapter Four), dives further into this delineation, into what got us to where we’ve been, and what might move us forward into the future.

Terrific stuff, and as I read it, it seems to make a decent amount of sense.  And perhaps more pertinent, it seems to connect with what we find in the text: Jesus himself and the earliest believers, it seems, were not motivated by assent to a list of beliefs, but rather a deep-seated and profound faith that God was doing something new and his kingdom was breaking into the world in unprecedented ways.

I find that for some time perhaps I’ve been losing faith in belief, even as my faith continues to grow in new and exciting ways.  It is encouraging to consider this larger movement of God’s Spirit in the world, which, despite our best efforts to constrain it, continues to “blow wherever it will.”

Relevant no matter your belief system, great read all around

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With a Perseus Porter at Elysian's Capitol Hill Pub on Pike Street in Seattle
With a Perseus Porter at Elysian’s Capitol Hill Pub on Pike Street in Seattle

Latest reader review of Pub Theology posted on Amazon.com:


Let me preface this review with the fact that I am by no means a Christian, nor a non-believer. A skeptic at heart, I came into the book and the concept of Pub Theology warily. I had never heard of Pub Theology or even met Bryan, but the book found me by chance.

That being said, it was a delightful read. He’s wise beyond his years and brings us a message of love, understanding, and openness. Do not let the word ‘theology’ turn you off – it’s relevant life-enriching information no matter your belief system. Whether you come into this as a veteran on the subject or as a fresh mind, you’ll find value. Worst-case scenario it’s a fun read on an interesting subject and a wonderful refresher. Best-case, you’re going to start seeing things differently and come away with some very useful information.

I was invited to and attended a Pub Theology event while in midst of the book. If you have the opportunity to visit one, do not miss the chance.

Perhaps we’ve barely tried it

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A few thoughts from brother Anthony Smith:

“I thought I’d give Mike a listen. I just have one question for when he says that the carnage Newtown experienced this past Friday is due to the systematic removal of Christianity in schools and in the broader society ‘beginning 50 years ago.’  I was struck inwardly by this question: America has always been a violent society; from the near extermination of Native Americans; slavery of blacks; tyranny over woman; and our strong propensity to be exclusionary and violent toward people who do not look like us or live exactly like us.

OK… the question:

“Given your logic Mike is fair to say that given the history of carnage in America and exported by America that America has not really removed Christianity as it has barely tried it?”

Christianity has not been systematically removed, brother Mike. It’s just that we have barely lived it for nearly 300 years, not just the past 50.

_____

And a few later thoughts by Anthony:

“This story is too tragic to become a political handmaiden to a version of Christianity that is nearly almost completely self-deceived [and] amnesiatic about it’s career in the Americas. We need a better story than this. Those small children deserve a better story than this. God have mercy on us.”

A New Convergence

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old_church_door

A few writers, thinkers, pastors, and theologians (Brian McLaren and Eric Elnes, among others) note that a new convergence is happening within Christianity.  McLaren notes:

“A new coalition is already happening, as existing organizations and emerging networks discover one another and realize they have independently reached common conclusions.”

Hence, convergence.

While more conservative churches may well become even more strict with the changes afoot in the culture and in the church, McLaren notes that others are expanding outward, and this convergence will be comprised of people from four general streams:

That new coalition, I believe, will emerge from four main sources:

  1. Progressive Evangelicals who are squeezed out of constricting evangelical settings.
  2. Progressive Roman Catholics (and Eastern Orthodox) who are squeezed out of their constricting settings.
  3. Missional mainliners who are rediscovering their Christian faith more as a missional spiritual movement, and less as a revered and favored religious institution.
  4. Social justice-oriented Pentecostals and Evangelicals— from the minority churches in the West and from the majority churches of the global South, especially the second- and third-generation leaders who have the benefits of higher education.

Where and how will this coalition happen? It’s already happening through a variety of sources, as existing organizations and emerging networks discover one another, realize they have independently reached common conclusions, and begin developing both personal relationships and concrete plans for missional collaboration — especially on behalf of the poor, peace, and the planet.

But what other things mark those who might fit in with this shift?

Eric Elnes writes of twelve defining characteristics, which are evenly divided into three categories: Love of God, Love of Neighbor, and Love of Self.

Love of God

  1. They are letting go of the notion that their particular faith is the only legitimate one on the planet. They are embracing an understanding that God is greater than our imagination can comprehend (or fence in), and thus they are open to the possibility that God may speak within and across all faith traditions.
  2. They are letting go of literal and inerrant interpretations of their sacred texts while celebrating the unique treasures that their texts contain. They are embracing a more ancient, prayerful, non-literal approach to these same texts, and finding new insights and resources as they do so.
  3. They are letting go of the notion that people of faith are called to dominate nature. They are embracing a more organic and reverent understanding of human relationship with the earth.
  4. They are letting go of empty worship conventions and an overemphasis on doctrines as tools of division and exclusion. They are embracing more diverse, creative, engaging approaches, often making strong use of the arts.

Love of Neighbor

  1. They are letting go of a narrow definition of sexual orientation and gender identity. They are embracing with increasing confidence an understanding that affirms the dignity and worth of all people.
  2.  They are letting go of an understanding that people of faith should only interest themselves in the “spiritual” well-being of people. They are embracing a more holistic understanding that physical and spiritual well-being are related.
  3. They are letting go of the desire to impose their particular vision of faith on wider society. They are embracing the notion that their purpose is to make themselves more faithful adherents of their vision of faith.
  4. They are letting go of the old rivalries between “liberal, moderate, and conservative” branches of their faith. They are embracing a faith that transcends these very definitions.

Love of Self

  1. They are letting go of notions of the afterlife that are dominated by judgment of “unbelievers.” They are embracing an understanding that, as God’s creations, God is eternally faithful to us, and that all people are loved far more than we can comprehend.
  2.  They are letting go of the notion that faith and science are incompatible. They are embracing the notion that faith and science can serve as allies in the pursuit of truth, and that God values our minds as well as our hearts.
  3. They are letting go of the notion that one’s work and one’s spiritual path are unrelated. They are embracing an understanding that rest and recreation, prayer and reflection, are as important as work, and that our work is a “calling” and expression of our “sweet spot.”
  4. They are letting go of old hierarchies that privilege religious leaders over laypeople. They are embracing an understanding that all people have a mission and purpose in life in response to the call of the Holy Spirit. It’s no longer about who wears the robes but who lives the life.

What do you think?  Do you resonate with any of these?  Do you see these shifts in your own life or faith community?  Do you find any of them particularly helpful or problematic?

There are indeed shifts happening within broader Christianity… whether one likes it or not.  I think the above represent some healthy movements, even if one doesn’t want to get on board with all of them.  And as noted, these sensibilities are present in multiple traditions, and many reflect ‘rediscoveries’ rather than genuinely new ideas or patterns.

Is Christianity Dying?

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While Spirituality is Thriving?

So asserted Steve McSwain in a recent Huffington Post column entitled: Why Christianity is Dying While Spirituality is Thriving.  He cited the stats that we’ve all heard: church attendance is down, religious affiliation is down, the rise of those claiming ‘none’ as their religion is on the rise.

Are churches bad for your spiritual health?

He noted that while all of this is the case, Christianity is actually “morphing into something new.”

I do not mean by this a new religion. To the contrary, what I’m seeing is a new and refreshing emergence within the Christian religion itself. Perhaps, as at no other time in Christian history, except perhaps the first few decades following the death of Jesus, the church today is slowly becoming, but in too few places as yet, something that I suspect Jesus himself might actually recognize. There is within this new emergence an affinity for those matters of social and personal justice, compassion, spiritual wholeness and unity within and among all people and faiths. These were the obsessions of Jesus while here on earth.

He notes that churches that exemplify these things as “glimmers of hope” here and there.

So what, Steve asks, does this new emergence within Christianity look like?  He makes five observations:

  1. This new, emerging church is made up of people who are desperately seeking ways of understanding, and in many cases, rewriting Christian theology. It needs to be rewritten. For decades now, the church has sought to survive on a doctrine of salvation that depended on the shedding of innocent blood to appease an obsessively angry God so as to rescue humanity from what would otherwise result in their conscious and eternal torment in hell. It’s crazy theology. It is not what Jesus taught. And as a consequence, it is more pagan than it is Christian.
  2. These new churches have a healthier view of their sacred text known as the Bible. They revere the Bible without making a god of it. Instead worshipping the Bible as a kind of “Constitution,” as Brian Mclaren dubs it in “A New Kind of Christianity,” they interpret the Bible for what it is: an inspired book, capable of providing inspiration, wisdom and spiritual direction, not a textbook on science or morality or answer-book preachers might use for “Stump the Preacher” talk-shows.
  3. These Christians no longer feel the enemy is liberalism, even “secular humanism,” as it is commonly labeled in the declining and dying branches within Christianity. Admittedly, they see dangers in any extreme notions, whether in liberal theology or humanistic philosophy, but they have awakened to the realization that the church has met the “real” enemy — and the real enemy is the church itself. Furthermore, these Christians no longer believe gays will destroy the institution of marriage when heterosexuals have successfully accomplished that all by themselves. Waging war against gays, lesbians and those within the transgender community is like trying to defend slavery. Furthermore, these have given up the church’s war with science and psychology, choosing instead to embrace the truths science teaches us, not only about the origins of the universe, but about the complexities of the human mind, human development and sexuality.
  4. Further, I see this new evolving Christianity being birthed in the hearts of sincere and devoted Christ-followers who are open to what other religions can teach us about spirituality, too. They would regard, for example, Desmond Tutu’s statement “God is not a Christian,” as the truth. While affirming that “God was in Christ reconciling the world to himself” (2 Corinthians 5:19), and cherishing that belief within their own faith confessions, these Christians would embrace and, in fact, do embrace the spiritual insights that may come from Hinduism, Buddhism, Taoism and scores of other spiritual traditions. They have exchanged the insanity of the dying church that insists “We’re right! You’re wrong,” for the sane “We’re in and you are, too” approach to human and religious solidarity. Together, these Christians seek spiritual awareness — spiritual enlightenment — and they seek the good of all people, too, even those who embrace no religion.
  5. Finally, this emerging new Christianity no longer interprets Christian “hope” as some “pie-in-the-sky” future paradise that they alone will enjoy, along with those who agree with their theology, their eschatology and their exclusivist beliefs. No, these Christians would view “hope” the way Jesus their leader viewed it; the way the prophets of old viewed it; the way the entire biblical narrative views it: as a vision of the world wherein peace and justice and plenty for everyone exists in the here and now; a world that reflects “God’s will on earth just as it is in heaven” (Matthew 6:10); a world where all people are treated equally, cared for, respected, fed and nurtured for the wonderful creations of God that they are; a world where all people regardless of color, sex, race, religion, political party, nationality or sexual orientation have a voice and a place; a world where people and nations, as the Prophet Isaiah put it, “beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks; where nation no longer takes up sword against nation; where war is no longer learned” (Isaiah 2:1-5).

What do you think?  Do you see these shifts?  Are they glimmers of hope or cause for alarm?  Are there other (or better) ways Christianity could (or should) consider in this shifting religious/spiritual landscape?

Some reactions to this in my own circles:

“While I can appreciate some of the insights I find some of it disturbing in many ways maybe even more so in some of the responses and the place of scripture among these new church communities.”

“So the author insists churches must give up the “We’re right” and “You’re wrong” attitude. In fact he calls that attitude “insanity.” Yet, he labels traditional theology centered on vicarious atonement “pagan.” He contends the only “healthy” view of the Bible is to see it only as vaguely inspired. To hold an alternative position on Scripture is “making a god out of it.” I could go on, but it seems McSwain thinks he is uniquely positioned to dismiss views he disagrees with as insane, pagan, unhealthy and idolatrous. Yea, it’s only traditional, orthodox Christians who are intolerant. Sure.”

“Many who leave attempt to find home once again. (See the NYT piece on Boomers coming back to church.) The heady path away from home, when the future seems full of possibility is exhilarating, and people call upon their friends to join them. Actually building a sustainable life away from home, camping if you will, can get wearisome and laborious. Leaving a community that had ideas and notions that seemed to imprison you feels liberating. Building a new community, however is real work, and one can discover that your former group didn’t have a monopoly on bad relational habits, selfishness and immaturity.” (This is from Paul VanderKlay’s response, which I appreciated).

McSwain thinks these shifts (among others) are vital:

It is this kind of church that will emerge and thrive. The others will die a slow and agonizingly painful death.

For all the reasons above, and a host of others, spirituality is thriving both inside and outside these new and emerging expressions of the Christian faith. For me, and a growing number of other progressive-minded Christians, that is a cause for hope.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, and how your own faith (and faith communities) continue to grow and thrive despite what appears to be an increasing disdain for religion, and an increasing embrace of spirituality.

There is much I resonate with in the original article, yet a few questions to close:

  • Is there enough depth in individualized ‘spirituality’ to sustain one over the long haul?
  • How can faith communities move forward without simply jettisoning what got them where they are?
  • Are we on the precipice of some major changes in Christianity, or just at a swing of the pendulum that will soon come back the other way?

Why Conservative Churches Attract Young People… or Not

Church, Culture, Practices, Relationships, Theology, Worship Comments are closed
“Catch my conservative drift there? No? Too much? Let’s take it again from the top.”

A fellow pastor recently wrote a recent column entitled, “Why Conservative Churches Attract Young People.”  My interest was immediately piqued, as someone who is also interested in helping people of all ages cultivate their spiritual lives, including ‘young people.’

In the post, Aaron Vriesman, who pastors a church on the north side of Holland, Michigan, begins: “As a 33 year-old minister in the CRC, I can say with both personal and professional experience that conservative churches do indeed draw young adults.  In particular, churches that have a self-consciously high view of Scripture, a commitment to the creeds and confessions, traditional stances on marriage and sexuality, and work to spread the gospel of Jesus Christ actually do draw young adults.”

I have no doubt that this is the case.  He goes on to note some of the reasons, some of which I agree with, and some of which I might view from a slightly different angle.

To provoke thought, the article is prefaced with:
“Why would young adults be attracted to conservative churches? Aren’t young adults more educated and scientific in their view of the world? Aren’t young adults more accepting of premarital sex and gay relationships? Aren’t young adults more interested in communities of dialogue than cold hard doctrine?”

That’s more like it.

I’ll let you read his reasons in full, so that I’m not taking any parts of this out of context. (quotes italicized)

  1. Young adults want authenticity.  All people, but young people especially, appreciate people who are up front about who they are and what they are about.  As advertisements everywhere attempt to lure people into spending money with attractive images and promises, young people are constantly being played.  Give it to me straight.  Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.  Tell me where you stand and then I can form my own opinion.  Don’t be a jerk about it, but at least be honest. Some churches shy away from Bible passages that might offend certain groups or avoid verses about God’s judgment because it makes God appear unloving.  Conservative churches with a higher view of Scripture are not shy about anything the Bible says.  They will read and preach on the uncomfortable Bible texts.  Even those that equate divorce with adultery, tell wives to submit to husbands and spell out horrifying disaster for sinners. Since conservative churches are not worried about political correctness of any kind, they present the true God and Jesus Christ in all authenticity, with (what some would say) “warts” and all.  Even if some young adults disagree with what they hear, they usually respect a straightforward message without spin.
    —
    My response.      I agree, young adults want authenticity.  Aaron correctly notes that our culture has much shallow, get-your-attention-and-your-dollars gimmicky stuff going on.  Something deeper and more substantive does indeed have a certain draw.He notes, “Give it to me straight.  Don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.” He goes on to note that conservative churches don’t shy away from certain biblical texts. His examples consist of divorce, submission of women to their husbands, and judgment for sin (read between the lines: hell).  How can they be so daring as to talk about things so culturally against the grain?  Because “they’re not worried about political correctness of any kind.”

    I’d like to push back slightly.  There is indeed a culture that would take issue with people equating divorce with adultery, with endorsing repressive measures against women, and with fire-and-brimstone theology.  So in this sense, yes, these conservative churches are ‘against the grain.’  But let’s think about context for a moment.  Vriesman preaches in West Michigan in a very conservative area, in a very conservative congregation, likely among largely rural congregants who grew up in such a conservative milieu.  So in fact, what he is saying should be turned around.  In his context, preaching these things is exactly what people want and expect to hear.  It is not against the grain.  It is politically-correct, because if he were to suddenly start preaching a more progressive message that divorce is much more complicated than simply equating it with adultery (which everyone knows intuitively, but has to listen to repeated sermons to be convinced otherwise), that God loves everyone including divorced folks, that women and men should equally respect each other, and that perhaps our view of God ought to transcend a Puritan, fire-breathing, sinners-in-the-hands-of an angry God—if this was his approach, he would be questioned.  In his environment, sticking with a conservative approach is exactly the politically correct thing to do.

    He goes on to say that this approach communicates to people ‘the true God’ and Jesus Christ ‘in all authenticity.’ Hmmm… The hubris to assume your view and only your view displays God as he actually is (rather than our ideas of God) is in fact the kind of thing that causes young people outside of the bubble he is operating in to flee from churches.  Because they know it simply isn’t true, if anyone has taken the time to really wrestle with and engage traditions outside of their own, be it any of the many other Christian traditions, as well as other faiths. (See the excerpt of Chapter 6 of my book, An (Un)Safe Place, on Patheos).

    In fact, many of these conservative churches supposedly teaching about Jesus ‘in all authenticity,’ often fail to communicate the Jesus who taught us to love our neighbor as ourselves, to love our enemies, to practice reconciliation at all costs, to respond to violence with forgiveness.  These same churches consistently favor a militaristic approach to foreign policy, which looks like anything but ‘the authentic Jesus’, they often favor social policies that marginalize the poorest and weakest in our society, and one could go on. The point being that there is a healthy diversity of thought on what it means to follow ‘the real Jesus,’ and you better have a seat next to the angels in heaven before you claim to alone have insight into ‘the true God.’

    So back to the initial point: I agree young people want authenticity. I think all people do. The examples mentioned may well be authentic, but they hardly put conservative churches in sole possession of authenticity.

  1. Young adults want to know the real God.  Many people today build their own gods with the bits and pieces they like from various sources, but what is God really like?  Some churches present Scripture as human writing, introducing Biblical texts with, “Paul says…” or “David says…”  Conservative churches will say, “The Lord says…” or “God’s Word tells us…” Human opinions are a dime a dozen, but the Bible is not another human opinion.  It is God’s truth, and so it is worth getting up early on a weekend to hear.
    —
    My response.      “Many people today built their own gods with bits and pieces they like from various sources.” Yes they do. Sources like the Heidelberg Catechism, or John Calvin, Saint Augustine, or various Bible passages. WE ARE ALL guilty of doing this.  Me too.  Can we do otherwise?  In our discussion at the pub the other night we asked, “Do we sometimes confuse our idea(s) of God with God?”  The answer, regardless of our approach, is YES. We are human beings, therefore it is impossible we will (in this life), have a pure, unfiltered view of who God is.  To say anything less is dishonest.

    Does that mean we are in the dark? Not at all. We do have the Scriptures, we have the witness of various theological traditions through history, and so on.  But it is only honest to acknowledge that there exists, and has always existed, a multiplicity of such traditions, even in biblical times.  The Bible itself is not always in agreement with itself.  Vriesman notes, “Some churches present Scripture as human writing…” as if this is some sort of indictment.  Scripture is human writing!  Perhaps he forgot his seminary training, that a Reformed view of the inspiration of Scripture is organic:  God’s Spirit at work through human beings, including all of their own personalities, character, humanity, and setting.  And of course, humanity is humanity. Broken, flawed, with a perspective inescapably rooted in one’s own self. To pretend that we don’t have to say, “Paul said… this,” but “Isaiah writes this…” is to miss out on fully understanding the very means God chose to use to communicate himself to us!  To simply say, “God says… ____,” without doing the hard work of understanding what God was saying originally in and through the very human authors, in and through its very context and to its first hearers, is to endanger one to presumptively miss out on what God is saying today, all the while claiming to speak for “the real God.”  (See my earlier post: What I meant to say, for a discussion on the complicated reality of communication and interpretation, then and now).

    Young people can see through such unnuanced approaches, and are decreasingly satisfied with them.  More and more young people do want to know God as he really is, which is why they aren’t satisfied to sit in the pew and be told that we know exactly who God and what he is like. They are not satisfied with being told: “you’re not allowed to do any spiritual exploration on your own outside our own doctrinal boundaries, because that is ‘dangerous’.”  Such fear of exploration may well betray the fact that one doesn’t really believe what one claims to believe. And of course, the implication that conservative churches are the only place to encounter ‘the real God’ implies that any other sort of church will only connect you with something less. My experience (and many others), would say that God can be met in a variety of settings.
  1. Young adults hunger for meaning beyond themselves.  The mainstream culture’s gospel of toleration and acceptance is loud and constant. While this can be a smooth elixir to swallow, the net result is a sour stomach of uncertainty and meaninglessness.  Is there anything that is truly right and wrong?  Is life’s ultimate goal just being nice to everybody and never rock the boat?  Hearing about the ultimate truth from God’s own Word gives a measure of meaning beyond popular opinion and greater than our own selves.  Truth that confirms what we already feel and believe only betrays itself as our own personal truth. Truth greater than ourselves by definition will challenge our views, prick our hearts, cause us to humble ourselves and submit to God’s way. As awkward and unpopular as God’s way might be, its superior source and loving purpose is compelling.
    —
    My response.      “The mainstream culture’s gospel of toleration and acceptance is loud and constant.”  Good!  Then perhaps the message of Jesus has been getting through.  Jesus tolerated and accepted people, people who were regularly dismissed from access to God through the religious institutions of the day: the poor, the prostitutes, the tax collectors, those labeled “sinners.”  The people he had the most problem with were the religious ones who didn’t practice the ‘toleration’ and ‘acceptance’ Jesus knew God extends toward all his broken humanity.  Apparently it gives this writer a ‘sour stomach’ to imagine that we should practice such love, tolerance, and acceptance.

    To go from this initial point to asking, ‘Is there anything that is truly right and wrong?’ is a complete disconnect. Extending God’s love doesn’t mean anything goes. It means everyone is welcome. It means we become the love of God on display.  And as we do that, people begin to experience healing to their brokenness, and consider ways to begin living in wholeness and newness.  And, this writer forgets, when we act in this way, it does rock the boat.  Jesus accepted and loved such people, and was constantly berated by the institution that claimed to speak for God: “This man welcomes sinners, and eats with them.”  “This one is a drunkard and a glutton.”

    I agree with his final point, that truth greater than ourselves will challenge our views and prick our hearts.  I’m simply wondering whether such truth is ever spoken in the kinds of communities he seems to be representing.  Would Jesus, himself a young person, be welcome in these churches with his radical displays of love and acceptance?
  1. Young adults resonate with sin. They are familiar with the suffering that comes from broken relationships, dead-end jobs, brittle commitments and love with strings attached.  Even a self-centered and narcissistic generation like mine has burning questions about why so many awful things happen in the world.  Preaching the reality of sin has a way of bringing light to the elusive suffering that is so apparent everywhere.  Some churches might call for awareness, dialogue, or assistance programs in response to the world’s problems. Some young adults are attracted to this because they feel the ache of sin and want to solve its problems.  But such human efforts mostly produce fatigue and frustration.  Sin, according to the Bible, is actually a spiritual problem that cannot be defeated by human efforts.  The truth, pure and simple, is that we need a Savior.  Instead of trying harder, we conquer sin in ourselves only as much as we trust God to work through us.  This leads us to open ourselves to God’s grace that comes by faith.  Grace calls for human activity, but activity that is motivated by thanksgiving and love for God, not a better world as an end in itself.
    —
    My response.      Here I have a lot of agreement with the author. Many of us are indeed familiar with the suffering that comes from the things he notes.  Suffering that comes from inside of us, as well as suffering that is far beyond any one of us (famine, natural disasters, war, etc).  He notes that “some churches might call for awareness, dialogue, or assistance programs.”  His solution is simply to “preach the reality of sin,” because if we do all this hard work of increasing awareness, discussing solutions, and working toward improving things will result simply in ‘a better world as an end in itself.’  Imagine.  A better world?  Is that it?  Let’s stop before we get to that point.  Let’s instead focus on ‘spiritual problems.’  I agree that humanity is sinful and broken.  I agree that God brings healing through Jesus.  However, I balk at the notion that ‘a better world’ is not an end in itself, and that nothing can change unless we remind everyone that we can’t actually do anything.  In fact, if we paid attention, we’d see that non-Christians everywhere are working hard to effect real change in our world, and we would do well to begin to partner with them, rather than hide in our circles commiserating with each other over the futility of it all.
  1. Not all conservative churches attract young adults.  Some conservative churches simply attempt to hold on to the past.  Those that recoil at different ministry tactics or refuse to try the newer (or older) worship music reflect the idolatry of comfort zones, which undermines the gospel’s power even if it is accurately presented from the pulpit. The key component of conservative churches that attract young adults is the visible display of God’s love. Before and after worshiping together, the love of God is visible in the way people greet and speak to one another. People of a different color or socio-economic class are welcomed with the same smiles and greetings as everyone else. Truths are held without compromise but questions and discussions are always welcome because that is how we learn. The conservative moral standards are used to encourage sinners in their emerging faith, not as merit badges of superiority.
    —
    My response.      Agreed!  Not all conservative churches attract young adults.  But neither do all progressive churches. Or all of any kind of church.  I also agree that the key component in a church attracting young adults is the visible display of God’s love.  However, I think it goes far beyond creating a welcoming environment over coffee before and after the service.  It comes not in simply being nice to someone ‘of a different color.’  It comes not by trumpeting our ‘conservative truths and moral standards.’  It comes by people living in genuine community throughout the week, people who can rely upon each other (and I know this often is practiced very well in conservative churches), but also by people living sacrificially on behalf of a broken world. People like the early church, who modeled Christ’s teaching by having everything in common, by taking in the poor, by suffering to declare that the way of a suffering Jewish teacher was superior to the way of Rome and Caesar.

    He notes in the end that ‘questions and discussions are always welcome because that is how we learn.’ This seems at odds with his earlier comments which dismiss dialogue in favor of preaching and ‘cold hard doctrine.’  I agree, we learn when we honestly engage views differently from our own, when we admit we haven’t figured everything out, least of all God. This approach, in my own experience, is refreshing to young people who have too often experienced the opposite.


The article closes as follows:
“At the end of the day, people need to see that God’s truth as well as his grace and love are more than theoretical beliefs. God is true and his Son Jesus Christ is mighty to save. Churches that show Jesus Christ is real will always attract people of all ages.”

I might articulate something more along these lines:
“At the end of the day, people need to experience the reality of God’s love and grace through communities seeking to embody the way of Jesus, the prophet and rabbi who declared that the ‘Kingdom of God is at hand.’  Churches that really seek to follow Jesus will attract people of all ages, but will not necessarily be popular.”

—
What do you think?  Do conservative churches attract young people?  Can we make such sharp delineations as ‘conservative’ and ‘progressive’ or ‘liberal’ among churches?  Is this a useful approach?  What might draw you to a particular community of faith? What might keep you away?

What’s the Big Idea?

Church, Culture, Relationships, Theology Comments are closed

Quite a bit recently people have been ready to write the eulogy on the church, and particularly on organized religion.  Christianity is in crisis they say.  My own tradition is not exempt, it seems.  Recently John Van Sloten of New Hope Church in Calgary noted in a blog post that:  “the Christian Reformed Church is in desperate need of a big idea.”

As to why, Van Sloten, recently returned from some denominational meetings, said this:

“Our numbers are dropping, young adults in the church have disappeared, our congregations are aging, and according to discerning minds we are about 15-20 years away from the death spiral that many mainline denominations are now in. Some think we’ve held on this long because of one of our biggest idiosyncrasies; our tendency to control everything so tightly!

The writing is on the wall.”

He is probably right.  Our time has come.

But Van Sloten isn’t ready to give up the ghost just yet:

“And in order to stop the bleeding – no even more – in order to resuscitate the patient, drastic steps need to be taken.  No more incremental programming changes. No more technical fixes. We need something big; an adrenaline shot to the heart.”

I read his post with some interest, being a fellow clergy member in the same denomination.  He then poses two possibilities, which I proceeded to peruse with interest.

Let’s take them one at a time:

  1. If we don’t find a big outside the box idea, God will. And that big idea may play out outside of the box of the CRC (ie: he’ll let us die!)

OK, this is just a reiteration of the situation.  Something has to change, or the game is up.  Agreed.

Well this puts a lot of weight on the second thought.  Let’s hope for a game-changer.

  • 2. The CRC’s big idea must come from the centre of its core theology and be fully manifest in the pulpit. Theology and preaching are central to our identity. Surely God’s biggest idea for us would be borne out of and proclaimed from these places.

Here’s where the post came to a screeching halt for me.

Earlier Van Sloten had noted that there is an uptightness to the denomination — a need to control everything.  And it’s obvious this is not working.  One of the main ways I perceive that we are uptight and seek to control everything is regarding doctrine, or as he puts it, core theology, and it’s corollary, or how that doctrine/theology is often passed on:  preaching.  These are perhaps two of the hallmarks of our tradition.  But if things are dying and those are the hallmarks, perhaps its time for some new hallmarks.

I have a hard-time seeing this as a viable solution, or even a big idea.  To me, it comes across as more of the same.  Better grab the shovels.

Foreshadowing

I can think of recent events which are harbingers of what is to come:

1)  Two religion faculty members at Calvin College write some thought-provoking pieces about the challenge of reconciling Adam and Eve historically with the evidences of history, of literature, and perhaps most notably, scientific discoveries and the theory of evolution.

A quick taste of what they wrote:

One professor, Daniel Harlow, wrote that he was exploring from the perspective of mainstream biblical scholarship, which is that “Adam and Eve are strictly literary figures—characters in a divinely inspired story about the imagined past that intends to teach primarily theological, not historical, truths about God, creation, and humanity.”

Harlow also wrote, “Genesis 3, read in its immediate context, does not depict the man and woman’s transgression as an act that infected all subsequent humanity. . . . For teaching about the Fall and original sin, then, we must wait for Paul and the church fathers.”

The other professor, John Schneider, wrote that the traditional understanding of the Fall does not fit with current science: “[T]he narrative of human evolution makes it very hard, if not impossible, to maintain [the position that human and demonic creatures are responsible for evil]. For it seems, on this science, that not just natural evils . . . but also the disposition for human moral evils, are practically part of God’s original design.”

Exceptional pieces written about an issue which the church at large is going to have to deal with theologically as it moves forward.  And it should be clarified that these two were not making grand new theological assertions, but merely showing how traditional thinking has to be rethought in light of new understandings in science and biblical studies. But apparently some do not want to move forward, and it was decided that these two had to retract their efforts or find a new place of employment.

Why?  Because their scholarship didn’t toe the line at theological constructs developed over 500 years ago.

Now you’re wondering: Did I hear that right?  Academics forced to curb their research in religion and literature as it intersects with scientific developments, to stunt their own academic exploration in order to “submit” to theological doctrines developed during the lifetime of Galileo?  Yep.  Turns out that’s the route the college went, which is significant because Calvin is affiliated with the denomination we are discussing.  Rather than move forward, the message was loud and clear: let’s keep the engine in neutral, or maybe even pop it into reverse.

There are real theological issues the church must face here, and it’s time we act like adults and deal with them, as Peter Enns suggests, rather than sweep them under the rug.

2) A CRC pastor recently published a book about his own journey from faith to doubt.  His insights and experiences were welcome by many, but threatening to others.  He was encouraged to consider his options, and eventually felt he was better in a more progressive denomination. A few lamented his departure, many more were glad to be rid of such a troublemaker.

3) Part of the means of control in the denomination is expressed in what was formerly known as the “Form of Subscription.”  This was a statement dating back nearly 500 years that stated exactly what it is that we as a denomination believe doctrinally regarding God, Scripture and salvation, among other things.  (I know, hard to believe (no pun intended) that belief doesn’t shift or move forward in half a millennium.)

Recently (perhaps due to some of the above) it was suggested that this be updated. One crucial statement that many of us thought was a movement in the right direction was to note that the three doctrinal statements (Belgic Confession, Canons of Dort, and the Heidelberg Catechism) are historic expressions of the Reformed faith have shaped our theological heritage and will continue to guide us (.  A small move, but a move forward.  It seemed a logical way to put it, because they are historic documents, after all.  They state concerns that were of vital interest in the era they were written.  But we no longer live in that era.  There are concerns today that those documents don’t address.  There are ways of understanding Scripture and faith and Jesus that didn’t exist when those were written. Advancements in biblical scholarship, critical study, archaeology, language, comparative religions and in many other related fields have given us insights they never had.  Not to mention developments in science.

In any case, many were shocked at this way of framing these confessions (apparently they thought they were ahistorical, having fallen from the heavens into the Reformers’ hands).  And unsurprisingly this updated Form of Subscription was rejected in 2011 in favor of something adopted in 2012 that looked nearly identical to the one it was supposedly ‘updating.’

On to Something

These three issues, among others, make me think that perhaps, after all, Van Sloten is on to something.

But in a sideways sort of way.

What may need to change is a letting go of the obsession over doctrinal obsessions, yes, there is a core that should remain, but there are plenty of peripherals that are less and less compelling to many many people, and it seems to me that our insistence on maintaining our dogmatism will be our death knell, not our salvation.

Recently the writer Jim Palmer confessed:

“So, I went to seminary, learned Greek and Hebrew, and got my M.Div. I was a Senior Pastor for several years and delivered a gazillion sermons. The working theory was that what people needed most was good, accurate, correct information about God. The idea was, have good theology and everything else will work out. It didn’t quite happen that way. There were lots of people with good theology and no inner peace or freedom.”

In other words, lots of preaching and obsessing about correct theology only goes so far, and in many cases, not far at all.

The reasons for this are myriad, but chief among them is the growing sense among many that God himself isn’t as concerned with how to describe, dissect, and diagram himself (or herself) as many theologians have been.  There is a growing sense that Jesus was about helping bring wholeness and freedom, healing and reconciliation rather than a ‘new yoke’ comprised of medieval theological formulations to which all must now submit.  To put it simply, many people just don’t care about doctrinal fastidiousness, and are concerned about day to day practical realities, the kinds about which Jesus so often taught and focused on: a father who had two sons, a follower who had a dead father, a woman caught in adultery, a tax collector who wondered if restoration and a new way of life was possible.

Living into God’s Story

Some time earlier in a related discussion, James K.A. Smith noted that churches obsessing over theology can still succeed:

“I’m just pointing out that the missional success of unapologetically Reformed churches like Redeemer in NYC (and it’s whole network), or City Church in San Francisco, are testimony that “thickly” Reformed (AND catholic AND missional) churches can actually invite people into God’s story and not merely attracted disaffected, previously-churched people.”

At the time, I responded with:

I also agree with Smith that many Gen Xers and millenials are simply not interested in “relevant” worship or “contemporary” faith. Style and mode do matter at some level, but not nearly to the degree of the substance beneath.

As for Smith’s anecdotal evidence of ‘thickly’ Reformed churches, one could also give plenty of anecdotes of younger folks who have had it with ‘thick’ faith in a new package (see Driscoll or any young, restless, and Reformed types) and are interested in a more engaging, developing theology that *is* — as Smith notes — informed by the broad catholicity of the faith. But more than that, a faith that also has room for mystery, for realizing the limits of all theological perspectives (including, or perhaps especially, one’s own tradition), and is strongly interested in an incarnational, Christ-centered faith. Many are simply not interested in being forced into a theological or intellectual corner by having to ‘sign on’ for certain doctrines. This is where the rub is. They (and I) want to be informed by the historic confessions without being told: you MUST own every single piece of them, which is about as appealing as being told you MUST take that spoonful of cod liver oil because… wait, what were those reasons again? Never mind – we’ve always done it this way (it’s tradition!) – so open up and take it!

So many -across the generations- want, as Smith says, to live into *God’s* story more than they want to live into any single version of that story, because they realize God is beyond any single tradition. (And are simply tired of the hubris that says ‘ours is the best and truest’).

Smith went on to dismiss such efforts in living, thinking and working through the shifting theological ground that many are doing:

“Thomas Merton would have never been saved by “pub theology.” Or Pete Rollins. Or Rob Bell. Or Brian McClaren. Or much that has been touted as “updated” versions of the CRC.”

I responded as follows (and I quote at length as this was buried in the comments under an earlier post, but it articulates my concern with Smith’s dismissiveness):

As for Smith’s comment regarding Pub Theology. . . The point of pub theology, as far as I’m concerned, is not to be the latest ‘outreach’ effort or to mask as a new proselytizing fad. If pub theology is saving anyone, it is saving me. Saving me from the attitude that I’ve got it all figured out and no one else does. Saving me from an attitude that lets me live in my own little world with my own prejudices about different people, faiths, philosophies, or approaches to God. It saves me from dismissing someone out of hand when I haven’t heard their story. It saves me from an attitude that says, ‘I’ve arrived’. And I really like craft beer.

All the guys Smith has listed and summarily dismissed with a wave of his hand have informed my own faith journey in important ways. Its fine if he doesn’t like them, but the theological snobbery I perceive is exactly the sort of thing many of us would prefer to get away from. That attitude doesn’t further the conversation, in my opinion (understanding that this is a limited form of communication in which it is possible to read into things). I also fail to see the constant pejorative use of ‘liberal Protestant’ as being of much use. I just spent a week with mainliners from varying backgrounds (ELCA, PCUSA, UMC, etc) and was impressed at the ways many in these denominations are seeking to engage their communities for Christ in some good, healthy, and creative ways. Living within a historic theological tradition with flexibility and life. There may be things within those contexts that one does not like, but it is hardly a fate to be avoided at all costs. (And from whom we could even learn a few things).

My own desire is to be centered on following Jesus in how I actually live my life (though it is a constant struggle). I want a faith at which Christ is the center from which I operate, and the goal toward which I strive. I’m frankly not that interested in worrying about how big (or small) the theological circle is within which I operate. I want to be informed by the creeds and confessions (and have and continue to be shaped by them), but I am less interested in being forced to stand or fall on them. For our faith to have weight and depth – it must engage these important parts of our tradition. But for it to live and move and breathe – it must not be encumbered or chained to the ground by them. I am interested in inviting people into the center. The theological edges are frankly not that important to me, and I think a healthy agnosticism toward some doctrines that the confessions lay out dogmatically would be a healthier (and perhaps more biblical) approach.

So what’s the big idea?

Perhaps it is this: that we learn to let go of our certainties, stop trying to railroad people into believing things they have genuine questions about, and be open to re-articulations of the faith that resonate with and reflect the concerns and issues of today.  How?  Well, as Van Sloten notes, the pulpit isn’t a bad place to begin.  Having preachers willing to be open about the challenges present in the text, to be honest about their own struggles and faith life, to exhort us to live into and live out the grace Jesus embodies and be less concerned about getting more sheep to ‘sign on the dotted line.’  Preaching that doesn’t cause us to reconsider, reflect, struggle, learn, and reformulate might just be preaching to the choir.

But it must go beyond the preacher. We must embrace grassroots efforts like Pub Theology, in which open conversation is the goal, preaching is set aside in favor of listening, and a setting is created in which all are welcome to the table without having to pass a litmus test of belief or behavior.  If we want to engage our communities on spiritual topics, we cannot expect to sit back and watch people show up at our worship gatherings.  We must be present in places where people already are, and drop our agendas of evangelizing everyone we meet — in our circles we don’t bring people to Jesus so much as to Reformed theology.  If we want to learn how to hold our faith amid the growing pluralism of our day, settings like this will get us started.  (Not to mention that a sure-fire way to ensure our further irrelevance will be to circle the wagons and congratulate ourselves on our unique theology.)

We could promote small group curriculum like “Living the Questions” or “Animate» Faith,” get serious about studying the Bible filtered less by preconceived doctrinal grids and informed more by serious scholarship and study that brings new light to old texts.

And finally, we must seek to find ways to bring the hope of the kingdom of God to our communities in tangible ways. I’m heartened by the many, many ways I see this happening throughout our denomination, and I think these signs of life are already present in growing ways.

Surely there are more big ideas out there (Add yours below!).  But these things may be a start.

In the end we can take heart, because the universe has existed for about 14 billion years, and the CRC has only existed for about 0.0001107% of that time.

The world will get on fine without us.

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