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Pub Theology Live-Tweet

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TONIGHT at our regular Pub Theology DC gathering, we’ll be LIVE TWEETING – you can join us in person, at the Bier Baron at 1523 22nd St NW – just a few blocks west of the Dupont Circle Metro stop, or you can jump in on the conversation via Twitter using #pubtheology. Be sure to follow me (@bryberg) and (@pubtheology). Here are the topics we’ll be discussing:

  1. If you could name the street you live on what would you call it?

  1. If you received an extra burrito when ordering at your local shop would you say something?

  1. True or false: We should be wary of any efforts to improve human nature.

  2. Did you march on Saturday? Are you marching tomorrow? Does marching lead to justice?

  1. Did Jesus pay for our sins? In what way?

  1. Is hell a just punishment for sinful people?

WE’D LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU!  Come on down and join us for a pint, or grab your smart phone, a craft-brewed pint, and hit the Twitters! Starting at 7pm.

Like Water Off a Goose’s Back

josephineWe loaded the kids, our mammoth tent, and some food (and beer!) into the van last Thursday and headed off to the hills of North Carolina. We were ready to hit the third annual Wild Goose Festival.

We arrived at Hot Springs, NC to discover puddles, mud and —smiles. Hundreds of people setting up camp, giving directions, prepping stages and venues, setting up craft booths, plucking guitar strings, and more. Despite the deluge of rain the night before, and the forecasted rain (which did come), the Goose would go on.

After setting up camp, the kids discovered some friends they had met at the event last year, and my wife Christy and I headed off to our first event: A Darkwood Brew Unplugged conversation between the Darkwood Brewmaster himself, Eric Elnes, and writer and speaker Frank Schaeffer. The open conversation about the mysteries of faith, and the urgency of getting real about issues that affect our world reminded me that I was in the right place. “Certainty gets in the way of truth,” Frank would say more than once, to my internal amen. “When we’re certain about God, certain about what it means to be spiritual, certain about our theological and doctrinal systems, we close ourselves off from the larger spiritual truths that there are to be gained.”

He would go on to note that we grow by discovery, by being wrong, by re-thinking – and that this is true in nearly every facet of life. Can it be so different when it comes to God? About halfway through the session, Frank shared his own keys to living a meaningful life: “Create beauty, give love, and find peace.” Those gathered under the tent murmured and smiled in agreement. “If you do these three things — and I mean anyone, regardless of their religious affiliation or commitments— if you do these three things, you’ll look back and be content with how you lived your life. If you ignore these things, you’ll regret it.”

Create beauty. Give love. Find peace.

Before the session ended, my two youngest kids were growing restless and were ready for bed. We walked back to the tent as the sky darkened and rain threatened, passing many other festival-goers on the way. I rounded up our two oldest boys, who had been speeding through mud puddles on their bikes, and we all got ready for bed. The rain hit right after we all snuggled in our sleeping bags, which was exactly the time that the main musical act for the evening got started. Our tent was about thirty or forty yards from the main stage, and when Speech from Arrested Development began his show, the speakers were booming and the show was on. My three youngest passed out (thank you, God!) to the hip-hop beat, while my oldest son Henry and I enjoyed the show from the dryness of the tent, mildly envying those jumping up and down in the rain in the front row.

Speech performing in the rain - photo courtesy Geoff Maddock
Speech performing in the rain – photo courtesy Geoff Maddock

The show reached a fever pitch when he performed Arrested Development’s most well-known song, Tennessee:

Lord I’ve really been real stressed

Down and out, losin ground

Although I am black and proud

Problems got me pessimistic

Brothers and sisters keep messin up

Why does it have to be so damn tuff?

I don’t know where I can go

To let these ghosts out of my skull

My grandmas past, my brothers gone

I never at once felt so alone

I know you’re supposed to be my steering wheel

Not just my spare tire (home)

But Lord I ask you (home)

To be my guiding force and truth (home)

For some strange reason it had to be (home)

He guided me to Tennessee (home)

Take me to another place

Take me to another land

Make me forget all that hurts me

Let me understand your plan 

The themes of this song and another hit, Mr. Wendal, about a homeless man, touched many of us as we saw the spiritual side of Speech, who would articulate more of his spiritual background and inspiration in an interview with Krista Tippett the next day.

Even as I went to bed early that night, the days to follow would include catching up with a number of friends, making plenty of new ones, and attending sessions on non-violence, the environment, racism, the arts, and much more. I’d get to hug and embrace former friends and congregants of the church I led for nearly seven years in Michigan.

We’d delight in the poetry (and grilling!) of Mike Stavlund, Michael Toy, and Troy Bronsink, I’d share with contemplative-minded folks the resources of the Shalem Institute, reconnect with Mark and Lisa Scandrette (who are as delightful as ever!), have a beer with Frank Schaeffer and Richard Cizik, a conversation with Brian McLaren in the rain, a walk in the sunshine with Phyllis Tickle, and—a definite highlight—I’d get to meet Krista Tippett and share just how much her show Speaking of Faith and now onBeing have meant to my own journey. Perhaps best of all would be seeing the smiles on my kids’ faces each day as they ran, biked, splashed, played and laughed, even—or perhaps especially—when covered in mud and rain.

kristatippett

Late nights would follow as I would run into Rich McCullen, Tripp Fuller, and Trey Pearson of Everyday Sunday late Friday night – and we’d laugh about music, sermons, and having one too many beers (in theory). Saturday night seemed to never end after the delightful experience of the Indigo Girls performing up close (this deserves a whole ‘nother post!), deep conversation (and a few hymns) over beers later with fellow pub theologians Kirk Berlenbach and Michael Camp, and I would even manage to sell a few copies of my book Pub Theology at the beer pavilion (somehow easier to sell the later the night went).

On this first early night, however, as I fell asleep to the sounds of Speech lighting up the crowd and filling up the night with his rhythm and rhymes, all this was yet to come—nearly two thousand of us gathered in the Carolina hills—ready to create beauty, find love, and give peace.

Now I see the importance of history

Why people be in the mess that they be

Many journeys to freedom made in vain

By brothers on the corner playin ghetto games

I ask you Lord why you enlightened me

Without the enlightenment of all my folks

He said cuz I set myself on a quest for truth

And he was there to quench my thirst

But I am still thirsty…

The rain continued to land softly on the tent, rolling off the rainfly like so much water off a goose’s back.

—-
bryan-2Bryan Berghoef writes and tweets from the nation’s capital, and is the author of Pub Theology: Beer, Conversation, and God.  He insists that good things happen when we sit around the table together and talk about things that matter. 

A Philly Priest Visits Pub Theology DC

kirkb2Guest post by Fr. Kirk Berlenbach, rector of St. Timothy’s Episcopal Church in the Roxborough neighborhood of Philadelphia. He has been facilitating the parish beer club (The Franklin Club) since 2007. Originally posted at So This Priest Walks Into a Bar.

WASHINGTON DC – One of the great things about the internet is that, no matter how obscure your interest or hobby, the net allows you the chance to seek out and connect with other people who are just as off kilter.  When I began to take this whole faith and beer thing more seriously one of the first things I tried to do was see who else out there might be doing it too.  I was pleased to find I was not alone in the universe.  I came across and have since corresponded with a couple of kindred souls.

Among them are guys like Michael Camp, author of Confessions of a Bible Thumper: My Homebrewed Quest for a Reasoned Faith, which is next up on my reading list.  Another book on the subject is Diary of a Part Time Monk by J. Wilson which I just finished reading.  I referenced J’s quest to emulate the monks of old in this post.  In short, he attempted to follow the Lenten discipline of monks who fasted existing only on their dopplebock.  The book is his account of this remarkable experience.

Then there is Bryan Berghoef.  When I finished reading his book, Pub Theology, I knew we had to at least correspond.  We hit it off and found we had a lot in common, not just in terms of our love of beer but also in terms of our approach to ministry and the Church’s need to find new ways to connect with the ever increasing “spiritual but not religious” population.  We discussed the idea of a visit but never got around to making specific plans.

Then, a few months ago I got the bright idea to do an event on the whole “beer-faith connection” as part of this year’s Philly Beer Week.  (more on this in next week’s post).  Anyway, when I was thinking through other clergy who could work with me on this event, Bryan was on the short list.  I contacted him and he was very excited at the possibility.  But I thought it was important to meet the man I was going to work with.  Moreover, I wanted to see an example of one of his “Pub Theology” sessions up close and personal.

So last week I took the train down to DC.  Bryan met me at the station and we headed off to the pub where that night’s conversation would take place.  The whole concept of Pub Theology is “Beer, Conversation, God.”  The gathering is open to anyone who wishes to attend and the topics are sent out a few days ahead of time.  On the heels of the massive Oklahoma tornado the topic included God’s role in natural disasters, as well as more abstract topics like, “Was there a time before time?” and “Scientists say dark matter is inferred, not seen.  Can you call that faith?”

We talked over burgers and beers and then made our way to the back part of the bar to wait and see who would show up.   Over time the group grew to a very respectable 15 people.  Many were members of Bryan’s new church planting project, Roots DC.   Others were visitors and one was a local clergy colleague.  People’s perspectives varied,  greatly (and thanks to the presence of a young woman from South Sudan, also went beyond just an American lens) and at least one person was by openly an atheist.

As the conversation progressed and folks ordered their 2nd or third beer, people definitely became more vocal.   Yet a no time was there a hint of disrespect or even frustration.

What Bryan has built here is no small accomplishment.  To create an environment where people, many of whom are strangers, can speak openly and honestly about the deeper issues of life is quite extraordinary.  As I have reflected on this I began to see the genius of Bryan’s concept.  While such a group could take place over coffee or in a park, the setting of the bar is really critical to its success.

Where else but in a bar can friends, acquaintances and strangers all engage impassioned debate yet still remain not just civil but even jovial?   Now it is true that often times those debates are about how the manager is mishandling the bullpen and not dark matter.  But there are many times I have heard focused discussion about politics, God and the meaning of life coming from the other end of the bar or the next table.

It seems to me that if the bar is indeed the new Forum, then Bryan has indeed hit upon a valuable insight into how the Church can connect with the world outside its walls.  The key lies first in a willingness to go out to where the people are rather than insisting that they come to us.  But just as important is the setting.  In order to get people talking about what they really believe about God and what  truly matters in life, then you can’t do much better than your local pub.  And, at least in my opinion, the best way to start any meaningful conversation is over a good pint.

So here’s to Bryan and Pub Theology and the rediscovery of a great way to talk about God and all things that matter most.


You can read Kirk’s latest thoughts at So This Priest Walks Into a Bar: Beer, Music, and a Thirst for God, or find him enjoying a craft beer somewhere in Philadelphia.

A New Convergence

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.

Disarming and Ingenious

Book Review: Pub Theology, a Provocative Brew!

Michael Camp’s review of Pub Theology

Disarming and ingenious; cleverly crafted with a residual sweetness

Bryan Berghoef is an author after my own heart. He loves beer… and Jesus. But not the Jesus we typically find in our traditional institutional church structures, where brutal honesty is squelched, members are spoon fed answers, and the goal is to produce clones who all believe one body of doctrine but don’t think for themselves. No, Bryan’s Christ is humble (open to listen to other perspectives, embraces religious diversity, and makes love, mutual respect, and communal exploration paramount) and his beer is good. It creates the scene for this story—the local pub—one of the best places where a faith (and no-faith) community can learn a whole new paradigm for Christ-like fellowship.

And that’s what you’ll do if you read Pub Theology. You’ll learn and experience the pub-theology way. Not only how Berghoef, a pastor of a church in Michigan, begins a regular meet up at a brewpub to discuss theology, philosophy, and the meaning of life, but how it attracts an eclectic variety of wayfarers—from conservatives to progressives to agnostics—who experience a challenging and encouraging environment to both deconstruct and discover their faith, or just learn from another—even, or especially, from an atheist, one of the long-time attendees. Which is why you’ll also discover a safe haven, where condescending religious authority is discouraged and the most doubting are welcomed with open arms, and some damn good microbrews.

In telling his story, Berghoef meets head on some of the most controversial faith issues of our day that sorely need addressing. Not only how to rethink church and outreach, but for instance, how to rethink the Bible, still taking it seriously, but being honest about its sometimes contradictory nature and how we need an understanding of its history and culture to discern its message for us today. Moreover, including exploring more inclusive themes for God, questioning faith that is motivated by a fear of hell or God’s punishment, and understanding the sporadic ways the early church developed cherished doctrines, such as the Trinity or the divinity of Christ. In the end, Berghoef deals with some of the objections people have about interfaith dialogue in a reasoned, respectful way that acknowledges the need for a safety net: the discussions don’t lead to leaving one’s faith but to knowing God’s heart for people.

Pub Theology is a fascinating open-minded spiritual journey that will stretch your faith or non-faith and show you an innovative, alternative model for human interaction on theology and the great questions of life. I highly recommend it. Enjoy Berghoef’s journey, but please note: it’s more appreciated when read with a glass of your favorite craft beer!

» Pub Theology is available in paperback or for Kindle at Amazon.com.


Michael Camp is an author, marketer, and microbrew enthusiast with a background in international development and missions, including living in Africa for 7 years. As an independent-minded believer in Christ his favorite theological concept is grace.  He is the author of the new book: Confessions of a Bible Thumper: My Home-Brewed Quest for a Reasoned Faith

Pub Theology Recap – Oct 11, 2012

We had a great turnout last night at Harmony Brewing Company, in Eastown, Grand Rapids.  This little brewery has been open since February, and features a cozy atmosphere, spins some good tunes (last night was Vinyl Thursday), and brews up some great offerings.

A few of us started off with Jackson’s Joy Fall Festival Ale, which was a good, if a bit sweet, oktoberfest-style ale.  Others jumped in with the Hideout IPA, which was a stand-in for the usual Fiddlestix IPA.  My favorite on their board is the Star Stuff Belgian Dubbel.  The Black Squirrel Porter was unfortunately also tapped out.

About a dozen of us squeezed in together in the upper-level, a small, quiet space of about 10 or 12 tables.  A couple familiar faces, a few Pub Theology first-timers, and some regulars made for a great discussion.

The sheet had the following topics:

1.    True or False: the better you can articulate what you believe, the more spiritually mature you are.

2.    How do certain [spiritual] practices open you up to new possibilities?

3.    Is there a difference between the Word of God & the words of scripture?

4.    Is it ever wrong to try to convert someone from one religion to another?

5.    What’s the difference between Christian education and indoctrination?

6.     Is a believer [ontologically] different from a nonbeliever?

Getting to the bottom of things.

We kicked off the evening on the first topic, and there was immediate push back to the notion that ‘spiritual maturity’ is linked to the ability to speak well about one’s beliefs.

Immediate counter-examples were offered: an older person who has a wisdom and maturity about him but is not a good source for systematic theology; a mother who lives in a way that bespeaks spiritual maturity (it was noted that there is more than one way to articulate things, we shouldn’t limit it to verbal articulation).

Another person thought the whole notion of ‘spiritual maturity’ was dubious.  “Doesn’t that whole idea speak of having arrived?  Does one ever arrive?  Isn’t spiritual maturity that thing you strive for but never reach?”

We then mused about whether the church often falls into the trap of equating these two things: articulation and maturity.  In my own tradition, it’s when you can say what you believe, when you can give the right answers, that we acknowledge that you have reached at least some level of spiritual achievement that you weren’t at before.  Perhaps there are other means for evaluating faith — in fact I’m sure there are, and I think many of us are wanting to think more holistically about what it means to grow in one’s faith, beyond just words.

At the same time, someone noted that if you can’t at a basic level explain what you believe, perhaps you have some work to do.  Fair enough.

The second topic had us discussing the various practices that lead to spiritual growth, and open one up to new possibilities, new ways of experiencing God, or living into one’s experience of God.  Things like prayer, meditation, Scripture reading were mentioned, as well as getting involved in justice issues like poverty, slave trade, etc.  “My faith is deepened as I seek to live among those who are marginalized in our society.”

One person noted that in his own very evangelical tradition, spiritual maturity equaled the ability to share the gospel with someone else: “How many people have you led to Christ?”

This led us naturally into topic no. 4: Is it ever wrong to convert someone to another religion?

There was some hesitation.  It was initially noted that there are certainly wrong ways to share one’s faith: the in-your-face model, the used-car-salesman-routine, the forcing-awkward-family-relationships routine.  Yet some felt, if eternal things are at stake – how could it be wrong to convert someone?

Then one person at the end of the table piped up: “Absolutely.  There are times it is flat out wrong to disrespect someone else’s culture and religion by trying to convert them.  I have friends in Buddhist and Hindu countries and I don’t think it would be right at all to go in there and try to convert them.  I plan on seeing my Muslim and Buddhist friends in heaven.  But maybe that means I’m not a real Christian.”

This provocative perspective made some uncomfortable while others cheered.  What do you think?

We ended the evening on topic no.3:  Is there a difference between the Word of God and the words of scripture?

This took us many places, but we began by looking at the perspective that there are two books in which God speaks to us – one, the book of the Bible, the other, the book of creation.  It was noted that in a recent NPR story a person from a more evangelical background noted that someone could not believe in evolution and be a Christian. “This drives me crazy!  How can we not be willing to find God in the world he has made, even if that forces us to reconsider some of our [long-held] theological positions?”

We then wondered about extrabiblical books, other gospels, the apocrypha, and so on.  Are these ‘God’s Word’ in any sense?  How does canon come into play, and should we restrict the Holy Spirit to speaking only through what ‘made it in’? And what about other traditions that include other books?  Or what about books that were left out, were those for spiritual or political reasons, or some other reason altogether?  Finally we wondered, what about words in the Scriptures themselves that portray God in a less than flattering light.  Are these too the “Word of God”, or are there instances in the canon where we see humanity struggling to understand God, and perhaps not always getting it right?  This latter line of thinking made several mutter “Marcion” under their breath, and made plenty nervous.  Others felt these were legitimate questions that we should be able to ask.

In the end, it was a great night.  Good beer, new relationships, honest conversation.  All agreed that the pub is a place to have these open and honest conversations, to have our thinking pushed, and to recognize that God just might be bigger than we’ve thought.   (And of course we ended in plenty of time to watch the Detroit Tigers beat the Oakland A’s behind the arm of Justin Verlander!).


Feel free to weigh in on any of the above topics in the comment section below!

Drop Your Defenses… and Pick Up a Beer!

Pub Theology: A Book Review

By Rob Kroese

Disclaimer: Bryan Berghoef is the husband of the cousin of a guy I went to college with. His kids swam in my pool and proclaimed it to be the best part of their California vacation. In exchange, Bryan gave me a copy of Pub Theology.


As I was reading Pub Theology, my thoughts alternated between, “Wow, this is such a great idea,” and “Wow, this is so embarrassing.” Allow me to explain.

Pamphlets are used to convey information quickly, often by summarizing.

Pub Theology is about an idea. The idea is this: let’s get together with other people and talk about theology over beer. That’s it. That’s the whole idea. Not exactly rocket surgery, as I’ve been known to say after I’ve had a few beers myself. You’d hardly think you’d need to write a book about an idea like that. I mean, it’s a fairly short book, but still. An idea like that needs a flyer, or maybe a pamphlet. Pamphlet is a really strange word. It’s kind of creeping me out. Pamphlet. OK, moving on.

Warning: May Impair Theological Judgment

The embarrassing part is that I can see why Bryan did have to write this book. You see, in Christian circles, there’s a long tradition of discussing theology. It works like this: we meet with a bunch of other Christians in the church social hall, open with prayer, have coffee and windmill cookies (type of cookies may vary by denomination), listen to a presentation by some recognized authority (generally a pastor) and then discuss the topic amongst ourselves for 22 minutes. Often there are breakout groups and worksheets involved. At the end, the leader presents the answers to the questions and we mark up our worksheets. Then we close with prayer. I daresay that most North American Christians have never seriously discussed theology in any environment that was not ultimately controlled by some religious authority (church, Sunday school, Christian school, Christian camp, etc.).

“Dude, I got lost. Is this the theology discussion?”

If you grew up in that tradition and you’re uncomfortable with the idea of discussing theology over beer, with atheists, Buddhists, Jedis, or whoever else might show up, in an uncontrolled environment without any “leaders” and without any real structure (no worksheets, no agenda, no prayer), then you should read this book. Bryan makes an excellent case for why that’s exactly what we should be doing – and not as a strategy to “reach the unbelievers,” but rather as a way of building bridges and (gasp!) possibly learning something from people who believe differently than you.

If you’re outside of that tradition, the amount of effort that Bryan puts into convincing Christians that this this is a good idea may seem a little baffling to you. On the other hand, when’s the last time you had a serious discussion about theology (or religion, or spirituality, or whatever you want to call it) with someone whose beliefs are starkly different from your own? North American Christians have had a particularly easy time avoiding “unbelievers,” over the past couple hundred years, since Christianity has been the dominant religion during that time. But we all tend to congregate with like-minded people, dismissing those who disagree with us as ignorant or morally deficient.

Pub Theology is a call to all of us, not just Christians, to put down our biases and have an honest, respectful discussion over beer. And lest you think the book is one long polemic against dogmatism, it’s really more of an account of Bryan’s own experiences with facilitating pub theology gatherings (I hate that word, facilitating, but “running” doesn’t seem right), why he got started with it in the first place, and what worked and didn’t work. It’s an encouraging story and I’ll be surprised if, when you finish it, you aren’t tempted to get together for beer and discussion with some local heretics, weirdos and Bible-thumpers at your own local tavern.


Robert Kroese’s sense of irony was honed growing up in Grand Rapids, Michigan – home of the Amway Corporation and the Gerald R. Ford Museum, and the first city in the United States to fluoridate its water supply. In 2009, he called upon his extensive knowledge of useless information and love of explosions to write his first novel, Mercury Falls. Since then, he has written two sequels, Mercury Rises (2011) and Mercury Rests (due out October 18, 2012).

Why Conservative Churches Attract Young People… or Not

“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 sayfor 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?

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.

‘Spiritual but not religious’: A Response

Mind open, mind closed.

The real reason ‘spiritual but not religious’ is a cop-out
A guest post by Robert Kroese

Robert Kroese is the author of Mercury Falls, Mercury Rises, and many other engaging apocalyptic adventures!  This post was originally published on his blog at robertkroese.com, and was a thoughtful response to Alan Miller’s post.


Recently I ran across a blog post with the title My Take: “I’m spiritual but not religious” is a cop-out. I read the post with interest because I’ve often thought this very thing: that claiming to be “spiritual” isn’t an answer to a question about one’s religious beliefs, but rather a way to avoid the question while sounding like one has put some thought into it.

Sadly, the post almost immediately devolves into unverifiable, baseless generalizations. For example:

Those in the spiritual-but-not-religious camp are peddling the notion that by being independent – by choosing an “individual relationship” to some concept of “higher power”, energy, oneness or something-or-other – they are in a deeper, more profound relationship than one that is coerced via a large institution like a church.

Whoa, what now? That’s a bold statement. And it doesn’t appear at the end of a chain of rigorous reasoning or citation of studies about beliefs; it’s just thrown out there, as if it’s a brute fact of reality. The author follows this up with all manner of other vague and unsupported statements, somehow managing in an 800-word blog post to attack moral relativism, a culture centered on “feelings,” and megachurches — and going on to defend “old fashioned” values and the King James Bible (which has done all right for 400 years without his support, thank you very much).

Hidden in that rhetorical avalanche are two short paragraphs that I think actually come close to dealing with the matter at hand:

The trouble is that “spiritual but not religious” offers no positive exposition or understanding or explanation of a body of belief or set of principles of any kind.

What is it, this “spiritual” identity as such? What is practiced? What is believed?

The problem, as these paragraphs indicate, isn’t that “spiritual but not religious” is a bad answer to the question “what are your religious beliefs?” (as Miller seems to argue in the rest of the post) but rather that it’s a non-answer.

Imagine a group of plane crash survivors stranded on an island, debating the best way to get off the island. Some argue that the best way is to build a signal fire. Others argue that they should try to build a raft. Still others say that trying to get off the island is a waste of time; that they should focus their efforts on basic survival. Finally one person pipes up with, “Well, I don’t agree with any of you, but I definitely think we’re on an island.”

The man isn’t wrong, but his answer doesn’t get them anywhere. It doesn’t add anything to the discussion. It’s just an acknowledgement of the predicament. And worse, it’s an answer that seems calculated to put the speaker above or outside of the arena of discussion: “Have your petty disagreements amongst yourself; meanwhile I will sit here and contemplate the ocean surrounding us.”

Let me clarify that I’m not saying that the “spiritual but not religious” person is being intentionally smug or provocative, but that this is how is answer is going to be received by people who have been pulling their hair out trying to figure out a way off the island. It could be that he has already considered and rejected as wanting all possible attempts to get off the island and possesses some knowledge about the island that the other survivors aren’t privy to. But if so, then he’s doing a disservice to the other survivors by not sharing his knowledge. And if not, then he’s just wasting their time by pointing out the obvious.

The “spiritual but not religious” label points to three possibilities, as far as I can see:

1. The person has done a thorough study of the world’s religions, found them wanting, and took a different path.

2. The person is largely ignorant of religious beliefs but has been blessed with a mystical understanding that allows him or her to see the shortcomings of any “man-made” religion, and took a different path.

3. The person is largely ignorant of religious beliefs, has no real wisdom to offer, and is parroting an answer that he or she has heard various celebrities use in interviews with some success.

Without lapsing into pure cynicism, I’ll point out that (1) requires a lot of work, and (2) requires that the person be able to see a reality that is evidently hidden to most of the world’s traditional religious believers, whereas (3) requires only pure ignorance, which is in bountiful supply on this planet.

Of course, answering a question about religious beliefs by saying “I’m a Baptist,” “I’m Jewish,” or “I’m an atheist,” isn’t any more inherently difficult than saying “I’m spiritual but not religious.” In other words, there are lazy and ignorant Baptists, Jews and atheists as well as lazy and ignorant “spiritual-but-not-religious” people. Some Baptists have thought long and hard about what they believe and why. Others are just parroting answers they learned in Sunday school. But to their credit, at least they are answering the question.

Further, it seems odd to me that “spiritual but not religious” is such a common answer to the question about one’s religious beliefs. If you really want me to believe that you’ve made a deliberate choice to walk the road less traveled, then you might try giving a different answer to a question about your religious beliefs than that given by, say, Lady Gaga. Otherwise, aren’t you just a Gagaist? What’s the difference between you and every other “spiritual but not religious” person? If there is a difference, then tell me what it is. If there isn’t, then you’re just a member of another vaguely defined religion.

If you are asked about your religious and you don’t really have any religious beliefs, I suggest saying, “I don’t really have any religious beliefs.” If you have some vague belief that people have souls and that there are bad consequences to immoral behavior, say that. If you think that we’re all part of the Great Mystical Oneness, then say that. Saying that you’re “spiritual” doesn’t communicate anything. And saying that you’re “not religious” only communicates that while you may not know what the answer is, you suspect that most of the answers other people have come up with are wrong, or at least deficient.

You might have some really interesting thoughts about God, souls, sin, redemption, justice, forgiveness, love, purpose and oneness. But if you start out by saying that you’re “spiritual but not religious,” I’m going to seriously doubt it.

This post reflects the views of its author.

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