Love Wins Analysis: Chapter 8: The End Is Here

[This is the FINAL part of a multi-part series on Rob Bell’s book, Love Wins.]

Indeed, the end is here! And I know you and I are probably both glad for it.

Bell gives his testimony of how he came to know God’s love and invites his readers to trust God and that “the love we fear is too good to be true is actually good enough to be true.” Bell reminds his readers that the decisions they make today will impact the future, the hereafter.

This invitation to trust asks for nothing more than this moment, and yet it is infinitely urgent. Jesus told a number of stories about this urgency in which things did not turn out well for the people involved. One man buries the treasure he’s been entrusted with instead of doing something with it and as a result he’s “thrown outside into the darkness.” Five foolish wedding attendants are unprepared for the late arrival of the groom and then end up turned away from the wedding with the chilling words “Truly, I tell you, I don’t know you.” Goats are sent “away” to a different place than the sheep, tenants of a vineyard have it taken from them, and weeds that grew alongside wheat are eventually harvested and “tied in bundles to be burned.”

This paragraph begs for an explanation, begs for elaboration because of all the images and stories presented here. But Bell only offers this:

These are strong, shocking images of judgment and separation in which people miss out on rewards and celebrations and opportunities.

Bell glosses over the striking imagery presented in each of the parables he quickly presents, completely ignoring the deeper meaning and symbolism that lies in each because the explanation wouldn’t support his purpose in writing the book. It’s a shame because that large paragraph (not typical for Bell; I’ve done my best to adhere to his short line breaks) prompts more questions than Bell will ever be inclined to answer.

Love is why I’ve written this book, and
love is what I want to leave you with.

I walked away from this book with more frustration and unanswered questions rather than love and peace the fills the soul.

Love Wins Analysis: Chapter 7: The Good News Is Better Than That

[This is part XIII of a multi-part series on Rob Bell’s book, Love Wins.]

Image from covdevotions2010.blogspot.com

Heading into Chapter 7, the reader gets the sense that Bell is wrapping things up. He details the parable of the Prodigal Son very much in Tim Keller-like style, giving equal attention to the elder and young brothers. But then he also focuses on the attributes of the father in how he dealt with his sounds:

The father redefines fairness. … Grace and generosity aren’t fair; that’s their very essence. The father sees the young brother’s return as one more occasion to practice unfairness. The younger son doesn’t deserve a party—that’s the point of the party. That’s how things work in the father’s world. Profound unfairness.

The odd thing as I read that is that well, yes, I agree. God is unfair. And somehow I see this as evidence that bolsters a Reformed theologian’s argument rather than Bell’s idea of religious universalism.

People get what they don’t deserve.

Bell and I still agree.

Parties are thrown for younger brothers who squander their inheritance.

I put on brakes here not because I disagree with the statement as it’s written, but I worry that the implication is that it’s okay to “squander” an inheritance because a party gets thrown anyway. (Romans 6 warns against this.)

As Bell continues to develop his idea of this widely known parable (shifting away from Keller), Bell seems to redefine “hell” as a person living in the enslavement of his or her own selfish attitudes and vices in the presence of a loving and generous God.

Jesus puts the older brother right there at the party, but refusing to trust the father’s version of the story. Refusing to join in the celebration.

Hell is being at the party.
That’s what makes it so hellish.

… In this story, heaven and hell are within each other,
intertwined, interwoven, bumping up against each other.

If the older brother were off, alone in a distant field,
sulking and whining about how he’s been a slave all these years and never even had a goat to party with his friend with, he would be alone in his hell.
But in the story Jesus tells, he’s at the party, with the music in the background and the celebration going on right there in front of him.

Later on, Bell says:

We create hell whenever we fail to trust God’s retelling of the story.

The odd thing is, I see Bell’s connection. But I fear that his conclusion is simply just a leap. This idea is not easily pulled from the text, and when you frame the parable of the prodigal son in the context of a book on heaven, hell, and fate, sure, it somewhat makes sense. But out of the context of Love Wins (and in context of the rest of the Bible), I don’t know that Bell’s interpretation of the story holds up. And therefore, ultimately, I think it falls apart as a whole.

Bell later on admits that people who reject God do suffer punishment:

We’re at the party,
but we don’t have to join in.
Heaven or hell.
Both at the party.

… To reject God’s grace,
to turn from God’s love,
to resist God’s telling [of our story],
will lead to misery.
It is a form of punishment, all on its own.

This is an important distinction, because in talking about what God is like, we cannot avoid the realities of God’s very essence, which is love. It can be resisted and rejected and denied and avoided, and that will bring another reality. Now, and then.

We are that free.

This is the part where I imagine Reformed Christians chafing at the collar at that last statement. But Bell continues on to unequivocally state that yes, hell exists and people can create it. But I fear Bell is too equivocal in what that hell is (negative attitudes and vices).

When people say they’re tired of hearing about “sin” and “judgment” and “condemnation,” it’s often because those have been confused for them with the nature of God. God has no desire to inflict pain or agony on anyone.

God extends an invitation to us,
and we are free to do with it is [sic] as we please.

Saying yes will take us in one direction;
saying no will take us in another.

… We do ourselves great harm when we confuse the very essence of God, which is love, with the very real consequences of rejecting and resisting that love, which creates what we call hell.

I’ll end this chapter analysis with a quote I liked (in light of the parable of the two sons):

Our badness can separate us from God’s love,
that’s clear.
But our goodness can separate us from God’s love as well.

Neither son understands that the father’s love was never about any of that. The father’s love cannot be earned, and it cannot be taken away.

It just is.

Love Wins Analysis: Chapter 6: There Are Rocks Everywhere (Part II)

[This is part XII of a multi-part series on Rob Bell’s book, Love Wins. Note: Chapter 6 is two parts; read Chapter 6, part I here.]

Image from http://www.galacticbinder.com

After rambling on some random rabbit trail about “mystics” and the “Force,” Bell asserts that “Jesus is bigger than any one religion.”

Ah, durr. But then we get to Jesus’ claim in John 14 of being “the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

Remember that acquaintance of mine I quoted from Goodreads who said that she encountered people more hung up on this statement than on hell? I said I agreed with her.

What he doesn’t say is how, or when, or in what manner the mechanism functions that gets people to God through him.

John 3, John 16.

He doesn’t even state that those coming to the Father through him will ever know that they are coming exclusively through him.

John 14:6-7; John 17.

He simply claims that whatever God is doing in the world to know and redeem and love and restore the world is happening through him.”

I agree with the overall idea of the statement but I’m not sure it’s as “simplistic” as Bell makes it sound. Jesus has consistently proven to be accessible to the multitudes in a simple manner with a highly complex undertone in his parables and teaching—so complex that even the disciples who were with him rarely “got” what he was speaking of without Jesus having to explain himself first. So let’s watch Bell tackle Jesus’ bold statement of being the only way to God using mental gymnastics (because really that’s what it feels like to me).

And so the passage is exclusive, deeply so, insisting on Jesus alone as the way to God. But it is an exclusivity on the other side of inclusivity.

Dude, what?!

After explaining that exclusivity defines the traditional view of hell (“in or out”) and inclusivity is universalism (all roads lead to the same God), Bell says:

And there is an exclusivity on the other side of inclusivity. This kind insists that Jesus is the way, but holds tightly to the assumption that the all-embracing, saving love of this particular Jesus the Christ will of course include all sorts of unexpected people from across the cultural spectrum.

As soon as the door is opened to Muslims, Hindus, Buddhists, and Baptists from Cleveland, many Christians become very uneasy, saying that then Jesus doesn’t matter anymore, the cross is irrelevant, it doesn’t matter what you believe, and so forth.

Not true.
Absolutely, unequivocally, unalterably not true.

What Jesus does is declare that he,
and he alone,
is saving everybody.

And then he leave the door way, way open. Creating all sorts of possibilities. He is as narrow as himself and as wide as the universe.

He is as exclusive as himself and as inclusive as containing every single particle of creation.

Bell is careful to write “Jesus is the way” omitting the oft-used word “only” or forgoing the italicization of “the.” (Just an observation. Jesus does not use the word “only” here although one could argue that it’s implied.) The problem here, which Bell raises by bringing in Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, etc., is that Bell affirms Jesus is present in all of these different religions that claim to be salvation or divine attainment in some form. It’s like reverse religious universalism, in a way. Instead of all paths leading to the same God, Bell appears to be saying that Jesus is present in all of these paths.

So Jesus is the prophet Mohammad to Islam.

Jesus is nirvana—the place of Enlightenment.

Jesus is Vishnu, Brahma, Shiva, Shakti, or any of the number of Hindu gods.

For some reason, this idea seems really offensive to me. As if Jesus isn’t accessible in his own form, in his own way, he must materialize in different forms like a shape-shifter of the universe. I think I’d be just as offended if a Muslim told me that Mohammed was a shape-shifter who appears as Judeo-Christian Messiah to bring salvation to Jews and Western Gentiles. My mind can’t fully grasp the idea Bell is throwing out here.

Again, we’re back to religious universalism: yes, all paths do lead to the same God because as Bell seems to say since Jesus is present in all these religions, everyone in these religions reaches the same God.

It’s the most astounding mental gymnastics I’ve ever encountered.

Jehovah God, the Old Testament God was clear that many of the gods and idols that non-Israelites set up were not Him and that He was not present or blessing any of those rituals. (“Baal” is a notable god that Jehovah had a special holy hatred for.) Jehovah was pretty exclusive about that.

But the inclusivity on the side of exclusivity is that He was willing to draft Gentiles who were willing to believe in him (Rahab, Ruth, and Job being prominent examples).

There’s your mental gymnastics from me, but I think Bell wins the gold medal in this competition.

So how does any of this explanation of who Jesus is and what he’s doing connect with heaven, hell, and the fate of every single person who has ever lived?

Bell’s essential answer is that since Jesus is everywhere and in everything, believers in Christ need not worry about the eternal destination of others because “God’s got this.” (Not a Bell quote.)

We are not threatened by this,
surprised by this,
or offended by this.

Sometimes people use his name;
other times they don’t.

I agree that Jesus can be encountered in different ways by different people and perhaps he may not even be known to some people as Jesus or Yeshua. But we must also consider that Jesus warned his disciples about false prophets in Matthew 7 and Matthew 24 (speaking of exclusivity, one of those verses has Jesus mentioning “the elect” whoever and whatever that means).

So while “none of us have cornered the market on Jesus, and none of us ever will,” I don’t believe Jesus was as vague or confusing with his statements as Bell makes him out to be. I do, however, wholeheartedly agree with the following quote from Bell:

It is our responsibility to be extremely careful about making negative, decisive, lasting judgments about people’s eternal destines.

So is Gandhi in hell? Do we know this for certain? No, I don’t think we do. But we can all hazard guesses for now.


Additional note:

Bell goes on to say that Jesus says “he ‘did not come to judge the world, but to save the world’ (John 12)” but if you continue to read on in that same passage, Jesus speaks of an ultimate judge (the assumption from other Biblical texts is God the Father) who issues judgment or (as the NIV puts it) condemnation. Another way Bell is able to raise questions and ably dodge them because his readers are unable to ask all of the questions he raises by completely ignoring their existence.

Love Wins Analysis: Chapter 6: There Are Rocks Everywhere (Part I)

[This is part XI of a multi-part series on Rob Bell’s book, Love Wins. Note: Chapter 6 is two parts.]

Image from communities.canada.com

I really want to push through chapter 6 for fear I’ll dwell here for days on end like I did with chapters 3 and 4 (which were major chapters really), but I do have a few things I want to point out and we’ll see where things take us.

Bell is pretty straightforward in this chapter, and as the title says, Bell indeed talks about rocks. He details the story in Exodus 17 in which the Israelities are thirsty and can’t find water. God tells Moses to strike the rock and the rock produces water. Bell and his readers jump to I Corinthians 10 in which Paul explains to his audience that “those who traveled out of Egypt ‘drank from the spiritual rock that accompanies them, and that rock was Christ.'”

Paul, however, reads another story in the story, insisting that Christ was present in that moment, that Christ was providing the water they needed to survive—that Jesus was giving, quenching, sustaining.

Jesus was, he says, the rock.

According to Paul,
Jesus was there.
Without anybody using his name.
Without anybody saying that it was him.
Without anybody acknowledging just what—or, more precisely, who—it was.

… Paul finds Jesus there,
in that rock,
because Paul finds Jesus everywhere.

From this brief passage, one gets the sense that Bell is making two points here:

  1. The Israelites were saved in the wilderness by Christ who is the “living water” (John 4:10-15), which Bell really could’ve and, in order to strengthen his argument, should’ve mentioned here. Before the Israelites even knew who was saving them from physical death, the Messiah was already present providing them with the water of life.
  2. Christ can be present in nearly anything, anywhere; the implication being that the saving work of Christ can be present in almost any form. This starts to get loaded.

Here’s the deleted portion of the previous passage:

Paul’s interpretation that Christ was present in the Exodus raises the question:
Where else has Christ been present?
When else?
With who else?
How else?

This opens up a can of worms, in a way. In Velvet Elvis, Bell is careful to show that Paul finds secular truth in Greek philosophy and poetry and doesn’t hesitate to incorporate it into one of his sermons.

[Paul] is speaking at a place called Mars Hill (which would be a great name for a church) and trying to explain to a group of people who believe in hundreds of thousands of gods that there is really only one God who made everything and everybody. At one point he’s talking about how God made us all, and he says to them, “As some of your own poets have said, ‘We are his offering.'” (ENDNOTE!: Acts 17:28) He quotes their own poets. And their poets don’t even believe in the God he’s talking about. They were talking about some other god and how we are all the offspring of that god, and Paul takes their statement and makes it about his God. Amazing.

Paul doesn’t just affirm the truth here; he claims it for himself. He doesn’t care who said it or who they were even saying it about. What they said was true, and so he claims it as his own.” (Velvet Elvis, p. 079)

And I’m with Bell with the ability to affirm truth wherever it is because God exhibits truth and truth is an extension of God.

But I tread carefully on the ability to find Jesus’ saving work in anything because God can do anything and use anything He pleases for salvation. But the Bible is clear that God isn’t present in everything so Bell’s questions make me a bit iffy on the ways Christ has been present, can be present, and in what ways he can be present. I won’t make any definitive assertions except to say that while I don’t believe God is present in sin or evil, He can (and often does!) use the outcome for good that can lead to salvation.

Love Wins Analysis: Chapter 5: Dying to Live

[This is part X of a multi-part series on Rob Bell’s book, Love Wins.]

Image from http://www.turnbacktogod.com

Chapter 5 is a heckuva lot easier to summarize:

Jesus died and rose again. As a result of that action, he has forever reconciled us to God the Father.

This is not controversial stuff.

As a result, there’s not much that I need to ponder over or challenge because in this chapter, Bell lays out Jesus’ sacrifice and he does it in a way that is typically Bell-esque: with original analogies and beautiful images. (When Bell says something clearly, it’s like bursting into a magnificent, clear blue sky after having endured dark shadows and lingering gray storm clouds.)

Bell makes an interesting point that I’ve never heard of before (but find interesting): he speaks of John (the Gospel writer) numbering signs all throughout his gospel. In John 11, Lazarus’s resurrection from the dead is the seventh sign of Jesus outlined in the gospel.

Now ask: Is the number seven significant in the Bible?
Does it occur in any other prominent place?

Well, yes, it does. In the poem that begins the Bible. The poem speaks of seven days of creation.

But there’s one more sign in John’s Gospel. In chapter 20 Jesus rises from the dead. Now that’s a sign. The eighth sign in the book of John. Jesus rises from the dead in a garden. Which, of course, takes us back to Genesis, to the first creation in a . . . garden.

I’d never thought of things that way. Reading that blew my mind. Either John was a very clever fiction writer or God is the most amazing storyteller I’ve ever read.

What is John telling us?
It’s the eighth sign, the first day of the new week, the first day of the new creation. The resurrection of Jesus inaugurates a new creation, one free from death, and it is bursting forth in Jesus himself right here in the midst of the first creation.

… John is telling a huge story,
one about God rescuing all of creation.

I love it. John continually points his readers back to Genesis, constantly linking Jesus to God the Father, Creator of all things from the get-go (Jn 1:1) and here it is even in the final chapters of John and I totally missed it. It’s beautiful to see.

As I’m breathless and taken away by this beauty of discovering the symbolism in everything Jesus does, Bell kind of ruins it for me in “wait-a-minute-this-is-a-book-about-heaven-hell-and-the-fate-of-every-person-who-ever-lived-moment.”

How many people, if you were to ask them why they’ve left church, would give an answer something along the lines of, “It’s just so . . . small”?

No one I know really. They’d have tons of other reasons but it wouldn’t be that.

Of course.
A gospel that leaves out its cosmic scope will always feel small.
A gospel that has as its chief message avoiding hell or not sinning will never be the full story.
A gospel that repeatedly, narrowly affirms and bolsters the “in-ness” of one group at the expense of the “out-ness” of another group will not be true to the story that includes “all things and people in heaven and on earth.”

And I think to myself, this is not the gospel. No one I know or have ever heard in Biblical Protestantism (ok, and Anabaptism) preaches a message like this. (I’m not sure whether to classify this as a false dichotomy.) The main message of the gospel, which can often be “ye must be born again,” is always Christ and Him crucified.

Why was Christ crucified? To reconcile us to God.
Why do we need to be reconciled to God? That’s a question, or more accurately, a tension we can be free to leave fully intact.

Love Wins Analysis: Chapter 4: Does God Get What God Wants? (Part IV)

[This is part IX of a multi-part series on Rob Bell’s book, Love Wins. Note: Chapter 4 has been broken up into four parts. Chapter 4, part I can be found here, part II can be found here, and part III can be found here.]

Let’s work on closing out Chapter 4 of this book.

“Many people find Jesus compelling, but don’t follow him, because of the parts about ‘hell and torment and all that.’ Somewhere along the way they were taught that the only option when it comes to Christian faith is to clearly declare that a few, committed Christians will ‘go to heaven’ when they die and everyone else will not, the matter is settled at death, and that’s it. One place or the other, no looking back, no chance for a change of heart, make your bed now and lie in it . . . forever.

Not all Christians have believed this, and you don’t have to believe it to be a Christian. The Christian faith is big enough, wide enough, and generous enough to handle that vast a range of perspectives.

A Twitter friend of mine said this in her Goodreads review of this book:

“Speaking of Jesus, I don’t find many non-Christians that are hung up on the idea of hell. Most I know are hung up on the idea that Jesus is the only way. And that the Bible says seemingly contradictory things and you’d be stupid/silly to believe it. “

Doctrinally, I’d say that’s been my experience too. In general, I’d say non-Christians tend to be averse to Christianity because of the hypocrisy that runs rampant among many of its believers. (Side note: Tim Keller makes a great point in regard to why this behavior occurs among Christians in Chapter 4 of The Reason for God.)

As for the bolded part about not having to believe in eternal punishment/torment/hellfireandbrimstone to be a Christian, I start to get a little twitchy. Because even though the basic rule of being a Christian is being an obedient (“as best as you can”) follower of Jesus, there are all these doctrines and tenets that have kind of been hung around his neck as part of the package and it’s difficult to distinguish whether you can have Jesus without hell.

So can you? Continue reading “Love Wins Analysis: Chapter 4: Does God Get What God Wants? (Part IV)”

Love Wins Analysis: Chapter 4: Does God Get What God Wants? (Part III)

[This is part VIII of a multi-part series on Rob Bell’s book, Love Wins. Note: Chapter 4 has been broken up into four parts. Chapter 4, part I can be found here and part II can be found here.]

The other issue I have with Bell here about the talk of restoration, renewal, and if you will, “second chances,” is that gives people no real need to come to Jesus. If all things will be restored in the end anyway, what does it matter if I murder someone I don’t like? Even if I get fried in the electric chair, I still eventually go to heaven maybe after a brief punishment for my sins.

Although hell is an unlikable place to be or to think about (if you take it seriously), the purpose of it is for judgment. When a criminal is deemed guilty in a court of law and sentenced to life in prison, he is sent to jail until death. Hell is the jail that never ends.

But let’s take a step back. And we’ve got to follow Bell’s suppositions (maybe? he is careful to never outright say he believes these things) about what ultimately brings God glory in the end: restoration, reconciliation, and renewal.

Think of a terrible, gruesome time during the 20th century. I’ll give you a hint of where I’m going with this: think of a specific dictator who murdered tens of millions of people. There are at least three you can choose from.

1 . . .

2 . . .

This is kind of like an annoying email forward now, isn’t it?

3.

I’ll choose Hitler since Stalin and Tse-Tung (Zedong) don’t seem to strike the same kind of terror into Westerners’ hearts.

Adolf Hitler is estimated to be responsible for at least 12 million murders during World War II. When Hitler shot himself in the head on April 30, 1945, his soul plunged into eternity.

Now, tell me: do you think it brings God more glory to simply excuse such heinous and irresponsible actions and allow Hitler into heaven on the basis of restoration and reconciliation or does it bring God more glory to judge Hitler and punish him for the atrocities he committed while he was on this earth? Because remember, he was never tormented in the way that he tormented so many others (not just the Jewish and the Polish but anyone who either opposed him or didn’t fit his ideal Aryan race).

Maybe I’m a cold, heartless bitch, but I want God to make Hitler pay for the things that he never had to pay for on earth. It’s a little disappointing to think that Hitler could toy with the lives of 12 million people and after death still be reconciled to God after maybe a “season” in hell.

God is God, and yes, He could totally restore Adolf Hitler to himself in the era of restoration to come, but I just don’t see humans (who would have exacted the harshest sentences possible on Hitler before executing him) being more lenient than God.

Then Bell says things that make me wonder, Does this jive with scripture?

“To be clear, again, an untold number of serious disciples of Jesus across hundreds of years have assumed, affirmed, and trusted that no one can resist God’s pursuit forever, because God’s love will eventually melt even the hardest of hearts.”

Maybe. But again, it doesn’t necessarily mean that it remains that way forever. I think specifically of Pharaoh who had a rather hard heart against the people of Israel who wanted to be freed and even “repented” (!) of his temporarily “melted” heart (after a series of wearying plagues) and decided to go after them as they made their way out of Egypt. The Bible gives no indication that Pharaoh ever repented of his re-hardened heart.

“Could God say to someone truly humbled, broken, and desperate for reconciliation, ‘Sorry, too late’? Many have refused to accept the scenario in which somebody is pounding on the door, apologizing, repenting, and asking God to be let in, only to hear God say through the keyhole: ‘Door’s locked. Sorry. If you have been here earlier, I could have done something. But now, it’s too late.’

As it’s written in 2 Timothy 2, God ‘cannot disown himself.'”

These many who have refused need to reread the Parable of the Ten Virgins in Matthew 25:1-13. Not that I like the idea of a door being shut permanently, but if we’re going off of scripture, we have to seriously consider what it says.

“At the center of the Christian tradition since the first church have been a number who insist that history is not tragic, hell is not forever, and love, in the end, wins and all will be reconciled to God.”

And in Christianity, there are some people who choose not to directly align themselves with views they believe so that they may not be tied directly with these specific beliefs therefore they speak of themselves in generalities so that it is almost impossible to pin them down with what they believe.

John Piper throws the gauntlet on the emergent church

“It wasn’t a phenomenon in the Black community, I don’t think. … It is a middle-class/upper-middle-class, White departure from orthodoxy.” — John Piper

H/T: Michael Krahn

Food for Thought #4: A New Kind of Christianity

The Narrative Question

I’m particularly amused by McLaren’s quote about not taking the Bible literally but then he proceeds to take the Bible… literally. Here’s an example:

It is patently obvious to me that these stories aren’t intended to be taken literally, although it didn’t used to be so obvious, and I know it won’t be so now for some of my readers. It is also powerfully clear to me that these nonliteral stories are still to be taken seriously and mined for their rich meaning, because they distill time-tested, multilayered wisdom—through deep mythic language—about how our world came to be what it has become. They’re intended, as all sacred creation narratives are, to situate and orient us in a story, so we will know how to live. (p. 48)

Then:

Scene 1. God tells Adam and Eve they are free (this is a primary condition of their existence, 2:16) with one exception. If they eat of one specific tree, on the day they eat, they will die. Notice, the text does not say they will be condemned to hell, be “spiritually separated from God,” be pronounced “fallen” or “condemned,” or be tainted with something called “original sin” that will be passed on to their children. There is only one consequence indicated by the text: they will die—not spiritually die, not relationally die, not ontologically die, but simply die. And not die eventually, but on the day they eat. (p. 49)

McLaren argues that there is no literal fall—a term he argues we’ve been “brainwashed” into believing through our reading of the Bible from a Greco-Roman perspective. In fact, he asserts Genesis recounts a story initially of ascents:

It is a first stage of ascent as human beings progress from the life of hunter-gatherers to the life of agriculturalists and beyond. Their journey could be pictured like this:

But also of a descent:

But the ascent is ironic, because with each gain, humans also descend into loss. They descent (or fall—there’s nothing wrong with the word itself, just the unrecognized baggage that may come with it) from the primal innocence of being naked without shame in one another’s presence.

Each step of socioeconomic and technological ascent thus makes possible new depths of moral evil and social injustice. (p. 50-51)

As humans, with progress (implication of ascent) there is also loss (which in turn puts humans on a descent). Thereby, we now lose the vertical pattern of Platonic perfection-ideal as expressed through the Greco-Roman view of Eden but have a more progressive view of the Bible—a stepping stone, if you will.

If Genesis sets the stage for the biblical narrative, this much is unmistakably clear: God’s unfolding drama is not a narrative shaped by the six lines in the Greco-Roman scheme of perfection, fall, condemnation, salvation, and heavenly perfection or eternal perdition. It has a different story line entirely. It’s a story about the downside of “progress”—a story of human foolishness and God’s faithfulness, the human turn toward rebellion and God’s turn toward reconciliation, the human intention toward evil and God’s intention to overcome evil with good. It begins with God creating a good world, continues with human beings creating evil, and concludes with God creating good outcomes that overcome human evil. We might say it is the story of goodness being created and re-created: God creates a good world, which humans damage and savage, but though humans have evil intent, God still creates good, and God’s good prevails. Good has the first word, and good has the last. (p. 54)

If this view sets the stage for how to read the Bible, we are certainly in for a very interesting (and bumpy) ride.

In Chapter 6, McLaren argues that the beginning of his quest to view Christianity through a new lens was shaped by his liberal arts education and bolstered by a lack of formal theology training. I found this quote interesting:

Deconstruction is not destruction, as many erroneously assume, but rather careful and loving attention to the construction of ideas, beliefs, systems, values, and cultures.

Merriam-Webster defines deconstruction this way:

1 : a philosophical or critical method which asserts that meanings, metaphysical constructs, and hierarchical oppositions (as between key terms in a philosophical or literary work) are always rendered unstable by their dependence on ultimately arbitrary signifiers
2 : the analytic examination of something (as a theory) often in order to reveal its inadequacy

Deconstruction is not careful and loving attention to construction, no matter what McLaren says. Deconstruction is critical assessment performed in order to reveal inadequacies.

But McLaren is openly stating that he’s reading the Bible through a literary lens where he can identify protagonists, antagonists, plot, tension, conflict, resolution, and character development.

So as we head into Exodus, we read of a God who “sides with the oppressed, and God confronts oppressors with intensifying negative consequences until they change their ways, and in the end the oppressors are humbled and the oppressed are liberated.”

I can’t help but comment that McLaren is back to nonliteralism now as he says God sends a “firm but gentle” plague on the Nile River that “turns red like blood.” But let’s read what Exodus 7:14-21 says. In fact, let’s use The Message version, Eugene Peterson’s paraphrase of what the Bible says:

God said to Moses: “Pharaoh is a stubborn man. He refuses to release the people. First thing in the morning, go and meet Pharaoh as he goes down to the river. At the shore of the Nile take the staff that turned into a snake and say to him, ‘God, the God of the Hebrews, sent me to you with this message, “Release my people so that they can worship me in the wilderness.” So far you haven’t listened. This is how you’ll know that I am God. I am going to take this staff that I’m holding and strike this Nile River water: The water will turn to blood; the fish in the Nile will die; the Nile will stink; and the Egyptians won’t be able to drink the Nile water.'”

God said to Moses, “Tell Aaron, ‘Take your staff and wave it over the waters of Egypt—over its rivers, its canals, its ponds, all its bodies of water—so that they turn to blood.’ There’ll be blood everywhere in Egypt—even in the pots and pans.”

Moses and Aaron did exactly as God commanded them. Aaron raised his staff and hit the water in the Nile with Pharaoh and his servants watching. All the water in the Nile turned into blood. The fish in the Nile died; the Nile stank; and the Egyptians couldn’t drink the Nile water. The blood was everywhere in Egypt.

The quote above is simply a paraphrase—someone’s interpretation of what is occurring in the Bible. I’m amazed that McLaren is so intent on reading the Bible non-literally that he tries to explain away what’s happening in the Bible through literal means: “Ironically, perhaps through a red tide, the Nile turns red like blood.” As a result of McLaren’s literary reading of Biblical passages, he begins to make literal assumptions about these passages that aren’t there.

On page 58, McLaren says “God never works directly, only indirectly” and reduces the plagues often seen as something extraordinary and supernatural into nothing more than ordinary and natural. He diminishes the work of God.

McLaren argues the Bible presents three narratives:

  1. God as creator
  2. God as liberator from external and internal oppression
  3. God as reconciler

After reading beautiful literary passages from Hosea, Joel, and Isaiah, McLaren encourages his readers to see the future as something that “is not fatalistically predetermined” but rather see history as “live”—“unscripted, unrehearsed reality, happening now—really happening.” (p. 62-63) Here, McLaren rejects the premise of a predetermined, foreknown future by God (Jeremiah 29:11; Acts 2:22-23; Romans 8:28-30; I Corinthians 2:7; Ephesians 1:5,11).

Then McLaren attempts to literalize Scripture within a modern framework despite saying, “As this approach relieves of literalistic interpretations, it frees us to let the poetry work as poetry is supposed to”:

Swords into plowshares. Today that would mean dreaming about tanks being melted down into playground jungle gyms and machine guns being recast as swing sets. (p. 63)

That’s just one example. It’s a clever reading of the passage but the fact of the matter is, McLaren is trying to take the literal, make it literary, and then convert the literary as the literal he wants to see. To put it bluntly, McLaren is reading things in the Bible that simply aren’t there.

McLaren is very good at igniting passion and hope for a better tomorrow that seems as if it can occur today.

If the Genesis story sets the stage by giving us a sacred vision of the past, and if the Exodus story situates us in the sacred present on a pilgrimage toward external and internal liberation, then the story of the peace-making kingdom ignites our faith with a sacred vision of the future, a vision of hope, a vision of love. It represents a new creation, and a new exodus—a new promised land that isn’t one patch of ground held by one elite group, but that encompasses the whole earth. It acknowledges that whatever we have become or ruined, there is hope for a better tomorrow; whatever we have achieved or destroyed, new possibilities await us; no matter how far we have come or backslidden, there are new and more glorious adventures ahead. And, the prophets aver, this is not just a human pipe dream, wishful thinking, whistling in the dark; this hope is the very word of the lord, the firm promise of the living God.

Perhaps I’m not as optimistic or those darn Greco-Roman glasses keep getting in the way.

Again, I appreciate McLaren’s attempt to read the Bible with a new perspective but there needs to be a balance between the literal and literary interpretations. I understand that some people Bible see the Bible as purely a literal work of God; others see the Bible as nothing more than a beautiful piece of literature. McLaren looks as the Bible as a beautiful piece of literature and then tries to recast it into a literal work with explanations that are a stretch. Frankly, McLaren’s attempt at a new kind of Christianity appears headed extremely off-course as I go into reading Chapter 7.

Food for thought #2: Brian McLaren’s A New Kind of Christianity

I have a slight problem with Brian McLaren’s graph from p. 34 of A New Kind of Christianity. His graph is shown above in the picture; my revised version is shown below.

McLaren places Eden on the level of Heaven which basically equals perfection. That might bother some but it doesn’t bother me. The only difference between my graph and his is the direction of the “Hell/Damnation” arrow. While nitpicky, I have a fundamental disagreement with McLaren on this one.

From a theological perspective, what bothers me is the downward direction of the arrow. Perhaps he drew it that way because we always think of heaven as existing above and hell existing below. I redrew it to make it a continuous straight line not only because I have semi-OCD tendencies but also because the destination as a result of condemnation is hell/damnation. It’s not a downward trajectory from condemnation but rather, a continuous path that is not separate from it. According to the Bible, this is the spiritual path that all souls are on as a result of the fall (Romans 5:17-19).

I’d also like to add that I’m interested in reading McLaren’s response to the pluralism question: “How should followers of Jesus relate to people of other religions?” On page 21, he briefly summarizes what he’ll try to address:

So we ask: Is Jesus the only way? The only way to what? How can a belief in the uniqueness and universality of Christ be held without implying the religious supremacy and exclusivity of the Christian religion?

I think it’s an interesting question to posit and answer, oops, I mean “respond to.” (There are no answers according to McLaren, only responses in an effort to stimulate and continue conversation. For a great Biblical counseling perspective on this conversation, check out Bob Kellermen’s series in which he provides responses to McLaren’s questions.)

So here are my initial responses before reading the chapter in which McLaren expounds on the pluralism question:

  • Is Jesus the only way? “I am the way, and the truth, and the life; no one comes to the Father but through Me.” — John 14:6
  • The only way to what? God the Father and His house. Thomas specifically asks about this. See all of John 14.
  • How can a belief in the uniqueness and universality of Christ be held without implying the religious supremacy and exclusivity of the Christian religion? While I appreciate McLaren’s question here, I’d rather “lob back” in response, as he’d say, that there’s a supremacy and exclusivity that’s inherent in Christ rather than the Christian religion. I don’t think any system of belief is foolproof. I believe only Christ is. Religion muddies waters (how many Christian denominations are there?); Jesus Christ is crystal clear. That being said, I believe there is a uniqueness and universality of Christ that transcends all beliefs and religions but there is a supremacy and exclusivity that is inherent in the God/man rather than the religion. (I’m sure this is something I will clarify and elaborate on as I progress within McLaren’s book.)

I’m excited about reading through A New Kind of Christianity. I have an open mind about this and am totally willing to transform my Christian faith and live it in a new way with only one caveat: it must remain true to the Bible. If McLaren argues something that goes against what the Bible says, I’ll point it out. We know very little about Jesus apart from the Bible. And we would know nothing about Jesus’ teachings without the Bible. So holding McLaren and his questions and responses to a Biblical standard is neither unreasonable nor unfair since he is talking about the the Christian faith.

I hope you’ll join me in my journey through this book. If you don’t know who Brian McLaren is or what a little bit of background on what part of the Christian faith he comes from, please check out my series on the emergent movement.

    Final thoughts in the emergent movement series

    People not directly involved in the emergent movement likely think that it’s something that doesn’t affect them. Not true.

    The emergent movement and its connection to postmodern philosophy is having a vital effect on the way Christians and non-Christians alike think.

    I, for one, find myself constantly questioning things in Christianity. I’m very open and honest about my struggles in this respect. I used to live under the veil of pretending to have it all together. I’d rather err on the side of being too broken than being too pretentious. (“A broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou will not despise.” —Psalm 51:17)

    Questioning one’s faith is typical within emerging Christianity. Question and reasoning can be helpful to the health of someone’s Christian life. It challenges a person’s faith and forces them to understand, reconcile, and know what he or she believes.

    Where emergent Christianity takes things too far is that it can get too deconstructivist and undermine things that, as a believer, should not be undermined (eg, the deity of Christ, the necessity of his finished work on the cross). Those things should not persist as constant questions but rather, should be resolved and the topic should move on.

    Emergent Christianity also tends to go in circles on questions. Those in the “conversation” contend that questions are healthy. Yes, to a point. Questions should be asked in the quest for answers. To simply throw questions out for the sake of engaging in constant conversation is ultimately fruitless because it accomplishes nothing.

    Rob Bell, in Velvet Elvis, offers the Jewish culture of answering a question with a question as proof that it’s okay to go around and around with questions. I counter that answering a question with a question in Jewish culture is meant to be an end within itself. The answer (in the form of a question) is not meant to lead to endless conversation but as a way of stating a point of finality while leading the inquisitor to muse further on the answer in his or her own mind.

    So when it comes to questioning things within Christianity, I have accepted this as part of postmodern and emerging thought. Where I stop, however, is that I seek answers and definitions to my questions.

    Along with postmodern thought is the idea that everything is relative. This idea of relativity can be found in the emergent movement. However, within the framework of Biblical Christianity, there are absolutes. (I believe absolutes exist outside of the Bible but I’ll stick to my topic of Christianity.) Since Jesus was absolute and authoritative with many of this statements (“I am the way, the truth, and the life, no man comes to the Father except by me” —John 14:6), there is no room for relativity. Again, believers of the Bible should not be questioning whether Jesus really meant what he said. While Jesus was figurative with many of his statements, he was also very literal. To take his literal meanings, distort them, and teach those distortions as valid Christian thought is dangerous.

    Please don’t misunderstand me. Most believers go through times in their lives when they questions the basics and fundamentals of Christianity. The problem is when people in leadership begin teaching these doubts, assisting in undermining Christianity in their own congregations. If a person chooses not to believe in Christianity, questions it, and tries to point out its weaknesses, that’s one thing. To do the same while claiming to be a believer and teach others to do the same is wrong.

    So while I understand there are many areas in life that are full of grey, Christians should not deny that some things are plainly black and white (figuratively speaking). Emergent Christians can seek to blur the lines, giving the illusion that black and white is or can be grey.

    Emerging church excels, however, in taking Christianity to the 21st century. I get frustrated when I hear Christians knocking other Christians’ choice of worship. A common complaint I’ve heard is that churches have become a type of theater: things are done with video, multimedia slides, and lighting effects. These things are dismissed as unnecessary and purposeless. I view these things as a valid and appropriate means of reaching postmodern American society. While some people may enjoy that “old time religion,” for others, it does not reach them. I am with Paul when he says “I became all things to all men that I might by all means save some.” (I Corinthians 9:22) There is nothing sinful in using video, slides, overhead projectors, and the like. Simply because it’s not a person’s style of worship doesn’t mean it’s wrong.

    The argument along with that is that good gospel preaching can stand on its own and there is no need for visual anything. While that may be true, visuals are a supplement, not a replacement. I am baffled by Christians who are willing to embrace technology in every other aspect of their lives but insist on keeping it out of the church. To reach a 21st century generation, Christianity cannot continue to function in 19th century mode. It is possible to adapt to the culture without sinning in order to evangelize. This is the area where the emerging church has challenged the ecclesial institution and can help make it better. Some Christians call it becoming “worldly,” however, I see it as taking Christ’s message and making it practical and relevant.

    And that’s how the emerging church challenges me: how do I make 1st century concepts and teachings from a Middle Eastern culture practical and relevant 20 centuries later in a postmodern American society? It’s a question I don’t have an answer to but hope to discover that answer someday. (Even if the answer comes in the form of a question.)

    —-
    Note: I typed this entire post on my BlackBerry so please excuse any spelling or grammatical errors.

    The emergent movement & postmodernism: Part V

    Impact of the emergent movement

    There’s a lot of criticism of the emergent stream. And much of it is valid. If taken too far, the emergent movement could possess the ability to completely deconstruct Christianity in an attempt to demolish it.

    But on the flip side, the emergent movement can be used to challenge the missional arm of the church in a postmodern culture. I like the way Driscoll put it in a Desiring God video I recently watched. In essence, Driscoll asked what missions would look like if Christianity were foreign to the U.S.? How would foreigners assimilate American culture and adopt the tools to best reach those who do not know God or Jesus Christ in a mission field? Because Christianity has been so pervasive and long-standing in American culture, American Christians take their backyard missions field for granted and assume that current American culture will bow to its old way of doing things when in reality, American Christians would never expect that in traveling to any other nation. The emerging movement enables American Christians to see the United States with fresh eyes from a missional standpoint.

    The Emergent Church has also served as a rubber band for those who have escaped from the sharp talons of legalistic Christianity. The movement has enabled many Christians to retain certain core truths but make their faith flexible and pliable—when exercised, this faith can be tested and stretched without breaking and completely falling apart. Bell, in Velvet Elvis, refers to legalistic faith as a brick wall: pull one brick out and the rest of the wall crumbles because its support hinges on that one brick.

    I’ve found emergent influence in dress. Older, more traditional Christians will complain that they can’t tell the difference between a young believer and a young non-believer because they simply look and act too much alike. Emergent influence in dress assists in blurring this distinction. Emerging Christians tend to dress down, and as some Christians complain, “look like the world.”  Emerging Christians will defend their choice of dress as part of cultural relevancy. Here’s a snapshot of Driscoll wearing a shirt of Jesus as a DJ while preaching.

    There’s emergent influence in contemporary Christian art. Since I’m not an artist, I can’t define it very well but a look at the Mars Hill website (Rob Bell’s church in Grand Rapids, Michigan) will tell you all you need to know. I’ve provided a current snapshot of the website. (I don’t know if it changes.)

    www.marshill.org

    Is the emergent movement harmful to long-term Christianity?

    Perhaps I’m an optimist in this area but I believe God is so much bigger than any one movement. If Judeo-Christianity has weathered all sorts of sects, migrations, movements, and off-shoots in the past 5,000+ years, it is likely to weather this one. God has promised to sustain and protect his church—not any one particular denomination but his “holy, catholic (universal) church.” The Emergent Church does not threaten or thwart God’s plans nor will it move God’s plans along any faster than He wants it to. The emergent movement can only be assessed in a Christian’s personal walk with God. How does that affect him or her? Has the emergent conversation added to or detracted from a person’s belief in the triune God? For some, the emergent movement has served to draw people closer to God in an effort to more fully “glorify Him and enjoy Him forever.” For others, the emergent movement is a distraction—a nuisance that must be eliminated in order to preserve the organized institution of Christianity. And there is yet another group who finds that while the emergent movement possesses many flaws, many of the questions and challenges it raises can prompt individuals to change their lives—and the lives of those around them—to better glorify, love, and serve God and others. This last group is the group I most identify with. To use another worn-out cliché, I am not willing to throw the baby out with the bathwater. (Even if the bathwater is very, very stinky and murky at times.) If that was the case, I would have walked away from Christianity the moment I left legalism.

    The emergent movement & postmodernism: Part IV

    Emergent and emerging

    Some people, when speaking of the emergent movement, will use the words “emergent” and “emerging” interchangeably. However, Mark Driscoll takes good care to note that his Mars Hill church in Seattle is an emerging church (and part of an emerging conversation) rather than emergent. Driscoll’s distinction would be notable as he started out as part of the original emergent conversation and has since distanced himself from it. The reference to emerging is noted in Wikipedia as a “wider, informal, church-based, global movement” rather than the term emergent, which would specifically refer to those associated with the Emergent Village community (essentially the Emergent Church). Driscoll, in the following YouTube video, lists and defines four types of emerging voices:

    1. Emerging evangelicals: not trying to change Christianity, just trying to make it more applicable and more relevant
    2. House church evangelicals: Get rid of big church and meet in small groups like homes and coffee shops
    3. Emerging reformers: Believe in the reformed distinctives but try to make the church culturally relevant
    4. Emergent liberals: Calls everything into question including Christian orthodoxy without wanting to arrive at any answers

    Note that Driscoll only uses the word emergent in connection the voices associated with the Emergent Village. This is the group Driscoll has publicly distanced himself from.

    How does the emergent movement affect me?

    The influence of the emergent church is pervasive in mainstream American Christianity. The main venue many of these emergent voices get their message out—apart from Internet-based distribution—is through their books. Don Miller is known for his New York Times bestseller Blue Like Jazz, Rob Bell has written a thought-provoking book titled Velvet Elvis, and Brian McLaren has recently released a book called A New Kind of Christianity that has unleashed a furor of criticism. While I find that many pastors eschew the emergent movement, many Christians are drawn to it. Perhaps it’s because the emergent movement has succeeded in making itself culturally relevant and practically applicable to those who do not hold theology degrees or work in Christian ministry for a living. Christians and non-Christians alike are taking notice of these works and this movement, even if they can’t quite define it.

    Some time last year, my best friend [forever] (BFF) read Rob Bell’s book, Velvet Elvis, and insisted that I needed to read it. She promised it would help challenge my conventional notions and that it had helped her break some of the legalistic mindset she’d carried with her since graduating from a college that centered around a legalistic (and Pharisaical) lifestyle. I reluctantly borrowed her copy with a promise to read it only because she was my BFF. Here’s a short analysis I wrote last May:

    When I was going through my “spiritual crisis” recently, my best friend handed me this book. She said, “You have to read it; it’ll change your outlook on Christianity.”I glanced down and read the title: Velvet Elvis. With a name like Velvet Elvis, how could this book be any good?

    I opened the book up and began reading skeptically and with a critical eye. Bell starts out by discussing how he came a cross a paining of Velvet Elvis and then delves into this discussion of how there’s a big movement in history—something greater than ourselves happening. Standard fare from Rob Bell. After reading Bell’s response on Twittering the gospel, I was disillusioned with his outlook on Christianity. His answer seemed so vague… so unsatisfactory. His book couldn’t possibly offer anything better. Yet I made a promise to my friend and continued to push through the book.

    To my surprise, Bell’s book isn’t as shallow as I’d thought.

    While he repeats the rhetoric about a movement in history greater than ourselves, he explained Bible passages in a way that I’d never understood before. He draws heavily on Jewish culture to shed new light on Bible passages that once seemed so mundane. Never before had I known that the reference to “yoke” in Matthew 11:30 had deeper meaning than what oxen carry. And I never understood that the disciples functioned as Jesus’ talmidim. Bell’s writing style is clear but his message actually runs deep. …

    Bell does seem to have a good grasp on the gospel but presents it in quite a different light. He acknowledges Jesus as the Son of God and “the way, the truth, and the life”–the only way to get to heaven. He also posits that truth can be found outside of the Bible. And since God is truth then anywhere truth is found, there God is. He uses Paul citing one of the Cretan prophets as an example of this.

    He says that some Christians see their faith as a brick wall–pull out one brick and the structure of their faith begins to fall apart. He says that we need to be flexible. If something in our faith is wrong or proven as false, will we stray from the faith altogether?

    A major problem I do have with this book is that nothing is absolute. He encourages Christians to question everything, including his book. Take nothing at face value. In fact, he asserts that God likes it when we ask questions. Turns out in Jewish culture, when rabbis ask students a question, students respond with… a question. According to Bell, straight answers are not standard. I don’t agree with this. There are absolutes in life and Bell doesn’t acknowledge or accept that.

    While I’m not a fan of how Bell runs his church or the way he presents theology, Velvet Elvis is a book worth reading. I initially said I wouldn’t recommend it; I’ve since changed my mind. I’ve ordered my own copy and plan on rereading it, highlighting it, and marking it up. He makes some very many good points and I’m pleasantly surprised at how much I like this book. I’m afraid to pick up Sex God or his latest Jesus Wants to Save Christians but Velvet Elvis isn’t a bad read at all.

    I have since returned my BFF’s copy to her and have my own copy with plans to re-read and highlight it. Velvet Elvis impacted me that much. And Velvet Elvis is indeed reflective of emergent conversation even if I wasn’t fully aware of it nearly a year ago.

    The emergent movement & postmodernism: Part III

    http://www.postmodern-art.com/postmodern_art_11.html

    Postmodern background

    From what I can gather, the emergent movement is part of a conversation that asks how Christians can minister in a postmodern (largely, secular) world.

    Postmodernism developed as a reaction to the modernist movement. According to Wikipedia’s entry on the modernist movement, the term modernism “encompasses the activities and output of those who felt the ‘traditional’ forms of art, architecture, literature, religious faith, social organization and daily life were becoming outdated in the new economic, social and political conditions of an emerging fully industrialized world.” Interestingly, the wiki entry also notes that modernism rejected “the existence of a compassionate, all-powerful Creator.”

    So postmodernism gets past all that modernist stuff, right? Not necessarily. In fact, some people see modernism and postmodernism as two sides of the same coin. Here are two definitions:

    (1) A style and concept in the arts characterized by distrust of theories and ideologies and by the drawing of attention to conventions. (The Compact Oxford English Dictionary)

    (2) Of, relating to, or being any of various movements in reaction to modernism that are typically characterized by a return to traditional materials and forms (as in architecture) or by ironic self-reference and absurdity (as in literature), or

    of, relating to, or being a theory that involves a radical reappraisal of modern assumptions about culture, identity, history, or language. (Merriam-Webster)

    Merriam-Webster’s latter definition (as opposed to its former) seems most appropriate to when referring to the Emergent Church.

    At the risk of beating my readers over the head with more definitions, I’ll also refer to a Wikipedia entry that defines postmodern philosophy:

    Postmodern philosophy is skeptical or nihilistic toward many of the values and assumptions of philosophy that derive from modernity, such as humanity having an essence which distinguishes humans from animals, or the assumption that one form of government is demonstrably better than another.

    The wiki entry adds:

    Postmodern philosophy has strong relations with the substantial literature of critical theory.

    When you boil it down, the essence of postmodernism and its philosophy is rooted in criticism and critique. Question everything; take nothing at face value. Postmodern thought also moves away from superiority and toward equality (eg, humans aren’t superior to animals, capitalism isn’t better than communism). Postmodern thought has its place in society (eg, whites are not superior to blacks) but like all things, can be bad if taken too far.

    So when I stumbled onto the Wikipedia entry about Postmodern Christianity, I found it interesting to read the following:

    Many people eschew the label “postmodern Christianity” because the idea of postmodernity has almost no determinate meaning and, in the United States, serves largely to symbolize an emotionally charged battle of ideologies.

    Today’s Emergent Church stresses a friendly conversation and an amiable exchange of ideas. But the identical foundations of secular postmodernism and the Emergent Church cannot be overlooked.

    Criticism and critique. For example, consider how the Emergent Church began: by a group of friends who felt “disillusioned and disenfranchised” by 20th century Christianity. In other words, they became critical and sought to challenge the status quo. (Which I don’t have an issue with.) The critique of 20th century Christianity, however, never rose above just that—a critique. The critiques merely evolved into conversation, which leaders of the emergent stream want to keep amiable so as not to offend anybody within all sects and denominations of the Christian realm. My issue here is that constant talk doesn’t rectify wrongs or things that need to desperately be addressed in 21st century Christianity. There is a time for talk and a time for action. (Ecclesiastes 3:1-8)

    No determinate meaning. Like postmodernism, the emergent movement also has “no determinate meaning.” As I mentioned earlier, its leaders want it kept that way. One will find varying definitions of the Emergent Church (aka the emergent movement aka the Emerging Church aka the emergent stream, etc.) all over the Internet. I can’t help but think of Challies’s earlier reference of trying to nail Jello to the wall when trying to define the Emergent Church. My attempt here is only as skewed as my personal view. Perhaps the Emergent Church leaders also intended that as well—a lack of objectivity to define the emergent movement only fuels further discussion and conversation.

    Deconstructionism. Also very much like postmodernism, the Emergent Church seeks deconstruction. Where postmodernism was deconstructivist in the sense that it sought to undermine the foundations of the subjects it would challenge, the Emergent Church seeks to deconstruct the organized and institutionalized church. The three main areas of deconstruction the Emergent Church addresses are:

    1. modern Christian worship,
    2. modern evangelism, and
    3. the nature of modern Christian community

    Followers of the emergent movement can be found worshiping with others in homes rather than a church building and talking openly about their faith with others in a non-traditional setting such as a bar.

    (L-R) Rob Bell, Brian McLaren, and Donald Miller

    Leading emergent voices also stress that Christianity is just one big story that’s unfolding. Bell spoke about this in his books Velvet Elvis and Jesus Wants to Save Christians and discussed it in an April 2009 Christianity Today interview. Brian McLaren, during the Washington National Cathedral’s Sunday Forum in February 2008, declared that “the Christian faith is [best] understood as a story by a postmodern generation that sees itself as part of the developing storyline,” according to the Christian Post. McLaren also went on to say that postmodern believers viewed Bible stories as part of a “bigger picture and larger story.” And finally, a close friend of mine has been challenged by Don Miller’s latest book, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, to write a better story in her own life. A story, I can only assume, that is a small part of a bigger picture within the large framework of Christianity.

    The emergent movement & postmodernism: Part II

    Emergent history & definition (or lack thereof)

    Now, to define the Emergent Church, as noted blogger Tim Challies says in reviewing the book Why We’re Not Emergent (By Two Guys Who Should Be):

    “To borrow a tired cliche… is much like trying to nail Jello to the wall.”

    Indeed. In a Google search for “emergent church” or “emerging church,” does not yield anything concrete. The terms “Emergent Church,” “emerging church,” “emergent movement,” and “emergent stream” are all used interchangeably by many people to refer to the same thing. (However, a distinction between “emergent” and “emerging” will be noted later.) One will likely stumble across someone’s attempts to define the Emergent Church, usually with a significant bias either for or against. Even the Emerging Church entry in wikipedia contains various citations for “weasel words,” vague phrasing, unverified claims, and lack of references. The Wikipedia entry complaints are actually ironic: the complaints actually perform a great job of describing the emergent movement. I don’t say that necessarily as a criticism. The founders of the emergent movement do not want it to be defined. So for the wiki entry to use weasel words and vague phrasing is the best that any writer of that wikipedia entry can do. There is no clear-cut, textbook definition.

    When I speak of the Emergent Church, I refer only to the American aspect of it. (The emergent movement outside of the U.S. is long and varied.) A few core people at the foundation of this movement in the United States are Brian McLaren, Spencer Burke, Doug Pagitt, Rob Bell, Don Miller, and Mark Driscoll. (However, Driscoll has since disassociated himself and his ministry with this movement.) McLaren especially seems to be the driving figure of the Emergent Church and the community website Emergent Village, which loosely defines itself as “a growing, generative friendship among missional Christians seeking to love our world in the Spirit of Jesus Christ.”

    Based on the Emergent Village About page, the emergent movement appears to have been born in the late 1990s by a group friends who felt “disillusioned and disenfranchised by the conventional ecclesial institutions of the late 20th century.” By 2001, this group of friends official declared themselves and their beliefs as “emergent.” Here’s a statement from the website explaining why the word emergent was chosen:

    In English, the word “emergent” is normally an adjective meaning coming into view, arising from, occurring unexpectedly, requiring immediate action (hence its relation to “emergency”), characterized by evolutionary emergence, or crossing a boundary (as between water and air).

    As intended, the Emergent Church is now a burgeoning movement within 21st century Christianity.

    Unofficial buzzword: conversation

    The Emergent Village site lists four buzzwords that are thrown around in its community: growing, generative, friendship, and missional. I believe it failed to list a very important fifth: conversation.

    The word “conversation” is as foundational to the emergent movement as the word “triage” is to the business world. On various websites I’ve read, in an attempt to gain a better understanding of the Emergent Church, the word conversation is thrown around like water at a baptism. Leaders of the movement stress that it’s all about conversation. (Also note that the leaders of this movement do choose their words carefully.) Here’s Merriam-Webster’s definition of what a conversation is (as it relates to our current usage):

    2 a (1) : oral exchange of sentiments, observations, opinions, or ideas
    (2) : an instance of such exchange : talk <a quiet conversation>
    b : an informal discussion of an issue by representatives of governments, institutions, or groups
    c : an exchange similar to conversation

    This is exactly what the leaders of the Emergent Church want: an exchange and an informal discussion.

    Back in seventh grade, I used to participate in something called “rap sessions.” The point was to air our grievances and discuss any issues weighing on our minds. But nothing was ever resolved. It was simply an outlet for talking. The emergent movement (also referred to as the “emergent stream” to represent the continuous flow of conversation), in essence, is nothing more than just a Christian rap session on a grand scale. We all have our problems with Christianity but the emergent movement allows Christians to simply engage in conversation and air their observations without ever really rectifying any issues that might be plaguing them.