I was reading Mark Driscoll’s blog @ TheResurgnce.com, and he mentioned the chapter he wrote. So, since I can’t get enough of books like this, I snatched it up. What I found was in some ways predictable (I agreed almost completely with Driscoll…almost; if I had a red pen Doug Pagitt’s chapter would look like I had a giant nosebleed), and in some ways unpredictable (I found many points of agreement with Dan Kimball; Pagitt was not the most irritating of the contributors).

All-in-all it seems like a good cross-section of the church as a whole, rather than just the emerging churches. From Driscoll’s “strict biblicism” to Karen Ward’s “potluck” theology-making at Church of the Apostles, it covers a range of beliefs that was really surprising.

If you pay attention at all, you know that the emerging church doesn’t hold any sort of organized theology. But I was quite surprised at how grounded the theological positions of John Burke and Dan Kimball are. And I was continually surprised at how far Pagitt and Ward are from anything resembling the faith of the Apostles.

What I found was that Driscoll, Burke, and Kimball are very clear about their beliefs and their loyalty to the revelation of Christ as told in the Bible. While none believes that the Bible is authoritative on its own, they do believe, in line with tradition, that the written Word gets it’s authority from the Living Word that is revealed in it. They hold to the major tenets of the faith, Burke and Kimball referring to the Nicene Creed as the enumeration of their positions.

These three are not interested in changing their theology, but their practice is evolving with and adapting to the culture in the areas they’re ministering in. They operate on a philosophy Mars hill describes as “closed-hand/open-hand”:

The closed hand hangs onto the non-negotiable tenants of Christian orthodoxy: sin is the problem, Jesus is the answer, the Bible is true, and Hell is hot.

The open hand, however, allows room for differences when it comes to secondary matters; we liberally allow freedom for conscience and wisdom to guide where the Bible is silent.

The Churches of Christ use the phrase “we speak where the Bible speaks, and are silent where the Bible is silent.” They don’t always operate that way, but I think it’s the best approach to Christian theology. As Paul says in Romans 14:

Accept him whose faith is weak, without passing judgment on disputable matters. One man’s faith allows him to eat everything, but another man, whose faith is weak, eats only vegetables. The man who eats everything must not look down on him who does not, and the man who does not eat everything must not condemn the man who does, for God has accepted him. Who are you to judge someone else’s servant? To his own master he stands or falls. And he will stand, for the Lord is able to make him stand.

But notice that this freedom comes with restrictions: don’t pass judgment on “disputable matters”; eating everything vs. eating only vegetables, celebrating holidays or not…this is not an admonition against correcting sin, but against condemning someone for something disputable.

Pagitt, Ward and their Emergent brethren, hold the position that everything is disputable. The only thing they really accept is that God is real. Actually, I can’t even say that. Because their chapters, which were supposed to be about theology, ended up being all about practice. And even then, they contributed little, if anything.

Pagitt added nothing to the discussion but skepticism. He was displeased with Driscoll’s chapter because it seems his theology hadn’t changed since they first met a decade ago. How is that a bad thing? When did the only virtue of “postmodern theology” become the willingness to change your mind?

Compromise was once a bad thing - you could compromise your principles, morals, ideals - but now it’s the sole quality desired in members of places like Ward’s Church of the Apostles. They make their “little theologies” together. This of course leads to anarchy, as is wont to happen in a situation where leaders choose not to use their special skills to lead, instead deferring to the “specialness” of everyone around them.

But when statements like, “I’ve seen more harm done by the Bible than good,” go unchecked by church leadership, and even assume an official capacity, bad things happen. I should say, they’re a sign that bad things are already happening: the abandoning of the faith handed down from the Apostles. Not only that, it’s blindness to the point of dishonesty. You have to ignore a whole lot of good things that have happened in the history of Christianity to say that.

Ok, I’ve gone on and on about this enough. Read the book, it’s worth the time.

At Sillie Lizzies’s Rock:

The thing I like best about being a conservative is that I don’t have to lie. I don’t have to pretend that men and women are the same. I don’t have to declare that failed or oppressive cultures are as good as mine. I don’t have to say that everyone’s special or that the rich cause poverty or that all religions are a path to God. I don’t have to claim that a bad writer like Alice Walker is a good one or that a good writer like Toni Morrison is a great one. I don’t have to pretend that Islam means peace.

At evangelicaloutpost.com:

But is it really the “default state” to disbelieve that an entity exists until we have good reasons to believe otherwise? If so, then what counts as a good reason? If Tom tells me that his wife exists should I take his word for it or remain skeptical until further evidence is presented? Considering the fact that no one has ever been able to sufficiently and irrefutably prove the existence of another person, any criteria I would use would be somewhat arbitrary and subjective. The same holds true for Tom’s “good reasons” for believing in the existence of either God or the P&PPDTGotS. The metaphysical atheist attempts to establish a presumptive standard for existence which can never be met.

Pretty much everything I’ve read so far at Confessions of a Conservative Seminarian is worthy of note, but here’s a little snippet:

If you want conservatism and fundamentalism to survive, the best thing you can do is introduce criticisms of the faith as a standard part of school-age curriculum. And not straw-man versions, either. The real thing, with the best arguments. At the end you will have students who are both more faithful and more knowledgeable, and even better — if you have done a good job teaching about how presuppositions affect the way that evidence is viewed — you have also given them a good background for understanding new arguments in the future.

Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from your presence,
and take not your Holy Spirit from me.
Restore to me the joy of your salvation,
and uphold me with a willing spirit.

From Psalm 51

So today (yesterday, technically) was Pentecost Sunday, the birthday of the Church, as our children’s minister pointed out in her message. Today is the day that the Holy Spirit descended like fire on the disciples, and ignited the growth of the body of Christ.

Thinking about the story took me back to one of the [somewhat] unique positions of the Churches of Christ, one that I’m still pretty attached to (though a little uncertain of), based in Acts 2:37-8: “Now when they heard this they were cut to the heart, and said to Peter and the rest of the apostles, “Brothers, what shall we do?” And Peter said to them, “Repent and be baptized every one of you in the name of Jesus Christ for the forgiveness of your sins, and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.”

This of course is the doctrine of the believer’s baptism. I’m not going to talk about it, so if your fuzzy, check out info on the Anabaptists, Stone/Campbell Movement, or the Restoration. That thought drove me to think of something else.

When I was baptized into Christ, I felt a joy in my soul that I had never known. It wasn’t just the peace of knowing I had become a child of God, or comfort of knowing I would have a place in heaven, but the joy of the Lord. I knew I had received the Spirit…it was all-consuming.

I keep a journal that I use to keep track of random, sometimes deep (sometimes wafer-thin) thoughts. A few years ago, during my senior year of college, I think, I wrote this:

I got this guy in my class. He’s a relatively new Christian. I love this guy. He’s different. New, even.

I didn’t grow up in church, so I have a different perspective on the Gospel than other people here. But this guy is way different. He came to play football. I remember one night sophomore year I was leaving my dorm and he was running in and said, “Gimme a hug, brother!” and bear-hugged me. “I just got baptized tonight!”

I was surprised, and understandably so. In my experience, by 20 minutes after baptism the emotional excitement is long gone, and after that the fire only lasts so long. But that night he was jumping around and yelling and telling everyone. If only we could all be so excited.

If you picked up on the clues, I wrote this a couple of years after the event, and the guy was still on fire. It was amazing. There was no one so passionate about the things we talked about, unless they were minor doctrinal quarrels, like whether or not it’s okay to have communion on a day other than Sunday. But he was passionate about things like sharing the Gospel, and the spiritual warfare we’re all a part of.

When I was in class, I became more passionate about those things, too. There’s just something about being around a new believer that gives life to the Gospel in your heart. It’s like adding a little fuel to your fire.

“The church exists by mission just as fire exists by burning.” — Emil Brunner

I’ve been a part of my church for nearly 20 months, now. Ask me how many new believers we’ve had. Come on, ask…Ok, I’ll just tell you: zero. The really sad news is that it doesn’t seem to be a problem for anyone. I remember asking one day what the evangelism committee did, and the answer was “hospitality”.

Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the whole point of evangelism to go out? How is being nice to the people who come in equivalent to evangelism? But that’s no matter. One day last year a group of students from a local Christian college came by to ask a few questions of the staff. I was brand new at the time, so I was in and out of the office, unable (and a little afraid) to answer many of their questions.

Later in the day I was talking with a few staff members who were involved, and apparently the students had asked the very question I wanted you to ask me…how many? The staff’s reaction was something along the lines of, “It’s not all about new believers, it’s about the kind of growth and community they experience.”

At first I was all aboard. A few years ago I brainstormed a church system that was much like a school district: one church evangelized you and taught you the basics, then you moved on to a church that would provide deeper teaching and closer community, then you would be able to go to a church that would teach you to be a leader in the first level church (Anybody want to help me with a churchplant?).

But after the time I’ve spent there I’ve found that not only are there no new Christians, but there’s little growth to speak of. But there is one thing to get excited about: people leaving other churches in town to come to ours.

It’s like the whole purpose of growth is to show how great our church is. We apparently enjoy hearing people say, “Oh, we left _________ to come here for the __________ program.”

I thought we were trying to spread the kingdom, not just grow our church.

Plus, this gives our members the idea that the church (our local congregation) is there to serve them, when, in actuality, we are all there to serve the Church (the whole body of Christ). How do we serve the church? By following orders: “Go into all the world…”

…trying to follow God is like trying to catch a greased chicken in the dark. What makes it worse is that I’m the one who spilled the grease and turned off the lights.

Just a thought…

This post is about me. I can hear both of you saying, “Aren’t they all?” Well, yes. But this one isn’t about me, per se, but about “me”. As has been said many times, in many places, our culture is driven by the consumer. It used to just be an economic phenomenon, but it’s spread. The consumer determines whether or not you have a job, and how hard you work, and how much money you make. How much money you make determines how much money you spend when you get off work and become the consumer. The consumer determines what movies and TV shows get made, and what kinds of commercials air during those shows.

I know you’ve seen the whole “consumerism is EVIL!” rant before, so I’ll stop there. Suffice it to say that (several years ago) it made its appearance in the church. People started choosing churches based on what they “got out of it”. I’ve done it myself, and I hate that part of me.

Like I said, that was several years ago. When people started seeking church that way, rather than correcting that error, church leaders began to cater to it. Robert Webber says this in the intro to Listening to the Beliefs of Emerging Churches:

While the sixties were the age of secularism in which God had been shoved to the periphery of existence, the eighties and nineties rapidly shifted to a new era of self-focused spirituality…In this context, a “pragmatic evangelicalism” was born…[it] created new practical solutions - corporate churches, entertainment worship, need-driven programs, therapeutic faith.”

Webber goes on to discuss how theology took a back seat to meeting felt needs. I went to a conference last year that brought to my attention the concept of Moralistic Therapeutic Deism. The basic idea, as stated on Christianpost.com, is this:

• 1. “A god exists who created and ordered the world and watches over human life on earth.”(Deism)
• 2. “God wants people to be good, nice, and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world religions.”(Moralism)
• 3. “The central goal of life is to be happy and to feel good about oneself.”(Therapeutic)
• 4. “God does not need to be particularly involved in one’s life except when God is needed to resolve a problem.”(Deism again)
• 5. “Good people go to heaven when they die.” (Moralism Redux)

I just read this article to brush up…the comments are especially telling.

It’s clear that based on the evidence of MTD that we can easily see in our world, theology - Biblical theology, that is - has taken a serious hit. I was speaking with my pastor today about a conversation I had with some of my teens. Our Sunday School conversation turned to world religions, and two of my students said that they believed that a) God revealed himself differently to different cultures, and those made up the world religions…so they’re all equal, and b) that a good person - the example was Ghandi - must be deserving of God’s love.

I told my pastor that I disagreed with them, and first he asked me why. I was a little confused, but he said that he’d tell me what he thought, and that I could tell him what I thought, and we’d go from there. Here is a paraphrase of his position:

I see religion as people watching a baseball game through a wood fence. They’re looking through knotholes, one from first base, one from centerfield, one on the third baseline. They’re all different perspectives of the same game.

I had a friend who was an alcoholic and a drug addict [note: I assume he was recovering]. He told me that we’re all suffering from the same disease: separation from God. Everyone’s trying to fill the void inside, he had chosen drugs and alcohol.

I’m a Christian because I believe with all my heart that Jesus is the way to God. But if someone tells me that they’re Muslim, or Buddhist, and that fills the void for them, who am I to say that’s wrong?

It’s like in the the Gospel lesson this week. When they asked Peter why he had to eat with the uncircumcised, he said, “If these guys had an experience just like we did, who am I to keep them out?”

There are two things in this conversation that stand out to me, showing that Biblical theology has become unimportant. First, my pastor believes that the purpose of faith is therapeutic. Whatever stuffs your turkey. It’s about you feeling complete, satisfied, happy. Second, he either misunderstood, or intentionally misstated the passage that had been our reading this Sunday.

Before Peter went to Cornelius’ house in Acts 10 he had a dream. God told him not to call “common” that which he has made clean. Then the Spirit directed him to follow the three men who had come from Caesarea. He did, where he was told of Cornelius’ dream, then he preached the Gospel. Then the Spirit descended on them. When questioned, Peter recounted the whole incident, including both dreams, and applying Jesus’ words of them being baptized in the Holy Spirit. Then he said, “Who was I that I could stand in God’s way?”

Peter’s experience was directed by heaven itself. Supported by dreams, prophecy, and the words of Christ. Moreover, it doesn’t conflict with Scripture, it confirms it. Scripture tells us that “the nations will rally to him” (Is 11:10), that he would proclaim justice to them (Is 42:1); Christ told the apostles to make disciples of all nations (Mt 28:19-20), etc, etc.

But my pastor’s argument does not confirm scripture. It contradicts it. Those who do not believe are “condemned already” (Jn 3:18), no one will find God except through Christ (Jn 14:6), “there is one God, and one mediator between God and man, the man Jesus Christ (1Tim 2:5).” How can my pastor, who seems in all ways conventional hold this belief? I honestly don’t know.

I know it’s a product of our consumer culture. I know it’s a product of the “tolerance” movement that is en vogue in progressive churches like my own. I know it’s a result of “niceness”: you must be careful not to offend. Nobody wants to seem arrogant or superior, so they won’t point out error. They won’t point out anything that will make another person uncomfortable. So they pretend there’s no right way.

In the end, it all comes down to “me”. What makes me happy right now? What makes people like me? What will keep my parishioners and the members of the community from thinking I’m cocky?

I told him that Jesus’ purpose wasn’t to make us feel whole or complete, that’s just a by-product. He came to reconcile us to God, for his glory. Our purpose is to give glory to God. This isn’t about “me”, it’s about him.

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