Doug Pagitt's A Christianity Worth Believing: Vintage Faith Chronicles from the 1980's
It seems that every couple of days brings yet another knock at the front door, and yet another book from a friendly publisher. Some of the books that are sent for review in Precipice are a little off-topic, and others are at the heart of the conversation of which Precipice is a part. Because of this, at this point, I can’t possibly due justice to all of these new publications- though I’m sure most are well-deserving of a write-up in their own regard. An advance copy of Doug Pagitt’s A Christianity Worth Believing: Hope-Filled, Open-Armed, Alive-and-Well Faith for the Left Out, Left Behind, and Let Down in Us All arrived via the friendly brown van a few weeks ago- and is definitely an example in the latter category. I’ll start with some initial thoughts here, with more to come in the next few weeks.
I’ve been meandering my way through the book, having several others on the go at the same time, for a few weeks now. Pagitt’s book is definitely a breath of fresh air because, while it has plenty of meaty theological discourse, it’s also, very much, a testament to one man’s journey in unconvential faith. Of course, from my vantage point, front and center to the emerging conversation, unconventional is this instance is synonymous with terms such as insightful, unashamed, honest, and in-process. Describing his own faith, that many seem to misunderstand, Pagiit writes,
Strange Expectations: On the Full Gospel and Understanding Spiritual Architecture
Not long ago I wrote about the strange expectation some people have (within Christian circles anyway), in demanding that Christians denounce other Christians if there is even some disagreement with some aspect of another person’s theology. This puts a very high bar on friendship doesn’t it? And it almost inevitably shits down dialogue, or even the possibility for dialogue, because it assumes that we’ll only be associating with those who would write the same book as us – almost word for word – when it comes to all things theological. I mean, what kind of dialogue would that be?
”Friend, I believe this.”
”Friend, of course you do, as do I, because it is Right.”
”Of course it is, and of course I do, as do you, because this is Truth”.
”Yes, indeed. Now, moving on, how ‘bout them Yankees?”
Strange indeed. One almost needs an entirely different worldview to entertain this kind of definition of friendship. And perhaps these folks might just say "Amen" to this. But that's certainly not in line what my, or dare I say, Jesus' description of what friendship looks like.
Another strange tendency I’ve noticed grows from the same tree: it is the tendency to expect someone to spell out one’s full understanding of the gospel- in every book one writes – perhaps even in every opportunity one has to speak in any kind of public way, or face the accusation that perhaps one just doesn’t believe something anymore- even if one has written, spoken, about this belief often and, even recently.
Case in point: Andrew Jones recently interviewed Brian McLaren for Next Wave. Now, as soon as I saw this coming down the pipeline I was intrigued. Why? Well, because, while both of these people are fine individuals, I have noticed that Andrew has had some strange feelings/interpretations about Brian’s most recent book, Everything Must Change. I was curious as to how this would work itself out in the dialogue. Sure enough, Andrew had some “interesting” questions for Brian.
At one point he even asked: “…do you believe in life after death?”
A startled Brian responded by saying, “Just to be SUPER clear… Yes! I believe in life after death!”
Now, it would be one thing if Andrew were asking the question as an end-run around Brian’s uncharitable critics. This would be a strong philosophical move- deal with a criticism before it has had the chance to fester. But, in this case, it seems very clear that Andrew was asking said question because he was seriously concerned that Brian, a life-long follower of Jesus and pastor of decades, had suddenly stopped believing in life after death. There is nothing specifically within Everything Must Change to suggest such a shift in Brian’s theology. In that sense, Andrew’s concern was very much arrived at in silence.
Now to Andrew’s credit, he is very gracious and apologetic in the interview when Brian clarifies that Andrew’s concerns are unwarranted. Still, one has to wonder: where does such thinking come from in the first place? Can we not address a certain outworking of the gospel, which in Everything Must Change, has to do with how the teachings of Jesus can help in solving the world’s most grave and present dangers, without being expected to outline the rest of the outworkings as well?
Brian also had some very interesting things to say about spiritual experience and how it relates to his understanding of the forces at play in the world. When Andrew states: “Hey Brian, in your book you seem to embrace a non-spiritual understanding of structures and powers” - again, quite an assumption, Brian responds by saying, “...I’ve had a couple of personal experiences with “dark powers”, so I certainly don’t write them off. But I also think that a lot of language used in Africa (and in a lot of Pentacostalism elsewhere) thinks it grasps these unseen realities more than it really does.”
I couldn’t agree more. And this is where a nuanced understanding comes into play. Last week I happened to catch the opening to a certain show on TBN, where one gleefull host was about to teach the faithful about how exactly to “break a drought in the spiritual realm”. As you can perhaps guess, I was a little learly of this man’s hyperconfidence in how to work the puppet strings of the spiritual dimension. Like Brian, I think its very real- and in all honesty- it needs to be addressed more in Emerging Church circles. But I also think that there’s a very real difference between saying something is real, that it effects us in real ways, and saying that we understand the full architecture of these powers.
I look forward to asking Brian more about this in an interview I’m going to be doing with him in the weeks to come. Stay tuned…
Not long ago I wrote about N.T. Wright’s assertion that Jesus was not primarily going about delivering timeless moral truths, but rather, was going about the task of calling 1st century Palestinian Jews to their calling as true Israel, to a commitment not directly to Torah, but to Jesus himself.
This might, at first, seem like hair-splitting. But the more you think about it the more you realize its not. Many, many – in fact, most – evangelical preachers today, go about assuming that the things Jesus said to his original hearers are teachings that should be translated into teachings for today. Unless or course, there is an obvious cause not to do so; such as when cultural worldviews collide and we make the assumption that a certain teaching just isn’t transferable like other ones are.
But this begs the question: who’s responsible, or capable of, making these kinds of distinctions? And do we only exclude certain teachings – whether of Jesus, or of Paul, or some other NT author - only when we sense cultural tension? This seems a little too convenient, doesn’t it?
Why would Jesus, or Paul, or whoever, go about teaching timeless moral truths most of the time, but then mix that up with cultural teachings that only apply within a certain context part of the time, and not state clearly when they’re doing one, and not the other?
Well, the simple answer is, because they were always speaking to a localized audience. In other words, they weren’t jumping back and forth between timeless teaching, and specific, contextual directives. Take the Sermon on the Mount, for instance. This has always been difficult to understand, indeed, even within similar Christian traditions many interpretations exist. But perhaps this is because we're trying to understand the sermon AS A TIMELESS MORAL TRUTH, rather than as a sermon for the times, namely, the times of 1st century Palestine.
This raises some interesting questions, one being: If Jesus’ teachings were directly intended to be subversive in nature, would they hold the same subversive value today- in a different cultural context? In other words, would Jesus speak the same things, or would he call us to other subversive tactics? A lifestyle that would speak directly, but subversively, to the dominant worldview of our contemporary culture? Would he call us to both an end and a means that preach against common expectations.
For instance, to a 1st century Palestinian audence, when Jesus speaks about finding family - not primarily through one’s biological kin - but in the fellowship of believers, he is being incredibly subversive. Familial ties in 1st century Palestine were supreme. To question this was to tear at the very fabric of society.
So what would Jesus call us to leave behind today? I would hesitate a guess that in 21st century America it would be a call to abandon political parties for the sake of the brotherhood of the Kingdom. And believe me, in 21st century America, this would be a deeply subversive teaching. That isn't to say he would suggest we abandon a concern for public policies, but that he would call us to abandon political affiliation for its own sake. And from there comes the question of patriotism. How should subversive revolutionary thinking, and a commitment to an international brotherhood of believers, redefine commitments to our own nation-states?
I recently got drawn into a “conversation” about, 1.) objective vs. subjective beauty, and 2.) the soundness of traditional logic, in a local Christian blog. Notice I didn’t say local “emergent” blog. For good reason, too. This particular blog is authored by a Central Oregonian who definitely sees the world through a particularly modern lens. 
