Tag Archives: future

Forward living or backward obsessing?

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My brain is intent on proving me wrong.

More than a decade ago, when my two closest friends were living in East Lansing, I moved down to join them.  Having only visited the apartment once or twice, and not knowing the area very well, I was confident that I knew the way to get there; however, I wasn’t confident of other ways to get there.  After getting stuck behind a few slow-moving cars, I sped around them, only to find I had misjudged the distance before my turn, so I checked my blind spot and did that merge/turn from the left lane.  I focus on that brief moment in which I waited to see if I a car would rear-end me.

I don’t know why, but that memory pops into my head whenever I have the slightest bit of doubt in myself.  I think of that dangerous, stupid thing I did when I was 22, that could have caused a major accident.  And the funny thing is that that comes to mind today when I poor the wrong cereal in a bowl.

The other day, I wrote that we must appreciate a broad view of history, particularly making account for the big picture and the unsavory bits, rather than cherry-pick the meaning we desire.  Sometimes we can’t help it because our feeble brains do that for us.  But I was reminded of the Soren Kierkegaard quote:

“Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.”

I don’t believe time is so linear as that: as if we follow a straight line like a never ending railroad.  Nor do I believe that we live in a circle; locked into a perpetual loop of constant relearning of the very same things.  Time is more mysterious than that.  But I do identify with the underlying difference between forward and backward thinking.  It does seem that those focused on the past are ill-prepared for new challenges: that rather than being knowledgeable about the entire historical endeavor, we relive it in a shorthand.  Like that crazy mistake I made years ago, popping up out of the blue.

A few days ago, Tony Jones wrote about a Hartford Seminary study that demonstrated steeper, more troubling decline across all Christian denominations than expected over the last decade.  The study isolated the one common factor within those places with high congregational vitality is innovation, while the steepest declines are being felt among the unchanging and rigid churches whose liturgy lives in yesterday.  This tracks with the emerging church’s sense that our living, including our liturgy, must be lived as if God is present among us, and should represent a current, interactive relationship.

It might seem as if this contradicts the earlier post’s suggestion of being knowledgeable about the past.  But it doesn’t.  Because the important part is our focus: where our heart resides.  If your heart lives in the past, living in the midst the memories of dead friends and family and life highlights, then your intentions aren’t prepared for the future.  Visiting the future is seen as rejecting the past, so an eternal present is spent in constant backwards comparisons.  However, if your heart lives for the future, then excursions into the past attempt to learn for future benefit, mindful that our present needs are a viable future.

That mistake that haunts me in the present doesn’t really inform me of anything, even safe driving habits.  I don’t remember it constructively or in instructive moments and my brain doesn’t think of it thankfully.  It comes at times of doubt–when I am not confident–and tries to sabotage the present and future, making me cowardly.  It is my brain’s own attempt at intimidating me into not growing up and not dealing with the future.  This is why the idea of seeing our thinking as backwards is so useful, and yet our living must be forwards.

Question:

I encourage you to click over to Tony Jones’ blog in the above link or right here, because he asks an important question about serving the needs of aging membership and the needs of the next generations.  My question is this: how might we help all of us to live forwards, even when our orientation is to be in our heads reading our history backwards?

 

© 2011 Drew Downs.  All rights reserved

Drop it like it’s hot?

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In 2008, we were # 1.
In 2009, we became #2.
In 2010, we dropped to #3 in the world.

In just two years, we went from playing world leader to catch up with China and Germany in the alternative energy market.  As Gov. Jennifer Granholm highlights in this piece for the Huffington Post.  Personally, I don’t take offense to other countries doing something better than the U.S.  I’m quite used it, really.  But what it reveals is something important: other countries see the true value of investment.  Pair that with the conservative austerity movement to cut-cut-cut our way into a weaker financial position, and you can see the writing plainly on the wall, and what we can do about it.

For more reasons why investment in U.S. programs should be a priority, check out this earlier post (and comment).

Hearing Jesus: my manifesto

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The most profound thing Jesus ever taught wasn’t something he said.  It is something he did.

He split his time with his followers and took on a different posture for each group.  And of course, there are three groups:

The Needy

Jesus gave his greatest gifts to those most in need of it: his time, his love, and his respect.  He gave it to prostitutes and traitors, the poor and the sick, the disabled and lonely by eating with them and treating them as equals.

The Capable

Jesus taught the people who were productive members of society how to be, how to pray, and how to love the needy.  He did so with stories, teachings, and actions that all expressed a love and compassion that he felt for them and expected them to share.

The Elite

Jesus turned the mirror on the educated and powerful.  He made them see their own hubris and evil and demanded so much more of them because they had all of the resources and all of the opportunity.  At the same time, he showed them how to get it right and what the Kingdom is supposed to look like.  Even when he calls them a brood of vipers.

Most of the time, we think we’re the needy; or at least the real needy; because we can feel so lost sometimes or left out, like we don’t belong.  Or sometimes we feel confused or unloved.

But the truth is that most of us aren’t the needy.  We’re the elite.  We’re the ones Jesus is turning the mirror on and demanding more.

And yet Jesus tries, even with us.  He tries to get us oriented.  He tries to get us to see the Kingdom.  Here are some of the parts of the vision that seem the most relevant:

  1. Worship GOD always and all-ways.
  2. Love…everybody.
  3. Help the haters to learn about love and how to love.
  4. Reconcile with everybody—don’t just love from afar.
  5. Be a source for peace.
  6. Change the culture.
  7. Admit that we have been bad communicators of the gospel.
  8. End clericalism and empower the grassroots.
  9. Help worship communities take charge of themselves.
  10. Worship in ways that feed us second—
  11. and feed newcomers first.
  12. Live differently.

A pretty good picture of the Kingdom

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[The following is a book review of Colors of God by Randall Mark Peters, Dave Phillips, and Quentin Steen.  For more information on the book or for other reviews, please check out Viralbloggers.]

I’ve had countless conversations about preaching and it seems that people see only two methods: with a script and without; or perhaps in the pulpit vs. walking around.  For many, there is a distinct dividing line between these two seemingly opposing methods.  Those of us that have a ministry that includes preaching within the context of a congregation can tell you that there are many more methods and methodologies than those two.  It is in this context that Colors of God opens up and talks about the way preaching is done at the authors’ church.  Preaching is shared simultaneously as a dialogue.  Both preachers prepare and have a conversation in the midst of the liturgy, wrestling with the Scripture, sometimes together, and sometimes in opposition.  It is a strangely kinetic and visual environment that is both radically different from the current practice most of us are used to, while also theologically consistent with how we actually think of Scripture and how we actually describe our liturgy: as a response.

Though I did want more literary punch, I did get into the conversational tone and felt like I could hang out with them and talk about Jesus.

As I read this book, I felt an interesting tension: that it defied my ability to define it, not in the normal way that refers to our own inability to place a book in a genre, but in that as easily as it slips into a genre, it rejects its labels and presuppositions.  It is a strange little book that can truly best be described as the result of three guys sitting in a coffee shop with a tape recorder.  Who then take that tape recorder home and have someone type it up.  This may be seen as positive or negative, depending on whether or not you find this idea compelling and the book is at times both.  But it is earnest and believable, and that goes a long way.

The premise of the book is pretty simple, these three leaders (former capital-E evangelicals, but abiding by the small-e moniker), struck out on their own and formed an emerging church called neXus.  And in their ministry, they have found four important components of faith, which they describe with colors.  They seem to intend the colors as a gnomonic device for referring to each of these components, while also demonstrating that the presence of each color brings vibrancy to a picture.

The authors use the colors, however, not as a congregational creed or as a simple Rorschach test, but as a means of describing the most important elements to their church, in some ways basing an entire book on what a church might try to put on its webpage.  But instead of sounding like a pitch, it does sound mostly right.  They begin with Blue, saying the Gospel and historic faith is central to their identity, and the other three serve to demonstrate what is unique about neXus.  They are about healthy living (which is in intentional contrast to sin-avoidance), creating a community that truly welcomes all people (as opposed to claiming this and then marginalizing different groups as greater sinners), and fully engaging the culture, especially pop culture.

Though this is the format of the book, the most compelling, and at times difficult part of the book, is something living within and without that structure: their eagerness to share of themselves constructively and precisely.  This isn’t to say that they don’t wander or that this book couldn’t be summed up in 25 pages instead of 225 (which it easily could).  But that they are very adept at stating and describing the gospel message that they profess.  This was difficult for me at times because I really do think that they are much more Protestant than I am.  However, the consistency and compassion of their message always won me over, sometimes leaving me struggling to think of a better way of putting it and failing.

Though I liked this book and would encourage many people to read it, I can’t give it an enthusiastic blanket recommendation.  I want to give it caveats, depending on to whom I am talking.  I’m thinking something like this:

Q: Are you an evangelical that is struggling with your church’s stance on issue X?
R:Then you should read this, noticing how faithful they are being to the Scripture.

Q:Are you a cradle Episcopalian or other mainliner?
R: Maybe; observe how comfortable they are in communicating their message and with dealing with the messiness of life.

Q: Are you a lapsed ______ and looking for a reason to go back to church?
R: Skip it and find something more akin to your place, like Brian McLaren or Marcus Borg.

Q: Are you looking to enhance diversity in your congregation?
R: Sure, but only if by diversity, you are using the term broadly or generationally, not so much in terms of race.

I don’t give these caveats because I think the book is bad or difficult  or insufficient; far from it.  I do this because I wanted the book to shout at me or drive me or motivate me or shake me up in some way, and what I received was a very readable, engaging, and occasionally intriguing book that fits within the paradigm it hoped to.  In other words, it rarely surprised me.  And yet, I read it all, pretty quickly, and found myself liking these guys, even though I had some issues with the way the describe the connection between the “Old Covenant” and “New Covenant”.  Though I did want more literary punch, I did get into the conversational tone and felt like I could hang out with them and talk about Jesus.

I did have an interesting experience when reading this and I’m not sure what to make of it.  Twice, while reading the book in public, I had an African American Christian make note of the book and ask me what I thought of it.  Not something that happened when I was reading John Caputo or Philip Clayton in the last couple of months.  I trust that they were taken by the title, and cover image, which does give the impression of a book about our ‘traditional’ use of the term diversity.  The authors, however, don’t really engage racial diversity, but a more universal diversity (Kingdom of GOD diversity, perhaps) through the atonement.

My bottom line: 3 stars (out of 5)

Pros: I like the book for its readability and its earnestness.  My personal learning from the book is in the clarity of voice and keeping to the message.  The diversity in their theology and placing their emphasis on health is pretty unique and is relatively easy for anyone (outside of hardcore fundamentalists) to go along with.

Cons: Not as snappy as the stuff to which I am normally drawn.  I have some trouble with their theology with regards to the covenants and the atonement.

Keep Dreaming

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Dr. Martin Luther King giving his "I Have...

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It seemed like a bad dream. A little over a month ago, I was checking my e-mail and I came across a strange alert: Glenn Beck was co-opting MLK. Not sure what this meant, I took a look at a response that was written for Sojournors by Ruth Hawley-Lowry that stirred in me a righteous anger. The description on the rally’s site, called ‘Restoring Honor’ states the following:

Throughout history America has seen many great leaders and noteworthy citizens change her course. It is through their personal virtues and by their example that we are able to live as a free people. On August 28, come celebrate America by honoring our heroes, our heritage and our future.

Join the Special Operations Warrior Foundation, Glenn Beck, Sarah Palin and many more for this non-political event that pays tribute to America’s service personnel and other upstanding citizens who embody our nation’s founding principles of integrity, truth and honor.

Our freedom is possible only if we remain virtuous. Help us restore the values that founded this great nation. On August, 28th, come join us in our pledge to restore honor at the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC. This rally, to be held on Saturday, is on the 47th anniversary of The March and the famous “I have a dream” speech.

Aside from the tone-deafness and strange comparison of himself to King and ascribing the moniker of “great leader” or “noteworthy citizen” to himself, I honestly didn’t know what to make of it, other than to suggest that Beck seemed to either misunderstand who Martin Luther King, Jr. was and what he represents or he is ignoring it.

Even if I choose to give Mr. Beck the benefit of the doubt, I will share how I, living in the country transformed by this moment, still respond to Dr. King’s words. When Dr. King says, toward the opening of the famous “I have a dream” speech:

Five score years ago, a great American, in whose symbolic shadow we stand today, signed the Emancipation Proclamation. This momentous decree came as a great beacon light of hope to millions of Negro slaves who had been seared in the flames of withering injustice. It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity.

But one hundred years later, the Negro still is not free. One hundred years later, the life of the Negro is still sadly crippled by the manacles of segregation and the chains of discrimination. One hundred years later, the Negro lives on a lonely island of poverty in the midst of a vast ocean of material prosperity. One hundred years later, the Negro is still languished in the corners of American society and finds himself an exile in his own land. And so we’ve come here today to dramatize a shameful condition.

I don’t hear him saying that, thanks to this speech, we’re all going to be free. I don’t hear him saying, “Pass the Voting Rights Act” and all will be fine. Those words are as apropos today as they were in 1963, and to even suggest that we are in a “post-racial” anything is, at best, willfully ignorant and disturbingly obtuse.

Dr. King then describes the march as coming to Washington to cash a check—a check of justice and equality promised by the framers of the Constitution and built on the backs of slaves. To cash a check that came in the form of an IOU—not to be redeemed during the slave’s lifetime, or the lifetimes of their children, grandchildren, or great grandchildren. An IOU promised and perpetually rejected. An IOU of such fundamental import, that freedom would be woven throughout the entirety of the Constitution.

The tenor of the speech, which you should read yourself (it’s pretty short—find it here), is about justice. Not the justice that a piece of legislation can bring, or simple shifting of attention could address, but that would require the dramatic alteration of our culture and reorientation of our very being to represent this type of justice. And how does Dr. King describe this justice? He describes GOD’s understanding of justice. He is talking about justice that flows out of us; a justice won by our labors and given to us by GOD.

Glenn Beck has similar hopes for reorienting the culture—perhaps this is the most diplomatic way of suggesting the least bit of connection between the two gatherings. But his reorientation is toward nationalism, U.S. capitalism, and a Christianity that is subservient to those two principles. It will be a pro-military day—a strange counter to Dr. King’s plea for nonviolence.

As Mr. Beck declares his desire that the nation “change course,” and sees himself as an agent of that change, it becomes incredibly clear that this moment is not only an attempt to co-opt Dr. King’s legacy, but to change course away from that legacy. His speech continues to describe a future that inspires and provokes the best in us and world that we still can create. For Mr. Beck to urge that we change course is to declare that we change course from the course Dr. King has directed: to not make that dream a reality, but to disfigure that dream. A dream that describes, not simply a colorblind society, but a generous and beautiful one. As Dr. King argues:

No, no, we are not satisfied, and we will not be satisfied until “justice rolls down like waters, and righteousness like a mighty stream.”

In leading this rally, and making a bold attempt to co-opt this watershed moment in American history—a moment in which a picture of true justice was painted for every American to see and understand—Mr. Beck not only spits on Dr. King’s grave, but spits on GOD’s sense of justice. And that is total BS.

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Go with the flow

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We make it too easy on ourselves to forgive the avoidance of making difficult decisions.  We choose the status quo over the tremendous restructuring of our world and the expectations we have for society.  As Christians (and/or Jews) many of us should know better, especially in light of what Scripture tells us are GOD’s desires.  For atheists and agnostics, we do it despite the obvious rational opposition.

I was listening to a radio story about California, which is moving heavily from electricity produced by coal and natural gas and toward electricity produced by natural (greener) technologies like wind and solar.  This is good news!  Concerns arose over the less “dependable” nature of these energy producers–as long as we define “dependable” by on-demand predictability and not long-term sustainability.  Personally, I would prefer to live with a couple of brown-outs because its overcast, knowing that we’ll have electricity tomorrow.  But my Mom tells me I was good at delaying gratification when I was growing up.

The debate, which we say is about power sources, is really about something else: are we a people that must have instant gratification or are we a people that adapts and innovates?  Does sustainability take a back seat to instant comforts?

Many pundits bemoan the state of young people and the world we are living in–saying that we don’t know how to sacrifice and work hard.  As the argument goes, those of us in the Internet generations don’t know how to work and therefore are a burden (and failure) in the eyes of our parents.  And yet, it is the world that they have passed down to us that gives priority to strip-mining and devastating extraction methods to produce constant and consistent electricity from which we all benefit.

Because we all seem to want this, it means that we all need to decide to want something else: a tomorrow.

I’m reminded of an argument Theodore Hiebert makes in The Yahwist’s Landscape.  He argues that our typical understanding of humanity’s role to be good stewards of creation comes from the Priestly writer’s creation story (Genesis 1), which was written in the 500s BCE.  The earlier righter, know as the Yahwist (perhaps writing 500 years earlier), who is responsible for the creation story in Genesis 2-3, described a different responsibility.  Verse 23 says:

therefore the Lord God sent him forth from the garden of Eden, to till the ground from which he was taken.

This image is not of steward, subduing creation, as if it is for humans to control the fate of the world.  Instead, it is the image of the farmer, charged with tilling the ground owned by someone else: GOD.

The difference in descriptions is subtle, but substantive.  The world’s resource aren’t ours to use and abuse–but to make grow responsively.  If you think about it, when the land grows week, the farmer gives it a chance to refresh before planting new seeds.  When water is needed for the land, humans don’t pretend to be gods, but we bring sufficient water to the land.

Our religious traditions are based, not on subduing the environment and bending it to our will–blowing off the tops of mountains or drilling for miles sideways under the ocean floor–but on doing enough for us and responding to the needs of the earth and people equally.

The coming energy wars will be a waste of time and life if we don’t first deal with appetite and the human need to dominate.  That is real root of the conflict.

a brief note on the oil crisis

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I am feeling so much grief about the oil crisis–and I know I’m not the only one.

My heart aches for the land…
the people…
the workers (from the rig and those cleaning up)…
the entire ecosystem…
the Creator and Life-Giver…
and everyone directly and indirectly dependent on the Gulf of Mexico.

And the question I have been asking for a month and a half has been this:

Who will pay for this?

Who will pay…
economically
ecologically
socially
politically
and the only response that continues to come is that who pays the most for this is us. We all pay. The reason we ask oil companies to be careful and responsible is that the people that will pay for their mistakes is us–all of us.

If you want to read some good prayers, check out these from the Episcopal Diocese of the Central Gulf Coast.

new fortunes

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I have written before about my love of Chinese food and fortune cookies.  And I have a new sequence of fortunes to share.

As a reminder, here’s the drill: you treat the cookie like a Magic 8 Ball.  Ask it something, crack it open, and see what it has to tell you.

Most of the time I ask the same questions: I either ask about vocation or treating my family right.  I went last week and received this fortune:

Wish you a long life.

I tried to determine what that meant in relation to my question, and I couldn’t…mostly because I couldn’t get over that amazing display of grammar!  “Wish you a long life.”  There isn’t even a subject; this statement doesn’t have a noun!  And what does being wished a long life have to do with my vocation or my family other than the obvious–people need me to live a long life!  Way to avoid burn out, Drew!  All you’ve left to do is put yourself in the place of Atlas!

So then I visit my favorite Asian restaurant in town Yumi Asian Fusion.  It’s my favorite because of how I feel when I’m there.  I like the silverware–it’s modern and ergonomic.  I like the decorations–it looks the way I want a restaurant to look.  I can order Thai or sushi or Hunan and Mandarine-style Chinese–they have the best Mongolian Beef I have had since leaving Alpena–some know that this is high praise.  But the best part is that I like the servers.  Mostly the one that treats me well.  So my like of this restaurant is purely selfish.  After my meal was over (General Tso’s Chicken), I opened my cookie to find…nothing.  I had the dreaded fortuneless cookie!

Taking these fortunes together, [someone--presumably] wish[es me] a long life one minute and the other, I have no fortune–no future!  Is that the reason I was wished a long life?  Did the cookie know then that I didn’t have a future, and that it was simply trying to change what it saw?  I’m certain that my death is immanent, so I have to get a new fortune.  Here’s what the newest one read:

Wish you a long life.

The grammatically-challenged fortune-writer returns with the same wish!

I know that my obsession with these little treats is irrational and ridiculous.  I know that they no sooner predict the future than a Magic 8 Ball does or the newspaper’s astrology section, but I really do miss it when I don’t get a proper fortune.  And sometimes I don’t get a fortune in my cookie–I get a statement.  I’m not fond of statement cookies unless they attempt to demonstrate something useful to me.

On my desk next to the duplicate ‘wishes’ are these fortunes:

You will travel far and wide, both pleasure and business.

Be prepared to receive something special with no strings attached.

You will win success in whatever calling you adopt.

I actually received these in Lansing and brought them with me.  I feel like they’ve already begun to come true.  I’m hoping for a little more juice out of them.

Perhaps the biggest question you may be asking yourself–bigger even than why am I writing this–is this: why does he keep his fortunes (or statements or grammatically confused pieces of paper)?  Because they reveal something about myself to me.  I learn something when I read it.  When I read it the first time, of course, I learn about hopes and expectations.  What comes immediately to mind when I get a fortune like one of the above?  For instance, if you were to get this one:

You will cross the ocean soon.

What would your response be?  What would you immediately think of?  My first thoughts jump to the places I want to go and the dreams that I have deferred.  I would think of Ireland or Iceland or Israel.  I would think about how much I want to travel to those places with my wife and closest friends.  I dream about telling my daughter stories about the places we’re visiting.

And when I take the time to read an old fortune, these thoughts become less of a dream and more of an imperative.  It is less about “oh, wouldn’t that be nice” and becomes “I need to do this.”

Perhaps I’m getting older.  Or perhaps my perspective on life has changed.  And perhaps I’m just a teensy-weensy bit jealous of the guy I imagined I’d be at my age.  But I’ve got to tell you, nothing gets me thinking about the future and making dreams into realities like fortune cookies.

Confirmation: Why?

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Having just had a wonderful confirmation service at St. Paul’s yesterday in which 18 were confirmed and another 4 were received into The Episcopal Church, I am now more confused than ever about how to feel about this sacrament.

In seminary, our liturgics professor, argued that confirmation is unnecessary: that baptism is all that is required of Christians and Anglicans.  This dovetails nicely with the baptismal theology of the Prayer Book and Canada’s Book of Alternative Services.  When I told him that I was asked to lead a confirmation class, his response was akin to “don’t” or “why?”.

I’ve also heard that the original draft of the last Prayer Book didn’t have Confirmation at all, but that the bishops forced it back in.  Out of fear that they would have nothing to do, I guess.

But the common understanding of Confirmation today is that it is a mature declaration of faith.  That a “mature” (read: adult) person that was baptized as a child may have a sacrament that affirms their commitment to following Jesus.

At the same time, we have two significant conflicts with fully embodying this principle.

  1. Our tradition is to confirm teens.
  2. Our canons require confirmation to serve on the vestry and seek ordination.

So we have this expectation that as soon as children hit puberty (or before in many cases), we have to start preparing these “kids” for confirmation.  Similarly, some argue that we have to do it before high school or else “we’ll lose ‘em,” which I’m not sure why confirmation would have the desired effect of entrapment.  At the same time, we are saying one thing “baptism is your dance card” while also saying “if you want to have any role of influence or authority in the church, you have to join this special club (for “mature” people).”

As you can see, both of these things are in direct conflict with the theology undergirding Confirmation.  So I say eliminate the conflicts.

But where I’m confused is less the theology, and more the practice.

In the Diocese of Western Michigan, we just completed this amazing practice of taking the better part of last year to write a customary that would be the understood common practice throughout the diocese for confirmation.  These practices fully embody the spirit of the theology and would drive those ‘conflictors’ crazy because the most important part of confirmation now must be maturity and declaration of faith.  This means that the person must 1) take it seriously and mean it, 2) understand what s/he is declaring, and 3) want to do this.  Amazing stuff.  It probably means fewer will be confirmed, but those that are will be the better for it.

The Bishop also practices regional confirmations, meaning all the confirmands in the deanery (grouping of churches) gather for a special service together.  Many of those that have been confirmed in this way swear by it.  The Bishop argues that if he is to do confirmations every Sunday, it detracts from 1) what can be done at the visitation in terms visioning and 2) he only gets to preach one sermon.

Participating in a congregational confirmation service in which some visitors made special trips to attend their loved one’s confirmation in a packed house was pretty awesome.  And the Bishop didn’t preach on confirmation, but stayed pretty close to the gospel.

So here is where my confusion comes in.  I’m still not sure about best practice.  I wore red socks yesterday, because, like an ordination, I wanted to celebrate in the Spirit’s outpouring on these twenty-two Episcopalians.  I found myself thinking that a gospel about John and James jockeying for position at the top of the disciples heap had some good things to say about discipleship, following Jesus, and of course, confirmation.  And that many of our Gospel lessons lend themselves well to the theme of confirmation.  At the same time, few congregations are able to produce twenty-two strong candidates, and the Bishop’s visitation was, in many ways, overshadowed by confirmation.

Perhaps I should just go back to my professor’s base question: why?  I have a feeling our bishops would have enough to do if we stopped focusing on confirmation.

Varying expressions of church

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One of the most amazing things to me is the varying expressions of church that there are already.  We allow in our minds the thought that Catholics and Baptists can both be worshiping on Sunday mornings.  This doesn’t hurt our brains.

But for some reasons, the modernists, the skeptics, and the trolls among us cannot get past the different strands and understandings of today’s Christians that are actually trying to embody the beliefs they already hold, which may or may not be the ones they inherited.

It is in this spirit that I will send you to a couple of other places to look at some interesting descriptions of the different strands of emergence.  First, I want to thank Shawn Anthony, whose blog compares these two options here.  It is worth looking at his intro first, since he did the work, so should get the props of your web visit.

Next, visit Scot McKnight’s depiction of the Five Streams, which can be found here.  His understanding of the different groupings is pretty much in line with most of what I have read and makes a lot of direct sense.  I like it, though I find myself fitting neatly into all of them, which I don’t think is the point…

After you have visited McKnight’s article, check this one out at Gathering in Light.  This one, I think, is a more accurate and useful description, if not a bit more academic.

Now, I recognize that both of these lists are a bit old, and I only just discovered them, but I think they are excellent.  I am most interested in the latter “Four Models of Emerging Churches” as it breaks up the conversation into which theologians most directly affect them.  If we can get past the intellectualism of this suggestion, it is actually much more practical, since the means of understanding a person can best be done by examining his or her influences.  For instance, if one simply knows that I was an English Major, it gives a certain useful definition to the way I may be seen.  But, if you ask me what literature most influenced me, WWI poetry and absurdest drama, you can begin to see the areas I would most likely be interested in (existentialism, personal transformation, social, political, and cultural upheaval) and what my preferred literary criticism might be (reader response and deconstructionism).  These specific examples may be difficult for a non-English major to understand, but if you and I were to have a conversation about this, you could learn a whole lot more about me than simply defining me using typical options (liberal, progressive, traditional, orthodox, whatever).

Further, if you wanted to learn more about what I think, one could actually read some of the works that I find most impressive, such as the poetry of Wilfed Owen or David Jones and the plays of Samuel Beckett or Harold Pinter.  Going to these sources can be much more descriptive.

This can also be a useful shortcut in understanding what these different theological concerns represent when we are able to engage these theologies.  Clearly, based on what I’ve just shared, I am most attracted to the first model, which the writer describes as the deconstructionist model.  It is where my heart is and where my study takes me.  But I now have the means of examining three other streams through their theological forebears and current practitioners.

As we continue to examine ourselves and where we fall into this Great Emergence, I for one will find this tool handy.  I could be persuaded to explore another model if that’s where the Spirit takes me.