Chris Marlow is a friend here in Austin. (In fact, he’s about seven feet away from me right now.) I think I will even continue to call him friend after he moves to Raleigh at the end this month.
A few days ago, he posted the interview below with author/activist Tom Davis. You can read more background about Tom’s excellent work in this entry on Chris’ blog.
Tom Davis Interview from Chris Marlow on Vimeo.
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A few events have me reflecting on where we are at right now:
We are right were we need to be. We began a journey 5-6 years ago after spending a decade in the same place. It’s been a long season with a lot of transition…some of it hard, some of it fun, but most of it is beautiful in reflection. But out of all that thinking, praying, dreaming, wondering, and aching, I feel like God has brought us to the place we were being pointed toward.
That’s not to say we’ve arrived. Not at all. We are merely at the starting point of another journey. But it’s one that God has been shaping us for. I’m sure there is more thinking, praying, wondering, wondering, and aching ahead, but it will be done out of a defined context of shaping this church community in this place at this time.
Thanks for being part of what brought us here.
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In recent years, I’ve had the opportunity to develop friendships with three different men who were trying to navigate the tension between what it meant to be gay and Christian. Each was at a different place in his story when I first got befriended him, but each story had one thing in common…living between the Christian and GLBT cultures is not an easy place to be.
From my experience, pockets of Christianity are becoming more aware of this tension and there is less stereotyping happening. But there is still a long way to go and this is one of the most important conversations for churches to engage with, not in the next few years, but now.
When I received Love is an Orientation, by Andrew Marin, for review, I began reading as a skeptic. I feared it would be a watered down effort to say that Christians should be nice. But I finished reading it knowing that it was helping to bring the conversation to where it needed to be.
Andrew’s experience is not like my own and based only on a few friendships. As a straight Christian man, he has immersed himself in the GLBT subculture. Out of that experience, he started The Marin Foundation to help build bridges between Christians and the GLBT community.
The subtitle of the book is “Elevating the Conversation with the Gay Community”. The tone of the book does that, and I hope it will be widely read.
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We read scripture in order to be refreshed in our memory and understanding of the story within which we ourselves are actors, to be reminded where it has come from and where it is going to, and hence what our own part within it ought to be. — NT Wright
Our Sunday gatherings for Austin Mustard Seed have had a number of different looks in the nine months we’ve been together. Sometimes, it’s been a matter of spending time talking and praying with each other after a particularly hard week. Some weeks have been very structured as I lead us through a more in-depth study of a Scripture text or theme. At times, we have just enjoyed getting acquainted with new faces that God has brought our way.
On Easter, we did something new for our community that has become a favorite Sunday rhythm for me. Rather than talk about the importance of the Easter holiday, or proofs for the Resurrection, or explain theological implications, we just…read the story. We opened a Bible to John 20, and passed it around the room. Adults and children alike read a few verses and passed it along.
Since Easter, we’ve used this same means of hearing Scripture more often than not. A shared reading, usually from the screen, followed by a time of discussion as we talk about how we are challenged, confused, encouraged, or troubled by what we read. Too often, Scripture is given a brief spotlight in a church gathering. Perhaps it gets an extended reading prior to a sermon, or maybe a few brief passages are raised in the course of a topical sermon. But I’m hungry to learn what it can look like when a community engages with the story of Scripture.
If it is part of the privilege and duty of each Christian to study scripture, and to read it devotionally, it is important that the wider church should be able to hear what individual readers are discovering in the text. Of course, not all private readings will come up with significant new insights; but many will. The church needs to facilitate, through small groups, and other means, this bring of particular viewpoints to the attention of the whole body, both so that the larger community may be enriched and so that maverick or clearly misleading readings can be gently and appropriately corrected. — NT Wright
This doesn’t, of course, mean less preparation for me. I still spend the same amount of time studying the text in advance, and usually have a few points of discussion in mind. I come prepared to engage questions about the text, or offer insights from the studies of those who have come before us. But the course of our group study is guided by how the Spirit in engaging the text with the hearts of those who are present.
I don’t know what this way of engaging the text can look like as our community continues to grow. But I know there is something with this that I hope we can always capture. I long to help shape a community to listens to the story of the Scriptures together, and learns from each other what it means to continue with God in the writing of that story.
Both of the quotes above were taken from The Last Word, by NT Wright. You should read it.
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Through ViralBloggers.com I was given an opportunity to review Jesus, Interrupted by Bart Erhman. (I promise this blog isn’t going to be reduced to an outlet for book reviews even if it’s looked like that lately!)
For those unfamiliar with Ehrman, he has an interesting background. A former evangelical, he was educated at Moody, Wheaton, and Princeton Theological Seminary. He describes his transition between these schools and his own progression from a very conservative view of Scripture to a, uh, not so conservative view. Some years later, Erhman did reject Christianity, though he describes that rejection in connection to the inconsistencies he sees between suffering in the world and the claims of the Christian God.
For the most part, Jesus, Interrupted serves as an introduction to the historical critical approach to understanding Scripture. Simply put, this approach evaluates Scriptures not as a sacred devotional text, but as historical documents that merit critical scrutiny. Erhman’s primary thesis is that most pastors learn about the historical critical approach, and the difficulties it brings to how we view Scripture. Yet, most lay people in church have no knowledge of this as pastors don’t talk about it. Jesus, Interrupted seems to be Erhman’s attempt to bring this conversation to a wider audience.
A few thoughts that came from my experiences reading the book:
If there is a shortcoming to the book from a Christian perspective, it comes in the fact that Ehrman writes this as an agnostic scholar. I give him credit for saying that he didn’t become agnostic because of the material he is presenting. And he doesn’t demand that others do so. But, he also seem compelled to provide a way forward for someone who is just being introduced to this material. I suppose he is hoping that a reader will bring the conversation into their own faith circles…and he is probably right.
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IVP has been kind enough to allow me to pick out some of their recent releases for review. I look forward to reading the books that caught my attention and sharing them with you here in the months to come. First up is a book called Deepest Differences: A Christian-Atheist Dialogue, by James Sire, and Carl Peraino.
In the last decade, there has been a growing critique of the discipline of apologetics. And when apologetics becomes the loading up minds with a cannon of knowledge awaiting a battle, I share that critique. However, there is value to be had in wrestling with the questions of the nature and existence of God. (And particularly for me, the Judeo-Christian concept of God.) This wrestling best happens not with those who think alike, but with those who think differently.
To put it another way, apologetics should exist not as knowledge, but as dialogue — I am interested in what helpful dialogue should look like in the arena of difference. And for one who wants to engage in those questions, the format of a book like Deepest Differences offers a helpful exchange.
The book began as a conversation at a party between Jim Sire, a Christian writer and professor, and Carl Peraino, an atheist and retired biochemist. They decided to extend the dialogue to an email exchange, which formed the content of the book. I found the exchange tedious at times as they took their discussion to degrees beyond my level of interest. But it is helpful to see dialogue in action, to see mutual respect at work as these two spend as much time exploring where they differ as they do trying to convince the other.
I fear that Christianity tends toward being an echo chamber of voices bouncing our ideas back to each other … and not hearing the views of others. You may or may not be interested in this book because of the subject matter, but I hope you will be inspired to follow the example of these two authors in respectful engagement with those who don’t think like you.
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About this time last year, I found out that Q would be held in Austin in 2009. I was excited by that…and even more excited a few months ago when a few generous people made it possible for me to attend!
I have grown weary, and leary, of large conferences that are impersonal and driven by the hype that happens on the stage. And while Q was centered on the presenters on stage, it was less about hype, and more about engaging with ideas. Each presenter (other than a few) was given 18 minutes to offer their thoughts around Church, Culture, Gospel, and Future. Most of the presenters had a follow-up talkback where we could engage with them in a smaller setting.
Here are a few impressions I was left with and ideas I’m living with:
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It’s as if Rodney Stark wrote The Rise of Christianity with me in mind. The subject matter of Christianity, and the historical and analytical presentation style are all right up my alley. Through the perspective of a sociologist, Stark dug through the first 300 years of Christianity to see what it was that caused Christianity to become so prominent.
Devout Christians might be troubled by Stark’s analysis — Stark doesn’t the credit to a sweeping movement of the Holy Spirit. He doesn’t discount the supernatural, but he offers a practical and reasoned view of how Christianity grew. He cites a number of key factors, but I am struck by three in particular: the importance of relational networks, the role of women, and the way of life that Christians led and invited others into.
Perhaps the reason those three stand out to me is because they seem so important today. While the booming megachurches get most of the attention in North America, Christianity today is primarily growing through small and rapidly multiplying churches in southern Asia, Africa, and South America. And as I’ve heard these movements described, they seem to share similar traits to those mentioned by Stark that I have highlighted above.
In the concluding chapter, Stark summarizes his thesis with the words below. I believe that what was true for Christianity then can and should be true for Christianity today. And I hope that in the future, others will be able to look back and describe Christianity in the 21st century in the same way:
Central doctrines of Christianity prompted and sustained attractive, liberating, and effective social relations and organizations. I believe that it was the religion’s particular doctrines that permitted Christianity to be among the most sweeping and successful revitalization movements in history. And it was the way these doctrines took on actual flesh, the way they directed organizational actions and individual behavior, that led to the rise of Christianity.
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Today, I’m honored to be the guest blogger in the Good News series on JR Woodward’s blog. Hope you’ll make your way over there to read my thoughts and join the discussion in the comments section.
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Makoto Fujimura is a contemporary artist whose home and studio are near Ground Zero. Out of a response to the attacks on 9/11, he began to set aside time every Saturday to write. This was a time to process and reflect on the emotions and changes in his life and city. The result of these writings is a beautifully crafted book called Refractions: A Journey of Faith, Art, and Culture. (In the interest of disclosure, I received a review copy, though this is a book I already had on my wish list and would have gladly paid for.)
In recent years, we have seen a renewed interest in the relationship between art and theology, and Fujimura offers a significant voice in that conversation. The book is a collection of essays loosely joined by the topics of faith, art, and culture, as the title suggests. While some books seem redundant after the first few chapters, the unique subject and fresh thoughts of each essay pulled me forward into every page turn.
What I appreciate most is the awareness that Fujimura displays of his soul and surroundings. He describes this awareness in the book’s first essay:
The process of creating renews my spirit, and I find myself attuned to the details of life rather than being stressed by being overwhelmed. I find myself listening rather than shouting into the void. Creating art opens my heart to see and listen to the world around me, opening a new vista of experience. This is the gift of the ’second wind.’ Such a state taps into what I now call eternal timefullness.
While I was able to engage and be shaped by his thoughts throughout, it was this awareness that challenged me the most. After finishing the final chapter yesterday, I closed the book and opened my journal. With infinite access to information and social connection, all of us would do well to be a little more connected to our own selves.
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This is part of a series of reflections on the meaning and importance of doing local theology…
I wrote a letter to friends and family least year to tell them about our approaching move to Austin. In that letter, I described how we looked forward to entering into the life of the city. That phrase, created with little thought, has held on to me ever since. One of our primary goals for the past year, and for the year to come, has been to enter into the life of Austin. We hope and anticipate that we will raise our family and a church community here, and we want to begin by walking the path from newcomer to Austinite.
Entering into the life of Austin has meant a few things. It has meant trying to learn about the history of the city, though published resources on the topic are few. It has meant trying to get our young family out often to meet people and experience activities in the city (like Barton Springs, pictured to the right from a family outing last year). It has meant spending more time listening, and less time “telling” people why we are here. It has also led to a specialized (and perhaps neglected) blog, and several ponderings on this blog about Austin.
In our transition, I have tried hard to discard my assumptions about what Austin would be like. Before we moved, I had shared with many that Austin was considered a unique island in the middle of Texas. The tech industry, creative culture, and liberal reputation often cause Austin to be compared with Seattle or San Francisco. While those comparisons have been made, it has always felt presumptuous to me to assume that living in the Seattle area for three years meant that we would get Austin. Austin is it’s own city. Though it is difficult to not see Austin relative to other cities, we do try to see it for what it is.
Being fairly new to the city gives some disadvantage when wanting to do local theology, and yet I also think it provides the advantage of a fresh and unique perspective. Lesslie Newbigin describes how asking a human to describe their culture is like asking a fish to describe water. It is so much their immediate reality that they will never be able to fully understand it. I think we have come to Austin able to compare and contrast it to Seattle…able to see see what is similar and different. (And yes, I do think they are a lot alike, though Austin has a little more independent feel to it. And a lot of Texas feel to it. But maybe those are one and the same.)
I scratched out these words in a “to-remember” file a few years ago: What does it mean to do theology at the local level first? Theology that is local must be rooted in praxis. It can’t be separated from the reality of daily life. I don’t remember what inspired them…I probably stole them from someone else who I now can’t give credit to. But they capture something vital for me as we think about shaping a church community around life in Austin. Our church community must exist where the theology of the Scriptural narrative offers life and hope to the unique culture of Austin. To enter into the life of the city is to explore where that life already exists, and where we can begin to inject more of it.
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Last week, I mentioned the value of expanding our celebration and reflection of Easter beyond a few hours on Sunday morning. For those traditions that follow the church calendar, the celebration of Easter goes on for six weeks until Pentecost.
Christine Sine has developed another excellent resource — this time it’s a guide for reflecting on Easter and the celebration of resurrection. She has posted about this resource on her blog, and you can find the actual guide available on the Mustard Seed Associates website. If, like me, you are looking for ways to enrich your celebration of resurrection, I’d recommend you consider working through this guide.
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I have set up a means for you to celebrate and anticipate the resurrection of Easter with me. But first, a little background…
Easter is the most sacred of Christian holidays, marked by our community celebrations of the resurrection on Easter Sunday. But it should also be marked by anticipation before that Sunday, and reflection and celebration that lasts well beyond. Unfortunately, much of my own experience limited Easter to the biggest Sunday of the year with all of us wearing the best clothes in our closet. (And if you know me, you know that was done grudgingly.) Perhaps this was followed by a shared meal with loved ones and an Easter egg hunt. And that was that.
Learning from other traditions has helped enrich Easter for me. I’ve experienced Lent as a means of anticipating Easter with millions of Christians around the world. I’ve been part of Passover meals as the context where Jesus initiated the Lord’s Supper. I’ve learned how some traditions celebrate a dark Tenebrae service in reflection of the crucifixion itself.
This year, our church community is sharing a Passover meal, and some of us are participating in Lent. Beyond that, I’ve been thinking about how to develop the anticipation of Easter in our community. I turned to technology — specifically Twitter. Because Twitter is so scalable, I decided to share it with anyone who wants to follow along.
I have created a Twitter account called @passionweek. Beginning this Sunday — Palm Sunday — you can follow along with the events of Jesus’ final week. Throughout the week, the @passionweek twitter account will post a brief glimpse of what Jesus experienced at the time he would of experienced it. The timing is mostly estimated. Regardless, I hope it can give you reason to pause throughout the week to reflect and anticipate what looms on Sunday.
A few details to help you make the most of the experience:
I hope this can be a blessing to you. I have no intention to use this account for anything beyond what I describe above, so you won’t be spammed to buy a piece of the cross from me or anything like that. If you have any questions, post them below.
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I received a review copy of A New Kind of Conversation. The subtitle is Blogging Toward a Postmodern Faith. My first impression was that this was a book about blogging, and how this online conversation is helping shape postmodern faith. I thought it might be interesting. But on a closer look, I realized it was the other way around — a book about postmodern faith formatted as a blog.
Ugh.
I don’t need to see another book that tries to be a blog. Books and blogs are not the same, and the books I’ve seen that tried to be blogs were, well, not. Now to be fair, this wasn’t a book that tried to format like a blog just to sell a few extra copies. It actually was a blog (a blog that is still available online). It was designed to be co-authored online, and then (re)published as a book. But that still doesn’t mean it works very well.
The book is formatted as eight short essays (around 1000 words each) that appeared as the original blog posts. The topics are well-chosen and the ideas well-presented by Bruce Ellis Benson, Ellen Haroutunian, Mabiala Kenzo, Brian McLaren, and Myron Bradley Penner. I found them to be helpful summaries of some of the ideas I’ve had to grapple with in various books, conferences, and grad school.
Each essay is followed by one or more threads of discussion that resulted from the comments by some of the other contributors and blog readers. And this is where I lost interest. Some of the comments were good, and I suppose it could be helpful to see the dialogue. The struggle for me was that I don’t know who the other commenters are, other than a few names I recognized. When I read a book, I know about the author, and I have some idea of where they are speaking from. When I read comments on a blog, I can usually click on the name of the commenter and learn more about them. That interaction, along with my interest, are lost in the translation to book.
If you are interested in some good summaries about the tensions of postmodern faith, then the essays will be helpful for you. You might even engage with the comment threads better than I. But if you want to save a few dollars, I might suggest you just go read the content as it took shape on the original blog. You could probably even leave a comment yourself!
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I’ve been living with the term local theology for the last few years, trying to get my mind around what it might mean and look like. I did a search yesterday on my blog, surprised to find I’ve never written a post about it. As some of these thoughts are taking more shape, I’m bringing them here so that you can help shape them too. This post will serve as an intro to an open-ended series on Local Theology.
I was introduced to this term in a class at Mars Hill Grad School. One of our texts was Preaching as Local Theology and Folk Art, by Leona Tisdale Tubbs. I’ve since discovered that the concept of local theology is not unique to Tubbs, as I’ve found two other books on the subject — Constructing Local Theologies, by Robert J. Schreiter, and Doing Local Theology: A Guide for Artisans of a New Humanity, by Clemens Sedmak — neither of which I have read…yet!
This seems like an important idea for what it means to be the church, and one that needs to be explored further. I would imagine that many of us would liken local theology to the idea of being contextual in our churches. I think that is true, but I also want to create a little definition between the two. I would suggest that local theology is a prelude to contextualization. Local theology begins as we listen to the culture of our surroundings and compare it with the narrative of Scripture. Out of this listening, we begin to contextualize our expression of the local church to our community.
As I’m diving into this idea further, I’d appreciate your thoughts too, regardless of whether you consider yourself a theologian. Have you heard this term before? What is your response to it?
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