Archive for the 'What I'm reading' Category

A Review of Reconciliation Blues by Edward Gilbreath

Thursday, July 24th, 2008
Edward Gilbreath, Reconciliation Blues: A Black Evangelical’s Inside View of White Christianity (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2006).
 
Everyone views the world along an angle of vision that affects both how he interprets the world and lives within it. That angle of vision itself is formed by, among other things, time and place and creed and culture, not to mention the postmodern troika of race, sex, and class. To understand why a person interprets the world the way he does, then, we must begin by understanding the person.
 
Edward Gilbreath is editor at large for Christianity Today and editor of Today’s Christian. These are two mainstream evangelical publications, placing Gilbreath firmly in the evangelical camp. In America, evangelicals are predominantly white, but Gilbreath is black. That status as a black evangelical gives Gilbreath a unique angle of vision, which he writes about in Reconciliation Blues: A Black Evangelical’s Inside View of White Christianity.
 
In a moving paragraph, Gilbreath describes
 
the loneliness of being “the only black,” the frustration of being expected to represent your race but being stifled when you try, the hidden pain of being invited to the table but shut out from meaningful decisions about that table’s future. These “reconciliation blues” are about the despair of knowing that it’s still business as usual, even in the friendly context of Christian fellowship and ministry.
 
Gilbreath’s story is not unique. Although much of Reconciliation Blues is autobiographical, Gilbreath also writes about such pioneering black evangelicals as evangelist Tom Skinner, publisher Melvin Banks, and activist John Perkins, not to mention other lesser-known pastors and professionals. They trod (and continue to tread) a lonely road within evangelicalism’s predominantly white subculture.
 
Historically, that subculture was not friendly to black demands for civil rights. White evangelicals sat out the Civil Rights Movement of the 1950s and 60s. Or worse, they rooted against its heroes. Gilbreath tells the story of Dolphus Weary who, as a student at Los Angeles Baptist College (now The Master’s College) heard white students laughing at the death of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.
 
Of course, that event is forty years in the past, and Gilbreath concedes that white evangelicals have made progress in their racial attitudes. But there are still blindspots. Gilbreath mentions the 2004 brouhaha over LifeWay Publisher’s VBS curriculum, Rickshaw Rally, whose stereotyped artwork offended many evangelical Asians. Rather than admitting offense, LifeWay dug itself into a hole defending the curriculum.
 
For Gilbreath, as for many black evangelicalism, part of the problem with white evangelicals is institutional racism, defined by sociologist James Jones as “those established laws, customs, and practices which systematically reflect and produce racial inequities in American society.” Examples of this kind of racism include:
 
the failures of public education (why are inner-city schools devoid of proper resources?), imbalances in our nation’s criminal justice system (what’s with the inordinate number of black males in prison?), and the inability of African Americans and other minorities to keep pace with their white counterparts (why do some banks charge higher rates on loans to African Americans and Latinos?).
 
These examples of evangelical insensitivity and institutional racism raise political questions that make white evangelicals uncomfortable. Two of the more challenging chapters in the book are back-to-back chapters on politics: “Is Jesse Jackson an Evangelical?” and “God Is Not a Democrat or a Republican.” Jackson is a lightning rod of controversy among conservative white evangelicals, both for his politics and for his personal indiscretions, but he is viewed with admiration by many in the black evangelical community for his social concern. Indeed, his heir apparent at Operation Push is a Bible-believing, black evangelical pastor named James Meeks. And while in the abstract many white evangelicals agree that God is not a partisan, they still have problems with the concrete practice of voting for Democrats that is so prevalent in the black evangelical community.
 
(Indeed, after reading Gilbreath, I began to wonder whether politics is a stalking horse for race in contemporary American culture. That is to say, I began to wonder how much of the tension between white and black evangelicals is due to political differences rather than racial ones.)
 
Gilbreath tells his story and provides challenging analysis, but throughout this book, his main concern is racial reconciliation among evangelicals. This was a prominent them among evangelicals in the 1990s. Promise Keepers made racial reconciliation one of its seven key promises. And white Pentecostal denominations (such as the Assemblies of God) disbanded the all-white Pentecostal Fellowship of North America and joined with black Pentecostals and others to form the multiracial Pentecostal and Charismatic Churches of North America in 1994 (the so-called “Memphis Miracle”).
 
Unfortunately, racial reconciliation has fallen on hard times. The first sentence of Gilbreath’s book is the sentiment of a black female friend of his: “I’m sick and tired of racial reconciliation.” And the Epilogue of the book describes a November 2005 conference of dispirited racial reconciliation leaders, Gilbreath among them. Despite the history, heartache, and hard work, Gilbreath isn’t giving up on the dream of reconciliation. “I think about Jesus’ prayer for his followers, ‘that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you sent me’ (John 17:21).”
 
As I said at the outset of this review, everyone has an angle of vision. Gilbreath has his, and I—white, Pentecostal, and politically conservative—have mine. But surely Jesus’ angle of vision is the one that counts, the one that calls us to work through our differences to a higher unity based on our common life in him!

Jesus Made in America

Tuesday, June 3rd, 2008
jesusmadeinamerica.jpgStephen J. Nichols, Jesus Made in America: A Cultural History from the Puritans to The Passion of the Christ (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2008).
 
In Matthew 16:13-20, Jesus asked his disciples two provocative questions. First, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” Two recent books by scholars of religion survey the answers of Americans generally. They are Stephen Prothero’s American Jesus: How the Son of God Became a National Icon and Robert Wightman Fox’s Jesus in America: Personal Savior, Cultural Hero, National Obsession. But Jesus went on to ask the disciples, “Who do you say I am?” In Jesus Made in America, historian Stephen J. Nichols surveys the answers of American evangelicals particularly. What he finds makes for disturbing reading.
 
Nichols begins, as historians of American Christianity must begin, with the Puritans. He critiques the Puritans for failing to live out a Christlike ethic, with regard to native Americans, African slaves, and Salem witches. Otherwise, however, he sets up their two-nature Christology and Christ-centered spirituality as a standard from which their evangelical successors have fallen. Christianity is a religion of head, heart, and hands – of doctrine, devotion, and deeds. Nichols is right to critique the ethical lapses of the Puritans, but they were certainly correct in believing in and worshiping the God-man Jesus Christ.
 
In a sense, the Revolutionary Era of American history reversed the error of the Puritans. They emphasized deeds over doctrine and devotion. Typical of this emphasis, a young Benjamin Franklin wrote: “My mother grieves that one of her Sons is an Arian, another an Arminian. What an Arminian or an Arian is, I cannot say that I very well know; the Truth is, I make such Distinctions very little my Study; I think vital Religion has always suffer’d, when Orthodoxy is more regarded than Virtue.” It helps to know that Franklin’s mother was a product of Boston Puritanism and that Franklin rebelled against his upbringing. Although there were a few orthodox Christians among the founders – Nichols mentions John Witherspoon, Benjamin Rush, and John Quincy Adams – the Founders were typically Unitarians. They thought highly of Jesus as the human teacher of moral virtue, but no higher than that. Thomas Jefferson went so far as to excise miracles, atonement, and declarations of Jesus’ divinity from his copy of the Gospels. By emphasizing virtue and denying divinity, the Founders customized Jesus to meet the needs of their new republic.
 
In the Democratic Era that followed on the heels of the Founders, Jesus was further customized into the ideal frontiersman. The early nineteenth century saw a sea change in American religious attitude, as the populace shifted from the elitism of the Episcopal, Congregational, and Presbyterian churches to the egalitarianism of the Baptists, Methodists, and Churches of Christ/Disciples of Christ. The frontier made no time for abstract theology. It focused on spirituality and ethics, on results, not thinking. In some cases – Baptists and Methodists – the Christological conclusions were orthodox. In other cases – Barton Stone of the so-called Christian churches – they were not. But the methodology by which these conclusions were reached was something distinctly American. There was no need for educated clergy or church tradition. “No creed but the Bible,” in Peter Cartwright’s formulation. Any man could pick up the Bible and develop whatever doctrinal system he saw fit. And many did. The individualism and rough-hewn character of the frontier gave way to Victorian sentimentality as the frontier closed and the American populace settled in for city life. Jesus was brought inside, bathed, clothed, and made to act respectably. Think of “Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,” and you’ll get the picture of Victorian Jesus. Interestingly, the Victorian Jesus was suitably domesticated to be claimed by both sides of the Civil War. A Jesus who has been stripped of his divinity does not stand outside human systems to critique them; rather, he is product of those human systems, who make him in their own images.
 
At the beginning of the Twentieth Century, the reaction to this Victorian sentimentality set in with a vengeance. Social Gospel liberalism saw Jesus as a hero for humanity, liberating the oppressed from the wicked maw of capitalism. This heroic Jesus was not the God-man, however. Harry Emerson Fosdick, perhaps the most famous preacher of that age, made sure that such fundamentalist doctrines were explained away. But others – such as J. Gresham Machen, Fosdick’s bete noir – responded with the re-assertion of creedal orthodoxy. “Liberalism regards Jesus as the fairest flower of humanity,” Machen wrote; “Christianity regards him as a supernatural person.” The battle between Fosdick’s modernism and Machen’s fundamentalism (a term he hated, and a side he barely wanted to be associated with) continues to this day.
 
Unfortunately, while one would expect evangelicals – the Puritans’ self-proclaimed heirs – to boldly reassert Christological orthodoxy and to reframe real Christianity as a religion of head, heart, and hands, the evangelicals have been busy domesticating Jesus in their own novel ways. Their worship music has turned him into everyone’s Boyfriend (“Hold me close to You / never let me go”). Their movies have occluded his divinity. (Even The Passion of the Christ, so lauded by evangelicals and Pentecostals who otherwise would abominate R-rated movies, doesn’t adequately portray Jesus’ divinity.) Their stores have turned Jesus into a slogan (“Jesus is my homeboy”) or a bracelet (“WWJD?”) or a doe-eyed Savior (Precious Moments figurines). And their politics has shoehorned Jesus into a proponent of a preconceived right-wing ideology (lately, a left-wing ideology too).
 
When Jesus asked the disciples who they thought he was, Peter responded with good theology: “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.” But that theology barely nudged Peter’s conceptions of what a Christ should act like. Matthew 16:21-23 tells the rest of the story. Peter had no room for a crucified Savior and rebuked Christ when Christ suggested crucifixion was his destiny. In turn, Jesus said to Peter, “Get behind me, Satan!”
 
After reading Jesus Made in America, I have begun to wonder whether American evangelicals (and us Pentecostals) might be due for our own exorcism.

Spiritual Portraits and the Purification of Means

Monday, April 28th, 2008
Eugene H. Peterson, The Jesus Way: A Conversation on the Ways that Jesus Is the Way (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2007).
 
There are two kinds of spiritual writers: mechanics and artists.
 
Mechanics focus on how spirituality works, on tightening the nuts and bolts of prayer, meditation, fasting, and the like. By showing us how these means of grace work, they help us draw closer to God and godliness. Richard J. Foster is a mechanic of the spiritual life. His Celebration of Discipline is a masterful user manual of spiritual practices.
 
Artists, by contrast, show us what spirituality looks like. They don’t write user manuals; they paint portraits. Not landscapes, mind you – portraits. For spiritual artists, spirituality is personal, biographical, narrative. They show God in human form, and godliness in human form – warts and all. Eugene H. Peterson is a spiritual artist, and The Jesus Way is an exhibit of masterfully drawn portraits.
 
It is also a frustrating book for our mechanically inclined, North American souls. Unlike The Celebration of Discipline, The Jesus Way includes no three- or four-step guidelines for prayer and fasting. If you’re looking for that kind of guidance, don’t bother reading this book. It will not give you The Seven Habits of Highly Effective Christians or The Secret of Becoming Like Jesus. It is not about How to Win Souls and Disciple People. It is, instead, “a conversation on the spirituality of the ways we go about following Jesus.” It is a gallery of portraits in which the artist’s perspective paints his subject in a new light.
 
The portraits in Peterson’s gallery are biblical and historical figures: Abraham, Moses, David, Elijah, Isaiah, Herod the Great, the Pharisees, Caiaphas, the Essenes, Josephus, the Zealots. And, the centerpiece of the exhibit, Jesus. But Peterson’s perspective on these subjects, his unique angle of vision, forces us to see through them the various ways in which North American Christians should but do not follow the God-Man who is the Way (John 14:6).
 
Indeed, what Peterson’s portraits show is that North American Christians have adapted a variety of spiritual ways and means that have nothing to do with Jesus, indeed, that contradict and subvert the way of Jesus. We are a consumer-oriented, mass produced culture; and our spiritual ways reflect our cultural predilections. We are felt-need driven, without considering that a consumer’s felt needs might be artificially manipulated or authentically mistaken. We are mass produced, without considering that Jesus’ ministry is concrete, not abstract; personal, not impersonal; individual, not cookie cutter.
 
Peterson’s portraits of Jesus’ Old Testament predecessors show a spirituality that revolves around “faith and word, imperfection and marginality, the holy and the beautiful.” His portraits of Jesus’ New Testament contemporaries are diptychs, Herod and the Pharisees, Caiaphas and the Essenes, Josephus and the Zealots. Or rather, perhaps we should say that they are contradictory diptychs: Herod versus the Pharisees, and so on. Jesus aligns with neither side of the diptych; rather, his way subverts both. He neither builds a kingdom of political power (Herod) or legal precision (Pharisees). He neither uses institutional religion for selfish ends (Caiaphas) nor rejects it entirely (Essenes). He neither lacks principle (Josephus) nor embraces principled violence (Zealots). His way is different.
 
It is irreducibly personal. God is a Trinity of Persons: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in eternal, indivisible union. Their way with one another is personal. And consequently, their way with us is personal as well. God relates to us a Person to persons. His way is personal. His way is Jesus.
 
Contemporary North American spirituality, by contrast, is impersonal. It focuses on abstract, mass produced principles that do not know what to make of humanity’s warts and all condition. They don’t know what to make of King David, for example, whose imperfections Scripture draws in such meticulous details (violence, adultery, murder, polygamy). Call this the Way of Imperfection. David’s seven penitential psalms (Psalms 6, 32, 38, 51, 102, 130, 143) contain no three-step program for personal holiness. They simple call upon God for forgiveness. “In dealing with God we don’t do it on our own,” Peterson writes; “we deal with God as he deals with sin.”
 
The Way of Jesus, you see, is the personal way of dealing with God, of relating to him not as consumers seeking personal benefit but as servants seeking divine direction. The consumer mentality warps North American spirituality; if we are to follow the Jesus Way, we must submit to a necessary “purification of means.” If the end of spirituality is personal – communion with the Triune God – then the means to that end must be personal as well. Peterson’s portraits show us what that personal way looks like.
 
I mentioned that The Jesus Way is a frustrating book. I should say that it is a frustrating book for me personally. I have a mechanical soul. I favor the user manual approach to spirituality. And anyone who has read anything by Richard J. Foster knows how spiritually fruitful that form of writing can be. The mechanics of the spiritual life are as necessary as the artists, but in a different way and for a different reason. The mechanics think for us. The artists force us to think for ourselves. The mechanics show us how to do things differently. The artists show us how to see things differently.
 
At any number of points in The Jesus Way, I disagreed with something Peterson wrote. Is Christian spirituality always a spirituality of people on the margins, as the chapter on Elijah suggests? Peterson seems to agree with historical criticism’s reconstructions of the multiple authorship of the Pentateuch and Isaiah. Is he right? Perfectionism is without a doubt a spiritually deforming doctrine, but does David’s example mean that no spiritual and moral progress is possible?
 
The Jesus Way raised many questions in my mind for which it did not provide definitive answers. But the questions forced me to look differently at my own ways, to look at my life and spirituality, and the spirituality of my church. That is what spiritual artists are supposed to do, to help us see differently. And Eugene H. Peterson is nothing if not a master artist.

unChristian

Monday, December 10th, 2007
unchristian.jpgDavid Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons, unChristian: What A New Generation Really Thinks about Christianity and Why It Matters (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2007).
 
How do people outside the church view those inside it? If you’re talking about Americans between the ages of 16 and 29, the answer is, “Not favorably.” Americans in this age range view Christians as hypocritical, too focused on conversion, antihomosexual, sheltered, too political, and judgmental. Reflecting on these results, David Kinnaman and Gabe Lyons conclude, “Christianity has an image problem.”
 
Kinnaman is president of the Barna Group, a research firm that studies trends in American religion. Lyons is founder of Fermi Project, a network of emerging evangelical leaders who are trying to positively impact American culture. Fermi commissioned the Barna Group to study perceptions of Christians among Americans in the older Mosaic (born 1984-2002) and younger Buster (born 1965-1983) age cohorts. The resulting book book, unChristian, summarizes the conclusions of that study and provides suggestions for how Christians can overcome their image problem.
 
According to Kinnaman and Lyons, the key to changing young adults’ perceptions of Christianity is learning “to respond to people in the way Jesus did.” This does not entail giving up or watering down key convictions about Christian faith and practice. Just because young adults view Christianity as antihomosexual, for example, does not mean that Christians should stop teaching that homosexual acts are sinful or that monogamous heterosexual marriage is God’s will.
 
What responding to people as Jesus did means is, first of all, having the right perspective on their criticism. “[W]e should consider whether our response to cynics and opponents is motivated to defend God’s fame or our own image.” Second, it involves connecting with people. “[T]he negative image of Christians can be overcome, and this almost always happens in the context of meaningful, trusting relationships.” Third, a Christlike response requires creativity. “We cannot ignore the importance of breaking through the ‘been there, learned that’ perspective young people have about Christianity.” And fourth, we must serve people. Young American adults view the church as irrelevant and uncaring. To respond as Jesus would, “we must cultivate deep concern and sensitivity to outsiders.”
 
Of course, we ought to do these things because they’re right things to do, not simply because they’ll help improve our image among young adults. And doing these things does not guarantee that young people will become Christians. What it will do is change the perception about who Christians are, what we believe, and how we live. In a culture for which perception often is reality, changing the way the church is perceived goes a long way to solving humanity’s basic problem: our separation from God, and our need for salvation.

Theodore Dalrymple Reviews the New Atheists

Monday, October 29th, 2007

Make sure to read Theodore Dalrymple’s review of the spate of new books by atheists (e.g., Dawkins, Dennett, Harris, and Hitchens). If these badly written and poorly argued books have any merit, it is that they have called forth such lucid rejoinders. (And Dalrymple isn’t even a believer.)

“Poison or Cure: Religious Belief in the Modern World”

Tuesday, October 16th, 2007

The Ethics and Public Policy Center recently hosted a debate between Christopher Hitchens (author of God Is Not Great) and Alister McGrath (author of The Twilight of Atheism and The Dawkins Delusion). You can watch the debate here.

“What’s So Great about Christianity?” by Dinesh D’Souza

Tuesday, October 16th, 2007

Whats So Great.jpgOver at National Review Online, John J. Miller interviews Dinesh D’Souza about his new book, What’s So Great about Christianity? You can listen to the interview here. I’m reading the book, and I plan on writing a review as soon as I’ve finished it.

“Starbucks Spirituality”

Wednesday, August 22nd, 2007

Make sure to read "Starbucks Spirituality" over at ChristianityBibleStudies.com. It tells the story of Daniel Hill, a pastor, who also works part-time at Starbucks, and what he and others have learned about sharing Christ to a postmodern audience. Here’s a sample:

Daniel Hill suggests that 90 percent of the accusations Christians face are rooted in mistrust. "I don’t find that people have a problem with Jesus," he says. "They have a problem with Christians."

Anyone who claims authority today—politicians, parents, or pastors—will face the question of trust.

Rick Richardson, author of Evangelism Outside the Box and InterVarsity Christian Fellowship’s national field director for evangelism, observes: "When people ask questions about homosexuality, for instance, we’re tempted to think they’re asking questions about right and wrong. But they’re not. They’re asking about dominance and oppression.

"Homosexual strugglers look at what the church has done to women, they look at slavery, at this history of collaboration between Christian faith and Western dominance—and they say, ‘In light of that, how can I trust you?’"

If that’s the question, how can we respond?

The answer requires more than words. Christians, with PowerPoint presentations and four-point evangelistic outlines, have mastered the art of proclamation. But words alone aren’t going to answer the trust question.

Trust is built by actions, not words.

"We’re supposed to proclaim the kingdom of God and demonstrate the kingdom of God," says Soong-Chan Rah, pastor of the Cambridge Community Fellowship Church near Boston. "Evangelism for our generation means learning to do both.

"Part of proclamation means that we speak the whole gospel of Christ, not just the Westernized version of it. We also need to be good at demonstration—bringing healing to our sick society and at-risk neighborhoods, bringing wholeness not just to the spiritually lost but also to those who are under economic oppression."

I thought the article made for very provocative reading.



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