Hope for the Depressed Pastor

On his blog today, Thom Rainer sites a Lifeway Research survey of pastors about depression and loneliness. What they found is that depression among the pastoral population is very common.

I didn't need a survey to know this. I know this from experience.

I am often lonely and depressed as a pastor. Recently, Vanessa and I did some research into our personalities. We learned that people with my personality take criticism so personally that it can actually be paralyzing. It's not that I don't think criticism is helpful or valid. I do. But when criticism comes, it triggers something in me that makes me want to climb under the covers and stay there.

But when I think back on the most depressed and lonely I have ever been, it wasn't necessarily criticism that sent me in that direction. It was the evolution of my theology that put me out of sync with my fundamentalist church upbringing.

I was pastoring a fundamentalist church in Michigan before we moved to Arkansas to start Vintage. Through a series of events - most notably, turning 30 and preaching through Genesis - I realized that I felt like I was wasting my life and spinning my wheels. I was faking it on Sunday mornings. I was pretending to be excited. I was pretending to believe the pat answers of fundamentalism. I was pretending to have all the answers.

This lack of authenticity sent me into a spiritual and emotional spiral that I didn't pull out of for months. I credit the patience of Vanessa, the words of people like Brian McLaren, and the renewed hope of doing something risky like starting Vintage for helping me climb out of my hole.

There are a lot of reasons why we talk about authenticity so much at Vintage. I think, for instance, that faith requires authenticity. In other words, we can't be Christians unless we are real. But I also push Vintage to be a place where people can be themselves because that's what I need. When we started Vintage, I was fond of saying that I needed to pastor a church that I would go to even if I wasn't be paid. I have to be authentic so that I don't go back to that very dark place.

I've got a lot of sympathy for depressed pastors. I've been. I'm sure I'll be there again. Let us hold unswervingly to the hope that we profess. And let us hold out hope for one another.

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The Best Week Ever, or What to Say When You Meet Your Heroes

Last week was one that I will not soon forget. I had to be in California for work, which normally means that my coworker and I will try to catch a baseball game. This time, though, we decided to get tickets to see Conan O'Brien. Unfortunately, Conan tapes his show in the afternoon, and there was no way we'd make it in time from the home office to LA to use our tickets. I was sorely disappointed. Until I saw someone post on Facebook about Rob Bell doing an event from the Viper Room in West Hollywood. No to baseball. No to Conan. Yes to Rob Bell.

We got to the Viper Room and spent some time laughing at all the guys who looked like us - slightly chubby with trendy glasses. It was like we had come home. Right at 7pm, Rob took the stage. He spoke for over an hour and then answered questions. Mine was the last one of the evening. You can watch the video of Still Painting here. After he got done speaking, Rob hung out and talked to people, including me and my friends. I told him about how we give away Velvet Elvis on our church website, and I told him that he was one of the patron saints of our church community. I asked him to come and speak at Vintage sometime. We'll see if we can make that happen. He was funny and gracious, and I hope it's not the last time I get to interact with him.

Rob is a controversial guy. No one denies his unbelievable talent as a communicator. He is enrapturing when he speaks. His books are conversation and engaging. His videos - Vanessa calls them a cross between a sermon and music video - are mesmerizing. But Rob is quite polarizing. His book, Love Wins, got him labeled a heretic by many. My posts about Love Wins are among the most trafficked on this little blog. People either love or hate Rob.

I am in the love category. Rob, through his work at Mars Hill Bible Church, has helped me to see how a church can create an environment in which people can bring their doubts and questions. He has modeled a way and thereby helped me to be a better practitioner of the kind of faith that is less focused on the theological arguments of the past and more engaged in helping people to wrestle with the questions of today. Short of Butterfly Theology's arrival on the scene, no book has better summed up the kind of church Vintage is trying to be than Velvet Elvis. I am who I am as a pastor and Vintage is what it is as a church because of Rob Bell.

I was on a bit of a high on Wednesday and Thursday, pumped up and excited about having spent just a couple of minutes with Rob. Thursday began with the mixed feelings of excitement that I would head home at the end of the day but also dread that I would be on a red-eye all night before finally making it back to Arkansas on Friday morning. I got through the day and boarded the plane at 10:30 pm PT with the realization that I was not getting upgraded to first class, which meant that I would spend the next several hours cramped in coach and probably unable to sleep. I was texting Vanessa about my complaints when Brian McLaren walked down the aisle of the plane.

Brian McLaren is kind of the godfather of the emergent church. He's the author of many books. He is not as well-known as Rob Bell, but he is equally as controversial. He has set forth a roadmap whereby the church can leave behind its intertwinedness with modernity and engage more fully with postmodernity. In Brian's case, this has meant an embracing of interfaith dialog and science, and it has led him to positions on hell, homosexuality, and politics that make him not-so-popular with evangelicals.

But I love him. When I was going through a deep crisis of faith, it was Brian's book A New Kind of Christian that saved me. Without Brian, I doubt I would have left fundamentalism. Without Brian, I think my faith would have died rather than emerged. Without Brian, Vintage Fellowship would not exist. Without Brian, Butterfly Theology would be a very short book. He is my hero. And he too is a patron saint of Vintage.

And he was sitting three rows behind me on the plane. When there was a lull in the passengers boarding, I went back to talk to him. I asked the guy sitting next to him if we could change seats so that I could talk with Brian. Brian suggested we talk when we got to Atlanta. That was a better idea than me chattering away while Brian tried to sleep on the red-eye. I returned to my seat and had a hard time getting to sleep.

When we arrived in Atlanta, Brian and I connected in the terminal and headed to Dunkin Donuts for coffee and breakfast. We spent over an hour talking about a whole host of things. We talked about the future of the emergent church and seminaries and how to respond to critics and how Vanessa's theological transformation mirrored my own and mutual friends. Brian could not have been more gracious to me. He listened and asked questions and wanted to know my story. He offered me counsel and affirmed me in my journey. I felt the same way about meeting him as I did about Rob - I certainly hope this is not the last time our paths cross.

I hope that Brian is a words-of-affirmation guy because I showered him with them. Thinking of how much they have impacted me, I wanted to just yell titles of his books at him - GENEROUS ORTHODOXY!!  THE STORY WE FIND OURSELVES IN!!  THE LAST WORD AND THE WORD AFTER THAT!!  A NEW KIND OF CHRISTIANITY!!  But I was able to restrain myself. I did tell him that in a very real and literal way, he had saved my faith. I told him that he had been my mentor ever since I left fundamentalism. I told him that I had learned to have an irenic spirit from him. We talked about me sending him a copy of Butterfly Theology and how we could get him to Vintage to speak to our community. My fingers are crossed.

In the last ten years, two people have impacted my life, my thinking, my ministry, and my theology more than any others. Those two people are Brian McLaren and Rob Bell. They are my heroes. In the span of four days, I met both of them.

I fully expect to meet Bono any day now.

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Things That Didn't Get Said: further reflections on the atonement

Today at Vintage, we held a theological symposium of sorts, which you can listen to here, or you can search iTunes for Vintage Fellowship. In our journey through Romans, we have encountered the idea of the atonement, what the death of Jesus accomplishes for us. So, today, we decided to pull back and consider the atonement from a broad theological perspective. We talked about how the best stories can be told and retold from various vantage points and with different emphases. The story of the cross is no exception. Throughout its history, the church has told the story different ways.

Ransom: The death of Jesus bought us back from the power of the Devil.
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Release: The death of Jesus freed us from the power of sin and death.
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Redemption: The death of Jesus paid a price we could not pay on our own.
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Representation: The death of Jesus exemplified God's love for us.
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Reconciliation: The death of Jesus provided a way for us back into relationship with God.
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Re-Creation: The death of Jesus inaugurated a new world and reality.

In the hour or so that we discussed these, there were several important considerations that didn't get mentioned explicitly. They are too important to just ignore, and so I thought I would blog them. Anyone, those who were at Vintage today and those who weren't, are more than invited to join the conversation.


Metaphors

Throughout our discussion today, we referred to the various ways to tell the atonement story as "theories." This is quite common, but the more I think about it, the more unfortunate I think it is. I think it would be better to refer to them as "metaphors." 

Theories compete with one another, causing division and argument. Theories typically attempt to be a comprehensive explanation of something and can be easily rejected out of hand. Metaphors are different. Metaphors shed light and spread understanding without explaining everything. 

If we think of the various atonement stories as metaphors rather than theories, we can learn from each of them, recognizing that each has something to teach us even without telling the whole story. As metaphors, the stories of the cross are limited and yet complimentary.


Hebrew Sacrificial System
A couple of times this morning, we mentioned the Hebrew sacrificial system and the idea of telling the story through the lens of Jesus being the Lamb of God. What I intended to do and yet failed to do because of time (and my faulty memory) was to place this metaphor as a viable alternative to penal substitution. Penal substitution sees the atonement as a price paid on behalf of a guilt party by an innocent party within the divine courtroom of a just Judge. When penal substitution is told in such a way as to present God the Father as an angry, vindictive being, it can come off as bad news, not good news.

And yet, the themes of substitution are present throughout the Scriptures. In the Hebrew sacrificial system, the guilt of sin was transferred to an animal which would be slaughtered so that its blood could be a covering for sin. Jesus is the substitute for the sacrificial lamb, whose blood covers our sin so that we can be forgiven.


Universal Component
Today, like often happens in atonement discussions, we focused almost exclusively on the personal benefits of the atonement. We failed to explore the universal implications of the atonement. The death of Jesus is not just life for me. It impacts, in biblical terms, all tribes, tongues, and nations. The death of Jesus impacts the planet and the cosmos. Whenever we tell the story as purely a personal story, we miss the important universal components of the story.


I feel like we just began to scratch the surface this morning of what could (and maybe should) be a full semester of discussions. Thankfully, we have a lifetime to explore together all that the death of Jesus means to us.

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Guest Post: Lombardi Wins by Bryan Johnson

My dear friend, Bryan, doesn't like my take on Rob Bell's book Love Wins. We disagree. So ... we could do what so many people did in the wake of the release of Love Wins. We could call each other names, question each other's fidelity to the gospel, and condemn one another to hell, be it a literal lake of fire or a miserable party experience.

But, no, Bryan and I aren't going to do that. We decided to have a civil discourse about Love Wins and the question of eternal, conscious torment. We hope to help each other understand the gospel better while also demonstrating that two people can sharply disagree without resorting to vitriol and judgment.

After reading the book, and what I've written here on the Grenz (links at the bottom), Bryan sent along this guest post. Read it. Enjoy it. I will tear it to shreds in the comments. Join in the conversation.

A Parody of Parity by Bryan Johnson, Winston-Salem, NC 6/6/11
An analogous review of Rob Bell’s Love Wins


Lombardi Wins: Victory, Defeat, and the Outcome of Every Team in the NFL

With cameras rolling, the Super Bowl hero jumps up and down with his index finger pointed upward, shouting on national television, “We’re number 1! We’re number 1!”

Really?
He knows this?
Without a doubt?

In light of the endlessly frustrating NFL lockout, there is a way for Commissioner Goodell to get the teams playing again. But it is also a long term plan that, in the end, will surprise...it will astonish...it will amaze...everyone.

Up to this point in NFL history, it has been assumed that a grueling training camp, a relatively meaningless pre-season and a long, injury-prone 16 game regular season, followed by the playoffs where only a select few teams get to keep playing, has been the best way to play professional football.

Huh?
Is it really?

What about the other teams who don’t make the playoffs? What happens to all their effort? Is it wasted? Was it for nothing? Truth is: they spent just as many hours planning and playing as the other teams. Is it fair that they have to go home while a few “elite” teams get to move on? What kind of message does this send to their sponsors and fans?

Can Commissioner Goodell actually send these hard-playing, effort-giving teams into the ill-fated offseason with no hope or reward? What kind of commissioner is that? What type of sports league would reward a mere few special franchises with the chance to play on while punishing multiple others by sending them home for the year?

The playoffs are actually a time for every team to start over. To begin again. Like overtime, there’s a new coin toss. A football renewal, if you will. After all, the ground is level at the 50-yard line both at the beginning of the game as well as at the end of the game. And it’s time the entire season reflected that.

Besides, every player on every team already knows full well both the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat. For every game already has its own share of winners and losers, victories and defeats. There is victory in every proper formation, every perfectly run pass route, every first down scamper. Likewise, there’s defeat in every fumble, every missed tackle and every wide-to-the-left field goal shank.

Thus, winning and losing are not ultimate states of being, but present realities contained within every game.

Therefore, the subsequent rewarding of the Super Bowl championship to only one team at the end of the season ends up being both unfair and redundant. Plus, it only serves to further underscore (no pun intended) the chasm that currently exists between the football have’s and the football have-not’s.

Think of it: if the only teams who realistically have a shot at the Super Bowl championship each year are the Indianapolises, the New England’s, the Pittsburgh’s and the Green Bay’s of the league, then what incentive do the other teams have for suiting up at all months earlier in training camp? Why play every down of every game all season long if it’s all for naught in the end anyway? Such a system is terribly hopeless and counterproductive for the other 31 teams. More importantly, it raises serious questions about the commissioner, the entire league and even the sport of football itself.

Frankly, who are we to say the team with the most points at the end of the game always wins? Or, why is it the team who wins the last game is always crowned the Super Bowl champion?

For that matter, what exact formula for winning should be followed? Whose criteria for victory should be used? It’s possible for the concept of winning to be defined in many different ways.

Hence, a plan of surprise, a season of the unexpected...yea, a sport where mystery prevails.

What a wonderful surprise to all the Detroit’s and Cleveland’s of the league to take an entirely different approach to the season! It is high time to view Pro Football from a whole new angle.

It’s time for the NFL to change.
It’s time for more….

This season, when the clock runs out on the Super Bowl game at Lucas Oil Stadium in Indianapolis on February 5th, 2012, regardless of the scoreboard, instead of having the “winning” team come to the podium, Commissioner Goodell will invite all 32 teams to the center of the field. And with the sound of Freddie Mercury belting, “We are the Champions,” across the stadium, and with confetti and champagne covering every NFL owner, player, coach, staff member and fan alike, each team will rush the field of their own free will in order to celebrate and then be presented with, yes, its very own Lombardi Trophy in all of its splendor.

Every team.
The Lombardi Trophy.
No one excluded.

Everyone victorious.
United in joy.
A league-wide celebration.

No doubt, this surprising plan will have residual positive effects for the entire league for years to come. Players won’t have to practice each week with the fear of losing in the back of their minds. Free from having to explain failures and miscues, coaches will actually enjoy postgame press conferences. Many insufferable fans who’ve been disillusioned with their team’s perennial Super Bowl absence will be genuinely won back to the game. Many previously non-fans will finally come into the NFL fold away from Pro Tennis and Formula One Racing. Plus, every vendor will make a decent living just selling: “We’re 1 of #32 winners!” foam fingers.

In addition, it will be a huge windfall for the league and for the sport as a whole. Truckloads more in profits and endorsements will pour in. Every owner will be able to afford to build a brand new stadium with all the creature comforts fans so richly deserve. Why, even third-stringers will finally become product endorsers and company spokespersons.

As a result, Commissioner Goodell will be in his glory. He’s always wanted the NFL to be supra-cultural and global in its following. This will accomplish that and more. In fact, he could well become the savior of the entire sport, perhaps sports, in general (think Chicago Cubs, LA Clippers, etc.). Question is: does Goodell always get what he wants?

Think of it: he will be able to end the oppression of the losers and stop the exploitation of playoff-missers. He will rescue the poor in talent by shattering the arrogance of the elite. He will deliver the annually broken-hearted as he crushes the pride of the exclusive winners. Detroit will no longer be football hell. Cleveland will become dog-pound heaven on earth, here and now. Rebuilding years will become rebuilding moments. The future will be the present.

For that matter, consider the trickle-down results this astonishing plan will also have on all the Pee Wee leagues around the country, on every starry-eyed child who dreams of one day playing professional football. No more minivan rides home with a muddy, sobbing 7 year-old loser. No more cocky fist pumps and scornful looks coming from the victor’s sideline, touting the score and their pigskin prowess. No. Instead, participant ribbons for everyone! They’re all winners!

Lastly, this plan should go a long way to effectively (and permanently) end all collective bargaining debates, holdouts, lockouts and labor disputes. For at the end of the season, every team will get to raise the Super Bowl trophy and write ultimate victory into their own franchise story. You can’t put a price tag on that. Besides, it’s the love of the game for which they play.

Remember, “Winning isn’t everything; it’s the only thing,” said the legendary coach. And Commissioner Goodell couldn’t agree more. So while the plan may be a bit unorthodox at first glance, the surprising end results are extremely appealing. For winning isn’t everything; it’s the everyone thing. And winning isn’t just the only thing; it’s also the final thing.

So, although temporarily rolling over in his grave in Middletown, NJ, come February, in Indianapolis, IN,...once again...it will be Lombardi who wins.

Love Wins: More Questions, More Answers
Winning! (some thoughts on Rob Bell, not Charlie Sheen)
Hell's Bells: some preliminary thoughts about Love Wins

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The Roundtable

One of my most cherished memories from my time pastoring a church in Michigan is the Pastors' Theology Roundtable. The Roundtable was a group of pastors who got together every couple of months to debate doctrine in a safe environment. All of us had various beliefs that were off the beaten track that, given the rather restrictive nature of our denomination, were unable to be openly discussed in our churches. The Roundtable gave us the opportunity to present our ideas and to hash them out together. We rarely agreed, but came to love one another deeply and to value our time together.

The Roundtable affirmed to me that clear theological debate can take place without the name-calling and condemnation that characterizes so much of the Church today. And it has me wondering ... could we recreate the Roundtable here? Could the Grenz counter the blogosphere culture by being a place where people can pursue truth without sacrificing grace?

Admittedly, the flap over my review of Rob Bell's Love Wins gives me pause. But I believe in us. I am hopeful.

So ... here is what is going to happen.

I have written a paper entitled The Glorious Kingdom: mystery and generosity that I am going to circulate to a couple of pastor friends of mine. I am hoping that they will write a response, poking holes in my arguments and pointing out my blind spots. Then, I am going to post all of them - my paper and the responses to it - here on the Grenz.

I know that this is going to be lengthy. My paper is over 3,000 words, and that's without any responses. But I think it and the responses may be able to do two things: 1) help to dial back the vitriol so common in theological discussion today by demonstrating how to disagree with grace, and 2) further the discussion we are now having about hell and universalism. You can read and think and decide for yourself. And, more importantly, you can enter the discussion.

So, what do you think? Am I crazy for hoping to turn the Grenz into a Theology Roundtable? Do you want a seat at the table?

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Love Wins: More Questions, More Answers

An anonymous person commented here on the Grenz yesterday in response to the two blog entries I've posted about Rob Bell's new book Love Wins:

Winning! (some thoughts on Rob Bell, not Charlie Sheen)
Hell's Bells: some preliminary thoughts about Love Wins

I think I have been fairly candid about the fact that I am in the process of clarifying and solidifying my own beliefs about the idea of eternal, conscious torment in a physical locale called "Hell" and the implications of such an idea on our understanding of God. But, this anonymous person has asked several questions of me. I'm going to assume, maybe against my better judgment, that these questions were asked in good faith and not as accusations. So, I've decided to answer them. I'm all for this conversation.


You say you teach grace but I remember when you taught Truth & Grace. What happen to truth?

I believe in truth. I believe truth is found in Jesus. I believe the story of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection is the truest thing we know. I believe Jesus reveals truth to us, and by that I mean that Jesus shows us the reality of life in God. Most people live a sham, far from what God intended, far from the best version of themselves, far from reality, far from truth. The truth we are all desperately in need of is found in him. The Bible reveals and records for us the true story of Jesus. I love and cherish it. And each Sunday at Vintage Fellowship, I attempt to show how the truth of the story of Jesus intersects with our own stories.


How can you not be sure if there is a Hell?

Hell is no joke to me. It is not something I take lightly. A teaching about hell that includes eternal, conscious torment of human beings ought to get our attention. Sit with that for a moment. Eternal. Conscious. Torment.

Who relishes this idea? Sadly, I think some Christians in this Rob Bell debate come off like they do. Well, I don't. And I don't think God does either.

I believe in a God who grace is surprising and overwhelming and irresistible. And while I can't (and don't) say with any certainty, I am holding out hope that God's grace is greater than eternal, conscious torment, that God is moved with pity toward ... not just me and my friends ... but toward all of us. I am not a universalist, but I hope God is.

Is that such a dangerous thing to hope for?


Have you forgotten the words in the Bible or do you not believe them anymore?

I absolutely believe the words in the Bible. It's the translations and interpretations of people I question. When Jesus used the word "hell," what was he referring to? What would his hearers have thought of and understood? What are the Greek words for "eternal" and "forever," and are we eisegeting our western mindset into them when we read them? What is the book of Revelation really all about? How was it received and understood by the original readers?

These are the hermeneutical questions I'm asking of the Bible. I don't mind if someone comes to a different conclusion than I do. I think the Christian tradition is big enough and generous enough to accommodate differences.


You always told us to be very careful, to steer clear of new age religion, now you not only teach it to your church, you teach it to your kids.

I am not sure what is meant by "new age religion," but I can very clearly what I teach my church and my kids. I teach them to trust Jesus. I teach them that on their own, they are only going to screw their lives up. That Jesus is their rescue, their model, their only hope and help. I teach them be kind, to be gentle, to be sold-out for love. I teach them not to expect everyone to agree with them all the time and to, in fact, celebrate and learn from different perspectives. I teach them to think for themselves and to search the wonderful story of the Bible for the answers they seek. I teach them, I hope, grace and truth.


What happened to you Robb?

I'd bet that this question is meant to be pejorative. But it's not a bad question. It's true, I am not who I used to be. Maybe I ought to write a book about how I have been transformed from a fundamentalist pastor into an emergent church planter ...

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Winning! (some thoughts about Rob Bell, not Charlie Sheen)

I devoured Rob Bell’s new book Love Wins as soon as it hit my iBook shelves. I was tremendously excited about this book for myriad reasons: I’m a big Rob Bell fan who has read all of his books and really appreciate his style. Also, the controversy that erupted even before Love Wins came out made it a must-read for anyone engaging in contemporary theological discussion.

And … not the least of these, the topic has been of interest to me for more than 5 years now. As I wrote about previously, Vintage Fellowship was birthed in part by a question rising within me that challenged the traditional parameters of heaven and hell. Wouldn’t it be just like God to let everyone in? That’s a question I’ve been asking for a while now. Love Wins is a significant contribution to the answer.

While I am sure the folks at Harper One relish in it, much of the debate about Love Wins is regrettable yet unavoidable. Two things drive the inevitability of the debate: the intentional misreading of the book by some and the intentional vagueness of Rob Bell’s writing.

Our church gives out free copies of Rob’s first book, Velvet Elvis, to people in Northwest Arkansas. We have been criticized for doing so by those claiming that in Velvet Elvis, Rob denies the virgin birth. This criticism is an intentional misreading of Velvet Elvis. I am fairly confident that people reading it with an agenda would proffer much of the criticism of Love Wins. Readers who are looking to label Rob a Universalist will find passages to further their cause.

The presence of those passages, however, can be attributed to Rob’s intentionally vague writing style. It seems to me that Rob is going more for artistic impact that theological precision. While such an approach makes for a well-written and easy-to-read book, it also leaves Rob open to criticism and mis-labeling. In fact, the vagueness and open-endedness made it very difficult for me to discuss Love Wins with people who haven’t read it.

So, is Rob Bell a Universalist?
Uh, I don’t think so.
What does he say about what the afterlife will be like?
Uh, he doesn’t really get into that.
Does he believe in hell?
Uh, yeah. But not like you might think.

Basically, here is my understanding of Rob’s position: God loves us so much that he gives us complete and total freedom. If there is no such freedom, love would not exist. In that freedom, we all choose heavens and hells everyday. These heavens are hells are both present now in life and present later in the afterlife. Hell is the natural consequence of those who pull away from God, but ultimately, God’s love will win the day. Ultimately, all people will be reconciled to God and each other because love wins.

(As an aside, Rob’s strong dependence on the idea of human freedom doesn’t resonate that well with me. I’m a Calvinist, predestined to de-emphasize human freedom. But … I’m not a neo-Calvinist who insists that everyone else see the world the way I do, so I didn’t get too hung up on it in Love Wins.)

Certainly, Rob is under no obligation to answer all the questions his readers have or to package his beliefs in such a way that makes it easy for me to explain them. So, it’s taken me some time to digest Love Wins. And now that I’ve done that, here are some of my thoughts about the strengths of Love Wins and its impact on the debate about heaven and hell.

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One of the best things about Love Wins is its corrective of the all-too-common idea that heaven and hell are far off and someday places. For too long, our mental images of what heaven and hell are like have been derived from Dante’s Inferno, folk art, and tradition. Seeking different sources, Rob roots his position in an almost mind-numbing barrage of Bible references coupled with his now trademark reliance on Hebrew thought patterns. In the Hebrew mind, questions of heaven and hell are far less important than questions about life here and now.

Christian theologians talk about the “already-not yet” nature of God’s kingdom. Even so, most of the time when we think of it, we think in terms of the “not yet” part. Rob swings the pendulum to the “already,” forcing us to consider the ways in which heaven and hell are here and now. There is a distinctive earthiness to his descriptions of heaven and hell that break our comfortable theological categories and thrust us into new levels of understanding.

Another really important aspect of Love Wins is its embrace of the divine surprise on the day of reckoning. We tend to have it all figured out. We know who’s in and who’s out; who is going to make it and who is not. I joke about churches who think that they will be on the first bus to heaven. (At Vintage, I’m pretty sure that our bus is a Volkswagen … and I hope Jesus will be our designated driver.)

Jesus describes the day of reckoning as a day of surprises. Some who expect to make it, won’t: “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord’ will enter the kingdom of heaven.” And some who make it can’t figure out why: “When did we see you naked and clothed you?” It will be a day that people are dumbfounded and shocked.

I am sure that Rob’s chapter on how Jesus can be found in unexpected places will raise the red flags of the discernment websites. I can hear the blog chatter now, “Does Rob Bell believe that Buddists will be in heaven?” Or worse, “Does Rob Bell believe that Muslims will be in heaven?” These questions may miss the point. A better question is “Will Baptists be in hell?”

I personally have lost confidence in all of the very assured answers I was taught about who is in and who is out. When it comes to the eschaton, judgment, and eternity, there are only a few things about which I remain confident. One of them is that the whole thing is going to be one big surprise.

The best chapter in Love Wins is the one about the good news. Rob details how a gospel message that is merely a get-out-of-hell free card is woefully inadequate. If we merely view God as some kind of comic bouncer, we are completely missing the point of the story. Heaven is a party, a feast, a banquet, a blast. The good news is so much better than we think!

What is so dangerous about hoping that God is even more gracious than we could have ever imagined? Why are so many Christians threatened by the idea that more people would get to experience God’s eternal love than they had expected? Do any of us get heaven because we deserve it? If I don’t deserve it, what do I care if God shares it with someone other than me? Isn’t that even more a reason to celebrate? What’s so bad about hoping that the good news is even better than that?

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Love Wins has already resonated profoundly in the Christian community. And I expect that resonance to continue. The Last Word and the Word After That by Brian McLaren was an important book in this ongoing debate, but it will probably never have the reach of Love Wins. Many people like me have wondered to ourselves and questioned the traditional answers silently. Rob has put controversial and thought-provoking words on a page and invited people to enter into the white space with their own thoughts and reflections.

At the very least, Love Wins furthers the conversation about heaven and hell, the relationship between Christianity and other religions, the nature of judgment, and ultimately, the character and nature of God. These are important conversations.

These are important conversations because “heretic” is a powerful word that shouldn’t be thrown around lightly.

These are important conversations because beliefs matter, especially for pastors whose jobs can depend on whether or not they ask the question in the right way and frame the answer in a manner that won’t offend too many people.

These are important conversations because much of the planet is engulfed in wars that have alarmingly religious undertones.

These are important conversations because the gospel story we’ve been telling ourselves might be wrong.

These are important conversations because the fate of billions of people may hang in the balance.

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Hell's Bells: some preliminary thoughts about Love Wins

In large part, Vintage Fellowship was born out of my ever-increasing desire to be part of a faith community that values questioning.

I am a naturally curious person. I like to read books with which I will disagree. I like a good theological or political debate. I like to question authority and push the boundaries of the status quo. I doubt that I'll ever feel like I have arrived. I'm always journeying, always evolving.

This led to profound frustration for me when I pastored established, traditional churches. The denomination of my youth is very settled. They have received the truth once delivered to the saints. There is now no need to question or embark on theological exploration. All we need to do is fill in the blanks of our systematic theology notes and memorize the answers. Who needs questions when you already have the answers?

But I like to ask questions. I need to ask questions.

And sometimes, the questions will get you in as much trouble as the answers ... especially when the best answer you can come up with is “I don’t know.”

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One of the questions that helped to give birth to Vintage is this ...

Wouldn't it be just like God in the end to let everyone into heaven?

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The twit hit the fan this weekend over the promotion of Rob Bell's upcoming book about heaven and hell, Love Wins. It's a book that asks some big questions about the nature of how humanity will relate to God in the afterlife. Obviously, Rob Bell isn't the first person to ask these questions. And obviously, given what we know about Rob, the answers he postulates will stretch and challenge the traditional theological status quo.

But I'm willing to bet that the twit storm is premature.

Vintage Fellowship gives away copies of Velvet Elvis on our website to people in Northwest Arkansas who are interested in our church. I've lovingly referred to Rob as one of our patron saints. From time to time, we have caught some heat for this. People have said to us that we are promoting a heretic, that in Velvet Elvis, Rob denies the virgin birth of Jesus.

This is one of the common criticisms of Velvet Elvis. And it couldn't be further from the truth.

In Velvet Elvis, Rob doesn't deny the virgin birth; he uses it as an example of doubt, of a legitimate question that people ask and struggle with that shouldn't necessarily preclude them from the love and acceptance of a church community.

But so many of our church communities don't like questions. Why bother with questions when we already have the answers?

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So, is there a hell? Will God let everyone in to heaven in the end?

What does Rob Bell believe? I don't know; I haven't read Love Wins yet.

But it does seem to me that the church is not well-served by premature criticism of a book that very few have even read. Are we really putting the best face on the church and guarding the reputation of Jesus by taking to Twitter to denounce one another? Wouldn't it be better if the love of Jesus was trending rather than Rob Bell?

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But come on, really, is there a hell? Will God let everyone in to heaven in the end?

What do I believe? I don't know.

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RobBell.com
Vintage Fellowship
Thoughts About Rob Bell, John Piper, and Justin Taylor by Jason Boyett
Rob Bell: Universalist? by Justin Taylor

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On Being Biblical

*originally posted on December 10, 2010

I was born and raised in a particular brand of Christianity that championed the superiority of the Bible. Above all, we were exhorted in church, camp, and college to "hold fast the faithful Word," to "think biblically," to "run everything through the grid of the Bible." In a very real way, the Bible was the mediator between us and God. We did not ask if something was holy or godly or good. We asked if it was "biblical."

We didn't worry too much about spiritual disciplines, we worried about our "quiet time," which was code for a academic version of inductive Bible study. We slapped each other on the back for making new observations from the biblical texts. We argued over the merits of various interpretations of just about every biblical passage. And we studied Greek and Hebrew so that we could do our study in the original languages, which we surmised got us even closer to God.

This approach to the Christian life is helpful in a lot of ways. With the Bible as an anchor, it keeps people from wandering through life like a person who has lost her compass. It also drives people toward searching, questioning, and seeking ... Which is good, of course, if the Bible is the only place they look for answers. And, all in all, it's not a bad thing to have ever-increasingly thoughtful Christians.

But as with so much else I was raised with, I'm starting to have my doubts about this kind of Bible-centered Christianity.

First, I consider what Jesus said in John 5 to the biblical scholars of his day, "You study the Scriptures diligently because you think that in them you possess eternal life. These are the very Scriptures that testify about me, yet you refuse to come to me to have life." Jesus seems to indicate that the Bible is not the mediator between us and God; he is. How similar have we become to our ancient forefathers who knew the Scriptures but not God when he was speaking to them? That's a probing question that needs to be honestly considered.

Second, I'm beginning to wonder if being "biblical" is the best way to judge a theological system. With so many interpretations, how do we know which one is really right? With so many approaches to belief and life, how can we say with any confidence that I've got it figured out and you are mistaken? With so many worldviews, how can we say that one is true while others are not?

If our standard is simply what is “biblical,” we are left with having to choose who has made the most convincing case based on biblical grounds. And if the history of the church tells us anything, we may live to regret what we claim the Bible teaches:

•The case for the Crusades was made on “biblical grounds.”
•The case for slavery was made on “biblical grounds.”
•The case for torture is being made on “biblical grounds.”

In addition to these, the Bible has been used to justify war, oppression, the death penalty, bigotry, polygamy ... and just about anything else we want to try to justify.

Maybe “biblical grounds” are more shaky than we realize. Maybe we need some other way of discerning what belief systems are good, bad, and ugly. Maybe we need to listen to Jesus again.

“Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves. By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles? Likewise, every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them." (Matthew 7.15-20)

Jesus does not say that we will be able to discern the validity of someone's belief system based on their ability to prooftext their argument. He says very clearly that it is the fruit of a person's belief system that will be the indicator of whether or not their approach to theology and life is good or bad. Fruit is what matters.

How do we know whether or not fruit is good to eat? We look at it, smell it, squeeze it, tap on it and listen to find out if it sounds hollow. We discern and examine it against what we know good and ripe fruit to be.

In the spiritual realm, we know what good and ripe fruit is. It is that which is loving, joyful, peaceful, patient, kind, good, faithful, gentle, and self-controlled (Galatians 5.22-23).

So, if I am going to follow God in the way of Jesus, and I am examining the validity of a theological system or a belief structure, I need to ask these kinds of questions:

•Does this belief system promote sacrificial service of others, particularly those who have been unloved previously?
•Does this belief system foster a deep and abiding joy and satisfaction in life?
•Does this belief system make the world a more peaceful place?
•Does this belief system slow people down enough that they can seek to understand one another better?
•Does this belief system lead to gracious actions?
•Does this belief system encourage people to be present in the lives of one another?
•Does this belief system affirm a posture of vulnerability?
•Does this belief system encourage people to be true to themselves?

Recently, I heard a young woman speak about her struggle to find acceptance in the Christian community. She talked about how she tried to conform to the expectations of others, expectations produced by their belief system. And after years of trying, she was unable. The fruit of that belief system was a fragile and fractured young woman, depressed and suicidal. That can't be good fruit, can it?

In all honesty, I don't know where this journey will take me, but I do know that I've got a new compass and a new map. I'm going to begin to care less about whether or not something lines up with my interpretation (let alone someone else’s) of a given biblical passage and more what its fruit looks like

A New Kind of Christianity by Brian McLaren

*originally posted on February 19, 2010

Brian McLaren has done it again.

When I read A New Kind of Christian trilogy several years ago, I was in the midst of a spiritual and emotional depression. I was, in McLaren’s words, “between something real and something wrong.” I had begun to question a lot of what I had been taught, a lot of what I preached, a lot of what gave me identity as a Christian and as a pastor. And I knew that if I expressed my questions and doubts, it would cost me my job. A New Kind of Christian gave me the courage to step out and journey onto some terra nova, leading eventually to the launching of Vintage Fellowship, the emergent faith community I have the inexpressible privilege of shepherding.

For me, Brian McLaren’s books are like a turn-by-turn GPS, always one step ahead of me, guiding the way. In the same way that A New Kind of Christian charted the path I would journey, so now, I believe A New Kind of Christianity will chart the path that Vintage Fellowship is journeying.

A New Kind of Christianity has framed the ongoing discussion our faith community is having. It’s like Brian has been having coffee with us. He asks 10 essential questions:
-What is the overarching storyline of the Bible?
-How should the Bible be understood?
-Is God Violent?
-Who is Jesus and why is he important?
-What is the gospel?
-What do we do about the church?
-Can we find a way to address human sexuality?
-Can we find a better way of viewing the future?
-How should the followers of Jesus relate to people of other religions?
-How can we translate our quest into action?

McLaren engages each question thoughtfully, opening up a space for discussion, dissent, and development. I am sure my fundamentalist friends will not be OK with his questions, let alone his proposed answers. But I am no longer a fundamentalist, and I love the space to explore and wonder. Many times throughout the book, I felt affirmed, reading a perspective on a question that I shared. Many more times, I was challenged to look at a question from a new perspective. And what a blessing that space is.

As tremendously important as McLaren’s framing of the quest for a new kind of Christianity is, maybe his most important contribution to the discussion is his gracious and gentle manner. He describes some of the reaction his teaching has engendered. And he responds to some of his critics. He could have reason to come on strongly, defensively, and argumentatively. He never does. He maintains the kind of irenic spirit that I think makes God proud. I hope that I can emulate it.

Constantly searching for metaphors to help map the territory ahead, McLaren describes the maturation process of humanity in general and religious thought in particular in terms of the colors of the spectrum. As I read his description of the movement from red to yellow through green and blue to violet, it was as if I was reading my own story. In short, reading A New Kind of Christian and launching Vintage Fellowship was my journey into the indigo shade of honesty. But I am ready to move beyond honesty to peace. I am ready to continue my quest. I am not confident of much, but I am confident of this: A New Kind of Christianity will be a map I return to again and again as I seek to lead myself, my family, and my church into the violet horizon of a hopeful, peaceful future.

Thanks, Brian, for doing it again.

Dreaming of Community

He who loves his dream of a community more than the Christian community itself becomes a destroyer of the latter, even though his personal intentions may be ever so honest and earnest and sacrificial.
- Dietrich Bonhoeffer


I have been thinking a lot lately about community. It is word we use often in our emerging conversation. But maybe for all of our talking about the need for community, we haven’t reflected enough on how it is actually experienced. My thinking lately has coalesced around three ideas: community takes actual relationships, a heavy dose of reality, and a good bit of resilience.

I am always amazed by people who speak of community but don’t invest themselves in actual relationships. I’ve seen this as a pastor when people talk about how they love church community but they don’t talk to people at worship gatherings (if they attend at all) and don’t join small groups when they are offered. It reminds me a little bit of the young woman who has every detail of her wedding planned and is only missing the groom. What is community without relationships? Community is not some mystical or magical thing that happens outside of ourselves. Community only takes places where relationships exist, where friendships are growing, where people are connecting.

Relationships require investment. If I am going to be in community with a group of people, I need to invest myself in them and be prepared for them to invest themselves in me. Investment takes time, emotion, energy, even money – all of my precious resources that are already scarce. I need to listen and not just talk. I need to give and not just take. I need to initiate and not just respond.

True community also requires a substantial grip on reality. Bonhoeffer’s observation that people who love their dream of community more than the actual Christian community end up destroying the actual community is a profound one. How often has a person been so enamored by the prospect of being in love that they have driven their potential lover away by being too clingy and needy?

The same happens with churches. People come to church will all sorts of expectations (frequently unrealistic) and ideas and dreams. Many who have been hurt and burned by church are hopeful that their new community will finally live up to those dreams. Rarely can a church leap such a high bar. I get a little skittish when new folks at Vintage gush about how it’s the church they’ve been looking for. I know that if they invest themselves in relationships within our community that it’s only a matter of time before they experience reality. The reality is that churches are made up of weak, frail, and hurting people – and those who are pretending that they are not.

Weak, frail, and hurting people tend to hurt each other sometimes. Words are spoken out of turn. Memories fail. Priorities differ. Expectations are unmet. People are often selfish and immature and slow to do the right thing. The dream of community and the reality community are often far apart in our actual experience.

Does this mean that we should abandon the church whenever our feelings are hurt? Absolutely not. If we abandon anything, we should abandon our dream of community and embrace the reality of community. And this takes resilience. Community grows and develops over time. It is deepened and solidified by interpersonal conflicts.

Community is not a happily-ever-after fairy tale. Community is, to borrow another phrase from Dietrich Bonhoeffer, life together. It can only take place when we commit ourselves to experience the ups and downs, the joys and disappointments, the twists of turns of reality in relationships with one another.

This runs counter to our cultural inclination. We live in a disposable culture. Take the unfolding saga of Jon and Kate Gosselin of Jon & Kate + 8 fame. While it might be easy to join the crowd that is casting stones at them for disposing of their marriage and family. Maybe we ought to consider how we collectively have used up and disposed of them. Their story was entertaining for a while, and as it has taken a turn for the worst, we’ve been content to stand by and crack jokes. Soon, we’ll be on to voyeuristically enjoying some other celebrity’s crisis. When we haven’t invested much in them and when we weren’t realistic about them in the first place (even though they were on a “reality show”), it doesn’t cost us much to dispose of relationships.

We dispose of relationships far too easily. As Bob Dylan once sang, “But to remain as friends you need the time to make amends and stay behind.”

If we dispose of actual community too soon in hopes of finding our dream of community, we will end up never experiencing either. Community is experienced when we know each other well enough to be ourselves. Community is experienced when forgiveness is needed and extended. Community is experienced in the tears of disappointment and recommitment. Community is experienced in the joy and pain of reconciliation.

In Philippians, Paul spoke of the fellowship (relationships) of sharing (resilience) in the suffering (reality) of Jesus. That’s not a dream; that’s how actual community is experienced.

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Escapism

One of the things that bothers me most is our human tendency for escapism. When things are hard to face, we love to run and hide (kind of like Adam and Eve in the Garden). Rather than facing our lives and authentically dealing with our shit, we would rather try to escape, pretending like it all isn't happening.

Escapism is pretty easy to stop in alcoholism and drug abuse. It can also be seen when a young husband plays video games for hours instead of talking to his wife or when a mother dinks on Facebook instead of actually parenting.

But maybe escapism is most insidious when it is couched in religious terms. Today, I was waiting for Vanessa at an estate sale when I overheard a lady talking about how much she and her mother had accumulated. She said that she knew they should do something about it, but she just didn't want to. Then she said, "Hopefully the Lord will come back and I won't have to deal with it."

Huh. Is that why Jesus is coming back - so I can escape?

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Theology Group

Here are what my notes for this section of our theology small group have looked like over the last couple of weeks. I'll spend some time deciphering this in the coming days. In the meantime, I thought the picture looked interesting.

Thoughts?

In prepping for tomorrow's sermon about the sin of Adam and Eve, I came across this picture. It intrigued me. Thoughts?

A Path to Community

Believe - Behave - Belong

For a long time, churches have operated with this process to assimilate new members. To be a part of a church, the first step a person had to take was to subscribe to believing the doctrinal statement of that church. If a person had doubts or differences on various things, large or small, it would cause a huge hurdle to belonging. An elder or deacon board could even deny a person membership to a church for not believing the right things. As a result, people learned that to belong, they would have to cross all the right belief T's ... or at least pretend like they did.

Once a person consented to believing the right things, then they would have to behave a certain way to achieve belonging. In some cases, they would have to renounce movies or alcohol or wearing jeans on Sundays or swearing or smoking. At one church I am familiar with, a man had to quit his job as a casino security guard before he was allowed to join the church. Once again, people had to act a certain way ... often faking it ... so that they could be a part of the church.

The result of this approach is inauthenticity and judgmentalism. The people on the outside wanting to get in are guilted into hypocrisy by putting on their Sunday best and pretending like they've got it all together and have all the answers. The people on the inside get to pass judgment on who is or is not worthy of membership based on people's ability to conform to some external standards or their ability to articulate an approved belief system. Either way, the path to belonging is easy thwarted.

Belong - Behave - Believe

At Vintage, we are trying to invert this order. While we are not the church for everyone, we are a church for anyone. A person doesn't have to agree with everything the pastor says to be a part of our community. Nor does a person have to be free of doubts and questions to be accepted, loved, and included. For us, it's not about who is in and who is out. We see ourselves as a community of people on a journey, trying our best to follow Jesus together. We want to affirm anyone who is on that path, regardless of how far down the trail she may be.

Don't take this to mean that we don't think theology or discipleship is important. Quite the contrary. We think it is very, very important to understand and clearly articulate what we believe. We are trying to help people wrestle with their doubts and grow in their faith. And we think it's very important that people live according to the example of Jesus - with love, grace, justice, and truth. We are trying to give people the tools and opportunities to walk in Jesus' steps.

We know that our approach makes things messier sometimes. But we're ok with that. We're convinced that when people find a community of friends to live life with, a church to belong to, they will be able to best experience the grace and truth that will develop them into the people God wants them to be.

The Vision of Vintage Fellowship:
Because of Jesus’ grace in our lives, we at Vintage Fellowship belong to him and each other, becoming more like him, so that we can behave like he would, helping others to believe in him too.

Vintage Fellowship is an emerging church in Fayetteville AR.
visit Vintage online

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Where Is God?

Bad things happen. No one really expects otherwise. We know that one of these days, the shit is going to hit the fan, and we're going to be covered in it. I'm not sure if I'm like most people, but I always have some vague sense of impending doom, like at any moment the happiness is going to be shattered and everything I've been working to build is going to come caving in around me. ... And I consider myself an optimist.

Whenever bad things happen - the diagnosis, the dreaded phone call, the foreclosure notice, the offended friend - I've observed that people react to God with classic fight or flight tendencies. Some will take the opportunity of bad things happening to run from God, shaking their head and walking away muttering like Robin Williams in Patch Adams, "you're not worth it." Others will argue with God, debate with God, wrestle with God, trying to make sense of what God is up to or to trying to convince God to do what they want him to do.

Either way, most people end up asking the question, "Where is God?"

The idea is that if God were here, this wouldn't have happened. It's another way of saying, "Why would God allow this to happen?" We try to convince ourselves that the famous Footprints poem is correct, that eventually we'll find out that God was walking with us and even carrying us all along. But still we wonder. Where is God?

--

I don't know if it was intentional or not, but my church background taught me to think of God as standing in the past. God elected, predestined. He chose and willed. We had the idea that everything is settled, that God ordained it, that one day he sat down and decreed all that should come to pass. With this mentality, when we face hard times, we comfort ourselves with phrases like "God is in control" and "God has a wonderful plan for your life."

But this approach, when taken by itself, can lead to some unfortunate side effects. It's easy to develop a rather fatalistic attitude. We're just robots. Everything is settled, so why bother? Or, when things don't turn out OK, we are left searching for the grander purpose and reason in our tragedies. God must have some reason to give us this trial, we tell ourselves. But what happens when we can't figure that reason out? Do we end up blaming God? We end up blaming God, not just for keeping us in the dark, but for preordaining the bad things to happen.

If God is standing in the past, aren't we moving further away from him with every passing day?

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In recent years, it has become popular to think of God as being exclusively with us in the present. Some theologians, in an attempt to answer the question, "Why would God allow bad things to happen?" have suggested that God experiences those bad things right along with us. Since he is bound by time, living in the present. He not only hasn't stood in the past and ordained what would come to pass, he's not exactly sure what will happen in the future.

This approach is supposed to comfort us by letting us know that God is as deeply wounded by, disappointed about, and regretful of the bad things that happen in our lives as we are. He feels our pain. He's sorry we're going through what we're going through. But does it leave us with a God who is merely wringing his hands, ultimately helpless, neutered by the infinite options that leave him unable to make a difference in our lives?

If God has no better vantage point than I do, what's the point?

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I've come to think of God as residing in the future. This doesn't replace for me what is valid in the other perspectives, but it augments them with a fresh way of thinking. I now think of God as one who has a dream, a vision, of what the world - his kingdom - is to be like. And I think of him as having a dream, a vision, a goal for me. Maybe we could picture an artist with a masterpiece in mind that is presently being pieced together. I think God is there in the future, drawing me toward himself, inviting me to participate, to move toward him with hope for what could be.

This approach reverberates throughout the biblical story. Jesus told us to "follow him," saying that he is going on ahead of us to prepare a place for us. Also, in Ephesians and other places, Paul repeats a theme of fulfillment and fullness, indicating that God is moving things along toward a final destination in which all things are brought to completion in the kingdom of Jesus.

So when bad things happen, I don't need to hunt for all the hidden answers and purpose, nor do I have to either blame him for ordaining this or defy logic by somehow letting him off the hook. When things go wrong, I don't have to put my arm around God and comfort him because he's so upset too. Rather, when tragedy strikes, I need to keep moving toward God. When I'm asking "Where is God?" I need to keep reminding myself that he's up ahead. I need to remember that he is up to something in my life and in this world. I need to keep journeying, to keep taking steps in his direction by responding and reacting as kingdomly as I can. And I need to keep hope.

Wolfhart Pannenberg said, "God is the power of the future." For me, that's the most comforting thing of all.

Iconic

Right now at Vintage, we are doing a series called God, Is That You? (emphasis on the "that") In this series, we are considering our perceptions (and misperceptions) of God, and we are challenging ourselves with some of the highly unusual ways God reveals himself in the Bible. Two weeks in, it feels like the kind of series we're going to remember for a while!

In conjunction with this series, on Friday night, we gathered at Vintage for a unique worship experience. With lots of music and candles and quiet, we made Post Secret-like cards that express how we view God. The result is a fascinating collective theology project that is now hanging on the gallery wall at Vintage.

Enjoy.











Mine is taken from a compelling quote from theologian Wolfhart Pannenberg.


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Group Think

My small group this year at Vintage is one that is focusing on theology. When I first had the idea to have this group, I was a little nervous that it might be me and one other. I mean, really, can you think of anything more boring than talking about theology for a couple of hours every couple of weeks?

Actually ... I can.

In fact, a bunch of people signed up for the group, and about 10 of us have begun an ongoing conversation about what theology is, how we ought to think about it, how it changes us, and what it could look like in our postmodern day. It's been fascinating and exciting to be a part of this group.

My friends in the group are threatening to start a drinking game - every time I say "Stan Grenz," they'll take a drink. I don't think this is a completely bad idea.

Here is Stan Grenz, along with some others who though they've passed are still influencing the conversation we're having at Vintage every other Wednesday night.

Stanley Grenz

Wolfhart Pannenberg

Dietrich Bonhoeffer

John Calvin

And here are a couple who are still alive and, though they haven't come to Fayetteville, have certainly been a part of our conversation.

Rob Bell

John Franke

Pete Rollins


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A New Kind of Church

For too long the Church has been seen as an oasis in the desert - offering water to those who are thirsty. In contrast, the emerging community appears more as a desert in the oasis of life, offering silence, space and desolation amidst the sickly nourishment of Western capitalism. It is in this desert, as we wander together as nomads, that God can be found. For it is here that we are nourished by our hunger.

- Peter Rollins, How (Not) to Speak of God

Like a Thick Steak

Several weeks ago, I ordered How (Not) to Speak of God by Peter Rollins. I had heard about it six different times in a week. The last time that had happened, it was several people recommending The Tipping Point to me within a couple of days. I loved The Tipping Point, so I was hoping that this pattern would hold, that lightning would strike twice, and that How (Not) to Speak of God would shoot to the top of my favorite book list. The Amazon box came, and because of a whole bunch of things, the book sat. And sat. And sat. Until yesterday.

Oh, my. Is this a good book. You want to take it slow, savoring every bite. But you don't want to go too slowly because you don't want to get full before you're done. It's the kind that you talk about how good it was later.

Here's the first line.

Christian faith, it could be said, is born in the aftermath of God.

Sit with that for a moment.

Consider the word "aftermath." We normally use it in the context of a big storm, a city cleaning up in the aftermath of a major hurricane. An "aftermath" is full of deconstruction, change, and the need for rebuilding. But we are talking here about "the aftermath of God," not the aftermath of Katrina or Ike.

Does the arrival of God in our lives overwhelm our flimsy levies and defenses?
Does the arrival of God blow through our poorly constructed facades?
Does the arrival of God cause us to ask questions like why and how could this have happened?
Does the arrival of God leave us in major need of reconstruction, or maybe we could use the word, redemption?

It's not usually how we think of God, but I love this imagery. Sometimes God comes like a hurricane that leaves us utterly beaten down and destroyed. And from that destruction is born our faith.

I know some folks who have gone through the hurricane lately and some who are in the midst of it right now. It's not fun. But maybe its the arrival of God in their lives. And maybe it will birth new faith. That's what I'm praying for, anyway.

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