The previous books I have discussed fall under the title of “wisdom” books.  They are explorations of the general ways of God and humanity which point to a fullness of life and being.  In their collected state they offer counsel to how we should indeed view life and view our relationship with God and others.  They are practical and philosophical, gleaning their insights from life lived.

The next set of documents I wish to discuss, however, is a very different style.  Rather than being a collection of insights gleaned from life, we are shown the lives themselves, and must glean for ourselves the wisdom which these writings contain.   We once again find a pattern of God acting in generally expected ways, but at times completely throwing us off track in our thinking about him.  These writings claim that we believe not only in a God who is, but in a God who acts.  From how he acts and interacts, or does not, we can learn a great deal about who he is, and who he is, we find, is often unexpected.

In the various books of Chronicles and Kings we read of the continued story of the kingdom of Israel (though for the most part this was a divided kingdom).  Begun in the books of Samuel, this is the story of the “golden age” of Israel, when it was a military and cultural powerhouse in the world.  One can call this collection of books the Rise and Fall of the Jewish Empire.  At the end of these books we find the country in ruin, the people scattered, only briefly to once again ever be in a position of self-rule (until this very century of course).

This is the story of God’s interaction with his chosen people, an interaction which reflects a maturity of relationship and expectation from his people.  For the most part kings we are told are evil meet with ruin, and kings we are told are good meet with success.[1] Although the kings are given power, this power is not without regard for the giver of this power, rather these kings serve only with the blessing of God, whose justice will not be blind to the unrighteous activities that the kings and people may indulge themselves.

The lesson goes beyond simply analyzing the careers of certain kings, irrelevant to our own time and place.  In our churches, history is very rarely used as illustrative.  Although these books and others remind us that at our essence we are a community dependent on history for our foundations, we have forgotten how to use our history for our own exhortation and instruction.  We have been given these stories of how God acted not only for additional information, but so that we can also understand how God has acted before, how he tends to respond to certain activities, and how we can expect God to continue to act.

If we do not read the record of how God has acted he will surprise us, but by reading the accounts of his dealings with humanity we can better understand what will happen in certain situations.  These books are passed on to us for our use, for our analysis, so that we can learn about God not through what others say about him, but through what he has actually done.

Kings and Chronicles are telling essentially the same story, but with different emphases, as if it takes different perspectives on the same situation in order to get the fullness of what the story is saying.  In this way they are similar to the four-fold Gospels we find in the New Testament.  By offering different details, expanding and choosing among the various stories, different emphases are given which best speak to the given audience and emphasize a different aspect of the Divine.  The destruction of Jerusalem and the subsequent exile was a crisis moment for the Jewish people of enormous significance.  If indeed their relationship with God was based on their establishment in the land and the worship at the Temple, the loss of these would mean catastrophic trouble for their entire religion.

Yet in fact this was not the case.  The people survived because the emphasis was changed from the formal structures of the religion to a focus on the relationship they had with God.  God’s reaction to them was not based on their performance of mechanical duties, but was built truly on faith and trust.  The books of Kings and Chronicles tell us of God’s desire to save the people, to convince them to turn back to him, but we find this patience running out, and God destroying the confidence that the people had built for themselves.[2]

From this point onward their confidence would be rebuilt, but only after learning the lesson of absolute dependence on God once again.  At the end of Chronicles and Kings we find the people at a loss to do anything at all, forced to depend on a foreign pagan nation for their continued life, and suffering the indignity of being exiled.

Throughout these writings, however, we find an interesting, unexpected feature of how God works.  In times of evil kings, God would incite neighboring countries against the people of Israel, using the foreign nations as tools for his own purposes, relying on those who do not believe in him to do his work against those who did believe in him.  Even more unexpected, however, is the end of 2 Chronicles where we find the people at the complete mercy of the king of Persia.

They have no ability to even think about restoring the formal worship of God, yet in the last verse of the book we read, “Yahweh, the God of heaven, has given me all the kingdoms of the earth, and he has charged me to build him a house at Jerusalem, which is in Judah.  Whoever is among you of all his people, may Yahweh his God be with him! Let him go up.”[3] The speaker is Cyrus, king of the Persians.

The destruction of the Temple by the Babylonians was incited by the anger of God, the process of restoring the Temple by a forgiving God was first begun by a foreigner, who God used both to punish and to restore Israel.  Now that is unexpected indeed.

[2] See 2 Chronicles 36:11-23.

[3] 2 Chronicles 36:23.

What then is involved in the idea and shared perspective of emerging churches? In 2005, Eddie Gibbs and Ryan Bolger, both of Fuller Seminary, presented their significant research on the emerging church movement in their book Emerging Churches: Creating Christian Community in Postmodern Cultures. Rather than a prescriptive assertion for what they thought emerging churches should do or think, this book is a descriptive study of what numerous churches and leaders were already doing as emerging churches. As such, this volume is both a very helpful guide and reference for the core values of emerging church practice and theology.

In it, Gibbs and Bolger determined there were three main attributes of emerging churches, which were reflected in six further priorities. As the movement began to coalesce, other churches either adopted the shared values or began with these priorities as guides to community formation.

The list begins with a renewed perspective on the life and work of Jesus, going well beyond a limited emphasis of the cross and seeing the life and work of Christ as a model for his followers. As such, the whole Gospels become texts for our present life, with Jesus as savior and teacher. This perspective is often informed by the writings of Stanley Hauerwas and N.T. Wright, among others. The second primary value is a rejection of the traditional distinctions between sacred and secular.

There is, instead, an attempt to participate with God in all areas of life, not bound to supposedly sacred places or times, but rather seeing that the work of God is not limited to what are often artificial, constrained boundaries. Just as Jesus came into this world, and spent his ministry in a broad range of places, so too do the emerging churches see the mission of Christ in the church as going beyond typical religious expressions or property. Third, the emerging churches emphasize a holistic perspective on community. Those gathered together in and with Christ are called to a radical new expression of life that cannot be limited to set hours, places, or programs.

Following these core three, six more principles are priorities in the emerging church. There is an emphasis of welcoming the stranger, which means including those who are newcomers to the community or reaching out to the outsiders in society. This is hospitality broadly understood. Next, there is the ideal of serving with generosity, each person giving to the community the gifts and talents, whatever they might be, in an open way.

Coupled with this is a strong interest in all people participating in the life of the community, which may or may not be included in a decidedly de-emphasized weekly gathering. For emerging churches the weekly service is a small part of the holistic life as a community. Seeing the church as a community active throughout the week, throughout the day, in various places and ways allows for significant levels of participation, as participating in the church goes well beyond the narrow bounds formal ministry or church programs offer.

This then opens the door to the next emphasis, which is creating as created beings. Instead of being pigeonholed within a rigid structure and expression, those in the emerging churches are encouraged to explore their creativity in the use of their various gifts. Again, this may or may not be experienced in any given weekly gathering, but is more seen in understanding the broad range of spiritual gifts and missional tasks as being themselves endowed by the creative Spirit of God, who leads people into areas of creativity of all kinds, reaching out to others and edifying those already a part of the community in constantly renewing ways.

Because of this wide participation and creative exploration, the emerging churches tend to reject the idea of a single leader, giving his or her own vision to the community and fitting everyone within this vision. Rather, the vision of the Kingdom of God is understood to be wider than any one person, or even several. As such, the leadership of an emerging church community is broadened so as to include a wide range of voices and include each person as a respected contributor, to be listened to in the broad work of the community, and often more specifically having a trust in them as specific leaders in certain tasks. This does not mean anarchy, as there is generally a functional leadership that helps steer, shape, and teach. But this leadership is more about maintaining the context that others can be free within rather than dictating specific aspects of the regular routines.

As can be seen, there is a progression here.  Beginning with an emphasis on Jesus leads into a life of participatory, holistic community in which each person becomes a valued part, each person becomes a vital contributor, and together in a shared unity, the diversity of the Spirit works in the lives of all those who are a part, and uses this community to reach out to neighbors in various ways.

This gathering together in a shared life opens up patterns of worship that are not either intent about doing the new for the sake of the new, nor holding onto older patterns of spirituality simply because they are traditional. Rather, in worship, in a broad spirituality, there is an interest in listening first to the Spirit who is working in the community, and then finding guidance from the chorus of saints who have provided insights and approaches throughout the world and throughout the centuries

From a place of anxiety and restlessness about life, God calls us to a place of peace.  Our pursuits in this life are truly meaningless if we do not have God, and with God anything we do can be a place of contentment.

Life, however, is more than just living content.  There are also times of rapture, of delight, of joy beyond expression.  These feelings are expected to be found in discussions about worship or “doing right”, but we find in the writings an unexpected turn, not just a turn, but rather a complete change in thought and emphasis.  From the struggle against pessimism in Ecclesiastes, seeking to find any joy at all, we are given a book of delight, of joy, of true rapture which brings us to the bounds of human expression in all of its forms.  Though we deal with our doubts and fears, we are told that these must not consume us, for there is something more to life.  There is love.  Love in a way that humanity was meant to experience.

After we read in Ecclesiastes “all was vanity and a chasing after the wind, and there was nothing to be gained under the sun” we find in the very next book, “Let him  kiss me with the kisses of his mouth! For your love is better than wine.” This is an unexpected turn indeed!  We find a celebration of love, not between God and humanity, but between man and woman.  This celebration, however, is an essential part to understanding God, though in a decidedly unexpected way.

The love in the Song is all-consuming, rapturous and living, incapable of being expressed in straightforward words. Love is not just good, and the pleasure is not just wonderful, rather the author is forced to use imagery and metaphors which evoke the sense and emotions reminding us of the inability for the intellectual nature to grasp a hold of this bliss.  The love is alive, encompassing not only words but also movement, not only thoughts but also expression, it is not passive but proactive, seeking and receiving the other in a dance of spiritual ecstasy.  The love is total, filling the physical, mental, and spiritual parts of the person, overwhelming in fact these parts to the point of faintness.

The inner force of the love drives outer expression, the outer expression demands inner and outer response; an ever increasing spiral of bliss, which also teeters on the edge of despair if the love is not in fact able to find expression.  Although there is definitely a sexual aspect to this love, the modern, popular understanding and use of the term sexual seems to be less than what is offered here.  The song speaks of a dance of two souls, reaching ever increasing depths through the sharing and receiving, delighting in and responding to, each other’s entire being.

Song of Songs itself is a moment of light in the midst of darkness.  To read this after reading Ecclesiastes is to restore the soul to its heights, to bring true hope beyond just contentment.  This book is bringing love, in all of its forms, into the context of wisdom.  It celebrates love and sexuality in stark contrast to the oftentimes negative comments and stories we find in Proverbs and other parts of the Old Testament, where so many discussions about the abuse of love and sexuality are written down as a  warning.

The focus is often on the misuse and misunderstanding of sexuality, which has led to the view within the church that has long has dominated, understanding sexuality as being essentially sinful.  Augustine and others in the church have helped to form the historical suppression of any aspect of this kind of love, and with this the suppression of the “temptations” of women.

In the Song of Solomon, however, we find a contrast to the often negative view found in other parts of the Old Testament, and a clear repudiation of much of historical Christian teaching.  We are told in a dramatic way that we can delight in love, seek after relationships, be filled with the ecstasy of sharing soul and body with one another.  This is especially striking in that the primary perspective of the song is from the view of the woman.  In a culture and collection of books in which women were often used and abused by men, or were seen as temptresses to be avoided, this song is a celebration of the goodness of love and sexuality, in both men and women.

While there are many passages which tell us what not to do in areas of love and sexuality this song tells us that these feelings are to be delighted in and are a part of a life worth living and a life before and with God.   For those who seek to fit God within their expectations, this book has often been interpreted as being analogous to our relationship with God. These people could not see how such a book could find its way into Scripture if it were to be interpreted any other way.

It can certainly be said that the love discussed in this song has theological implications, that we can make some associations between God and humanity, Christ and the Church, so it is not simply a sentimental love poem.  But the stark message stands out if we are willing to let the writing shape how we understand God and life.

Love and sexuality here are celebrated, not denounced.  While there are many pitfalls and dangers, there is a divine aspect to these forces which are truly celebrated in Christianity and Judaism.  Life and bounty are to be celebrated and the Song of Solomon is celebrating life and joy at its fullest.  The God that celebrates with us in this is the God we have not been taught to expect, but is the God that we find in the writings.

Emerging Sources of Theology
At this point it may be helpful to better define the terminology involved. The emerging church should be understood as a broad movement of communities and individuals who share common emphases and priorities. This movement, for the most part, arose independently in many different locations, with it gaining more formal definition as various leaders and participants began to realize there were others in this world who shared the same frustrations and much of the same response. As it began broadly it remains a broad, fluid movement. Indeed, a simple definition that gathers in all expressions might be quite difficult. If I had to do so, however, I would suggest that emerging churches are nonaligned communities of Christian faith, with little or no direct connection to any denomination or traditional church, who meet outside of conventional church settings. With the breakdown of denominational control and the increase in people who reject the church while remaining committed to Christ, there must be a term for how such people voluntarily gather in a communal way.  I think emerging church is a useful one, as it points to a more dynamic response to developing trends of the Spirit.

The related term emergent can be applied to this movement as well, however, this may lead to some confusion.

More formally, Emergent Village is an organization that brought together some early key leaders and provided a more centralized context of discovery and contribution. As an organization they have been responsible for many influential conferences, books, and leadership guidance. Because they are often the more organized face of the emerging movement, there is sometimes an assumption the two—the movement and the organization—are identical. However, while Emergent Village is emerging, it is very much not the case that all that is emerging is connected with Emergent Village. As such, the term Emergent is increasingly applied to the formal organization while the term emerging is applied to the movement as a whole.

In discussing the emerging church it is common to refer to the emerging church “conversation.” For some this might imply a wishy-washy, non-specific, over-generalized attempt to evade specific doctrinal positions. However, rather than a dodge or imprecision, for those of us who have been involved in the emerging church movement the idea of an emerging church conversation is probably the best way of understanding the emerging church theological method. In misunderstanding this method, there is significant distortion of what the emerging church is attempting and how the emerging church is best understood as a movement.

Rather than beginning with either a central founder or leader, who asserts new positions on classic systematic points of doctrine, then forms around him or her disciples who codify and transmit these doctrines, the emerging church is a bottom up movement, whose emphases were formed in individual congregations, which came together in a loose bond after realizing there were other communities sharing the same values and priorities. Those in this movement thus see the developments as continuing to be a community task, with many men and women bringing their passions, and gifts, and insights to bear on any given topic.

Finally, the term missional is often used in regards to emerging church thought. These are not, however, equivalent. The concept of “missional” derives from the work of Leslie Newbiggin and Darrel Guder as well as others.[1] In essence, it is a perspective on the church in the culture, arguing that our Western societies have become so non-Christian following the last fifty years that our evangelistic and church growth models must adopt the attitude of missionary rather than Christendom assumptions.

It is an evangelistic attitude which shares many of the same key goals of the emerging church. However, not all missional oriented communities are emerging churches, and it is conceivable that not all emerging churches exhibit a strong missional drive.[2]

[2] They might, for instance, be more focused on community development, spiritual growth, or neo-monastic pursuits.

Last week, I presented a paper at the Society of Pentecostal Studies annual meeting. I was joined by Kyle Bennett and Kutter Callaway in our own session on the topic of a constructive emerging church theology. Indeed, their papers were more constructive than my own, and I’m encouraging them both to seek further publication of their papers. Mine was more introduction and background on the emerging church and the shape a developing emerging church theology could take. As such, I’m probably not going to do more with it, as I have other projects much more interesting to send out.

So, here is part 1:

Following the model Jürgen Moltmann has pursued in his various contributions to theology, I want to begin our exploration of emerging church theology with a story, my story of how I come to ask the questions of theology that led me towards a continuing interest in what is going on in the emerging churches. I was baptized in a Wesleyan church not long before I turned five years old. When I was about eight, my parents began participating in local charismatic fellowships and soon after we began regularly attending an Assemblies of God church.

I do not remember the exact date that what can be called a further baptism of the Spirit occurred in my life, though I do have strong memories of speaking in tongues in a Mario Murillo led service when I was about ten. The gifts of the Spirit and an active participation in the life of the church with these gifts marks my memories throughout my life, shaping my hopes and dreams, no doubt being a key part of what I felt was a call to ministry when I was about eleven years old.

Active participation continued through high school at a Four Square church. I greatly value the strong emphasis on prayer and the pursuit of God I found there. This spirituality was coupled with a trust in those of us who took the full Gospel seriously. We were not looked down upon, or kept off to the side while others did the so-called real ministry. Rather, as we were gifted and called we were given space to participate and lead. In the embrace of the Spirit’s work in this church there was a realization that the Spirit worked through each of those who attended, and there was both a respect and interest in this work, no matter one’s age or economic background or education.

Even before finishing high school, however, I began to feel there was yet more to this life with God than what I was experiencing in this small Four Square church. My older brother began attending what was considered a cutting edge church designed from the ground up to minister to Generation-X, and I started attending their Sunday services with him my senior year.
The pastor, Dieter Zander, was a dynamic speaker and leader who radically transformed what was meant by a church service and church community. It was a church for young, mostly single twenty-somethings, led mostly by young, single twenty-somethings. Here, there was a dynamic, holistic ministry approach which embraced broad participation and leadership.

This church is now seen as one of the key proto-emerging church communities, which while not entirely reflecting the direction of the later movement that sprang more fully to life in the late 1990s, did assert a new pattern of ministry for a postmodern society. Indeed, two more properly understand emerging churches, one in Pasadena and the other in Pomona, were planted by NewSong as a reflection of its developing understanding of mission in Southern California.

When I began to attend this church on Sunday mornings I was not in any way rejecting what had become vital Pentecostal influences in my life. Indeed, while I have not regularly attended a Pentecostal or Charismatic church since the end of my high school days over fifteen years ago, I have continually reflected upon the values and priorities and experiences I gained during my Pentecostal involvement, and these reflections have been an almost constant guide in my further ministry and theological development.

As I began my PhD studies at Fuller Seminary, I soon realized there were others in my program who were pursuing advanced theological topics and had a background in the emerging churches. While we, in many cases, seemed to come out of different theological traditions, and indeed had differing pursuits in our field of studies, there was a common, shared set of values that reflect emerging church priorities.

In discussing this shared reality, we increasingly realized that the nascent theology of the emerging churches was very influential and yet at the same time radically unformed. It our hope, our proposal, that emerging church theology can be more thoroughly expressed. As a beginning to this effort, I would like to first offer an overview of the shape of current emerging church values and thought. I will briefly lay out what we can consider as the key elements defining the emerging churches and suggest a method in which a theology from this movement can be developed.

While some books have unexpected aspects in what they say about God, some of the books in the writings are also unexpected by their very presence in the canon of Scripture. Ecclesiastes is one of these books. This book is, however, in many ways an understandable response to the kind of theology that Job presents, if not more directly a response to Job itself. Essentially, if the type of wisdom as found in the book of Proverbs is not ultimately reliable, if the sages could not predict what are the ways to success and the paths to failure, then an overriding pessimism about the purpose and usefulness of doing anything arises. This pessimism is essentially the acedia that the early monks talked about, a weariness of heart, an anxiety about any pursuit, and a feeling of purposelessness in life.

If bad things can happen to good people, what is the point of making the efforts to be a good person? As James Crenshaw puts it, “The wisest man in the East underwent horrendous suffering that defied explanation, and wisdom possessed only limited value.”

On the surface Ecclesiastes is shockingly pessimistic, with the central phrase “chasing after the wind” being used to describe the end of every earthly pursuit. All that is done “under the sun” is vanity. Having pursued the various aspects of life to their fullest the author wallows in a sense of meaninglessness. Even pursuing too much righteousness can end in destruction as “the suffering of Job indicated what could happen when a person became too good.” This broad negativity and skepticism about life seem to be totally out of place in a collection of books about God. But it belongs because it reflects reality, it reflects how humanity has often wrestled with God and with how we often think in our deepest selves.

We have been trained not to say “all is vanity”, but few of us do not find ourselves secretly holding onto this thought at times in our lives. Yet, although a surface reading seems to highlight the nihilism of the author, a distinct strand runs throughout the book which offsets this gloomy thinking. The book as a whole is seeking to piece wisdom back together, to understand the goal and nature of life. In the many ways the author has tried, however, no satisfaction is found. But one thing does remain. God remains, and God must be trusted in the face of confusion and hopelessness.

In our journey through this world there are many areas which draw our devotion and seek to lure us down their path, promising fulfillment and satisfaction. Though not bad by nature, such pursuits as money or property, work or vocation, sexuality or friendships are “chasing after the wind.” If we seek to find satisfaction in these alone we will find fulfillment always just ahead of us, but never reached. However, though this may lead to pessimism, the point of the book seems to lead the other direction.

Because all of our pursuits to find satisfaction are in vain, we should simply rest in understanding that our satisfaction comes from God alone, being content with where he has us or what he has called us to do in life. We will be disappointed if we try to earn our fulfillment or God’s pleasure, but if we walk simply, with the understanding of what it means to be in true relationship with God we will find this life worth living.

Life is indeed meaningless apart from God so, as J.S. Wright put it, “the plan for man is to take his life each day from the hand of God, and enjoy it from him and for him.” We would not expect to find a book of such pessimism and would be shocked if a pastor preached a sermon on the meaningless of earthly pursuits, but we find here in Ecclesiastes a genuine response from one exhausted by life which reminds us that God is not bound to our conceptions, and simply seeks to have people in relationship with him, not for what we can get out of it, but simply for the relationship itself.

Michael Eaton describes the book as being “both an evangelistic tract, calling secular people to face the implications of their secularism, and a call to realism summoning faithful Israelites to take seriously the ‘futility’, the ‘enigma’, of life in this world.”

More positively, however, he states that it does indeed call us “to a life of faith and joy.” God alone knows what the future will bring, and God must be trusted, but God is good and trustworthy so we should live in a way which reflects an understanding of this fact and reflects a real relationship with Him. This book is not what we would expect to find, but a close reading reveals that it is a book we need to hear, and reflects an understanding of God we need to embrace as our own. From a place of anxiety and restlessness about life, God calls us to a place of peace. Our pursuits in this life are truly meaningless if we do not have God, and with God anything we do can be a place of contentment.

Job is a book which responds to the points in life in which what happens is not what we were told would happen in other parts of Scripture. It is the tale of a rich man, rich not only in property but in character, rich in wisdom and rich in relationships. He is the archetype of a truly good man. He is so good in fact that he brings attention to himself. We are told of a conversation between God and the adversary in which Job’s righteousness is charged to be not an inherent trait, but is itself a result of his being blessed. Thus the question is raised whether or not his blessings come from his righteousness or his righteousness comes from his blessings. God is confident that Job is truly inherently righteous, so in a cosmic bet in which none of the participants are aware, he gives permission to the adversary to begin to take away Job’s riches and discover what is left at the core of his being. A righteous man fell into financial peril, a just man began to suffer from an incurable disease. This is not what we expect, and in fact strikes at the core of our beliefs and trusts. Yet this is how life is often experienced.

In his distress Job still has some friends to surround him, though his wife is rather fed up with the whole situation and encourages Job to simply quit struggling for understanding or answers. His friends at first sit with him in silence, not knowing what to say, so intelligently not saying anything. But they, after some time, begin to suggest their insights to Job’s inexplicable situation. They are, one could say, the voices of religious answers, seeking to point Job in the right direction by teaching him what is wisdom as it has been revealed. These are not foolish men, necessarily, but rather they are speaking what is taught in other wisdom books, and are telling him common answers to the problem of evil in this world. They say that evil is caused by sin, that Job’s problems are a result of his unrighteousness, and basically charge him as being the source of his problems and thus the source of his solution. Their comments reflect what is still being said in our day, and in our churches, by good-minded folk. If we did not have the “heavenly” narrative of God speaking in the beginning, we may ourselves have responded to Job the same way as his friends did.

What we find is that while these answers are not wrong in general they are wrong in this case. Success is not simply found by doing right, and calamity does not always come about by doing wrong. Life is complicated and there is more going on than what we see or expect. In this book, God himself speaks, first chastising Job for even questioning God. God here does not defend himself whatsoever, he does not refer to the “rules” or seek to explain how what he did actually fits in with what should be expected. God does not justify himself to Job at all. Instead he reminds Job, forcefully, of his sovereignty, but also of his care and justice. The answer to the problem of evil here is that God is God, and he is just, and we simply do not know enough to give conclusive responses to what is going on. Job’s friends were condemned for their speaking in the place of God to Job, while Job was upheld by God for his persevering to find truth, and willingness to not give in to simplistic answers.

God here is shown not to follow the “rules” as they have been laid out, rather he is shown to truly have a character and personality of his own, being truly relational rather than mechanical. Here we distance ourselves from similar ancient attempts of theodicy. In other cases, the gods are simply said to not be understood, and that life will eventually work out as it should. In Job, however, we find a God who is above all, who can and will do what he will. He himself, however, does not leave the situation here, but proclaims himself to be a loving, caring God who does intercede on the behalf of his people. We are not simply given an answer to the problem of evil in Job, but a response by God which emboldens and strengthens the heart so we can endure present struggles. God responds not by answering Job’s question but by revealing his own character and creation.

The God we expect follows the rules, rewarding the good and punishing the bad. The God revealed in Job, however, does not follow this expectation, and does not offer any explanation on why he does what he does. The God we are shown, though, despite not following the “rules” proclaims his love in a relational way not dependent on “gifts” or “blessings”. He is shown to be a true father whose love is not proven by “stuff” but by a true intimacy with him, which is constant in good times or in bad. He does not want us to see him as mechanical, but truly as one who desires our genuine response, whether this response be delight and love or anger and confusion.

God is shown here to be seeking after us as a father seeks after a child, not seeking a response based on giving and getting, but on true love, in all of its messiness. Job is rebuked for his statements, but is honored for his willingness to seek out true understanding of God which goes beyond simple “general human experiences”. This living, active, relational God is may not always be the god we expect, or sometimes want, but this is the God we need.

In all the charismata, there is an awareness of the other and participation together, rebirth becomes realized in community. Moltmann writes that “charismatic experience is the experience that this life, which has become old, has lost its way and is so heavy-laden with wrongs, begins to flower again and becomes young once more.”

In turning towards the topic of mystical experiences, Moltmann is asserting the reality that the Spirit is not simply a matter of shared action or doctrine, which is limited to an outward participation experience with others. Rather, in an intense experience of God in faith, we find a deepening of our own selves, in reflection of our particular relationship with God. This involves a reformation of our inner reality, which seeks ultimate fulfillment and can find this only in God. In the Spirit we do not only see liberation from outward forms of oppression, but also inward forms of inner dissatisfaction that then so often turns to dysfunctional outward behavior.
Even though he is very strongly oriented towards outward action, Moltmann sees the need for a strong awareness of inner personal reformation in the power of the Spirit, who enlightens us and empowers us to our true self.

Outside of this we only convey chaos. This is especially, I think, relevant for much contemporary Seminary and academic priorities. He strongly emphasizes the importance of proper perception in the Spirit, awareness of life as it flowers around us. Rather than perceiving in order to dominate, in the Spirit we perceive to celebrate, to orient ourselves in a pattern of life that reflects God’s holistic rhythms. It is only as we contribute according to our true self as formed by the Spirit that we contribute to a healing community (see especially his great comments on 201 and 202 of Spirit of Life).

Becoming in tune with the Spirit insists on becoming in tune with the Spirit’s work in our interior lives, with all its struggles, and places of despair and emptiness, and fears. Moltmann fully embraces pursuing a life through the wilderness, through the ‘dark nights of the soul’ so as to find a deeper experience of and celebration with the work of God in all its various forms (202). He moves on to emphasize the importance of both meditation, which is “the loving, suffering and participating knowledge of something”, and contemplation, which is the “reflective awareness of one’s own self in this meditation” (203). Meditation, in the Christian tradition, is a meditation on the history of Christ, which is a history we are “drawn into, where we are accepted, reconciled, and liberated for God’s kingdom” (203). We participate in this history in the power of the Spirit, with our contemplation involving us, as our own particular self, in this continuing work and history. We are restored to the image of God, and we are able to received God’s friendship as a gift. This opens us up to the path of increasing likeness of God in his glory: Theosis (205 and 208).

The acts and tools of contemplation are useful in helping us rise to these heights, but cannot be considered themselves an end. They are “rungs of a ladder, the handrails on a path, the halts on a journey” (206) The goal is not these tasks or steps but rather a fully realized freedom of participation with God in which we fully become ourselves in communion with his community. Moltmann writes, “The breaking of the shell, so as to reach the kernel; the abolition of the mediations, so as to arrive at the goal; the step by step withdrawal of created things, revelations and divine condescensions, so that God may be loved for himself; and then the abolition of God for God’s sake—these are the ultimate possibilities of the mystical journey which are expressible at all” (207).

As in his discussion of the charismata, Moltmann does not see mystical experiences as demanding a separation from this world. Indeed, just the opposite. While the mystical experience may take place in the cell, it is not the cell that is the goal of discipleship with Christ. “Mysticism,” he writes, “does not mean estrangement from action; it is a preparation for public discipleship” (209). These two realities of God work with us, mysticism and discipleship, belong together, inform each other, enabling a person to go into the world in more holistic participation with the Spirit, able to listen and respond freely to the work of God in whatever setting, increasingly no longer imposing a broken self onto a broken world, but instead being a representation of healing to the world God loves.

All of these inward and outward works of the Spirit in forming us as participants with God strongly emphasize the wide work of the Spirit in this world as the holistic spirit of life. All of creation is filled and touched by the work of the Spirit (212). This is a divine presence throughout all the world, where “God may be all in all” (212). The Spirit of Life is the Spirit who is manifested in all of life, pointing all of life to God’s eschatological renewal.

The cross of Christ overcomes all evil, all sin, all death, and transforms it into “goodness, grace, and election.” All hope for the world, without the cross, would be gone. Suffering would be isolating and without redemption. But, in the broad place of the Spirit throughout creation, life continues to blossom forth, wide and free, more intensely, and more unique (213). This wide work of vivification is the experience of the mystics and the martyrs, the hope of the hurt and the promised freedom of the constrained.

There is one book in the writings of the Old Testament that lays out rather clearly the God we do expect, the God we were raised to believe in. The book of Proverbs lays out the basic rules of life, giving to us a framework of living that will lead to success, in all meanings of the term. If we work hard, we will succeed. If we are lazy, we will not. A good wife will be a tremendous blessing. Running around with prostitutes will lead to disaster. This is a book that explicitly lays out what wisdom is and what is folly.

Although much of the Old and New Testaments are either narrative or situational, here we have a document which clearly delineates the nature of what it means to be truly human as God intended. As such it can be said to be a “manual for humanity”, the instruction book that will show how we best function. This proper functioning is called wisdom.

Wisdom here is a many faceted thing. It is the ability to understand others who are wise, the ability to learn about how to improve one’s own abilities, attitudes, emotions, and character. It is insight it on the best way to go about life, both in acquiring knowledge and increasing in the application of the knowledge learned. It is most of all, however, an understanding of God and who we are before God. Beyond this it is not simply having this understanding but living it out in a way that reflects this knowledge. “Life,” says Roland Murphy in his analysis of the Proverbs, “was a great grace – it was all, and it depended upon one’s relationship to the living God.”

The Book of Proverbs relates to us how life should work, telling us the results of specific activities or attitudes on our life, both present and future. It contains both practical advice in day to day living, and general counsel on the broader meaning of wisdom in this world. Though there will be great dangers and temptations assailing us in this life, true wisdom will bring prosperity that will last. This is not simply material prosperity, but also a prosperity of relationship with God and others. If all of humanity followed this “manual” society would be running as it was meant to be running, and there would be true peace in this world.

Even in the midst of this book of what we expect of God and life, however, some interesting unexpected aspects arise. It should be noted that these proverbs are attributed mostly to Jewish kings or wise-men, but not all of them. In studying the surrounding cultures and comparable literature of the time, another interesting fact arises, namely that these proverbs are not all that unique. In the churches of which I have been a part, I was raised to believe in the uniqueness of God’s interaction with Israel and the church, that revelation was limited to these specific groups.

Here, though, we find the scribes freely borrowing to supplement their own material. Their own material in fact does not seem to be all that original itself, rather generally reflective of the popular wisdom of the day. Richard Bauckham states, “Like Solomon himself the sages of Israel belonged to a world of international learning. Because their wisdom was not, like the law and the prophets based on the special salvation history of God’s covenant people, but on common human experience, they readily borrowed from foreign wisdom literature.”

This is an unexpected feature which some try to deny. This idea suggests that God even works outside of the bounds he has set for his special revelation, giving insight and understanding to those who are not within the specific frameworks of his chosen people. Truth can be found outside of our specific traditions, and we can benefit from listening to the wisdom which is found in other cultures and traditions, because it is not necessarily wrong, but may in fact contain valuable insights indeed. What we know about life is not simply due to our special revelation, but rather Proverbs show “that there is an important element of continuity between special revelation and general human experience, whatever some theologians may claim to the contrary.” This is not what I was raised to expect.

For the most part the book of Proverbs follows our expectations, maybe especially because it is dependent more on “general human experience” than on special revelation. If we do the right things we can expect good things to happen for us, if we do bad things we will eventually suffer the consequences of our actions. This is a great guideline for life, and one can truly say that in general this is true. However, this is not always the case, and it is here we run into difficulties if we expect God to react exactly as he “should”.

Most of us encounter situations which strike at the heart of our expectations, piercing us because we feel we lived up to our part of the bargain, but God has not. God is often found not to act like we expect him to, thus damaging our “relationship” with him. The book of Proverbs is how life should be but it turns out that this is not always how life actually is.

With this in mind we find the book of Job.

Jürgen Moltmann writes, “We must first of all discern who we are, what we are and how we are, at the point where we feel the touch of God on our lives” (Spirit of Life, 180). The key, for him, is the question “how is unity in diversity, and diversity in unity actually implemented in the community of believers?” (181)

He begins his discussion with a brief look at the Scriptural perspectives on the charismata, and emphasizes again that the work of the Spirit is not separate to any part of our life, but rather in participating with the Spirit we become empowered in who we are for the work of the kingdom of God (182). This includes our regular daily participation with God in our lives, which Moltmann calls “everyday charismata of the lived life” (183). There are, however, special gifts for the community, for the congregation, where the Spirit works in and among the participants leading to the kerygmatic, diaconal, and kybernetic charismata from which the church exhibits its purpose and mission (183). These are special gifts because they come into being as a community of Christ comes into being, reflecting a particular work of the Spirit in the midst of the community that cannot be rigidly separated from the everyday charismata, but do seem to have a special reality.

There is unity in the exercise of this diversity that centers on the discipleship of Jesus, which brings with it a recognition of the value of others in the community, with their distinctions. Attempts at uniformity numb the community (184), and deadens it. Rather, in the community of Christ we find a dynamic interplay of the Spirit binding us together and freeing us to be fully ourselves. Later in this chapter Moltmann writes, “We experience at one and the same time our socialization and our individuation. ‘In the Spirit’ we come to know the love that binds us and the freedom which makes us our own individual, separate selves” (196).

Moltmann turns to look at two particular, maybe even controversial topics, the gift of tongues and the gift of healing. With tongues he admits that he has never personally experienced this gift (185). Yet, he is affirming of this as a participatory gift, seeming to him to be a reflection of a strong inward possession by the Spirit that cannot find adequate expression (185). This connects with the idea of prophetic speech as offering a particular word for a particular setting. Again, he emphasizes the role of participation in these gifts that open up the voices of many rather than limit it to the few. He does, however, suggest that these forms of speech are not the only dynamic charistmata, and pushes for those churches who emphasize these charismatic forms of worship to not neglect the wider charismatic gifts—the works of the Spirit in leading people to move towards liberation, to work towards peace, to offer ecological solutions. Moltmann’s holistic pneumatology insists on charismata that more fully reflect the whole work of the Spirit, not simply in a congregation gathered for worship, but also in the world and for the world.

This is about individual and communal becoming, becoming whole in shared participation with the Spirit of Christ. In the broad place of love we find hope and healing, place and purpose, to stretch our being and identity in creative explorations of life. This healing is not just social or emotional, but involves, as we see in the New Testament the reality of physical healing as well. The holiness of the Spirit overcomes the darkness of corruption and brokenness, and in this holiness, in this Spirit of wholeness there is healing. “God’s Spirit,” Moltmann writes, “is a living engery that interpenetrates the bodies of men and women and drives out the germs of death” (190). Healing is a testimony of the eschatological reality of God’s eternal kingdom. In experiencing suffering, God brings healing to those who are suffering, embracing those who are sick, and communicating renewing life (191).

Yet, the reality of God’s healing is not something all experience in this present, and to see the results of healing as the sign of God’s favor and the lack of healing as God’s disfavor is to strongly misunderstand God’s whole work. There is, he argues, a charisma of the handicapped life. “No one,” Moltmann writes, “is useless and of no value”(192). This is more than a kind acknowledgment of people who may not seem to contribute very much. Rather, Moltmann presses the point further in light of his previous discussion. He writes, “If whatever a person is and brings with him becomes a charisma through his calling, this has to be true of his disablement too. If through the calling the splendor of God’s love falls on a life, it begins to shine. There are handicapped, sick and disfigured people whose faces shine in just this way” (193).

In all the hurts and disablements, God’s “suffering power is revealed”. In this, disabled men and women are not simply the receivers of help and gifts, but in their shared participation with God offer a significant awareness and contribution in return, the absence of which impoverishes the wider, more conventionally healthy community.