In late Spring of 1725, Susanna Wesley wrote a letter to her second oldest son, whom she called Jacky.  After noting some particular frustrations experienced by his brother Charles on a recent journey, frustrations that involved his sister Hester, Susanna turns to more theological musings.  John, it seems, included some quotes from Thomas à Kempis in a previous letter, and Susanna shared her opinion that à Kempis was “extremely wrong” to suggest that God “by an irreversible decree hath determined any man to be miserable in this world.”[1]

She goes on to write, “Our blessed Lord, who came from heaven to save us from our sins… did not intend by commanding us to ‘take up the cross’ that we should bid adieu to all joy and satisfaction [indefinitely], but he opens and extends our views beyond time to eternity.  He directs us to place our joy that it may be durable as our being; not in gratifying but in retrenching our sensual appetites; not in obeying but correcting our irregular passions, bringing every appetite of the body and power of the soul under subjection to his laws, [if we would follow him to heaven].”[2]

We are to take up our cross, she writes to John, as a contrast to “our corrupt animality” in order to fight under “his banner against the flesh.” This fight is not an empty one, because “when by the divine grace we are so far conquerors as that we never willingly offend, but still press after greater degrees of Christian perfection… we shall then experience the truth of Solomon’s assertion, ‘The ways of virtue are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.’”[3]

After her brief theological insights, Susanna returns to the topic of  à Kempis noting that she takes “Kempis to have been an honest, weak man, that had more zeal than knowledge, by his condemning all mirth or pleasure as sinful.”  Misery is seen as misery to Susanna, who acknowledges how it can be used by God, but is not itself the place God leads us.  “We may and ought to rejoice that God has assured us he will never leave or forsake us; but if we continue faithful to him, he will take care to conduct us safely through all the changes and chances of this mortal life to those blessed regions of joy and immortality where sorrow and sin can never enter!”

---

[1]Charles Wallace, Jr., ed. Susanna Wesley: The Complete Writings (New York: Oxford University Press,1997), 107.

[2] Wallace, Susanna Wesley, 108.

[3] Wallace, Susanna Wesley, 108.

In the days when I still hated Christianity, I learned to recognize, like some all too familiar smell, that almost unvarying something which met me, now in Puritan Bunyan, now in Anglican Hooker, now in Thomist Dante. It was there (honeyed and florid) in François de Sales; it was there (grave and homely) in Spenser and Walton; it was there (grim but manful) in Pascal and Johnson; there again, with a mild frightening, Paradisial flavor, in Vaughan and Boehme and Traherne. In the urban sobriety of the eighteenth century one was not safe—Law and Butler were two lions in the path. The supposed ‘Paganism’ of the Elizabethans could not keep it out; it lay in wait where a man might have supposed himself safest, in the very centre of The Faerie Queene and the Arcadia. It was, of course, varied; and yet—after all—so unmistakably the same; recognizable, not to be evaded, the odour which is death to us until we allow it to become life:

an air that kills
From yon far country blows.

(C.S. Lewis, “On the Reading of Old Books” in God in the Dock)

Well, if you’re wondering where I’ve been, I’ve been engaged in a very busy quarter, reading a lot and recently writing a lot.  I just turned in my paper for the quarter.  It was 60 pages long, plus a 6 page bibliography.

The title was “Spirit and Truth:  A Study of Susanna Wesley, John Wesley, and John Fletcher as Participants in the Stream of the Spirit’s Work”

Here’s the conclusion:

As my goal was to look at Wesley as part of a stream of the Spirit’s work through the course of history, I primarily focused on those influences which fed into and flowed out of his significant contributions.  Although not within the scope of this present effort, the political, social, and religious contexts of his era were also vitally important and understanding these more fully is essential to understanding not only what Wesley thought but also how he applied and expressed his underlying priorities.[1] Wesley was, to be sure, an intellectual man whose eclectic reading and education shaped him significantly more than most of his era, yet a person can never be independent from their social surroundings.  Indeed, Wesley’s immensely practical interests make his social and intellectual climate even more important for study.

Seeing the work of the Spirit in an ecological rather than reductionistic fashion means that to most fully understand a context we have to look before and after, into the specific details of the people and settings, while keeping in mind the general patterns the Spirit seems to exhibit in every era. In this work, my goal was not to offer a comprehensive view of Wesley or Methodism, but rather to narrow my focus on particular influences which seemed to have led Wesley to explore certain paths, and shaped how he led others down these paths.  To be sure, there were even significantly more religious and literary influences which affected Wesley, each of which deserves fuller study, though I selected those which I felt were the most influential, with other influences often either honing or expanding what the initial influences prompted in Wesley’s continuing quest for a holistic faith.

This quest for a holistic, more purely expressed faith was not new to Wesley.  Indeed, this is the expression of the work of the Spirit in the life of the church since the day of Pentecost.  The Spirit has called and enabled the people of God to more fully participate with God in this world.  This participation calls people to turn away from their own attempts to bring definition to their life, which only lead to an incomplete identity in a struggle against the contrasting forces faced in this world.  The attempts to bring hope or definition or peace are, ultimately, unsuccessful.  For death entered into this world, and death calls all people into its grasp.  Death came into this world through the first man, Adam, but death was overcome by the new Adam, Jesus of Nazareth, who died on the cross but did not remain dead.

After three days, he was resurrected, in the power of the Spirit, the firstborn of all creation becomes the first of the resurrection, and offers this hope to all who seek him, letting themselves find their identity in his identity. In doing this, such people do not lose their self. By letting go of attempts at self-definition, by letting go of the ego’s attempt to form a false, defensive identity, the power of the Spirit reaches in and provides renewal, refreshing, and resurrection, even in this present life.  In the life of Christ, we are given life. In the power of the Spirit, we are reborn to new identities, able to take hold of the fullness of God’s reality, participating increasingly in his fellowship, and in this, participating in the fellowship of all his people.

This fellowship of God’s people in this present era is called the Church.  It is a reflection of God’s Kingdom, formed in unity and diversity to be a people who hope, who help, who love.  Yet, the Church, like present humanity, is not always, or even often, fully reflecting this call in the world.  In every age there are errors and heresies, mistakes caused by zealousness or distortions enabled by gross perversions allowed in sometimes even the highest leadership.  The Spirit who calls the people, who empowers the people, does not abandon the people.  In every age there is a constant work of the Spirit of God, calling people back to wholeness and truth, empowering those who truly seek Christ to be light in their contexts, teaching and prophesying, for the sake of the whole of God’s people.  This work of the Spirit often enlightens the people to a more fully realized truth, building on the insights of the past to help each generation see more and more clearly the fullness of the truth that God is calling all humanity to live.  This stream of the Spirit refreshes and enlivens; it sometimes breaks down but it also helps build up, bringing fresh life wherever it goes, even in the face of deep struggle.

Martin Luther participated in this stream, seeing the perversions of the Church of his era and fighting against them, and when they would not listen he helped lead the Church to new forms of gathering, forms in which the people could, once again, find more freedom in their worship and learning.  Yet, there was not an end to corruption or distortion.  The Spirit continued to work, however, leading men and women to find renewal as they explored the fresh paths of the Spirit. Often this involved looking back to those who had walked with God in previous generations. They followed the call to “Stand at the crossroads, and look, and ask for the ancient paths, where the good way lies; and walk in it, and find rest for your souls.”[2] In England, a people arose who were known as Puritans, for they sought a refreshed purity in the Church of England.  However, even as many sought with a Spirit-enlightened spark, the church still had not found the full way of light. Errors were made.  People were lost.

The Spirit, however, continued to work, both in those who remained in the Church of England, and in those who Dissented from it.  Susanna Wesley, a daughter of Dissent, returned to the Church of England when she was a young teenager, following a call on her life that led her to a deeper spirituality, and an intimate relationship with a man who also sought God in his return to the Anglican communion.  They had many children, and Susanna saw it as her life mission to help these children learn how to participate with Christ, to truly walk with the Spirit in life and light.  The testimony to Susanna’s faithfulness in Spirit and Truth is seen in her children, the most famous of whom is John Wesley, a man who helped transform people not only in England, Scotland, Wales, and Ireland, but also throughout North America.

It was in England, however, that Wesley’s continued leadership through preaching, teaching, and writing found some of his most treasured growth.  A young Swiss man named John Fletcher was drawn into the Methodist fold, and was soon drawn into John Wesley’s own inner circle, becoming a helper and a friend, and one of the most important interpreters of Wesley’s theology, helping the many tributaries which poured into and out of John Wesley to find even greater cohesion.  They sought perfection, but not perfection as performance. Rather, they sought a perfection that was itself a gift and testimony of the Holy Spirit, a true holiness which was reflected in inner purity and outward actions, a purity that was at its very depths one filled will divine love.

This stream did not stop in the age of Wesley and Fletcher. Their contributions helped to steer others, men and women, towards an even better understanding of the call of God in this world.  Though there were also still temptations and distortions and many mistakes leading particular churches down wrong roads and out of the stream of the call of Christ, there was always a testimony of God’s Spirit in this world, calling and leading, enlightening and empowering.  John Fletcher called this great work of the Spirit in a person the baptism of the Spirit, seeing it as a continual Pentecost that can be experienced in each person, in each generation.

Those in the late nineteenth and twentieth centuries understood this to be a true call to the signs of the earliest church, and sought a renewed Pentecost in holiness and healings, tongues and prophesying.  The renewal the Puritans sought in England found new insight in Susanna Wesley, who passed her wisdom to her son John, who was a mentor to John Fletcher, who gave new insights and understanding to men and women of, at first, two continents, and then many.  This is a church that is constantly emerging, finding both renewal and fresh insight in every generation.

This stream of the Spirit continues to pour out even to our day.  Often, as in the beginning, this work of the Spirit is warming hearts in unexpected places and among unexpected people and in unexpected ways.

Supreme eternal being!  Fountain of life and happiness! Vouchsafe to be ever present to the inward sense of my mind. I offer you my heart—take possession by the Holy Spirit for the sake of Jesus Christ.  Amen. Amen.[3]

---

[1] Very helpful texts for understanding the context of Wesley, Methodism, and nonconformity in general are the earlier works of  J. Wesley Bready, England, before and after Wesley : The Evangelical Revival and Social Reform (London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1938) and  Maldwyn Lloyd Edwards, After Wesley: A Study of the Social and Political Influence of Methodism in the Middle Period (1791-1849) (London: Epworth Press, 1935).  For more contemporary studies see David Hempton, Methodism and Politics in British Society, 1750-1850 (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1984); David Hempton, The Religion of the People : Methodism and Popular Religion C. 1750-1900 (New York: Routledge, 1996); David Hempton, Methodism Empire of the Spirit (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2005); James E. Bradley, Religion, Revolution, and English Radicalism: Nonconformity in Eighteenth-Century Politics and Society ( New York: Cambridge University Press, 1990); Mark A. Noll, The Rise of Evangelicalism: The Age of Edwards, Whitefield, and the Wesleys, A History of Evangelicalism ; V. 1 (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2003); Patrick Karl O’Brien and Roland E. Quinault, eds., The Industrial Revolution and British Society (New York: Cambridge University Press,1993).

[2] Jeremiah 6:16.

[3] From the journal of Susanna Wesley, in Wallace, Susanna Wesley, 333.

Last quarter I took a class on pneumatology, the study of the Holy Spirit. My final paper was on proposing a pneumatological historiography. In human language, I suggested that we should look for the Holy Spirit in our historical studies and I proposed some ways to start doing that. I had about forty-two pages of stuff to say on the topic. Well, I had a whole lot more to say, meaning this might be, hopefully will be, a future book project. The quarter ended a week ago, and I got the paper back this past Wednesday. Got an A on it. So, another fruitful quarter behind me, and more work about to start up tomorrow.

Here’s my conclusion to my paper “Whither the Spirit?”:

Philosophy tends toward a binary with God and Son, often adding mentions of the Spirit as a rhetorical flair, or as a term for idealized human achievement. The recent turn towards a dialogue with Science, which seems to dominate discussion in theological studies these days makes a strong, and very encouraging, embrace of relevant fields of God’s creative power in this world, providing interesting analogies and ideas for theological reflection. However, in far too many of these discussions, the person of Jesus is extraneous, a rhetorical flair meant to “Christianize” a broadly panphysical coordination of theology and science, and in this, I might suggest offers another binarian form, that of a Father and Spirit, sans Son. It is in the study of history that we can see a truly Trinitarian revelation, and with this, such a study must continue to reorient itself along Trinitarian lines.

Such a study does not look for obvious Spirit language nor great signs of supposed miracles or mystical events. Though these may occur within a truly pneumatological moment, these cannot be seen as necessary, predominant, or even common expressions of such a movement. As shown, the reality of human history is a chaotic structure in which the work of the Spirit could be embedded in a myriad of different ways, moving in certain situations, stirring slight moods, tweaking specific moments in ways that would well be imperceptible to anyone in a given situation. Seeing the Spirit only as a publicly obvious, charismatic force inciting dramatic gifts, visions, or intense piety leaves the discussion of the Spirit off to the side in most historical situations. Thus, to look for the Spirit in history is not to become voyeurs of the Spirit. Rather, if the Spirit remains behind the scenes, we do not look for obvious moments or extraordinary events of supernatural activity. We have to instead discover the cues which point to the work of the Spirit, a work which has at its heart the fullness of God’s holistic, enlivening, salvific work as reflected in, and returning all creation back towards, the person of Christ.

This study brings with it significant challenges on both sides of history and theology. Fortunately, while these have not maintained significant dialogue, there is very helpful guidance to be found from scholars in each field, indeed too much to be properly digested in even an extended essay. More work needs to be done in more thoroughly considering the theological contributions of Pannenberg, Moltmann, and others, who have indeed suggested a robust theology of history based on the Triune God’s creative work in this world. While they have not provided significant examples of how this might be worked out, we can take valuable guidance from the many historians who have long wrestled with what it means to be a person of Christian faith working in historical studies. Alongside broader considerations of contemporary historiography it is possible to begin a more substantive development of a pneumatological history that takes seriously not only the content of God’s own revelation but also the method he has seemingly chosen to offer this revelation. It is in history that God reveals himself, and continues to reveal himself as this history presses on towards eternity.

“Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And all of us, with unveiled faces, seeing the glory of the Lord as though reflected in a mirror, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another; for this comes from the Lord, the Spirit.” (2 Corinthians 3:18-19).

Last quarter I did what is called a Directed Reading. Rather than having a class, I worked out a course of study with a professor, Jim Bradley, and worked independently. This basically was a whole lot of reading and a final paper.

The reason for doing this was because I decided to add a Church history minor to my PhD. Basically, this means that while my PhD still is in systematic theology, I’m adding an extra course of study that widens my area of specialty. Meaning I have more job possibilities when I’m done, and more interest while I’m on my way through it.

My focus this last quarter was on early American church history. Read all of the writings of Roger Williams, and key early documents from the Quakers, as well as key source material about Anne Hutchinson. Made for a very interesting season of reading, as this era was quite religiously vibrant–a lot more so than most people realize.

This work is also going to pour into some continued interests of mine, so I see all the various streams I’m wading in contributing to a fuller (ha!) course of study, which may end up being a career’s worth of work. Now, this is just the beginning, making it feel daunting and exciting.

All this was basically a lead in to the main purpose of this post. If you’re at all curious about Roger Williams, Anne Hutchinson, and early Quakers then I just posted my paper online. If I ever want to do anything more with it, I might take it offline, but for now it’s here for your enjoyment. I’d love to hear thoughts, questions, comments if you have any.

More Pure than the Puritans: A Study of Nonconformity in 17th Century America

So why did Roger Williams, Anne Hutchinson, and the Quakers make such strong stands against the establishment churches of their time and region? It was not solely a reaction against a restrictive religion, nor an attempt to water down the demands it was assumed Christ made on their souls. Indeed, just the opposite. They were increasingly strident against their local churches precisely because in their reading of Scripture, there was a more holistic, more demanding, more open work of God that required more devotion, not less, and such devotion that was especially cognizant of God’s own sovereignty above all in leading his people as he would through his Spirit. They sought to be more pure than those around them, letting go what they saw as anti-Christian accretions to the faith. Not more pure in regards to church doctrine or accepted standards of the age. More pure in regards to what they saw as the call of the Spirit in their lives.

At the heart of this separation was a spiritual drive which had become aware of a pressing need for a more substantive fellowship with God. This drive radically affected their understanding of fellowship with others, pushing them out of being comfortable with established forms of authority and church, leading them into, one might say, the wilderness of religious exploration. In their driving angst, they were pushed back into the Biblical text, and in their independent readings they discovered reasons for the source of their angst. There was more to the fellowship with God than the theology of their era allowed. This was not a new drive, to be sure, as history points to others whose zeal for fellowship with God pushed them along new paths, some in keeping with Scripture, many falling away from it. Throughout Christian history, this zeal was generally funneled down the direction of Christian mysticism, using highly spiritualized language and experiences to channel the overwhelming surge of God’s presence.

For the three subjects at hand, while there was a varying degree of mysticism, this was not channeled in the typical directions. Rather, this mysticism had a strong ecclesiastical response, radically connecting a resurgent understanding of fellowship with God into their developing understanding of fellowship with each other. Roger Williams saw where he could no longer stand and no longer go, but could not embrace a new direction, and essentially put himself on the sidelines until he became convinced God had opened new ways. Hutchinson fought a battle far too common in churches, combining politics and theology, yet she stands out because at her foundation was a sense that God was moving beyond static rules and was seeking to communicate his discernment directly to his people. She was crushed before she could sort out what this fully meant. George Fox, along with many who were followers of Hutchinson and had affinity with Williams, went through a period of seeking as well, but emerged from this with a new vision of a new way of life, one that resounded with an increasingly intimate interaction with God, through the Spirit. By incorporating a cogent understanding of the Holy Spirit into a holistic spirituality, Fox and the Quakers were able to take advantage of the paths others had forged and offer an example of radical Christian community which persists as a model even to this day.

That’s the conclusion to the paper I just turned in on Roger Williams, Anne Hutchinson, and Quakers. There were about 34 pages that led up to these last few paragraphs.

I’m not sure what brought this to mind, but I feel I might as well consider it for a bit. Back in 1997 I worked at the US Post Office in San Dimas, CA as a clerk. It payed the bills. Or really, it inspired me to get new bills. I bought some books, the 10 volume set of Ante-Nicene Fathers, and quit the job to read said books.

I had an Early Church history class a couple of years before this which awakened me to the world of the Apostolic Fathers and other early church writers. The professor was great as he had us actually read entire sections of the Fathers. Which seems natural… until one takes other classes on the subject. So we read through volume 1 in that class, and I read through volume 3 on my own over Spring Break for my paper on Tertullian.

I remember writing to a college friend about my insights, which now strike me a little funny. My sixteen week class had been an introduction but it still left me on my own afterwards to wade into what was really an obscure topic. I was an Evangelical and so such post Biblical writings have no place in the church, until we get so post Biblical as to get to this generation.

I note this because in quitting the job and reading those books I didn’t have a professor or guide to shape my reading. I went to a nearby park and read. What was my realization?

Love. I remember writing to this friend that I was shocked how much Love was a central theme in the early church. Of course it’s Biblical but that doesn’t mean it’s a hallmark of the Church in which I was raised. The essence and description of Love in what I read transformed my soul and shot me like a cannon into a renewed perception of Christ and his Church. The holiness and love and devotion I found stirred my heart in a way which still resonates.

I say this now because in re-reading other primary sources this morning I realize how sometimes we get bogged down by how others interpret the text for us. We learn to read as others want us to read rather than reading what is there for us to read. I’m curious how many folks have gone through a class on Early Church theology and been bowled over by the reality of Love within these texts? This morning it wasn’t early church, it was early American history. And, once again, I was ‘pastored’ in a way that no living person has ever reached me.

Reading on our own allows the work of the Spirit to help us interpret, I think, and in moments of importance or after interpretive experiences revisiting original texts can be quite the event. But, it’s really easier to have others tell us what is there. I again realize how good it is that I have been taught not to depend on that.

So, to my parents and professors who encouraged me to read, and read primary sources in their purity. Thanks.

Love is the consummation of all blessings, since all who walk in it love leads and guides towards God, the supreme blessing and cause of every blessing, and unites them with Him; for love is faithful and never fails (cf. 1 Cor. 13:8). Faith is the foundation of what comes after it, namely hope and love, since it provides a firm basis for truth. Hope is the strength of the two pre-eminent gifts of love and faith, since hope gives us glimpses both of that in which we believe and of that for which we long, and teaches us to make our way towards our goal. Love is the completion of the other two, embracing entirely the entire desire of all desires, and satisfying the yearning of our faith and hope for it; for that which we believe to be and which we hope will come to pass, love enables us to enjoy as a present reality.

–Maximos the Confessor

Those of you who are following my PhD escapades probably already know I’m not doing a regular seminar this quarter. Rather, I’m doing a directed reading, which basically means instead of reading books and going to class and doing a couple of presentations and writing a major paper I am, this quarter, reading a lot of books and writing a major paper. I decided to add a church history minor to my theology PhD and this directed reading is the first step of that. I decided that I really did love reading history just about more than any other subject, and for me to more joyfully press on in PhD studies I needed to add that first love to my overall studies. Second, it helps me in the future as it gives me a broader range to teach, and thus a broader range of employability.

I have kept in mind my overall dissertation interests, however, and so am trying to explore areas of history which might help me better understand renewal and separatist movements in the church. I’m going to be focusing on American church history, for the most part, as this has already been a big area of my past studies. This quarter I’m looking specifically at Roger Williams, Anne Hutchinson, and Quakers. With a bit of added reading on the broader early history of Baptists in America. Getting myself nicely enmeshed in the world of 17th century New England. My plan is to write a major paper on why these nonconformists felt they needed to separate from the established churches of their day. In other words, I’m curious about those who protest the Protestants.

Depending on where the research takes me this might add an interesting historical component to the latest nonconformists–those of the emerging church. I know this movement cannot be seen as just a new expression of those older movements–but maybe there’s an interesting movement within the church that blossoms in certain ways, during certain eras, that has a prophetic, Spirit-led, aspect of protest. In exploring these early drives and the persecution they endured, there might be insights into the present day expressions and battles. We’ll see…

In case you’re interested, here’s my reading list for this Fall quarter:

• Barclay, Robert. Barclay’s Apology.

• Byrd, James P. The Challenges of Roger Williams : Religious Liberty, Violent Persecution, and the Bible. Macon, Ga.: Mercer University Press, 2002.

• Fox, George. The Journal of George Fox.

• Gaustad, Edwin S. Liberty of Conscience: Roger Williams in America. Grand Rapids, Mich.: W.B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1991.

• Gaustad, Edwin S., and Mark A. Noll. A Documentary History of Religion in America. Grand Rapids, Mich.: W.B. Eerdmans Pub., 2003.

• Hall, David D. The Antinomian Controversy, 1636-1638 : A Documentary History. 2nd ed. Durham: Duke University Press, 1990.

• Hall, Timothy. Anne Hutchinson: Puritan Prophet. Prentice Hall, (forthcoming 2009/2010).

• ———. Separating Church and State: Roger Williams and Religious Liberty. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1998.

• Morgan, Edmund S. Roger Williams: The Church and the State. New York: Norton, 2007.

• Pestana, Carla Gardina. Quakers and Baptists in Colonial Massachusetts. New York: Cambridge University Press, 1991.

• Porterfield, Amanda. Female Piety in Puritan New England: The Emergence of Religious Humanism. New York: Oxford University Press, 1992.

• Spencer, Carol Dale. Holiness: The Soul of Quakerism. Colorado Springs: Paternaster, 2007.

• Williams, Roger. The Complete Writings of Roger Williams. Paris, Ark: Baptist Standard Bearer, 2005. 7 Volumes.

• Winship, Michael P. The Times and Trials of Anne Hutchinson: Puritans Divided. Lawrence, Kan.: University Press of Kansas, 2005

• Lindman, Janet Moore. Bodies of Belief: Baptist Community in Early America. U. of Penn. Press, 2008.

There might be a few more (or a few more than a few more) other books as well, especially as I get closer to the paper writing. Should be fun!

I’m taking a class on Theological Methods right now. Basically, that’s the study of different approaches to writing and thinking about theology. For the class each student is responsible for two presentations based on assigned readings and a major research paper (25 pages or so).

At the beginning of the class I picked up presentations to do on the 4th and 5th week of the class. Last week and this week. I’ve had to read the assigned books particularly closely and then put together a 20-25 minute presentation (about 10 pages). Needless to say, these last couple of weeks I’ve been a bit focused on those tasks. Add to this a big change in the class schedule between this week and last. Last week we met on Thursday afternoon, this week we met last night. So instead of a week, I had about 3 days of preparation.

But, prepare I did. And last night offered my summary of two chapters from Nancey Murphy’s Anglo-American Postmodernity: Philosophical Perspectives on Science, Religion, and Ethics.

It’s a worthwhile book because so much of the discussion on postmodernity assumes the sort of deconstructionalist, relativist side of things, which isn’t inherent to everything that is postmodern but is, rather, limited to a particular form of postmodernity, much of which originated from continental Europe. This is frustrating because everything with a hint of movement from modern assumptions gets lumped in with the most frustrating of this philosophy, pushing those of us who seek to discover new approaches to defend such approaches from what are really rather unsophisticated charges.

This is important because so much of missional/emerging theology is not about pushing for relevance as much as it is really, authentically postmodern. All throughout the church people have discovered that the tools the modern period gave us are often either insufficient or even destructive.

Nancey Murphy’s book is not a particularly light read, but it’s not a hard read given the subject matter. I’d highly recommend it to those who are seeking a more coherent philosophic justification of newer forms of theology and church.

Oh, and another little curious change in the class worth mentioning. The professor who was to lead the class got sick (he’s now getting better) and another professor took over for the rest of the quarter. The new professor is Nancey Murphy.

Which means I spent about a half hour summarizing her book to the class and to her.

This sort of thing seems to keep happening to me.

Here’s an excerpt from my presentation:

Although both liberal and conservative expressions of theology have found relative success in many aspects of understanding both religious and scientific thought, they each have at their core key assumptions of modernity. By adopting the particular answers to these core questions, which are not wholly separate but indeed lead and feed into each other, a particular framework is constructed and direction of development established.[1] As these assumptions have weakened over the course of the last half century, both liberal and conservative theology have become weakened as well.[2] Their foundations are, it might be said, now past the point of retrofitting and the edifices built upon these are now in danger of imminent collapse, even as there are many on both sides not willing to accept this quite yet. For those seeking a more coherent picture of reality as it is presently understood, however, neither the liberal or conservative expressions of modern theology offer acceptable paths. Instead, these categories are no longer helpful and there is a need for new patterns of knowledge that better allow for a more holistic spectrum. Nancey Murphy points us in key directions to do just this.

She begins by looking briefly at two postliberal theologians.[3] George Lindbeck and Ronald Thiemann are very helpful in addressing key weaknesses of modern thought and contribute a great deal to new directions in theology, especially in their attempts to replace foundationalist thought with a model based less on a building metaphor and more on Quine’s web of belief.[4] Yet, aspects of their approach may not be as helpful to those who begin with core conservative assumptions.[5] The first of these core assumptions is the place Scripture has as a special authority, more so than experience. The second is that God is understood to interact with this world. Finally, any postmodern theology must allow for truth claims about Christianity in particular. While these core values may have been at the heart of conservative modern theology they are not inherent to modern philosophy and so should be able to find expression with any new formulation of theology. Key to this new formulation, for Nancey Murphy, is the work of Alasdair MacIntyre.

---

[1] “The choice of any one of these options tends to determine the choice of options from each of the other three pairs.” Murphy, 110.

[2] “It may be only a slight exaggeration to say that it has simply been impossible to do theology in an intellectually respectable way using the resources of modern thought.” Murphy, 112.

[3] Murphy, 115ff.

[4] See Murphy, 50ff. See also the diagrams on 120ff.

[5]Murphy, 118. Unlike modern thought, however, the differences are not inherent to the project and are not permanent. Rather, there is an expected convergence between liberal and conservative postmodern thought. To find this convergence, however, it seems important to not only move from one strand to the other, but to explore how each strand can best be expressed in postmodern terms and in doing this allow the two to meet in a suitable middle place.

Read the whole thing!

During my junior year at Wheaton I took an American Church History class. The major assignment was to write a Family Religious History. So I did. And as I’m still wrestling with how ‘missional’ I am, I got to thinking about that paper. Because, we really aren’t isolated individuals who spring forth to do or not do mission. We grow up in a certain environment, with a particular history, that shapes how we press on in the world–shaping our fears, and our hopes, and our drives, and our cynicisms, offering to us experiences of generations that shape how we respond to certain contexts and questions.

So, here’s my history–the story of my family–that I come back to every few years as I assess my contribution to this well-churched tree.

Patrick Oden’s family religious history.