Over at his blog, Scott Daniels — the pastor at First Church of the Nazarene of Pasadena (PazNaz) and the new dean of the school of theology at Azusa Pacific University — has a post on the death of the emerging church.

This is an interesting post because Scott Daniels is not one of those who announces the death of the emerging church as a capstone to a longtime wish for the death of the emerging church. Arguing the emerging church is dead has become the latest tactic in continued attempts to dismiss the movement as a whole. There’s a strategic value in announcing the death of a perceived enemy. If it’s dead, after all, it doesn’t exist anymore and so anyone trying to continue to make arguments for it can be brushed aside as arguing for an already dead movement.

Though not an emerging church guy himself, Scott Daniels has sought to understand it, sees the value in much of the priorities, and even put his reputation on the line in defending it in his conservative Nazarene denomination. I think the five-part series of posts he wrote last year on the emerging church movement are among the better descriptions I’ve read.

I should probably also add that Amy and I have been attending PazNaz since July of ’09. Those who have followed this blog for a while probably realize how much this says about my respect for Scott Daniels. His thoughts on the emerging church were one among many aspects that helped me resonate with his teaching in a way I didn’t really think possible anymore. (As a sidenote, his sermon series are well worth listening to if you get a chance–his last one on Colossians and his present one on Abraham are, in my opinion, brilliant in an all too rare approachable way).

It should be added that his death announcement of the movement is entirely not triumphalist or condemning. Some of the key points he mentions are more indictments against much of contemporary Evangelicalism than they are parting shots at the submerging emergents.

He notes he is not the first to declare the death of the emerging church. There has been, it seems, about a year long conversation on just this topic, with arguments flying back and forth. If the emerging church were really ‘dead’, of course, there would be no one to argue otherwise, so just the fact there is still passion on the topic probably is enough of a response to the dire declaration.

After some pushback in the comments, Daniels added another very helpful post. He writes, “So a major part of what I think is essentially dead (or dying) in the EC conversation is the expectation that in 50 years what we now think of as the institutional church will be replaced by “emerging” communities of faith.”

This provoked in me some related musings.

One is that I think the death of emerging as a church growth, “the great new thing” is likely not only true, but also is a very good thing. For those of us who felt resonance with the emerging movement in the earliest stages, the flood of interest in the movement by those who either did not really understand what it was about or, on the other side, sought to co-opt the “new thing” with their own particular priorities, was continually troublesome.

Indeed, I would say that it got to the point that some of the most public voices stamped with the emerging label were not really all that emerging. There was a decided mixing of new voices, new theologies, new awareness that got lumped together within a common trend. Which is why I always, and still, consider the Gibbs and Bolger book on emerging churches to be a standard reference. The key distinction for me is between people who were emerging by instinct or emerging by intent.

Gibbs and Bolger, being an early survey, got in tune with people who were pursuing an emerging direction in church without being certain of where the next steps were going to go. They were in moments of discovery and exploration, rather than top-down imposition. This was not a clear or pristine reality, to be sure. The temptation was always there to fall back upon imposition rather than being free with instinct. And, to be sure, even very early on there were leaders of communities who got onto the emerging bandwagon without really having what I call emerging instincts. And their communities suffered because of it.

Within this latter reality is where a lot of my critiques of emerging/missional churches come from. But that’s a whole different topic.

Always there have been men and women who were “emerging” not because they wanted to be part of the next big thing, but because they really were being driven by an irresistible force to explore new, or renewed, ecclesial realities. That was always the case, even when “Emerging!” was the toast of the town.

It was said among those who knew the heart of the movement that the “real” emerging people never went to conferences, didn’t get caught up as devotees to the guru of the week, and did not really get any kind of publicity at all. If “conference” Emerging! was the only emerging church that people saw, it is likely they never really ever saw what was truly emerging in the church.

Some of the key, truly emerging leaders did write books, so some of them got exposure, but for the most part what was publicly emerging was never really emerging. It was repackaged ministry strategies from the other church-growth, new-method, gotta-catch-’em-all mentality that derives more from mid-20th century priorities than postmodern sensibilities.

And if that is dead, then it’s probably because it never really was all that alive to begin with. It was a ecclesial animatronics, not a living body.

But just as Gibbs and Bolger tapped into some curious movements going on throughout the world 5+ years ago, so too are there still such communities. I’d even go as far to say that any church planting that happens in our culture will almost certainly have much more of an emerging feel to it than a traditional, institutional feel. So, while established churches are not going to be demolished and resurrected as coffee houses with vodka-and-oreo communion, small tables, and progressive theologies–there’s still a significant amount of emerging church ecclesiology that, I think, is extremely influential and important.

I’m not going to delve into my evidence for such a continued movement. Rather, I’m going to finish this out by saying why church leaders and theologians need to continue to deal with the presence of the emerging church movement (however it may be named).

My key argument for this is the fact that the era of institutional domination is over. This is not to proclaim the end of the institutional church, but rather to suggest that there is an increasing number of non-aligned followers of Christ. In past eras–as recently as my parents generation–to reject the church went hand in hand with rejecting Jesus. Frustrations with the church propelled men and women to look for answers in alternative religions. Now, however, people are increasingly aware that the faults of a particular congregation do not reflect the inadequacy of Christ.

But where are such people to go? The failures of the church model of our era leave a massive amount of people in a vague stage of spiritual discontent and destitution. In experiencing massive frustration or abuse in the context of a particular church, they do not see the pursuit of Christ as being possible in such an institutional setting. This reality either leads to spiritual depression and nominality, or it leads to a more active embrace of alternative expressions of Christian community that more fully reflect the call of Christ in a particular person’s life.

For me, the term “emerging church” is still useful, and the reality is not dead, because if there are non-aligned, non-propertied, non-institutional christian communities then it is helpful to use a term to describe their reality. “Emerging church” fits as well as anything else, because even in its profound inadequacy it at least has the benefit of a season of exposure and thus is a starting place for continued conversation. Maybe another word might be less baggage laden, but it’s tiresome to keep throwing out new words in church conversations.

Saying there will continue to be people who find discontentment in particular church models is not to say that Church as a whole is terrible and that spiritual maturity is impossible in an institutional setting. There are, in fact, some very excellent institutional church communities that spark amazing devotion to Christ, and these can be found in just about any Christian tradition. So, I’m not generalizing discontent. But, I am arguing against a stance that says “because I have found a good experience in church, everyone must have the same experiences as me.”

This is, by the way, a very interesting distinction between me and Amy. Amy has had very fruitful and very empowering experiences in her church experiences. She has had amazing mentors who were real pastors to her. I have not really had that. I have had seasons of it, but these were rare, and mixed in with what are quite depowering experiences. There are amazing possibilities in churches to spark new life, but there is also a great tendency to undermine and discourage. Realizing different people have different experiences is essential. The church is always a particular reality, and anytime we try to generalize it we run into trouble.

So those who have experienced significant frustration, or worse, in their particular contexts are and will continue to look for alternative expressions of Christian community. Emerging churches offer a holistic expression of this in a way that, I think, is not only an alternative but also may be more Biblically valid. But that too is a whole other conversation.

It is important to continue to realize the life of the emerging church because if we declare the death and move on, we are abandoning the men and women who participate in these communities, or need to participate in such communities, to the outskirts of the camp. We are declaring them non-people in the body of Christ, and as such we are abandoning them to the whims and winds and wolves which circle the people of God, looking to pick off the weakened and weary.

Instead of this, my interest continues to be in the emerging church conversation because I think that as a budding theologian I not only have the opportunity but also the obligation to help these alternative expressions of church as I can. As a theologian, my role is not in inventing a new model of church nor is it to give some kind of stamp of validity on any given community. Rather, I see my role as being a watcher, listening and reflecting on what I see and what I hear, putting this into the context of church history and theology. In doing this I can help deepen, steer, and effectively critique how such communities are proposing we pursue Christ in our era.

If we declare them dead, we abandon them to the trends and tendencies which really can lead to death. We abandon them to so much of what previous generations assumed, that the institutional church is identical with the person of Christ, and that to find despair in the former means the latter has no reality.

Rather than declaring them dead, however, we can weep over that which death has touched, while still full of hope that what is emerging may yet still come forth, in a form that no longer stinketh, but full of life as a testimony to the wide work of Christ and Spirit in this world.

I have that hope. Indeed, I think that the Spirit’s work in this world is going to continue to surprise us, and continue to enliven us as we explore new forms of community and Christian devotion in this era.

It is a dance, after all.

This week there is a conversation going on about the idea of a “Big-Tent Christianity”. I’ve decided to add my two or three cents not because I have some fully formed thoughts or have some kind of overarching motive.

More because this really is something I think about a lot and something I think that may be a defining topic in contemporary Christianity. I’ve not yet read any other contributions and so I’m coming into this with only my own musings.

I don’t have a polished essay nor a even a settled understanding. I’m not ready to throw oils or watercolors onto the canvas. I’m not ready to prepare the plaster for some grand theological or ecclesial fresco that others can gaze upon.

I’m still at the point of sketching. I’m exploring shapes and boundaries and colors and themes. And that’s what this post is going to be. Sketches of my thoughts on the theme of Big Tent Christianity.

What is a big tent Christianity?

My basic understanding is that a “big tent Christianity” gives space for wide theological borders, an inclusive ecclesiology that not only allows for disagreements, but expects and values the expanded perspective that disagreements can bring. Not that disagreements are at the center of this tent. Rather, a big tent Christianity to be really Christian has to have Christ at the center, and with this being the center our focus becomes less on our distinctions and disagreements and more on our hope we share in Christ.

I support this reality not because it is necessarily the case that I think everyone is equally close to the fullness of Christ in their thought or their life, nor because I think that anything goes in the church, or theology.

Even a big tent has boundaries, or it’s not a tent at all.

But, a big tent has space in it for all kinds of people, with all kinds of priorities, from all kinds of places.

My place in the tent.

I come at this from the perspective of a theology PhD student, with a strong passion for contributing to a more interactive relationship between the church and the academy. I think theology matters, and I think experience matters, and I think a deep spirituality matters, and I think history matters. So, I have lots of opinions on lots of topics, and no doubt I think there are a lot of people in the church and in theology who are wrong on lots of issues.

Indeed, I realize that the concept of a big tent Christianity is one that seems to be especially represented by those who would call themselves “progressive” theologians. For those not in the know, this might be considered somewhat similar to the old term “liberal”, though there are distinctions in our contemporary age that make the old “liberal” and “conservative” labels no longer helpful and certainly no longer interesting.

I am not a progressive, either in politics or in theology. At least not how that word is commonly used. I come from a family of Fundamentalists and Evangelicals, and in many ways I continue to embrace the core values of these traditions. I graduated from Wheaton College, and I am pretty sure I could easily, and with integrity, still sign their statement of faith. My quibbles with such ideas like inerrancy vs. infallibility have very little to do with how much I value the authority of the Bible, and are more to do with how I see the doctrine of inerrancy almost always abused to imply that particular Biblical/Theological opinions are themselves inerrant. A particular leader or thinker is seen as the infallible, inerrant interpreter. And this occurs as much in conservative Protestant churches as it does, more officially, in the Catholic church.

My understanding of the doctrine of the church is probably the most progressive aspect of my theology, but it comes out of my very serious commitment to Scripture rather than any spirit of this age. So, even in the ways I am radical, I am radical for very conservative reasons. I’ve said to people in the past that I’m more Fundamentalist than most Fundamentalists, because I am willing to go the direction I see Scripture and the Spirit lead, not simply the direction my traditions or pastors or theologians have insisted on.

Far too much of the church and theology over the last centuries have been reactions against “salvation by works”. But, instead of embracing a holistic gospel, there has been instead a radical turn towards an intellectualized faith.

Far too much of the church has set aside “salvation by works” only to replace it with a “salvation by words.” Whether this is the over-emphasis on a weekly sermon or an exclusive dependence on having the exact approved answers to a slew of increasingly detailed questions, the conservative side of the church has set aside so much of Scriptural insistence on living right, on serving, on holiness in practice, on community. Instead, it has based judgments on salvation on holding to the right opinions on doctrines which Scripture itself either is not clear on, or does not even seem to care about.

But, at the same time, frustration against the conservative church have continued to push men and women towards reactionary stances on questions of theology or ethics. Yet, we are told in Scripture that what we do with our bodies matters. We are told that the actual working of God in this world, in history, is a reality upon which our faith depends. I cannot dismiss key aspects of core teachings simply because it makes me uncomfortable or challenges how I wish the world could be or how I wish God would deal with people.

My conservative stances on a whole lot of theological and political issues put me at odds with a lot of people who are pushing for a big tent Christianity and at odds with a lot of people who are very much against a big tent Christianity.

That’s my location in this overall conversation.

Here’s why I am still a strong believer in a big tent Christianity.

First of all, because as a Christian I am a witness to the Good News of Christ. I am not a bouncer or a gatekeeper. I am a witness to the story that God tells me.

This may not be the exact same story God tells other people.

We see this in Scripture itself. We have the one story of Christ, but we have four Gospels, each of which has unique aspects, priorities, and details. I don’t think the Gospels were ever intended as writings which match our contemporary academic biographies, so I’m not entirely concerned if there are apparent contradictions or disagreements. They are, at their core, telling the story of God’s work, and doing so through four different lenses. We have the story of Christ documented in four forms.

In the Gospels we see that Jesus chose twelve disciples, and of these we can see there were likely conservatives and liberals, as expressed in the politics of the time. We can also see that Jesus knew there was at least one who would actively betray him, and many others who would stumble at the time of great persecution.

He kept them as his disciples, knowing they were coming from different directions, with different pasts and different futures. Each had a different contribution and seemingly a different story to tell. Each also had different ways in which they would fail the Christ they served. They were still his disciples.

And so, I can expect that the story of Christ is still being told in many forms, with different details and priorities and contexts.

This idea of contexts is another reason I value the idea of a big tent Christianity. Even if I attend the same church as another person, we might be coming from different contexts.

We all have gifts, given by the Spirit, and it is the diversity of gifts that allows us to celebrate together as the body. More than rhetorical suggestion that each person has a different way of contributing to a pre-established church service, this is a really radical suggestion that when we participate in the Spirit we do so with very different roles, ideas, suggestions, priorities and opinions.

One of the key issues that I saw when I was last working in a church was how easy, and common, it is for church leaders to generalize their own passions and callings. Everyone is an evangelist or a teacher or… whatever. Everyone is called to door to door ministry or academic study or going to volunteer at a food pantry or… whatever. Whole churches, whole denominations, become formed not by celebration of the wide diversity of the body as a whole, but as conglomerations of many versions of the same kind of part.

And so I am a firm believer in a big tent Christianity because it is only by embracing those who are different in all kinds of different ways that I really even begin seeing the broad work of the Spirit in the church and in this world.

This is the story of Cornelius in the book of Acts. No one thought a Gentile could be part of the church, as a Gentile. He had to become Jewish first, it was assumed, with all the package of beliefs and practices this implied. Only the Spirit disagreed, and Peter’s vision confirmed. Cornelius was part of the church. Peter was not called to make a judgment but to offer an embrace. Even Peter, this first pope, had no authority to say where the Spirit could or could not work. If Peter refused to accept Cornelius, it would have been Peter who was judged–and in that judgment maybe even himself removed from the church.

It is the Spirit who gathers the church, and it is the Spirit who gives gifts for the church. Christ is the head and the Spirit is the breath of the body of Christ. And so in light of this I not only value, but must embrace, the idea of a big tent Christianity that goes well beyond what I think the church should emphasize and includes a fair number of people who I do not particularly agree with and oftentimes may not even like.

Finally–in this sketch at least–I am a believer in a big tent Christianity because I believe the Bible is serious when it talks about unity.

The church has, historically, become so concerned with some forms of heresy that it loses sight of what I think are quite Scriptural priorities. We emphasize theological doctrines on imprecise issues and often times anathematize those who disagree.

Again, a “salvation by words” replaces a salvation by faith alone.

The biggest example of this, for me, has to do with the doctrine of the Lord’s Supper. We are called to share this meal as part of our worship of Christ. But the church has used this event to shatter itself and attack others. Paul brings up the topic in 1 Corinthians to clarify what is being celebrated, not in order to emphasize specific interpretations of what happens when the bread and wine are served, but to emphasize that all who are gathered must see each other as equals, called by Christ, to celebrate Christ, and to celebrate Christ as a gathered, meal-sharing community. If we do not discern the body correctly we are liable to judgment.

That’s why I am a firm believer in a big tent Christianity. Because Paul wasn’t really talking about the piece of bread that represents the body of Christ. He was talking about the body of Christ of the church, that is itself represented in the bread and in the wine.

Who am I to reject or dismiss someone who Christ has called and the Spirit cherishes, simply because I give different answers to what exactly happened when Christ died on the cross or because I think there are different kinds of songs we can sing on a particular day of the week?

So, I echo something that Moltmann has said in various places on a different topic.

I’m not really a believer in big tent Christianity.

But I think God is.

I’m much safer sticking to what God is doing. Certainly much safer than depending that a salvation by words is really what Christ was about in his death and resurrection, or what the Spirit finds important in this era, or in any era.

That’s not to say words aren’t interesting or important. They are. Very much so.

Actions are also important. We are not saved by our words or our works, but our words and our works are part of our testimony, part of our witness of the work of God in and for this world.

We speak and we act because Christ came with proclamation and with power. We have been given the Spirit who gives us words and empowers our actions, so as to be faithful servants to God, in his mission in this world.

I think God calls us to be true disciples, learning about him, discovering his work in this world, participating with the Spirit in many ways as we discover more and more who God is and what God is doing. As we discover these realities we will come to many opinions and in our various contexts we’ll have many different priorities about how to apply these opinions. But, at the same time, I know that God is God and God has his own opinions and priorities about what really matters.

He has showed you, O man, what is good.
And what does the LORD require of you?
To act justly and to love mercy
and to walk humbly with your God.

Every person is not just what he actual is, but is also the actor playing himself. We can be more than we see, but we can also seem to be more than we are. Then we present ourselves as we should like to be but aren’t, or put on an act in order to appear differently from the way other people think of us, and adopt a poker face.

And if we ourselves don’t know who we really are, and have either lost our real selves, or have never found them, then we seem to ourselves like actors in a play which we don’t know, and in a role which we first have to invent.” To say that ‘all the world’s a stage’ sounds convincing but the image is untenable, for if there is no other reality, a theater is no longer a theater. But where, then, is this other reality to be found, the reality which puts an end to the play?

Is there a completely different reality in the face of which we lay aside our masks because we have been seen through, and so try to know ourselves as we are known? Or do we in principle remain so hidden to ourselves that we never arrive at an endpoint when we can put aside our masks, not even when we die, because we ourselves can never get through to the foundation?

Some thoughts from Jürgen Moltmann. Which resonate for me for a lot of reasons, one of which was seeing Inception this past Saturday. Another is because I’m reading through, for the ??th time, Eiji Yoshikawa’s Musashi, which probably ranks as my favorite book.

What is real? What does it mean to live in true reality rather than in a dream, or playing a role, or existing anonymously in this world–putting on the mask of everyone else who is playing a part, trying to be real? What is it to be a true person in this world? It is not a life of selfish absorption, making the world bend and bow, asserting self upon others. This leads only to emptiness. For we are left, then, only with the emaciated self we are in the moment, not really aware of the world, or the reality as it truly is.

Moltmann continues:

Egomaniacs move everywhere only in the hall of mirrors where their images of themselves are reflected. They talk only about themselves, they only quote themselves, in other people they seek only the endorsement of their own picture of themselves. Today we call that cultivating one’s image. It makes people unapproachable, and bores everyone else because they feel ignored. To exist only ‘fact to fact’ in these reflections of one’s own self means deadly self-isolation.

Then he gets to the good bit:

But lovers and friends know each other ‘face to face’. They look one another in the eye. Trustfully, they expose themselves in their weaknesses and vulnerabilities, and find mutual protection in each other. Each gives the other the human space for living which they need to develop themselves.

In this way they do not just live side by side and together, but in each other too, and in mutual affection and reciprocal respect they keep their future open for themselves. Love does not invent an image of the other person and does not tie the other down to the preconceived judgments which always go together with the pictures we make of someone else.

When lovers see each other ‘face to face’ they need no pictures; pictures would be detrimental. For pictures are representations of people who are absent. If they are present, we don’t put up pictures of them. In mutual recognition we accompany the transformations of the other in the ongoing process of a shared life.

Not just true for lovers. This is, I think, the essence of what the church was supposed to be about — “the broad space in which there is no cramping”. Where we can be among others who are. Free to find our true self in the power of the Spirit who brings not only life but also uniqueness to every one who has breath. In unity we find a true diversity.

But this is indeed true for lovers as well. We lose this — the freedom, the expectation, the hope, the honest-self — we lose the bond and real freedom of growing into becoming our true self. We put on the mask. Lose our self. Become anonymous among others who are anonymous. We lose the Way.

But there is always hope. Hope to live and continue to live, hope to turn back and find new life, hope to be free to be who we truly are.

Sometimes, however, we might need a kick. Sometimes, though, we’re asked to take the step on our own — off the boat, away from home, or however it might look to let go our selfish demands of living the ‘dream’ life, where all is seemingly possible but is, ultimately, a trap keeping us from the truly real.

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.

At the Society of Pentecostal Studies conference early last month, one of the biggest questions we got after our presentations had do with whether an emerging church systematic theology could even be developed. That challenge is something still to be sorted out, even as I and the others affirmed the possibility. There already is a developing theology, after all, with systematic thought helping it and reflecting on it to steer it towards becoming a more adequate, fruitful, constructive theology.

I was looking for something else this morning, and I happened to come across this old blog post I wrote a few years ago. Thought it is worth reposting today.

If you wander the halls of emerging/missional thought most of the conversation is about ecclesial issues. Liturgy. Leadership. Gender. Sexuality. Culture. Sometimes the issues drift a bit into topic of salvation, Hell, judgment, which are theological but which relate more specifically to the topic of who is in and who is out, what is a real church, what is a pretender. What is a community? What does a Christian community do? What is the focus? The practices? The rhythms of the week?

Look at Gibbs and Bolgers 9 traits of an emerging community: 1. Identifying with Jesus 2. Transforming secular space 3. Living as community 4. Welcoming the stranger 5. Serving with generosity 6. Participating as producers 7. Creating as created beings 8. Leading as a body 9. Merging ancient and contemporary spiritualities.

These are expressions. Practices of the community which say very little about what a person might hear if they ask, “Who is God?” or “Why did Jesus die on the Cross?” or “Why do bad things happen to good people?” Oftentimes what a person might hear would differ very little from what they might hear in a typical Baptist or Presbyterian church. The medium has changed. The basic message has not.

Now for most this would seem a good thing. Don’t mess with what is right, right? Reformation zeal for challenge, and questioning, and change, and dynamic re-examination of core doctrines has led to post-Reformation stagnation in which orthodoxy is less about finding out the truth of God and more about making sure to stick to what Calvin or Luther or Wesley thought. A supposed Golden Age of the Spirit’s revelation ended centuries ago, and now we assess each other by how well we do or do not fit into pre-approved boundaries.

Yet is this good? Is this right? Can we say that not only do we need liturgical change in the face of a changing society but also theological transformation? The latter is thought forbidden with charges of caving to the spirit of the age thrown willy-nilly. Theologians are scared. Pastors are frightened. Everyone ducks behind the safety of era old walls, not daring to venture out for fear of being branded as a heretic, branded by those who themselves are branded by others, who think the Golden Age of the Spirit wasn’t in the fifteen or sixteen hundreds but centuries before.

Do we just respond to the spirit of the age or is there something more potent that not only suggests but might even require our re-assessment of the very foundations of our theology. Not to toss it all out, but to reframe it, to restore it, to take out the dross and the filth that has accumulated. A new theology that takes account of the Jewishness of Jesus, which is the Jewishness of God himself in expression. Removes the assumptions of brutal ages and pagan philosophies that filled Christian theology with all sorts of exceedingly rational, coherent, and utterly wrong doctrines. What does Athens, after all, have to do with Jerusalem?

Theology now is top heavy with Athens, so much so there’s not even an awareness among those who lash out with charges of heresy that they, the self-appointed inquisitors, would likely fall on the wrong side of a Scriptural conversation with Jesus. The absence of an integrated Old Testament theology, the plucking out of passages to apply to latter day questions and assumptions, the breaking apart of Scripture into mangled bits and pieces rather than a coherent whole story told of God’s pervasive interaction with humanity and the world abound in sermons, in books, in countless conversations. Orthodoxy has less to do with God and more to do with our settled systems of assumptions about God. God is second to the theology. And that is wrong.

Theology is broken. It’s not until we begin to re-assess theology at its most bare forms again that we will see a resurgence in our communities. Look at history. Luther, Calvin, Wesley, Anthony, Francis, Benedict, Ignatius–they formed movements not on liturgical change but rather on substantive renewed understanding of core doctrine. Their God was different than the God of other Christians around them. Expected different things. Demanded different service. Valued different mindsets. Asked for different works. The theological changes erupted into ecclesiastic transformation.

This doesn’t mean tossing out Scripture or right, established doctrines. That results in empty churches, famished souls, starved spiritualities. It means embracing Scripture anew. It means taking Scripture more seriously, not less. It means listening to not the spirit of the age, but the Holy Spirit of the ages, who has worked in and through history to guide and reveal, opening up society to take an ever greater appreciation for the justice and love of God.

As some see their primary goal for the church of God to revolutionize leadership structures or liturgical moments, I see my goal as focusing on the theology first, and the practices derived from this renewed perspective. Not that I’m starting something new. We see this work begun in many circles, often academic, in the books of NT Wright who refocuses us on Jesus. With Jurgen Moltmann, who emphasize the hope of God, even in the realities of the worlds suffering. Many others have written for decades, spurring and teaching. But not drifting into the lives of the congregations and communities.

So the pastors and the teachers and the prophets, not just the academics, need to follow the paths of Wesley and Luther and Calvin, and with new daring rediscover the fullness of God, who was and is and is to come. Not to pursue falsehood instead of established truth, but to get rid of the accumulated falsehoods that have led to decrepit communities. Geneva was not, after all, the Kingdom. Sin abounded. Mistakes were made. Nor did the Great Awakenings keep people awake or Pentecostalism remain an ever present fire. Society is broken. Christendom is lost. All the kings horses and all the kings men couldn’t reflect enough of God’s truth to maintain a season of God’s reality.

If then the words spoken about God did not result in fullness and peace we run into a quandary. Either God is broken or theology is broken. Many popular atheists today would suggest the former. I disagree, but now have to face the fact that it is theology that is broken and theology which requires a fix.

A task for a lifetime. Wary and daring. Hopeful and cautious.

John 12:20-26

Now among those who went up to worship at the festival were some Greeks. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, and said to him, “Sir, we wish to see Jesus .”

Philip went and told Andrew; then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus . Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.

If we too wish to see Jesus we need to follow him, not the broken theology. Wherever he might lead, wherever he is.

Over the last couple of decades the church in the West has been going through a significant transition away from established assumptions of Christendom in which there are cultural expectations of church involvement. Indeed, this realization has arisen long after the reality in the West has broken down many, if not most, peoples involvement with churches. It became clear that the church in the West was in need of a new stance, a missional stance, in which faithful disciples of Christ no longer waited in sheltered enclaves for outsiders to peek in and join up. This involves a new stance towards involvement in this wider society, bringing the light of Christ out and among the people. This goes well beyond church growth strategies, and may be just the opposite. It also goes well beyond evangelism, as a renewed reading of the Gospels and the whole Scriptures suggest a call to Christ’s followers to be involved with others in significant, holistic ways. With this dawning, missional realization the last couple of decades, and especially the last five or six years, have brought a large number of helpful texts and teachers who are asking significant questions and have helped contribute very useful guidance as those in church continues to stumble its way through this transition. I have read a number of these books, and indeed I’ve begun specializing in these approaches, focusing my attention on the impact on deeper aspects of theology that comes along with this renewed embrace of a holistic discipleship. I’ve been involved in churches, and I’m now working on an advanced degree in theological studies and church history. It is with all this practical and theoretical involvement behind me that I come to this book.

And with this all in mind, I consider Untamed: Reactivating a Missional Form of Discipleship (Shapevine) to be the best book on contemporary missional theology and practice I’ve read.

I do not say this lightly, nor do I say this with a predisposition to freely applauding the many missional books that have been written. Most, for me, have offered useful ideas but each seems to have at least one major flaw that keeps me from being wholeheartedly supportive–and often leads me to grumbling. Indeed, this grumbling of what I read over the years was a big factor in me going back to pursue more study of theology in its ancient and contemporary expressions. I was not finding anything that seemed to be truly balanced in reflecting Christ’s call in our lives.

Untamed finds this balance. This is not to say Untamed is the last word on missional theology. Indeed, I would say the opposite. Instead, in Untamed Alan and Deb Hirsch have combined their practical experience in a variety of very missional settings with their deep considerations on life with God to provide what I see as an extremely helpful, constructive starting place for continued development of practices and of theology that reflects more deeply on these practices. A lot of missional books are filled with angst or worry or point to questions without leading to substantive answers. Untamed, however, moves past this and points towards significant points of orientation that allow a renewing, freeing life in community with Christ and others.

Two points stand out especially to me, though there are many, many others worth noting. The first is the Hirsch’s perspective on holiness which embraces the idea of holiness in a renewed way, one that acknowledges this call of God in our lives as it is reflected in Scripture. The Holy God is not the distant God, but the one who lived among us, walked in the streets, runs towards us, died for us. The holiness of God embraces humanity, seeking us, yearning for us to find our whole identity in him, and in doing this freeing us to become truly who we were made to be. The second emphasis, so utterly rare in these types of books, is the specific discussion of the Holy Spirit. This discussion renews a perspective on the Spirit who is God’s power and presence with us, bringing us each to wholeness with God and in community. By bringing in the Holy Spirit to the discussion, the Hirsch’s avoid the oft common works-oriented demands of so many ministry books that emphasis a call of God, then pressure the reader to perform. Instead, the Hirsch’s are at every point, beginning to the end, emphasizing the work of God who empowers us, freeing us, inviting us to join in this work as we are empowered and led by the Spirit. This creates a refreshing renewal of theology and practice that does not put a heavy weight on already tired souls, but instead delights as it points to how we can best live in the new reality that God brings to our lives in this world.

If I were to recommend one book of missional theology–or indeed one book on living the life Christ calls us to live in this present context–I would point to Untamed as being a the book to start with. It refreshes as it reorients, it enlightens as it challenges, it brings new perspective to old stories, all while staying more faithful to the whole testimony of Scripture than most any ministry book I’ve ever read. And it does this while being immensely readable.

Get this book. Share it with your friends. Read it through to get a sense of the whole, then read it through more slowly and reflect on each point, using the Hirsch’s insights to help ignite your own study of Scripture, your own personal relationship with the Triune God, and your participation in the community of God’s people. This is not a definitive, comprehensive work. It’s a starting place. But it’s starting us with a holistic, wonderful, renewing perspective on God’s grand work in this world. Something we all should study and develop more, each in our own settings.

This is something I wrote on St. Patrick’s day, 2005:

Good Irish weather this morning. Cool and overcast, a slight breeze, and all the green in the forest beginning to celebrate Spring. My shamrock windsock has been dancing around all night in a continual celebration of St. Patrick’s day.

I found out that this isn’t just a day for Saint Patrick. This is a day for Patricks in general. At least in Poland. Poland, you see, has a lovely tradition called nameday. Birthdays tend to be low key affairs while namedays are the big parties. Some names, I found out, get two or even three choices on which day to celebrate. Patrick (or Patryk) gets one, this day, this saint’s day. I think it grand.

This is a weird day for me. I’m sitting here in relative peace realizing I should be praying non stop for those I know. The few people I feel God has stirred in my heart all seem to be wrestling with something beyond them. I want to stop all I’m doing and pray, and keep praying, and continue to pray. Only I’m not like most ‘prayer people’. I don’t have a ‘gift’ I just have the solid and total realization that prayer is a mighty work. So I pray, and learn to pray, and seek steadiness in prayer.

For this, beyond anything else today, is part of my calling. I would do anything I could for these people to put things right but all I can do is pray and keep praying, while occasionally saying something helpful and worthwhile if the words come.

God is good and God is working. It’s hard to listen and watch to see people in their struggles when all I can do is pray. But that’s the rub of it all. It’s not just prayer. It is potent and powerful beyond our understanding. This potent force is easy to dismiss and easy to ignore. We worry and fret and try to arrange within our own power all the while missing this spiritual contending.

But, this is nothing new. Those who are now saints were not born this way. They grew and they prayed. Patrick once wrote:

Often during each day, I prayed and the love and fear of God ever grew stronger within me…for the Lord…regarded my lowliness and had mercy on my youth and ignorance, keeping watch over me before I came to know Him or could differentiate between good and evil. God strengthened and comforted me as a father His son…and my faith increased and my spirit grew strong, so much so that in a single day I would pray a hundred times and almost as often by night, whether I found myself in the wood or on the mountain.

Prayer, more than anything else, is the lesson of Saint Patrick’s day. Curious, that.. but absolutely true.

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,
Christ on my right, Christ on my left,
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down,
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me,
Christ in the eye that sees me,
Christ in the ear that hears me.

It’s Saint Patrick’s day tomorrow, the only saint we protestants like to celebrate, and one of the few times we’ll add a St. in front of a good Christian.

I’ve done a lot of study of Patrick over the years, and think of him as one of my heroes.

Why?

Read what he wrote.

His confession (more like his autobiography)

But I see that even here and now, I have been exalted beyond measure by the Lord, and I was not worthy that he should grant me this, while I know most certainly that poverty and failure suit me better than wealth and delight (but Christ the Lord was poor for our sakes); I certainly am wretched and unfortunate; even if I wanted wealth I have no resources, nor is it my own estimation of myself, for daily I expect to be murdered or betrayed or reduced to slavery if the occasion arises. But I fear nothing, because of the promises of Heaven; for I have cast myself into the hands of Almighty God, who reigns everywhere. As the prophet says: ‘Cast your burden on the Lord and he will sustain you.’

Behold now I commend my soul to God who is most faithful and for whom I perform my mission in obscurity, but he is no respecter of persons and he chose me for this service that I might be one of the least of his ministers.

For which reason I should make return for all that he returns me. But what should I say, or what should I promise to my Lord, for I,alone, can do nothing unless he himself vouchsafe it to me. But let him search my heart and [my] nature, for I crave enough for it, even too much, and I am ready for him to grant me that I drink of his chalice, as he has granted to others who love him.

Therefore may it never befall me to be separated by my God from his people whom he has won in this most remote land. I pray God that he gives me perseverance, and that he will deign that I should be a faithful witness for his sake right up to the time of my passing.

And if at any time I managed anything of good for the sake of my God whom I love, I beg of him that he grant it to me to shed my blood for his name with proselytes and captives, even should I be left unburied, or even were my wretched body to be torn limb from limb by dogs or savage beasts, or were it to be devoured by the birds of the air, I think, most surely, were this to have happened to me, I had saved both my soul and my body. For beyond any doubt on that day we shall rise again in the brightness of the sun, that is, in the glory of Christ Jesus our Redeemer, as children of the living God and co-heirs of Christ, made in his image; for we shall reign through him and for him and in him.

For the sun we see rises each day for us at [his] command, but it will never reign, neither will its splendor last, but all who worship it will come wretchedly to punishment. We, on the other hand, shall not die, who believe in and worship the true sun, Christ, who will never die, no more shall he die who has done Christ’s will, but will abide for ever just as Christ abides for ever, who reigns with God the Father Almighty and with the Holy Spirit before the beginning of time and now and for ever and ever. Amen.

and his Letter to Coroticus.

I, Patrick, a sinner, unlearned, resident in Ireland, declare myself to be a bishop. Most assuredly I believe that what I am I have received from God. And so I live among barbarians, a stranger and exile for the love of God. He is witness that this is so. Not that I wished my mouth to utter anything so hard and harsh; but I am forced by the zeal for God; and the truth of Christ has wrung it from me, out of love for my neighbors and sons for whom I gave up my country and parents and my life to the point of death. If I be worthy, I live for my God to teach the heathen, even though some may despise me.

If you’ve been following the latest trend around the emerging church interwebs, you’ll have noticed a bit of a general topic being tossed around.

If you haven’t been following, let me fill you in.

Over the last year or so there has been an increase in the number of various posts in all kinds of places about the end being upon us for the emerging church. I mentioned that earlier.

Recently, there’s been a few more eruptions of “I’m done with it!” followed by smatterings of “It’s not done, it’s just different!” responses, such as the sort I offered below.

Sonja, a special friend to the DualRavens blog world, contributed another one, and one that I think is especially worth reading, especially as in the comments there are other important voices adding their thoughts, with a tone that seems to agree about pressing on.

This afternoon I had to laugh a little bit. Because, at this point, there’s a conversation about conversations concerning people giving up on conversation with others in the conversation.

The emerging church has gotten very meta.

Not just the emerging church. It’s dizygotic* movement, Missional, is having a similar tone these days. The topic of “what is missional” being now more often replaced by “let’s talk about being missional by not talking about being missional and instead being missional, and what this means for mission, and won’t someone PLEASE talk about examples”.

As a contributor to such, I think there’s something worthwhile to all this obviously, but at the same time I hope it doesn’t continue on for too much longer.

Nor am I really interested in proving other people wrong, or otherwise adding to any trend that somehow wants to pick and choose the good guys and the bad guys in some metaphysical OK corral.

I think what has been said is interesting, not least because I think it does define a little bit the various motives of why people got involved with the various emerging/missional conversations. I’m tempted to offer my no-doubt prophetic psychoanalysis of the various character types, but I’ll even refrain from that.

I’d like to pose a question. And I would love it if this could be something that is passed around more broadly across the various emerging conversations, because it would be a useful way of rebooting the conversation and showing the folks who aren’t here to combat, or deride, or choose sides. Rather, I think there are a lot of really engaging men and women who are still interested in the conversation that has been meandering along for the last decade or more.

What makes emerging emerging? What’s the heart of it that is at the root of why we should overlook various issues that divide other churches? What’s the root of it? What are we, in essence, conversing about anyhow?

I think these answers have been given ad nauseam ** but I’d personally be curious to hear again from those who don’t feel like joining the various cool kids either on the right or the left. What’s the hope? What’s the vision? Why are you emerging?

And, for that matter, I’d like to sort out that answer myself. Taking a lot fewer words than I might otherwise do. I think I would like to compose a succinct answer to why I’m not only not dissuaded by folks who try to argue, but why I think I’m more persuaded than ever to keep on pursuing an understanding of church and theology through an emerging lens.

Maybe even a different answer than the obvious one: that this is the topic I’m planning to write my dissertation on, so the conversation better last for at least another few years.

But, I’m going to save my deeper answer for another post.

*look it up
**making everyone feel like they’ve drunken a whole bottle of cheap scotch on an empty stomach.

There’s a lot of stuff out there on the topic of emerging church theology. But, I think a lot of it can be brushed aside fairly quickly. Much of it is being produced by people who are trying to attach themselves to emerging/missional thought, rather than really writing theology that derives from emerging/missional church emphases. Not all of it is, to be sure. And what is being written, what is coming out of emerging church influences, participation and priorities, is very interesting and, I think, often very helpful.

As I’ve mentioned before, my entry into PhD studies was prompted by a paper I wrote in 2007 on the emerging church and Moltmann in conversation. The professor invited me to apply after reading that paper. I did. I started. And here I am in the middle of my second year.

I’ve added a bit more to my studies since then. A little on the emerging church side, a lot on the theology side. Still interested in seeing how an emerging church theology might develop. I’m slowly coming to terms with, if not a final product, at least some priorities and approaches.

In the last post, I linked to a paper I wrote last quarter concerning a few folks from 17th century America. It’s a fairly meaty paper, so I don’t expect too many people clicked through. And of those few, I strongly suspect the great majority didn’t read the footnotes. With this in mind, I imagine very, very few people, if any, saw my wee little comments in footnote 97.

Here it is for those of you who missed it:

Maclear, 77 writes about Anne Hutchinson, “Clearly the winter of 1637-38 had not produced uncertainty or repentance but a profounder commitment to the spiritualization of Puritan faith and doctrine. Moreover, in declaring these principles Anne forged a connecting link between the ‘radical Reformation’ of the sixteenth century and the ‘realized eschatology’ of Quakers in the next decade.” In discussing the “many” similarities between Roger Williams and George Fox, Lovejoy, 209 mentions, “their faith in the evolutionary, or progressive, character of religious truth. Orthodox institutions tended to maintain that religious truth was more or less static, even rigid, and that the faithful of the present age had not much opportunity to improve upon and expand a knowledge of God. On the contrary, radical Puritans, in fact most radical dissenters, believed in ‘further truths,’ or ‘further light.’ With the help of the bible, inspiration, and discussion, new truths could be uncovered, truths God held in reserve until his people were ready to comprehend them.” This hits on an underlying similarity but gives it rather wrong explanation. Williams could not be said to embrace some kind of “further” truth, nor were the early Quakers interested in an evolutionary or progressive truth. Both were eager to find that whole revelation of God that was true at the time of the New Testament and was no longer whole in their age. This whole truth had, for the Quakers, the revelation of the Holy Spirit at its core, the presence of God himself for any who would listen, in any age. Barclay’s use of historical theology adds support to this.

Why do I note this now? Because the same sort of interpretations are popular in our own era. There are those who see much of the emerging church looking for an “evolutionary, or progressive, character of religious truth”. This is in contrast to the orthodox positions of the wider, committed church world. They seek to point out ‘further truths,’ or ‘further lights’.

For me, and for a large part of those who are involved in the emerging/missional church, this is not the goal, not as it defined by many attaching a theology to the instincts and reactions of emerging church folks. I know my affiliation is not about that. My theological and ministerial interests aren’t about trying to reboot a progressive or post-neo-liberal theological project in the guise of popular, reactionary movement.

Rather, I’m eager to find that whole revelation of God that was true at the time of the New Testament, but has lost so much of its wholeness in the meantime. This is not an attempt to reboot some cobbled together, Frankenstein church that asserts its just like the earliest Christian communities. By no means! Rather, I see very clearly that the course of history has led through peaks and valleys. My goal is to be faithful to the work God is doing in this world, in our era, with the realizations that have been achieved over the last many centuries. God has been faithful to his church. He continues to teach and move and pull us towards a more holistic participation with his work.

And this means, in our era, we cannot simply repeat the patterns of past eras. But, in the same way, we cannot ignore the truths of those eras, the truths of the earliest eras, and the truths that men and woman of God–men and women who prayed–contributed. It’s not about a progressive theology, it’s about a better realized theology, one that addresses the key questions of our era, looks at the insights and the mistakes of past eras, contributing to a sharper awareness that brings light and hope and strength and power to this world. This is still Good News. We can find ways of exploration which our forbears did not, even as we stay within the faith they helped orient. We can explore because of the tools, the insights, the wisdom, the discernment which have been passed down.

We can explore because of the Holy Spirit who continues to draw humanity deeper and higher.

I come from a long line of men and women who have sought God with all their heart, and often served God in ways that went beyond casual observation. They were Methodists, and Plymouth Brethren, and Fundamentalists, and Baptists, and Pentecostals, and Evangelicals–whatever era pointed towards an active work of God in their generation. I am a part of that line.

And this is how I see working through an emerging church theology. This whole truth of God has the revelation of the Holy Spirit at its core, the reality of Christ at its foundation, the presence of God himself for any who will listen, in any age. And we participate in this whole truth in our era, contributing to a wider and deeper understanding of it, as we can. A task of a lifetime. It is an emerging theology. It’s going to be fun.