TheGeoffRe(y)port

Ever since I saw the movie with Natalie Portman and Hugo Weaving (possibly the most underrated Australian actor in the business, I’ve had a bit of a “thing” about “V for Vendetta”. So after I made some noises about the graphic novel when we saw it at Borders on our honeymoon, the lovely Rebecca duly took note and made sure that a copy came my way when it came to birthday time. It hasn’t taken long for me to devour the book, and it’s rekindled my intrigue.

At it’s heart “V” strikes at a number of things that resonate with me, as well as draws attention to a few things that I’m not as sure about. For starters, there is the revolution against a fascist totalitarian state. And it strikes at something deep inside (likely put there by WWII movies and computer games) that makes is just fantastic for someone to be beating up the fascists. There’s just something deep down that wants to barrack for the guy who is starting the revolution. I came out of the movie the first time ready to bust some heads.

But it poses some big questions, particularly around justice. V kills - not indiscriminately but with the moral self-certainty of a vigilante. The ethics of “just-war” type thinking, mixed in with the problem of cheering for a terrorist (particularly in today’s climate) give a great opportunity to re-evaluate exactly what you believe in these situations.

The graphic novel is noticeably different from the film (partly out of necessity: the novel was written in the early 80s and set in the late 90s) but the film certainly stayed true to the heart of the comic. It’s a really fun read, but I must admit I couldn’t read “V” talking without hearing Hugo Weaving’s voiceover ringing through my head.

I’ve finished (not so long ago) “Searching For God Knows What” - the latest book from Donald Miller, the “Blue Like Jazz” guy. It’s a good read, and it’s certainly very easy to read. He takes a while to get warmed up, there’s not much of the first few chapters that I can really remember, but once he gets going, there are some great analogies in there. Highly recommend having a read.

And it certainly reads as a fairly solid example of “narrative theology” in action. (For a little background - have a look at my previous post on narrative theology) Miller’s ideas aren’t conveyed through propositional truths, instead he expands on his thoughts through stories, both of his own and those of others, to communicate meaning. He’s not interested in providing a list of statements of truth, but instead only offers his ideas as concepts that have been distilled from each narrative.

My initial reaction was one of excitement and, to a certain extent, relief. Relief that these ideas can work, at least on some level. I came away from reading “Searching For God Knows What” with a better understanding of what makes me tick, what makes others tick, and relating to God in general. The system works. The narrative structure of Miller’s theologising made it much easier to relate to what was being said, and there was definitely a feeling that this is how ideas like these should happen.

But…. (and there’s always a but)

I was also left with just an underlying feeling that it didn’t quite go deep enough. As much as I enjoyed reading it, and certainly “got stuff out of it”, there was a feeling that it almost became an exercise in “pop psychology”. I might have some post modernity in me, but it just felt like there wasn’t quite enough solid underneath it. To a degree, it felt like there is only a certain depth to which stories can travel, after that, you’re left with either going there on your own thoughts, or waiting for propositional truth.

And maybe that’s the poit of doing your theology in a narrative model - that it forces you to push to the depths yourself, rather than having someone do all the work for you. I’m not sure, but there was a slight feeling of dissatisfaction on finishing this book. I’d love to hear people’s thoughts on this - particularly if they have read the book themselves. Sorry that the post is a little dis-jointed and non-sensical.

I’m never sure whether I’d be better off trying to write a review or just post what I get out of a book like this, and so we’ll just write and see where that gets me to. First of all, we’ll get the vitals out of the way. You should read this book. It is very good. I borrowed this book but will probably end up buying it because it is chock full of analogies and thoughts that I plan on quoting in the future. So do yourself a favour, go out and get a hold of a copy.

The second thing that I needed to get out of the way is the obvious correlation between the sentiments in Bell’s “Velvet Elvis” and Brian McLaren’s “A Generous Orthodoxy”. Both are poets and storytellers at heart, although whereas McLaren’s book feels like you are listening to a well-taught sermon, Rob Bell writes as if you are having a conversation with him. He writes the way he talks, and he talks the way he thinks. The biggest difference is that whereas when you’re reading Brian McLaren you feel like you need to stop and recap to make sure you understand what he’s just said, with Bell you feel like you need to slow yourself down so that you don’t miss some of the gems that are held within.

In a funny way, Velvet Elvis starts putting some of the flesh onto the theology of McLaren’s generous orthodoxy. He talks of theology and doctrines as springs on a trampoline, the ideas that we jump on to get closer to understanding God.  And then when we jump off the bounce that someone else is getting, we jump higher than we possibly could alone. It’s a beautiful image that is profound in both its meaning and its simplicity.

One of the most confronting parts of the book involve Bell telling the very personal story of his struggles with being “superpastor”. Bell’s story as a pastor is an incredible God story. His first service in planting Mars Hill Bible Church with a team of 13 people saw 1000 rock up. No marketing, not even a sign out the front of the church, just something incredible happening. And the church didn’t stop there, before long they ended up buying a shopping centre, and on the story goes.

But Rob tells the story of the pressures of being “the superpastor”. Suddenly everything becomes about pleasing people, about having time for everyone and meeting every expectation and being who people want, or even who you think people want you to be. And it’s hard not to relate to that (although perhaps not quite the whole 1000 people thing). It’s pretty easy to fall into line with what we start believing we have to do.

Velvet Elvis seems in many ways to be Rob Bell’s manifesto. And I really love his assertion that everything is spiritual, a view which forces people to start taking God in every part of our life, seriously as a concept. It’s the same thing that bible teachers the world over have been trying to convey to flocks the world over, but Bell communicates that desire as well as anybody I’ve heard.

I could keep writing but I’m already starting to babble. Read it. Possibly even twice. Pray about what it says. Let God speak to you. It’s a good book!

Well, I must admit, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed doing this series, and it’s forced me to read the book far more thoroughly than I would have otherwise. Seems amazing that it was only a couple of weeks ago that I started blogging on this book. And there’s been lots to cogitate over - including a few things that I haven’t written about. So here’s my final verdict, I’ve split it up into the bits I like about McLaren’s “Generous Orthodoxy”, and the stumbling blocks for me that stop me from wanting to follow everything he’s said.

What I liked

The chapter on being missional was one of the most inspiring things I’ve read in recent memory. And the quote I inserted here was the epitome of what I think McLaren is right about. Because no matter how much it hurts our de-sensitised, consumeristic, self-absorbed western sensibilities (those are all the big words that I know); there is no way that you can earnestly read Jesus’ teachings in the bible and not believe that your lifestyle has to change. That your focus has to be on taking on Jesus’ way of life. It hurts, and it’s hard, but it’s such an exciting adventure. That’s what I see as missing in my life and the lives of those around me.

I found it impossible to read McLaren’s work without being deeply impressed by his ability to glean the fundamentals (small f) out of every branch of Christianity and find the goodness in their existence. He leaves no doubt that as a Vineyardian, which has a pretty deep evangelical history, and a little bit of charismatic excitement in it, there is much that the catholics, the anabaptists, even the liberals can teach me about who Jesus is, and what that should mean in my life. He has found the goodness in everyone, especially those who are his harshest critics, and he does so in a beautiful, almost poetic way.

And it is that poetic approach to expressing the love of Christ that has probably had the greatest impact on me. The excitement in the way he writes expresses itself with a beautiful flow that really does inspire soemthing in me. It’s helped me to step back from lots of the intellectual arguments and be willing to let the Spirit of God speak to my spirit when I’m praying, and for me to see the beauty of the creator in the beauty of creation. That is a gift that I hope to cherish for a long time to come.

What I had trouble with:

The biggest problem for me was the reluctance of McLaren to address the pursuit of truth. Because it seems to me that no matter how “generous” your orthodoxy is, that should still be the ultimate goal. To decipher just a little of the fullness of the truth in God’s word is something that is worth chasing after. I understand McLaren’s dillema. The problem for him in writing a book like this is that everyone believes that they have “The Truth”(tm). And in that sense he is smart to stay away from it. But nevertheless, the truth of who Christ is, what he came for and how we need to respond is something central to any Christian belief. Pretty much all of the problems that I had with McLaren’s individual statements had to do with this central theme.

So Finally….

The problem with any “generous orthodoxy” is that you are always going to be criticised for allowing too much in, and for keeping stuff out. Which is why this book was such a thinker. McLaren reaches his goal - providing a framework within which the Church can function - minus all of the inherited baggage that has dogged every species of Christianity since the dawn of Christendom. He strips away our ability to take pride in why we remain the “faithful remnant” (I love that term - it describes so much of the problem) and yet simultaneously he shows us the things that have made a positive Kingdom difference in the world. There’s going to be disaggreement, and nobody is likely to act entirely inside this orthodoxy, but it does give everyone a chance to learn from each other, and to put aside the petty in-fighting that is so often more passionate than our interest in furthering the kingdom. So…… let the revolution begin - starting here and now.

In the interests of not drawing out this series much further (too much thinking is hurting my brain), I’m collating the remainding chapters to describe the key points that I think McLaren is making.

On being charismatic/contemplative:

Like many of the journeying Vineyardians I know of, their experience with the “charismatic” was tainted by the models they saw displayed in the Pentecostal world. Hurt by the whole speaking-in-tongues-as-Christian-status type approach it took a fair bit for him to recognise the Godliness in what the Holy Spirit can do. But having been put in a situation where he believed in the spirit working in that way - I love his summation of what being baptised in the Spirit (oh how I wish there was a less loaded term) is about for him.

“Sometimes I’m talking with someone - offering pastoral counsel or just talking with someone I meet on a plane or in a restaurant - and a kind of wisom or insight comes to me, wisdom that I can’t explain or claim as my own….

Sometimes I know I should give away a sum of money to someone in need, and I know that not doing so would be missing a great opportunity to do good….. Sometimes I’m prayind, and I feel a confidence rise up in me that what I’m asking for will truly happen, and this confidence gives me courage to take risks I would not normally take. Sometimes I’m preaching or preparing to preach and I feel a boldness wash over me like a brisk wave in the surf and I know I’m being empowered by the Spirit of God”

On predestination:

Predestination is one of those nasty ones, that despite the constant barrage of opinion, I’m yet to fully make up my mind on - although I think that I’m leaning towards McLaren’s point of view (as distinct from Ianniello’s - sorry mate).

“Whether it’s God who makes us puppets, or whether it’s genes…… it doesn’t matter much to me. I have little time for determinism. If it’s true then I can’t help but not believe in it, because, after all, I have not choice.”

On being green:

I’m yet to have heard a legitimate argument for why the church shouldn’t be more outspoken about environmental issues. It’s an area that I know I personally need to look at my lifestyle about, and am starting to take steps towards. McLaren wheels out some pretty standard arguments, as well as tracing some of the church’s apathy to the environment (”Jesus is gunna come soon anyway and then who gives a stuff”). If there’s someone who is of the opinion that Christians are too environmentally conscious - I’d love to hear it. That’s not being sarcastic - I just don’t know what your argument is likely to be.

On being incarnational:

I was prepared for this chapter to be a nice easy one that I’d agree with everything in and would make me happy. What could be more altruistic that the need for Christians to be following the incarnational example of Christ and to be little Jesuses in the community. McLaren gets a little bit more controversial than that.

McLaren argues not for converting people into a Christian culture - which I agree with. There is a deep seated problem Christendom-wide with stifling the personalities of the people we bring into the flock. But then he goes in deeper and almost goes (but perhaps not quite) to the point of advocating other religions - which while I’m keen to be nice and accepting and respectful - just gets me starting to lean towards having no other Gods. Might come back to that in the final post of the series. Stay tuned.

On being depressed, yet hopeful and unfinished:

McLaren finishes the way he started - recognising the problems with the Church - the arrogance, the intolerance, the disunity - and offers up some hope for the future, by pointing to the good things that are happening now. And the church is not all doom and gloom. The world is changing. We are starting to change it. Sometimes we even have Christians that are doing good. McLaren is remarkably humble in admitting that his “Generous Orthodoxy” has further to go - God isn’t finished with it yet. He describes this unfinished tension the way all good non-fiction authors do: with someone else’s words

“How can we keep the artist discontented with his pictures while preventing him from being vitally discontented with his art? How can we make a man always dissatisfied with this work, yet always satisfied with working? How can we make sure that the portrait painter will throw the portrait out of the window instead of taking the natural and more human course of throwing the sitter out the window?” (Chesterton - “Orthodoxy”)

This concludes my summation of the book. I hope you’ve enjoyed the series, or if not that at least somewhere in there something has made you think in some way. Or something. Tomorrow, or possibly the next day, there will be a “What I reckon” piece on this book. Then I’ll be getting into some hardcore bible stuff. Possibly Genesis. Or 1 Samuel. Or Daniel. Maybe Judges.

I wanted to hold off on writing this entry until I was certain that I had McLaren’s point of view absolutely clear in my mind. For my mind there are three things that McLaren is saying in his “Why I am biblical” chapter.

1. The bible is not an answer book

McLaren argues that too often we treat the Bible as some ancient moral encylclopedia, as though we can research and find our answer to any problem. He describes this approach as having come from our modern, westernised, rational viewpoint - and it is out of step with the cultural context of the biblical times and the people who wrote the bible. He explains that (from his perspective) “God-breathed” means that it has been created by God, but written by humans.

He uses the analogy of his own life. While he would never question that he exists because God created him- ie. God said “let there be Brian, and there was Brian”, that doesn’t change the fact that he has two parents who got together to make him. There’s a little bit of difficulty in my mind gettting his analogy to work (thus the delay in getting this post out), but I’m fairly happy to accept that the Bible, in the translations we have today and in a completely different cultural context, cannot be treated as an answer book. (if anyone does find an answer book though, let me know :))

2. The bible finds its purpose in mission

McLaren’s finest hour in this chapter comes when he speaks about what should be obvious to everyone - the bible exists to equip the saints for ministry. He comes to this having just declared his frustration at the restrictions churches place on membership without using words such as “inerrant” and “literal” to describe the Scripture. Coming out of that, he muses that “Oddly, I’ve never heard of a church or denomination that asked people to affirm a doctrinal statement like this: The purpose of Scripture is to equip God’s people for good works.” (italics his).

Then he gets excited: “But again, think about what tyruly biblical Christians (Protestant, Catholic, …. whatever) have done when they have understood the profitable purpose of Scripture. Instructed by Scripture, they have left the comforts of home and country and gone to every corner of the world, spreading the Good News of Jesus in word and deed.” McLaren recognises that the bible exists not as a reference manual, not as an academic text, but as a tool to be used in the greater purpose that Jesus came to birth in the church. The bible exists to help us change the world. (my words, not his)

3. The bible as a narrative

Despite the rather sound base assumption (the bible as a narrative), the places McLaren takes the argument from there are a little bit unsatisfying. This point is mostly McLaren’s attempt at covering for the fact that there are some really icky bits (my words again:)) in the Old Testament that really take some explaining. McLaren’s point of view is that to start with we should be reading the bible (and the early history portions in particular) as a story, which doesn’t mean that God agrees with everything that happens therein. Which is pretty fair.
It’s the next bit that is a bit hard to swallow. And before I tell you why I don’t like it - let me say that I’m not sure I have anything better. It’s a decent crack at it. I don’t want to be throwing stones. Just trying to think this stuff through for myself.

McLaren believes that sometimes God told the Israelites to do stuff that doesn’t really seem to be very loving and fatherly, because they were in a culture that was significantly worse than anything God told them to do, so God was calling them to be slightly better than the rest of the world. Which is just a little bit much for me. I still believe in a God who is holy - set apart. Who wants to have nothing to do with sin. And this line of thinking is hard to align with a holy God who cannot bear to be a part of sin.

The other part I don’t understand about McLaren’s thinking is that whereas in most of the book (and indeeed this chapter) he is telling people to throw away their rationalised worldview, here he is trying to justify his point of view following a very clear “if A = B and C=D then E must equal F” line of thinking. But as I say, I don’t have anything better - it’s just intriguing. I’d love to hear other people’s opinions. Play nicely

This chapter was a bit of a mixed bag - with McLaren making some interesting claims, and saying a few things that I’ve not really heard that much of. This is one of the few chapters in the book where McLaren is more arguing a point rather than seeking a generous middle ground. He is seeking to see some of the poetry brought back into the church, so have us willing to allow some of the mystery of who God is to replace our Systematic theology which limits what we believe about God.

It’s a hard argument to disagree with. While I do think that McLaren is slightly over-romanticising an approach which can cause as many problems as the way that we tend to think now, there is certainly something in me that says that we are selling ourselves short by trying to explain and understand everything. And to take it a little off track from the point in “A Generous Orthodoxy” - perhaps it is our unwillingness to be a bit poetic about the way we talk about God that stops us from being a little more willing to experience the super-natural. I know that when I’ve brought myself to a place where I feel like I understand what God’s on about have also been some of the driest times. Maybe that’s even why so many people feel so unsatisfied by theological training - they lose the romance, the excitement, the mystery.

You only have to look at the way Christ spoke to see that we are probably trying to understand more than we are trying to experience. Because I think we understand by explaining, but we experience by hearing stories, by allowing for imagination, by letting God be beyond what we can understand. So there it is, from now on my teaching is going to be more poetic. Hopefully.

I’m trying to fit two chapters in together here - I’m not certain that I’ll cover every chapter but I feel like these two are interlinked enough to get through with one post. I started reading McLaren’s chapter on why he sees himself as (small e) evangelical with some trepidation. Evangelical is certainly a term that has some resonance with how I see my place as a Christian, particularly having read “The Quest for the Radical Middle” recently.

Fortunately for me, is seems that McLaren is quite close to my thinking (if perhaps a little bit less so, but I’ll take it). He describes the four characteristics of evangelicals that are the essence of the idea. They are:

1. An esteem for the bible as the Word of God. To the point where the term “biblical” almost becomes a synonym for good or right.
2. Emphasis on personal conversion
3. A belief that God can be experienced intimately - “a personal relationship with Jesus”
4. A desire to share these beliefs with others - “evangelistic

Brian McLaren describes taking on these values without the extra baggage that goes along with “Evangelicals” as being evangelical or post-evangelical. It’s an attempt to distance himself from the religious right/focus on the family/religious broadcaster type image of Evangelical.

His views on Protestantism are interesting and insightful too. McLaren holds up the concept that the initial shift against the crass practices of indulgences and the like was a legitimate response. But he believes that once the protestants had done enough protesting against Catholocism, they were all in protest mode so started protesting against themselves. Which is hard to argue against when you see the vast array of denominations across the spectrum of Christendom. (woah, big words there Geoffrey)

McLaren describes the current climate as being one of a “Free-market economy” for religion, where churches feel like they need to justify themselves as being the better, or truer, or cooler, or more traditional or more anything option for the discerning Christian. Which brings about the sad and probably destructive practice of church-shopping that has become an unfortunate reality.

McLaren calls for a “post-protestant” methodology, where we build on the lessons from the past, and lose the “faithful remnant” mentality, and instead concentrate on offering what our specific remnant has and work on adding that to the people against whom we have previously been protesting. Rather than protesting, become pro-testifying. Rather than focus on being distinctive for whatever it is that we specifically have working in our area, testify to the wider body about how they might get some good out of it. Sure it’s unrealistic, and it’s an optimistic concept, but the world needs optimists who want to back up their act with some good old fashioned love.

It’s been a remarkable experience, doing the series on “A Generous Orthodoxy”. As I’ve been reading, I’m forced to take seriously the points being made because I want to find something in that chapter to blog about. It’s actually slowed me down - I don’t want to read too much more before I can blog about the last thing I read, which in turn gives me time to step back and think about it.

SO

I reckon once this series is over (if I didn’t wait I’d spend my whole time on this blog - which is already becoming a problem:) ), I’m going to have a crack at doing a series on a book in the bible. If it can do that for me reading a theological book, just imagine what might happen when I have a go at a proper God book. So here’s your chance for suggestions, oh loyal readers (wherever you are). What book would you most like to see some deep and heartfelt (and probably misguided) reflections on. My natural tendency would be to go with something easy to find stuff in, like an epistle - so I’m going to be disciplined and stay away from anything after Acts. Anything else in the bible is fair game, although I’m not guaranteeing that I’ll traipse all the way through Isaiah, writing a reflection on every verse. What’s a good one to write on? I keenly await your input.

PS. Don’t suggest Job either - because if you’re looking for one, there’s a really good series by Christina over at Soul Soujourn entitled “Sitting with Job”. Check it out!

This is probably my favourite chapter of the book, there’s a beautiful poetic feel to the way Brian McLaren writes (which even gets covered a little bit later in the book) and it is intensified when he’s getting to the stuff that he knows is really self-evident. And to be brutally honest, I’m yet to have heard an argument against being more missional, being more deliberate about having a purpose. McLaren’s best definition of missional (although it’s not quite presented as a definition) is “To be and make disciples of Jesus Christ in authentic community for the good of the world”. As someone who has church planting on the brain a lot of the time, I can’t think of a more complete mission statement. That’s what I want to do and what I’d want to be a part of. And there’s no doubt that we’ve all missed some of that: some of us are so focused on making more disciples that we miss the spot about existing for the good of the world.

This chapter made me want to get out there and be a christian, more than I’ve felt for quite a while. The explanation of missional being defined by being a person in the church in the world, rather than being a person who has a church, who does stuff for the world (described in the two below remarkably quick and dirty diagrams) inspire thoughts of “Yes, that’s what this is about!”

And I couldn’t write on this chapter without including my favourite quote from the entire book, which when I read it out to the kids yesterday in my talk almost had me in tears of excitement. This is what I want to be part of:

“He selected 12 and trained them in a new way of life. He sent them to teach everyone this way of life. Some would believe and become practitioners and teachers of this new way of life, too. Even if only a few would practice this new way, many would benifit. Oppressed people would be free. Poor people would be liberated from poverty. Minorities would be treated with respect. Sinners would be loved, not resented. Industrialists would realize that God cares for the sparrows and wildflowers - so their industries should respect, not rape, the environment. The homeless would be invited in for a hot meal. The kingdom of God would come - not everywhere at once, not suddenly, but gradually, like a seed growing in a field, like yeast spreading in a lump of bread dough, like light spreading across the sky at dawn.”

That’s why I am a christian, why I want to be part of the church, even why I’m currently in the church I’m in. Cause when this translates in my life from words on a page, that’s the type of person, even the type of adventure that my soul yearns to be a part of. That’s what I know I was made to be like.