The Emergent Church, a.ka. Google is a miraculous thing when not used in China

My post on the emergent church, more musings than anything else, drew a good deal of commentary. Go see the comments section if you like, but the response ranged from "good post" to "If you have a Ph.D. in anything, it is only a testament to the squalor of American education."

I have no interest in answering much of anything, but let me add a few comments that are not intended as rebuttals, but more as explanations of where I am coming from on this topic.

First, some of the reaction was based on the presumption of my inherent hubris for using words like "heresy," "orthodoxy," or, even, "church." While I do not want to paint with a brush too broad, let me say that there is a strain within the emergent church that finds the assertion of truth, under any guise of humility, disturbing. Hence, anyone who uses a label runs the risk of offending those who are seeking a genuine, authentic relationship to the divine. What is particularly galling to this segment (which I hope is limited) of the emergent folks is arguments based upon exclusivity of any kind. In other words, if we cannot all hold hands around the campfire, journal, and admit our arrogance, then we cannot be authentically religious or spiritual. We are instead formulaic, cliched, modernist, and precisionistic. This is post-modern tripe of the highest order. The assumption seems to be that unless I am willing to admit that "I don't have it all figured out" then I am unfair, stupid, and unkind, and those who operate under this assumption cannot be bothered to consider that their assertion of relativistic humility becomes absolutist when used as a standard by which to judge other claims.

Second, I am unapologetically coming at this from the perspective of an orthodox Christian. How do I fit this movement into what I glean from Scripture? If that is an uncomfortable starting place for some, I understand, and we can discuss why that is my starting place, but I cannot pretend I am beginning anywhere else. (I am sure some will argue that I cannot start with the text, but that I start with what I bring to the text. A different argument, and one I am willing to engage in at some point, but that line of thinking denigrates the perspicuity of Scripture, as well as the role the Holy Spirit plays in our interaction with the text. This view comes perilously close to using a philosophical construction through which to examine the Scripture, as opposed to allowing Scripture to define those philosophical categories. If that makes me "modernist," so be it, but that is not how I define "modernism" in any sense of the word.)

Third, I must say I have a great deal of sympathy to those seeking a more authentic Christianity. Our churches could use a heavy dose of humility and genuineness. We are overly plastic, consumeristic, and, for lack of a better word, but one which I grew up with, "cheesy." We, as the evangelical church, have failed some of the basic callings of Scripture. We show little interest in the poor; we overemphasize some sins (homosexuality for example) while underemphasizing others (lying, gossiping, gluttony)--you know the whole speck/beam in the eye thing; we do not do well in loving our neighbor as ourselves; we struggle with loving the Lord, our God, with our minds. We are in need of a religious revolution in America and across the globe.

Fourth, I must say, though, that I do not agree with the thrust of some emergent thinking. I understand that it is centered on Christ's work, and that it defines authentic Christianity as following Christ's example. I cannot quibble with that, but I can argue against much of its implementation. God has revealed himself to us in three ways: Christ and Scripture (special revelation) and nature (general revelation). Those who follow Christ learn about him and his ministry through Scripture. It is often said that Christianity is not a religion, but it is a relationship. Perhaps I am going to get in trouble for saying this, but I believe this to be a false dichotomy. This is not an either/or proposition. Christ's work on the cross is the fulcrum of history, but it cannot be adequately understood apart from the special revelation of Scripture, and neither can a relationship with him be had fully except for on his terms, and his terms are defined by God's revelation. Jesus is my Lord and Savior. In order to acknowledge his role as my Lord and Savior I must acknowledge these roles on his terms. Why did I need a savior? How should I act with Jesus as my Lord?

These questions bring us to sin and its solution. A tendency that I find troubling in emergent thinking is the reluctance to grapple with sin and its consequences. We are unholy, undeserving of love, and without the potential for redemption in and of ourselves. When I read of, and talk to, many emergents, they see themselves as sitting at Christ's feet, just as his disciples did, and so they strive for simple living, an unmediated relationship with Christ. I cannot argue against that desire, but, again, I think the image they raise is an incomplete one. Christ is, according to Scripture, fully God and fully man, and given this, I believe we would find his presence thrilling and painful. Sitting at the feet of Christ would be like finding yourself torn between two magnetic poles, at once attracted and repulsed. We know that Christ is what we can be, and we would be drawn to this potential. This is like (and I am not trying for an exact analogy) spending time with a person you admire, someone who embodies what you would like to become. It is a mixture of reverence and awe. At the same time, however, being present with Christ would have to make me realize my inadequacy, my weakness, my fear, and my thorough inability to be like him on my own. His presence would, I am convinced, cause me great comfort and discomfort.

I suppose I am meandering to a point, perhaps. I believe the emergent tendency (again, I am not claiming expertise or anything remotely like it) is to focus on one aspect of Christ's character, and, perhaps, on only one member of the Trinity. We must wrestle not only with God's (writ large) immanence, but also his transcendence; his knowability and his unfathomable depths; his holiness and his justice; his love and his wrath. We learn of this God not through Christ alone, for if we limited our interaction with God to Christ's work alone, than his life and death can serve as nothing more than a model. The necessity of his life and death are grounded in our God's love, wrath, grace, and justice.

I am not sure this is making sense, and I am less sure it is persuasive. Let me conclude by saying that sitting at the feet of Jesus would be no picnic. Just look at the disciples. They were generally wrong, impatient, sinful, and confused. Mark (see chapters 4-6) makes it clear that his disciples, even when witnessing his miracles (calming the sea, feeding 5,000, walking on water), were afraid, did not comprehend this "man," and had hardened hearts.