What is emergent? A generous orthodoxy

Read the introduction: What is emergent?

“I offer this book with the heartiest sentiments to all the jolly people who hate what I write, and regard it (very justly, for all I know), as a piece of poor clowning or a single tiresome joke.” – G.K. Chesterson (Orthodoxy (Moody Classics))

I came into the emergent conversation probably a little bit later in the game than many. I didn’t even start hearing the name emergent until after college (circa 2003-2004).

As I started tracking blogs and other online conversations I began seeing the term more and more. And once I launched my own blog in 2005 and began making connections with folks in the UK, I started hearing from people who were actually taking part in the conversation.

In March of 2006 Thomas introduced me to the blogs of Jonny Baker and Andrew Jones, referring to them as the “grandfather’s of the emerging church” (and even then I didn’t get their names right).

But as I delved into this conversation more and more it was interesting to see some of the lines being drawn in the sand. There were those who were flat out against anything emerging. Those who were against emergent but not emerging and those who were against Emergent but not emergent.

And then there were those, like me, who couldn’t understand why someone would be so upset about candles, prayer stations and techno loops in church.

So I continued observing from afar and the more blogs I read, the more I began to understand the difference between Emergent and emerging (Emergent – capital E is used to refer to Emergent Village, a group organized to serve as a “node in the web” of the overall emerging conversation — otherwise its still all as clear as mud :-)), and started to see that emerging was far more than just a new worship style, targeted towards my generation.

I also started to notice that the critics were highly critical of the conversation and seemed to constantly throw flaming darts towards anyone taking part in the conversation. Just my awareness and mentioning of the topic brought about some heated email exchanges with friends.

Yet through it all, I didn’t notice much/if any ill-will coming from those on the “inside” of the conversation. Especially from Johnny and Andrew — my primary connection points to the emerging conversation at the time.

Sure there may have been the occassional blog posts critiquing the church as a whole, but I can’t recall reading any attacks aimed towards their critics or other Christian traditions.

Even in Andrew’s visit to Spurgeon’s Metropolitan Tabernacle, which could have easily become a targeted attack towards an “old antiquated way of doing church” (my words), I was impressed with Andrew’s generous comments and humor.

So fast forward a bit to 2008 and I started to see myself getting caught up more and more in the emerging conversation. I started the year out reading Brian McLaren’s “Everything Must Change: Jesus, Global Crises, and a Revolution of Hope” and was convinced that yes – EVERYTHING must change.

After reading that book, I was hooked.

Next came Shane Claiborne and Chris Haw’s “Jesus for President: Politics for Ordinary Radicals” and then Rodney Clapp’s “A Peculiar People: The Church As Culture in a Post-Christian Society.”

Clapp would probably not be considered emergent (in fact the book was originally a part of an extra-credit book club at my Baptist alma mater), but his ideas seemed to ring true with what McLaren, Claiborne and others were saying.

Before long, I picked up a copy of one of McLaren’s older books, “A Generous Orthodoxy: Why I am a missional, evangelical, post/protestant, liberal/conservative, mystical/poetic, biblical, charismatic/contemplative, fundamentalist/calvinist, anabaptist/anglican, methodist, catholic, green, incarnational, deppressed-yet-hopeful, emergent, unfinished Christian”.

It had one of the longest sub-titles in the history of mankind, but it was also one of the most inclusive tellings of Christianity I had encountered — I loved it! As I read it, I was right their alongside McLaren, cheering him along all the way.

Yet the things McLaren had written weren’t entirely new either. It seemed to echo beliefs I had felt on my own for a long time. As others have said, many emergent authors simply put words to things we’ve already felt in our hearts and not yet found the words for.

In fact, McLaren’s writing reminded me in many ways of the writing of Brennan Manning and the music of Rich Mullins. People I learned a lot from, long before I knew a thing about the emerging conversation. Both seemed to preach a generous orthodoxy that began with a generous and loving God.

Manning later wrote (in “The Furious Longing of God“) that this love of God for man is, “A union that not only transcends every political, social, cultural and religious consideration and not only infuses them with ultimate meaning, but defines the very purpose of life itself.”

So perhaps as followers of God, if we really realized just how much God loves us, we could learn to love others with that same generous, giving, wreckless fury – regardless of their orthodoxy – or orthopraxy.

Personally, I had come to a point where I was glad to use Scripture as a two-edged sword — especially against other Christians. I was glad to point out where you were wrong and I was right. Unlike Johnny and Andrew, I was quick to slam “the old ways” of doing things on my blog, my weekly newspaper column or in a sharply pointed email.

However, McLaren wrote in the introduction to his book that “the last thing we need is a new group of proud, super protestant, hyper puritan, ultra restorationist reformers who say, ‘Only we’ve got it right!’ and therby damn everybody else to the bin of five minutes ago and the bucket of below-average mediocrity.”

Realizing my own weakness and rush towards judgment, it was and is that spirit of generosity that continues to attract me (and others) to the emerging conversation. I quickly saw a group of people (as a whole) who aren’t claiming to have all the answers. They’re not claiming to know all there is to know about God. They’re sharing their stories. They’re sharing what God has shown them and then they’re listening to the rich traditions of others as well.

Suddenly Baptists are seeing the Eucharist in a new light because of their relationships and conversations with Episcopalians and Catholics — and vice versa. Methodists are seeing evangelism in a new light because of their relationships and conversations with Baptists — and vice versa. Conservatives and liberals are getting to know their Christian brothers and finding it easier to forgive and love each other after years of animosity.

And with this same generous orthodoxy, I’m starting to see that while there are many radical and diverse perspectives within Christianity, greater damage is done to the cause of Christ when we refuse to listen to one another and puff up ourselves, than there would be if we actually accepted those differing viewpoints.

It’s no wonder that Christ’s last commandment to his disciples was to “love one another as I have loved you.” Not simply as you would have them do unto you, but as Jesus Christ loved us and gave himself for us. (John 13:34-35)

After all, these traditions can be highly valuable for my own journey and relationship relationship with God. And a generous orthodoxy teaches me and that these different perspectives deserve Christian charity rather than condemnation.

I’ve been on the other side of the fence (a closed, restricted orthodoxy) for far too long and even though I know the dangers associated with a restricted orthodoxy, I continue to climb back over that fence — especially when it suits my own benefits.

My natural tendency is to self-(over)-inflate myself with my “vast knowledge” and build myself up rather than build Christ up.

Perhaps that’s why I continue to be a fan of this generous orthodoxy — because it seems to be such a worthy goal to obtain to. It speaks to the core of who I am as a follower of Christ and so against the core of who I am as a man. It’s far less about me and much more about Him. It’s far more about me denying myself and accepting what others have to offer.

So I’m trying to get over my certainty and find what’s beautiful in the opinions and beliefs of others. I’m trying to listen to the stories of others. I want to know what makes them who they are. What traditions, beliefs and encounters with God have shaped them.

As Greg Garrett shared recently, “We’d forgive everything if we knew the whole story.”

In the eyes of God, we all come to him on equal footing. We all come broken and in need of reconciliation. Perhaps if I really believed that, I’d be a lot less certain of my understanding of the God who’s name is, “I Am.”

And I know some are going to suggest this is merely universalism, relativism and I’ll lose all absolutes. I can understand that argument. But its not about that for me. I still absolutely believe in absolutes — but this generous orthodoxy reminds me that some of my absolutes can change with time (how’s that for a contrary statement). And I want my orthodoxy to be generous enough that I can listen to others, and learn from others as well.

“This generous orthodoxy does not mean a simple merging, mixing, conflating, or reconciling of the two schools of thought, though. Rather it disagrees with both regarding the ‘view of certainty and knowledge which liberals and evangelicals hold in common,’ a view (Dr. Stanly) Grenz describes as ‘produced… by modernist assumptions'”… ‘the way forward for evangelicals to take the lead in renewing a theological center that can meet the challenges of the postmodern… situation in which the church now finds itself.'” – McLaren

A generous orthodoxy doesn’t mean I lose all sense of certainty or become a dark deep theological black hole that takes in everything and everything, accepting it all as truth.

No, I believe a generous orthodoxy gives me the ability to retain my own unique identity and beliefs in the larger community of faith and it allows you to retain your own unique identity and beliefs in the larger community of faith and together it creates something far greater than we ever could have had alone.

As Thomas has suggested, it’s like a salad. And Christianity demands unity — not uniformity. A lettuce doesn’t lose it’s flavor in a salad, nor does the tomato, or walnuts or blue cheese crumbles. They all have a specific role in the body of the salad and create a wonderful flavor that never could have existed apart from one another.

And I liken it to a new family. When Laurie married me, while we have now become “one flesh” and one new family, she didn’t lose her identity because she suddenly became a Blundell. I didn’t lose my identity because I’m now joined with her. Instead we’ve become a new union. A picture of togetherness. She brings traditions, ideas and strengths to the table that I had never even considered. And I hope I do the same for her. And like a church centered around a generous orthodoxy, we can do far more together than we could have apart.

Perhaps I can be wrong about my own assumptions and ideals about God as well. I don’t doubt my beliefs, but I also realize that I may very well be wrong — and we can discuss how I’m wrong and you’re right in a generous, civil manner.

And perhaps rather than trying to push our argument and views down each other’s throats (which never gets any where) we can both agree to a generous orthodoxy and celebrate the greatness of each viewpoint.

And in the midst of it all — LOVE one another as HE has loved YOU. It’s what makes Christianity great!

If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing. If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.

Love never gives up.
Love cares more for others than for self.
Love doesn’t want what it doesn’t have.
Love doesn’t strut,
Doesn’t have a swelled head,
Doesn’t force itself on others,
Isn’t always “me first,”
Doesn’t fly off the handle,
Doesn’t keep score of the sins of others,
Doesn’t revel when others grovel,
Takes pleasure in the flowering of truth,
Puts up with anything,
Trusts God always,
Always looks for the best,
Never looks back,
But keeps going to the end.

Love never dies. Inspired speech will be over some day; praying in tongues will end; understanding will reach its limit. We know only a portion of the truth, and what we say about God is always incomplete. But when the Complete arrives, our incompletes will be canceled. – 1 Cor 13:1-10

Read Part 2 :: What is emergent? Centered set