VillagePastor

The Real Emerging Church

While a lot of focus has been on the Emergent Movement here in the North, there is an emerging Christian movement, with more radical implications, taking place south of us. You could call it the renewal of a non-Western religion. That’s how it is described in a compelling book written by Philip Jenkins titled The Next Christendom: The Coming of Global Christianity. It’s easy to miss, given our propensity to be Ameri-centric (something living seven years in Europe helped me to get over). But the reality is that the center of Christianity is shifting. To put it another way, we have assumed the center of gravity has shifted from Jerusalem to Antioch to Rome to Constantinople to Geneva to Willow Creek to Cedar Ridge, to Seattle—and will likely stay here. The real shifting, however, is moving south to Africa, Asia, and Central and South America. In just over forty years, only one-fifth of Christians will be Caucasian. As Jenkins puts it, a “white Christian will sound like a curious oxymoron.”                               

                         

Anyone who does much traveling sees evidences of this shift, whether you go to Buenos Aires or Manila. Recently, when I was in both Hyderabad and Chennai, India (a nation that will have the largest population in less than 40 years), I saw an energy, enthusiasm, and a vision for what God is doing, that was refreshing and inspiring, and yes, even a bit foreign to what I am used to.                      

                              

The implications of this shift are pretty incredible.  Christianity that begins to reflect  more of the south and less of the north will have some of the following characteristics—it will be more conservative and traditional, a result of more patriarchal cultures; there will be a deeper engagement in the supernatural-faith healing, exorcisms, and dream-visions will be basic components-suspicion will be attached to churches that lack these signs of power; Christianity will become a more dominant force world-wide, both in culture and politics; there will be an emphasis in radical community, for in the south, to be a member of the church often has more tangible benefits than being a citizen of a nation; given the suffering many have faced, martyrdom, oppression, and exile will be part of the language-spiritual warfare will be part of the focus.                                                                                                       

Jenkins believes this emergent Christianity is not only having profound impact in the South, but it will be critical to the health of the church in the North. The migration of believers from the south will bring the invigoration so many churches are desperate for. It will probably bring a degree of discomfort as well. It may challenge us to tear down some of the artificial, non-biblical barriers we have put up to protect us from a more profound experience of worship (like dance), a closer sense of community, and a greater experience of the supernatural. For those of us in the academic community, it will necessitate greater attention to what our brothers and sisters are working through theologically in places like Jos, Gujarat, and Kinshasa. I will be teaching again this summer in Chennai on worship, and I am anticipating I will learn as much, if not more, from my students.                                             

When I was at ETS meetings in the fall, I happened to pass by Millard Erickson, who has written a number of books on theology and other subjects. I had just come out of a session of papers on the emergent church, and in our conversation he mentioned a far more emerging movement we should be both aware of and learning from. It’s what Jenkins is talking about here in his book.

Thinking About The Da Vinci Code and John

Anyone who buys into the fact there is some truth to the Da Vinci Code's assumptions of Jesus has not spent much time studying Scripture, particularly the gospel of John. If there is any book in Scripture that challenges the notion Jesus was anyone less than God, it is this book. There is nothing to suggest human invention - the course of this book goes beyond what any of us could imagine. Everywhere I turn, Jesus responds in ways I least expect, lingers when I anticipate movement, moves when we assume He will stay. The more I look at Jesus in this book, the more I feel I am staring into the sun.

These days, I am working my way through the conversations of Jesus in John. As I prepare to preach, I am finding them both challenging and mystifying. In every single one I have studied, none of the conversations goes as anyone expects. They are enigmas that beg to be unraveled. Nathanael thinks he has Jesus figured out, but then realizes Jesus is the One who has him figured out. Jesus' mother is faced with the reality she can no longer parent Jesus; Nicodemus is the only one in the whole narrative told he must be born again (ironic, considering he is a religious leader); the woman at the well thinks she is giving Jesus a drink, but it is Jesus who is filling her cup; and the paralytic is confronted with the fact he really does not really want to get well (which may also be true of many of us). At this point in my studies, and I can appreciate McLaren's point that when it comes to Jesus, clarity is sometimes overrated and intrigue is correspondingly undervalued (The Secret Message of Jesus). No matter how much time I devote to preparation, I can at best only enter the pulpit and beg for God's mercy. People ask me when I finish my sermon prep, and I tell them I am never finished. At best, I merely take a break to preach what I have.

It's little wonder John has been one of the gospels I have avoided preaching for 22 years. While I have been attracted to the story telling of Luke, as well as the action of Mark, John has never captured my imagination. Now I am here, and the water is far deeper than I imagined. I had bought into the idea it was more like a wading pool. Instead, I feel like I am lost in a vast ocean. I once thought preaching John would have been to preach the obvious. After all, John is the book I cut my teeth on when learning baby Greek. The structure, the language is much simpler than other NT books. John is the book we handed out to new believers when I worked with YFC. For years, I told people this would be a good place to start. Now, six chapters into it, my recommendation would be to keep it for Greek studies, but keep it away from new believers until they have made significant steps in their spiritual maturity (including masters level and doctoral level theology degrees).

But in many ways, this is all confirming something I have believed for the most part of my life, that Jesus is this indescribable, indefinable God. Not some mere teacher, one who married Mary Magdalene, who fled with child to Gaul. For those Da Vinci fans who think they can hold to these inane assumptions and still be cool with Jesus, they might want to consider the words of C. S. Lewis: "You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feel and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being merely some great teacher. He has not left that open to us." Nor has John.

In every conversation, it is as if John ends by saying - see, I told you Jesus is God. John seems to maintain a running thread through the whole of the book that declares God is sovereign, and nothing happens apart from His determined will. That includes man's response to God.