Despite the shifting of Christianity's center from the Northern hemisphere to the Southern (see Phillip Jenkins, The Next Christendom), we Northerners continue our relative preoccupation with church and culture in our own neck-of-the-woods.

Thanks to Andii of NOUSLIFE, I became immediately entralled with a post by Rob at adidenlegacy, highlighting the "emerging church" differences between the UK and the US. Rob's post flowed out of a conversation he had with two other bloggers at EC Nashville (including Jonny Baker). It's certainly a telling read, and helps to explain some of the paradigmatic and ecclesiological differences between the two approaches. But the comments that the readers of aidenlegacy left were just as fascinating! One in particular seemed to jump out at me -- a post by the much-respected maggi of maggi dawn:

"A further reflection is that the Emerging Church (in the UK at least) is almost exclusively Emerging out of Evangelical cirlces. I'm not the only one with a 'proper job' but I'm one of the few who - if you look under the skin - is not an Evangelical. In the liberal, intellectual world I live in there are many, many Christians who would not identify with Emerging/Emergent because they are not Evangelicals, but in fact have a strikingly similar vision of culture-infused faith (or faith-infused culture?). So there's a kind of artificial divide there - it's not visionary Emergent versus dead denominations: both life and death is there in both trad denomnations and in Emergent (italics mine)."

That last sentence in particular really got me thinking...

Maggi's right -- there is "a kind of artificial divide" which is being touted, especially by the emerging church camp. Denominations are assumed to be "old wineskins" and thus, no longer relevant for reaching today's postmodern, post-Christian culture. But you have probably noticed me pointing out many times that emerging church leaders have been rather slow in admitting our own liabilities -- liabilities and faults which are not all that different than our denominational, "IC" (institutional church) counterparts. Blanket generalizations are often tossed about concerning the inneptness of the evangelical church in particular (and I have certainly leveled plenty of my own critical observations), and yet there often remains an unwillingness within the emerging church ranks to acknowledge the incredible work being done within denominational structures around the world --especially in the Southern hemisphere and in Asia.

I sometimes fear that we "Northerners" are still holding on to a disposition which needs to "be in the right" -- even if it means making other fellow-Northerners wrong. Why is it that we emerging-church-types find it so difficult to admit that some evangelical, denominational churches are doing kingdom work more effectively than we are?

Is it possible that the Emerging Church Divide is nothing more than a self-indictment -- evidence to the global Christian community that we still don't get it?

"Did you hear what she just said (from the platform)?!? K_e_w_l_!!"

"So have you decided? Are you going to Emergent or Soularize? Or hey... what about that Postmodern Ministry Summit? I hear it really kicks butt!"

By themselves, conversations like these are both common and harmless. But I fear for many people, this is as far as they will become personally engaged in the work of the emerging church. In fact, for the last 2-1/2 years, I've become increasingly concerned about the growing number of Emerging Church Voyeurs -- men and women who are fascinated with this emphasis, this paradigm, this movement -- but who persist in "watching" others instead of rolling up their sleeves and getting personally involved. In some instances, they are people who lurk anonymously around EC-related message boards. In others, they're the host of people who join book discussion groups and attend workshops and conferences, but never launch out themselves. The Emerging Church experience, for these folks, is tantalizing, titillating, and even addictive. They love this stuff! And perhaps the rest of us are more culpable in this than we realize.

If we cater to or even encourage the consumerization of all things "emerging church," then can we honestly blame people for becoming emerging church voyeurs, especially given the voyeuristic culture we live in? If you haven't read the excellent and insightful post by Jen Lemen, highlighting what she believes might be killing the emergent movement, I urge you to do so. The conversation Jen has spawned there is vitally important.

Religious and ecclesiological voyeurism is certainly nothing new. The modern-era church (especially in the last several decades) has been filled with who those in the real estate business call "lookie-loos" -- people who act like serious buyers, but really have no intention of doing so.

The emerging church needs more voyageurs, not more voyeurs! On the surface, the difference may seem incidental -- but don't be fooled! The (French) voyageur was a hearty explorer and guide (especially cir. 1650-1750), usually through unknown and unexplored territory -- a trailblazer extraordinaire!

May God therefore help us to discourage emerging church voyeurism, and instead -- empower women and men to step out and take risks and be the voyageurs that following generations will thank God for.

What the emerging church of the 21st century needs perhaps more than anything, are apostolic leaders whose overiding, overpowering passion is focused on the transformative work of Christ in the lives of people instead of institutions.

Galatians 4:19 (NIV) My dear children, for whom I am again in the pains of childbirth until Christ is formed in you

Our culture is sick and our churches are sick because our people are sick. They're suffering from a sickness of the soul. They've been poisoned -- not by air or water pollution -- but by individualism, materialism, and hedonism. They're sick. And so are we.

Significantly more attention needs to be leveled against these kinds of debilitating forces, rather than pursuing our preoccupation with postmodern philosophizing and overeager deconstruction. In short, we need to first change who we are, before we change what we're part of. We've got the cart before the horse -- and we're fooling ourselves if we think the world isn't noticing.

Kudos to Bob Carlton , who is spearheading an effort to organize a 43-hour prayer vigil to coincide with the Emerging Women's Leadership Initiative National Consultation -- an event designed to engage a diverse group of innovative and passionate women leaders in a generative conversation about new ways of leading which make sense for emerging forms of church. The event will take place June 1-3, 2004, in Dahlonega, Georgia. Bob is looking for people to commit to praying for one-hour blocks during the event. If you're interested, you can sign up by clicking here.

Daniel is spawning a series of excellent posts concerning the recent controversy over a handful of Roman Catholic bishops, resolved to withhold the Eucharist from Catholic politicians (and members) who vote for practices deemed immoral by the Roman Catholic Church (e.g. abortion and stem-cell research). Daniel suggested reading this article for some background -- interesting.

Check it out.

So, what does DesertPastor think? Well first of all, I must admit that I'm an "open table" advocate. However, I do believe my Roman Catholic counterparts have the right (and responsibility) to safeguard their beliefs and practices. I'm still chewing on all of this for the time being, though, and haven't formulated a more articulate response. But I'll probably let you know once I do. :D

Emerging Ecclesiology meets Paradoxology.

That's right! Our Paradox community was treated to the amazing insights, academic prowess, and winsome personality of Anna Aven. Her topic? "Finding the Story: The Use and Misuse of Narrative."

Anna did an outstanding job of getting our faith community to think more critically about this important topic and was very effective at integrating illustrative clips from two popular movies: Big Fish and Mona Lisa Smile.

Here's a clip of Anna's opening remarks.

I also photodocumented Anna's visit with a some additional shots here, here, and here.

It was over 5 months ago that I blogged on "What Does a Clerical Collar Say?" -- and with 30 comments (and still climbing), this post remains one of Paradoxology's most frequented.

After reading a recent post by Rick Saint (pictured below) on what is obviously still a hot topic, I decided to bring on "Part 2" of the clerical collar discussion. I loved what Rick had to say. Check it out:

"The whole issue of wearing clerics has been interesting with me.

I come from a pentecostal/charismatic background. I attended a traditional pentecostal Bible school for both my undergrad and M.A. My father was prominent pastor in the same denomination, although I usually attended charismatic/word of faith/vineyard churches.

With that being said, I am now ordained in a sacramental church (similar to Charismatic Episcopal Church) that is both liturgical and Spirit-filled.

The interesting thing I found out was that wearing a clerical collar usually attracted the unchurched although some "very religious" Christians were turned off by it. I even saw a difference between wearing a colored clerical shirt and wearing my "black and whites". When I would wear my black clerics to places such as hospitals, etc. it was normal for strangers to speak to me, ask me for prayer, etc. I guess those who were in need could recognize me for what I stood for and would ask for help.

As far as those "very religious" Christians are concerned, I had to make a decision... was it more important for me to reach those who did not know Christ or upset a few people who were already on their way to heaven? For me the answer was simple."

I suppose that, like Rick, I might also be more inclined to begin wearing a collar for the sake of the unchurched, rather than concerning myself with what "religious folk" might think. Some of you may remember that I've been toying with the possibility of wearing a clerical collar -- something which was common in my own faith tradition a century ago (Free Methodist). In addition to a couple of leaders in my church who are encouraging me in this direction, and even "daring" me, the words of my friend Pavel (aka Addai, of TheOoze fame) continue to haunt me: "wearing a (clerical) collar is like telling the world, 'the kingdom of God is open for business.'"

And so I'm asking myself afresh, "who did Jesus primarily seek to proclaim his kingdom to?"
I think that Rick's conclusion is starting to sound more and more persuasive. What are your thoughts?

Most people commonly associate fire with "hell," whether or not they personally believe in it's existence. Unquestionably, some (or much) of this has resulted from the literary prowess of writers like Dante (you might have some fun with this related site). If you’re familiar with Dallas Willard, you’ve likely encountered his suggestion (when discussing the idea of eternal punishment or bliss) that “the fires of heaven may well be hotter than the fires of hell.”

It’s certainly an interesting notion, especially in light of the ancient scriptures:

Isaiah 33:14 (NIV)
The sinners in Zion are terrified;
trembling grips the godless:
"Who of us can dwell with the consuming fire?
Who of us can dwell with everlasting burning?"

Hebrews 12:28-29 (NRSV) Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us give thanks, by which we offer to God an acceptable worship with reverence and awe; for indeed our God is a consuming fire.

2 Peter 3:11-12 (NIV) Since everything will be destroyed in this way, what kind of people ought you to be? You ought to live holy and godly lives as you look forward to the day of God and speed its coming. That day will bring about the destruction of the heavens by fire, and the elements will melt in the heat.

Is it possible that such a “fire” will be the very thing that those occupying eternity will long for? Will they long to have what once they consciously held-on-to instead of God, and what has eventually become a burden to them, a shame to them, a repulsion to them – will they long to have that burned out of their lives… taken away…gone at last… and finally be free? And furthermore, will those who lived as apprentices (Dallas’ preferred term instead of disciples) of Christ in this life, become eternally grateful for the ever-burning fires of God’s presence – thankful that they had chosen the tougher and hotter path?

Maybe the discomforts of heaven will one day be seen as far more desirable than the comforts of hell.

And so, what if we began proclaiming a gospel that emphasized this? What if we succeeded in finally dispelling the fire-and-brimstone version of hell that has characterized the modern era? How many of our fellow human beings would pledge their lives to the eternal fires of heaven and avoid the comforts of hell?

When We Sin… the Land Suffers.

Honestly now, how often do we contemplate this reoccurring theological principle? When we read, study, and especially when we pray the scriptures, why is it that passages like the following always seem to evade our attention?

Leviticus 18:24-28 (MsgB) "Don't pollute yourself in any of these ways. This is how the nations became polluted, the ones that I am going to drive out of the land before you. Even the land itself became polluted and I punished it for its iniquities—the land vomited up its inhabitants. You must keep my decrees and laws—natives and foreigners both. You must not do any of these abhorrent things. The people who lived in this land before you arrived did all these things and polluted the land. And if you pollute it, the land will vomit you up just as it vomited up the nations that preceded you.

What!?! Biblical texts like this are an affront to our modern sensibilities. We can certainly live with the notion that our “ecological sins” (e.g. wasting of natural resources, proliferation of non-biodegradables, etc.) can end up polluting and hurting the land God has made us responsible for – but when it comes to our personal moral/ethical choices…we may well begin to exclaim, “now wait just a minute!”

In his Theology of the Old Testament, Walter Brueggemann responds to the Leviticus account by highlighting the "threat" which Israel's breaking-of-the-covenant entails. Failure to keep the covenantal commandments is what ushers forth this threat.

"The threat includes "historical-military" assault, but it also includes the complete disruption of the processes of food production that depend on the fruitful function of creation. Israel makes no distinction between "historical" and "natural" threats; both are of a piece, and both do damage to Israel's environment. The food-producing, life-sustaining infrastructure of creation will be terminated because Yahweh will [i.e. must] be obeyed. When Yahweh is not obeyed, all of creation is placed in profound jeopardy (p. 540).

Our aversion to any suggestion that there are natural/global consequences to our sin stems directly from that most-cursed attribute of ours: individualism. Individualism attempts to convince us we can do with our own lives whatever we damn-well-please. We often buy into the lie that our personal choices only affect us, which simply is not true – not sociologically or theologically.

Modernism and individualism have successfully joined forces in recent centuries to strip the presence of authentic biblical community from much of The Church. It was the active role of community in the lives of God’s people which served as a potent deterrent to moral/ethical anarchy and the subsequent wounding of the land. A new generation is emerging which longs to rediscover what the experience of "community" is all about, and therein lies our hope. With biblical community reclaimed, the effects of individualism will diminish. The corporate nature of our faith will become prominent. And when we once again accept the reality that our sin profoundly affects the entire community... we will be far closer to realizing how our moral/ethical choices affect the land we inhabit.

Last weekend, my wife and I introduced some friends to Yosemite National Park for the first time. As we stood and prayed together in middle of a magnificent meadow, gazing up at the awesome granite monoliths and waterfalls all around us, I found myself thinking about “Hetch Hetchy” – a virtual “second” Yosemite Valley just to the North, which was damned up as a reservoir in 1913 to supply water to San Francisco. Seen by many as a travesty and a rape of the land, I wondered if somehow our collective sin led to its demise. A stretch? Perhaps. But shouldn’t we at least begin to contemplate how our lives may be affecting the well-being of the land – the creation over which God has made us trustees?

Note: our trip to Yosemite last weekend was incredible! If you have a few minutes, check out the new photo album I set up with photos that I've taken throughout Yosemite National Park over the years. By the way, when all of us were praying in that meadow last weekend, the view was something like this.

Growing up in evangelical churches, I was repeatedly taught the conversational nature of prayer – e.g. “just tell God whatever’s on your heart – talk to him just like you would a friend.” The relational orientation of such prayer made a lot of sense – especially as I grew to understand God as covenantal and reciprocal in his dealings with us. But in my earliest years of religious upbringing, the very notion of “praying” out loud – especially in a group – was a fearful and intimidating thing: what if I prayed incorrectly or said the wrong thing to God? What if my friends laughed at me or thought I had prayed stupid?

In time, I began to realize that the "evangelical" path to prayer – despite it’s relational orientation – was often a stumbling block for people, and especially for those whose spiritual lives were just beginning to develop.

Fast-forward to an article I read in Christianity Today over three years ago, which helped me to finally articulate what I had been increasingly starting to feel over the years – namely, that my growing up in an evangelical faith-tradition had eventually left my prayer life feeling overly individualized and shallow.

Discovering common prayer and the praying of the offices has since revolutionized my prayer life. It has connected me to the body of Christ which transcends time or place – for I am often praying the very prayers that believers before me have prayed for 1000 years or more – and it helps to remind me that not only am I connected to the Body-of-Christ-throughout-time, but that I have SO much to learn from the way those before me have prayed and lived out their faith.

It is so easy for us to view our own time as spiritually more "enlightened" or superior than of past centuries or millennia – and frankly, I've come to see there’s not much truth in that. Praying the offices and other ancient common prayers constantly reminds me of this and humbles me.

Alongside all of this, ad-hoc prayers have remained an important part of my life. I see extemporaneous prayer as hugely beneficial in many ways. Although the prayers of others sometimes help me to best express the contents of my heart to God, there are other times when nothing can come close to my own thoughts and words. In addition, when practicing lectio divina (praying the scriptures), praying extemporaneously helps me to contextualize the power of the written word within my life and present circumstances. And it’s in ways like this that I think extemporaneous prayer becomes tempered and thus more effective/rewarding – especially for those of us who were raised in non-liturgical communities of faith.

Prayer should ultimately not be limited to an extemporaneous vs. liturgical choice. Jesus likely practiced both (e.g. praying the Shema AND pouring out his heart in Gethsemane), and the early church followed his lead, observing set times of prayer as well as praying extemporaneously (e.g. Acts 2:42 and Phil.4:6).

We would do well to embrace a similar blending of prayer. I suppose that even as praying the offices helps to “temper” our extemporaneous prayers, so our praying extemporaneously might help to “temper” our observance of the daily office and the use of common/liturgical prayer.

So, what has YOUR experience been like concerning extemporaneous prayer? Has it been similar to mine, or significantly different? I’d love to hear about it.