Emerging Church

On many occasions I have used the words “emergent” or “emerging” to describe myself.  On almost as many occasions I have distanced myself from those identifying adjectives, most frequently after reading or hearing someone characterize the “emerging Church” movement as something I definitely do not stand for or believe in.  I have often heard that the “emerging Church” is a group of Christians half-heartedly living out a relativist, hipster, emotional, seeker-sensitive, hollowed-out version of Christianity.  As I have said many times before, if that’s what emergent is, then I’m not that. 

But I still like reading and listening to Brian McLaren, Rob Bell, Shane Hipps, and Tony Jones.  All four of them frequently appear on various Christian leaders’ “Heretic of the week” lists.  I know that the challenges and ideas presented in their books do not match the caricature-like renderings of their staunch conservative and staunch liberal critics. 

Today, I began reading a book written by someone else who is bound to make the “Heretic of the week” lists as frequently as Brian, Rob, Shane, and Tony.  The book is called How (Not) to Speak of God.  In the introduction I found some comments on the emerging Church that were helpful to my understanding of why I relate to the movement and what fuels the disdain of critics.  Speaking of the emerging conversation he says:

“Indeed, it is in the fruits of this conversation that I see real hope for a robust, challenging and inspirational form of Christianity, one with roots in the past, a sensitivity to the present, and a vision for the future.  The term ‘emerging Church’ has also been used to describe this diverse community.  While it is a useful term, the word ‘Church’ can be quite misleading, since the movement is not so much developing a distinct religious tradition within Christianity, but rather is re-introducing ideas that help to both revitalize already existing religious traditions and build bridges between them.  It is not then a revolution that is in the process of creating something new but rather one that is returning to something very old.  It is here that I am reminded of G.K. Chesterton when he wrote of a desire to one day pen a story that tells of an English yachtsman who miscalculated his journey and returned to England with the belief that he had discovered a new land.  On sharing this idea, he writes:

‘There will probably be a general impression that the man who landed (armed to the teeth and talking by signs) to plant a British flag on that barbaric temple which turned out to be the Pavilion at Brighton, felt rather a fool.  I am not concerned to deny that he looked like a fool.  But if you imagine that he felt like a fool, or that at any rate that the sense of folly was his sole or his dominant emotion, then you have not studied with sufficient delicacy the rich romantic nature of the hero of this tale.’

The hero of Chesterton’s allegory overcomes any sense of foolishness with a profound joy, as he is in a unique position to experience the wonder and fear associated with discovering something new alongside the comfort and security of having come home.”

The last sentence accurately captures my experience.  As I have learned from the emerging Church conversation, I have found ways of thinking and living that seem to be “fresh and new.”  But as I read more Church history, I realize they are aged, tested by generations, and deep.

I was born and christened Catholic, raised Baptist, engaged by Pentecostals, and mentored by Wesleyans.  In my childhood I met the God of fire and brimstone. In my teen years I met a God whose morality was relevant to my situation.  In my college years I met a revolutionary Jesus that came to declare liberation to the poor and oppressed.  I also met a God who has spoken to and dealt with his people in monasteries and centralized institutional religion for thousands of years before me.  In my marriage I met a Jesus who was serious about what he said about Kingdom life and ethics.  In my career as a gardener I have encountered a God who meets me in the beauty of trees, mountains, birds, and sunrises through mystical experiences that would be destroyed by words, descriptions, or explanations.

Each aspect of God that I was introduced to, and each faith tradition I was presented with has taken me through a series of transitions, leading me to a more complete, but still incomplete, understanding of who God is, who I am, and what I am supposed to do about it.  Each transition did not lead me to a conversion experience where I needed to reject the God I knew before, but rather built bridges for me to take hold of the truth and reality presented in each of my past stages. 

It is not relativism.  It is not universalism.  It is not ecumenicalism. 

But I am not sure if there really is an easy word that sums up that experience in a nice neat gift-wrapped package. 

So if that’s what “emerging Church-ism” is… then I guess I’m that.