Playing the enemy: common grace and wisdom

A few weeks ago I read John Carlin's excellent book Playing the Enemy. It tells the story of Nelson Mandela's project of nation building in post-apartheid South Africa, climaxing with the 1995 Rugby World Cup final.

It's rare that a retelling of events in recent history that are in my own living memory can evoke as much emotion as they did at the time. John Carlin's book almost moved me to tears as I was led to appreciate the great significance of the events that formed the Rainbow Nation. I understand the book is to be made into a film, and I should imagine that it will transfer across media very well.

The book is really a biography of Mandela himself. He is represented as a political genius - using his charm and charisma pragmatically to achieve what he wanted, and being very aware of his surroundings. Mandela is quite a hero of mine, and whilst the book sometimes overstates his saintlike qualities, I felt I understood him further after this sketch.

One of the things that I've found myself responding to time after time is Mandela's strategy to always expect the very best to come out of a conversation, even those in situations of confrontation. Time and again, Mandela seems to go beyond reasonable expectation in giving his opponents the benefit of the doubt. He seems to assume that people are generally good - undoubtably corrupted by other influences - but good nonetheless. Here's a case in point of Mandela at work, responding on radio to one far-right opponent Eddie von Maltitz:

For a full three minutes he [von Maltitz] ranted and raved at Mandela - communism that, terrorists the other, the destruction of our culture, civilised standard, and norms. He ended with a brutally direct threat. "This country will be embroiled in a bloodbath if you carry on walking with the Communist thugs."
After a tense pause, Mandela replied, "Well, Eddie, I regard you asa worthy South African and I have no doubt that if we were to sit down and exchange views I will come closer to you and you will come closer to me. Let's talk, Eddie."
"Uh... Right, okay, Mr. Mandela," Eddie muttered in confusion. "Thank you," and he hung up.
[page 151]

I've been made to return to Mandela's strategy on several occasions in recent days. I wonder if often tense meetings would be made easier if we gave our opponents the benefit of the doubt as Mandela did. Mandela's theology seems to imply universal goodness and evil systems. A closer Biblical theology is of universal depravity of all human hearts. But I wonder whether our understanding of this true theological diagnosis of the heart sometimes causes us to put limits on the common grace he has placed into the hearts of all humans, and leads us into unnecessary confrontation and arguments when they might be diffused.

A tool to help engage with philosophy and pop culture

I've recently come across a series of very useful books for those of us involved in cultural engagement, apologetics and evangelism.

Published by Wiley-Blackwell, the Philosophy and Pop Culture series helps the reader to get their heads around the various philosophies that popular films and television programmes both espouse and reflect. Why is it that we find David Brent so ridiculous? What is the form of philosophy that drives Jack Bauer? These are amongst the questions that the books investigate. As well as 24 and The Office, there are also guides on other series including Battlestar Galatica, Family Guy, Lost, South Park and the Batman films, amongst others. You can view the full list of titles here.

The books aren't easy reads (especially the one I read on 24). It's academic philosophers that have written the chapters. But I found the guides both helpful in illustrating quite abstract philosophical ideas, and in helping me to engage with the ideas these shows present and play around with. I'm hoping that as well as deepening my appreciation of these programmes, the books have armed me with new material for sermons and lunchbars.

"Love the sinner, hate the sin"

The old Christian adage goes that we're to 'love the sinner but hate the sin'. Recently I've been reading the excellent book Walking with Gay Friends which has helped me see how difficult this sometimes is.

I've found the book immensely helpful not just in terms of thinking about best loving and engaging homosexual people with the gospel, but also in helping me to reflect on how I must welcome those people who are believers but who are working through issues of lifestyle.

In one section, author Alex Tylee writes a very powerful (and true) case study. In it, a Christian has a gay friend. However, their friendship has stalled. In the name of 'loving the sinner but hating the sin', the Christian has ended up hating elements of her friend's character. She had began to think that the 'sin' was her friend herself, because her sexuality seemed to permeate every aspect of her life. Her friend had begun to think that the friendship was conditional.

Here's a quote from the book:

'I had to ask Karen [the Christian] whether there was any truth in what Louise [the non-Christian] was saying. Was it in fact true that Karen loved only the 'ideal' Louise, with her sexuality removed? If this really was the case, then there was something wrong. When we witness to our straight non-Christian friends, do we honestly believe that we will really be their friends only once they are 'saved and sorted'? I hope not! I hope that they are our friends and we would love them even if they were never saved, though it breaks our hearts to think of it. There is a delicate balance here. God loves us as we are; yet it was while we were still sinners that Christ died for the ungodly. Yet his love always tells us the truth and will not leave us as we are, no matter how hard it is to change. He loves us too for what we will be, when he has finished working on us and we are perfect in Christ, totally conformed to the image of Jesus. That is our ultimate destiny and our completed identity.'

I find this a very helpful passage. Not only has it drawn me to repentance in terms of how I have sometimes been guilty of treating my gay friends, but I have also been made to realise that there are others people with major 'lifestyle issues' that I've been guilty of not loving. There's one friend in particular who is very promiscuous, and I now realise I've at times ended up hating him rather than just hating his sin. And this (worryingly) shows that sometimes I've lost sight of God's grace, and been dangerously close to becoming a Pharisee.

God help me.

Fresh

This morning I received my complementary copy of Krish Kandiah's superb new book, Fresh.

Krish has been a great partner in the gospel with me and the CUs up here. I was really helped by Krish's input as I planned my New Word Alive seminar on the emerging church and Scripture. He also brought up a team to Lancaster in February 2007 when he spoke at Lancaster University CU's mission week.

I first heard about Fresh several months ago. Over the summer, I was sent the draft manuscript to read. I was very impressed right from the beginning. Krish writes with warmth and clarity and demonstrates that he really understands the pressures that Christian Freshers may feel on arrival at university. The first section ('faith') revisits the foundations of what it actually means to be a Christian, with sections following on relationships, evangelism, studies and holiness - key areas of university life where it's often assumed Christian Freshers should be familiar with Biblical teaching, but in reality often aren't.

I think this book could be very strategic for young Christians in this country. Join with me in praying that God uses this book to build a generation of Christian university students that look not only to 'get by' as Christians, but - by grace - to thrive.

You can order copies of Fresh from IVP here. Be sure also to look at FreshSpace online, which accompanies the book and has a whole range of CU resources for main meetings and small groups.

Book Review: Secret Believers

Secret Believers is a book that will leave you feeling a whole mixture of emotions.

I finished the book feeling excited about the furtherance of the gospel in the Middle East and the Islamic world, genuinely concerned about the welfare of our Christian brothers and sisters there and, above all, wondering how radical a Christian life I am really living.

Jesus called all Christians to come after him, to deny ourselves, to carry our crosses and follow him. I think it's quite easy to pay lip service to this sentiment. When life and death comes into the equation - as it does for so many of our brothers and sisters in the Islamic world - things become much more stark. I was particularly challenged by one section of the book where Brother Andrew writes this: 'Think about this: unless Christ returns first, we can be certain that we will die physically. If each of us will die, is it too much to ask God that he be glorified in our death? What is holding us back?' I think it is really easy to say that we'd be prepared to die for the gospel, but when the challenge is made directly, I have to ask: do I actually love Muslims enough to die for them and for the gospel?

I was also struck by the radical love that Brother Andrew calls Christians too, following very much in the footsteps of Christ. Radical Christianity is radical love. Oh for more - for the church in the West, and more for me. Again, I was struck by a sentence of the book where Brother Andrew relates a conversation he had with the leaders of Hamas. He said, 'You Muslims will never understand the message of the cross until we put into practice the challenge of Jesus to deny ourselves, take up our cross daily and follow him.' Often I love myself much more than others. Please, God, change my heart and help me to love others more.

Secret Believers has a website - www.secretbelievers.org. I'd recommend the book to any Christian - as I say, it's uncomfortable but the gospel is - and check out the website too. We are in a spiritual battle and, above all, the book has reminded me of the importance to pray.

Book Review: 'The Kite Runner' (Khaled Hosseini)

Just got back from holiday in the early hours of the morning - had a wonderful time in Turkey, good rest and relaxation in a country that I had no idea was so beautiful.

Of course the time away also gave some chance to do some reading, and I plan to upload my thoughts as I get chance over the coming weeks.

One book that both my wife and I read was the highly-acclaimed novel The Kite Runner, which has recently been reprinted by Bloomsbury as part of their '21' series, a group of books that each represent the first published novel by a group of their authors.

The Kite Runner is powerful reading. Amir is a 12 year old Aghani boy who sees the shocking attack and rape of the son of his servant, Hassan. Despite having shared much of their childhood, he doesn't step in. The consequences of this attack haunt Amir for much of the rest of his life. Eventually an older friend, who learned of the attack, tells Amir that 'there is a way for you to be good again', a way that offers redemption.

There are many things that are very endearing in this novel. It's wonderfully written, and has well-observed and colourful descriptions of both Afghan and American culture. Afghan-born novelist Khaled Hosseini successsfully captures the tension and the fear of life in Afghanistan under Taliban control. The motif of kites, used throughout the book, is also an interesting exploration of freedom and innocence.

However, the one thing that really intrigued me in this book is the theme of guilt. As the novel unwinds, it becomes evident that several of the lead characters in the book. They feel guilty for different reasons and they also deal with their feelings of guilt in different ways at different times - sometimes spurred to philathropy in an effort to try and find atonement for their past errors, one character want to know punishment for his past transgressions. At other times, it's clear that escapism seems the only door open. The background of Islam also adds an interesting dimension to the book - is guilt primarily something we should feel with respect to others, or to God?

As I read this book, I was reminded of Hebrews 10, which describes the conscience of the Christian as being 'cleansed', because of Jesus' death which deals with our sin. We are reconciled to God and know that we are truly loved, even by the one we have offended. It is a wonderful thing to know the cleansing and healing that life with God brings.

I would commend The Kite Runner to anyone. It's not a pleasant read, nor is it a comfortable read. However, it is surely vital reading for those who want to understand Afghanistan better, but also for those who want to think more about the nature of friendship, betrayal, guilt and forgiveness.

Book Review: 'Integrity' (Jonathan Lamb)

'When leaders at any level fail to live with integrity,' writes author Jonathan Lamb, 'the fallout is deadly serious. It poisons the community, destroys trust, torpedoes a coherent and unified mission and, most seriously, betrays the cause of Christ's gospel and dishonours the God whom we serve.'

'But,' he goes on, 'when Christian leaders live their words, keep their promises, serve their community - in short, show us Jesus Christ - then Christian community is built and Christian mission is enhanced.'

One of the most powerful parts of the book Integrity, by Jonathan Lamb, is when he outlines quite what is at stake in whether we live or not with integrity. Not only does a community without integrity see trustworthiness soon disintegrate, but it has a massive effect on our outreach too. As he commonly does, Lamb looks to society to provide his illustrations:

In a recent speech at Georgetown University in Washington, Tony Blair called on the West not to give up on its moral responsibilities to the subjugated peoples of the world. Yasmin Alibhai-Brown commented in The Independent that this was 'an idealistic message immediately contaminated by the messenger. His words sounded fraudulent, because he had lied over Iraq and was contemptuous of the UN. The resulting cynicism has spread from east to west.' Whatever our view of the intervention in Iraq and its aftermath, we understand her point: this was an idealistic message apparently contaminated by the messenger. People stop listening. They become cynical not just about the messenger, but also about the credibility of the message itself.

Jonathan Lamb is clearly passionate about integrity, and that shines through in his book. Outlining in the early chapters what he means by the word 'integrity' - that is a commitment to the sincerity of pure motives, the consistency of living life as a whole, and the reliability of seeking to reflect God's faithfulness - Lamb then goes on to show how the apostle Paul lived this out in his own life. The majority of Lamb's content comes from Paul's writings in 2 Corinthians, where the apostle was under pressure. He was accused of being completely unreliable, promising to visit the Corinthians and then not turning up. He was accused of acting deviously and insincerely: instead of being transparent, he had been accused of being evasive. And so Paul's defence of his integrity in 2 Corinthians can teach us a great deal about the subject of leading with integrity.

There are several stand-out chapters in this book: I was helped tremendously by the chapter on confronting failure and humbled by the chapter on status and true ambition. There are useful chapters on showing integrity in handling money and in exercising authority. Perhaps above all, though, I will remember the section on Paul's sacrificial love and parent-like concern for those amongst whom he ministered. Lamb introduces what he calls the 'for your sake' test: Is my first concern for the best interests of others? Will I go to any length to care for others? When such service is thrown back in one's face, it's difficult to keep persevering in love. But, as Lamb writes,

Serving others, even those who reject us, is part of our Christian calling. We are doing nothing other than following the service of the Master. Jesus made the connection between service and rejection when he spoke to his disciples. 'For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many' (Mark 10:45). [...] So is my attitude 'here I am' or 'there you are'? It will not be easy, but it is worth pausing regularly to evaluate your motives. You are holding a responsibility in the church which perhaps takes a great deal of time and energy; you give up other things which you would have liked to do in order to take on thr role; and you are then faced with criticism. I am afraid it happens. It is not always intentionally hurtful, but when you have given of your best, and you are tired and drained, the critical reactions of others can be very wounding. That is the best time to assess if you are truly following in your Master's footsteps. That is a test of servant leadership.

I would commend this book as a great read for anyone in Christian leadership of any sort, within a local church, CU or other form of Christian ministry. It's not a quick read, nor will it be painless, but it will make you ask godly questions of your character regarding your personal integrity.

See also An Authentic Servant by Ajith Fernando - available for purchase here.

Book Review: 'The Living Church' (John Stott)

I think of all Christian leaders, teachers and theologians of the last 100 hundred years, John Stott has had more impact upon me as a Christian than any other.

This ministry to me has been both direct, through his books, through hearing him speak three times when I was a student in Bristol nearly six years ago and once through meeting him and getting to chat (when he tolerated a pasta bake we had made him for dinner!). Indirectly, I know I have benefited from his ministry too, as teachers and preachers who have been taught by Stott have in turn taught me.

The Living Church is John Stott's fiftieth book - and given his recent retirement from formal and public Christian ministry at the age of 86, I guess it might well be his last. In it, Stott look back at more than fifty years of experience in pastoral ministry, reflects on what he has learned about the church and sets a vision for the future. He longs to see 'radical conservative' churches: as he puts it, ''conservative' in the sense that they conserve what Scripture plainly requires, but 'radical' in relation to that combination of tradition and convention that we call 'culture'. Scripture is unchangeable, culture is not.'

Albeit with caveats that the early church wasn't perfect, as we so often romanticise it, Stott sees the description of the Jerusalem church in Acts 2:42-47 as showing four marks of a Spirit-filled church with serves as a model for churches today. These marks learning through the Biblical teaching of the apostles, sharing in generous fellowship, worshipping together (both formally and informally) and evangelising: compassionately taking the gospel message to the world. The rest of the book unpacks these further, and also includes chapters on church leadership, preaching, giving and community involvement.

Before sitting down to read this book, I'd not read any Stott in quite some while. What I was immediately reminded of is the complete sharpness with which he writes, often conveying quite difficult ideas simply. The chapters are easy to follow and structured for memorability. And the other thing to strike me from this book is the pastoral and authentic heart that John Stott has. He will not, for instance, be drawn into silly arguments like the evangelism - social action dichotomy, but simply says that a church that loves after Jesus will seek to do both. Unlike many other writers (and particularly many of those who write on the subject of the church), love shines through each page as the principle characteristic of the church, on which all of the others are built. And I have to say I loved the way in which Stott mixes theology with reflections on his own experiences, and shares pitfalls and dangers he's experienced in his own leadership.

Much of what I read was neither new nor surprising. What Stott brings to the plethora of books on this issue is a wonderful godly-hearted emphasis, which will affirm many of its readers.

If I was to nit-pick, then I might note that much of the content of this book has evidently been 'recycled' from previous material. The chapter on giving has been published elsewhere, and the material on preaching is more widely available too. In addition, I think Stott is more comfortable operating in a 'modernist' mindset than the more 'postmodern' worldview that characterises much of society today (and why shouldn't he, as an octogenarian?!).

Yet this book is still valuable. It represents the wisdom of a man who has stood firm for the gospel, and sought to preach God's word, both in season and out of season. It deserves to be read by young church pastors and those, like me, who might one day find themselves in church leadership. Upon finishing the book, I decided to send it to a friend of mine who is just cutting his teeth in local church ministry. I don't think it will radically change his view on either church or his own ministry, but I hope that upon reading it, he might be inspired to keep going as a 'conservative radical'.

I'll close with one of my favourite quotes from the book, where following a section on 'shepherding the sheep' from Acts 20:18-27, Stott reminds church pastors that it is God's church that they are pastoring:

'We should refer to God's church to which we have been called to serve. This truth should not only humble us but also inspire us, and particularly motivate us to the loving care of God's people. We need this incentive, for sheep are not all the clean and cuddly creatures they look from a distance. On the contrary, they are dirty and subject to nasty pests. They need to be regularly dipped in strong chemical to rid them of lice, ticks and worms. They are also unintelligent and obstinate. I hesitate to apply the metaphor too literally, or describe the people of God as 'dirty, lousy and stupid'! But some church members can be a great trial to their pastors, and vice versa. So how shall we persevere in loving the unlovable? Only, I think, by remembering how previous they are. They are so valuable that the three persons of the Trinity are together in caring for them. I find it very challenging, when trying to help a difficult person, to say under my breath: 'How precious you are in God's sight! God the Father loves you. Christ died for you. The Holy Spirit has appointed me as your pastor. As the three persons of the Trinity are committed to your welfare, it is a privilege for me to serve you.''

Taking Foucault to church

In a couple of previous postings (here and here) I started a mini series reviewing James Smith's book Who's Afraid of Postmodernism? Taking Derrida, Lyotard and Foucault to Church. This final entry examines what Smith has to say about the writings of Michel Foucault.

Of the three cultural theorists in questions, it's perhaps Foucault whose work I am most familiar with. As someone who was a geography undergraduate, Foucault's work is more overtly spatial than much other sociological writing (see, for instance, in his work on prisons in Discipline and Punish). In particular, his methodology - known as 'archaeology' - where he traces through how a particular thing or phenomenon has been viewed through different historical epochs, is something that has been enthusiastically embraced by many social sciences.

I guess the other thing to add is that, in some ways, I've never felt quite so concerned about the ramifications of Foucault's work to my Christian belief. Sure, there were challenges as an undergraduate - particularly in being told that Biblical condemnation of certain practices reflected only the culture it was written in (rather than wrong for all humans in all places in all periods of history). This argument leads to a kind of moral relativism, which is obviously incompatible with a Biblical worldview. But, overall, I'd always felt more resourced to tackle some of these ideas head on than the more subtle arguments coming through language and semiotics.

Anyhow, in his book, James Smith tackles the subject of discipline, which is familiar in many of Foucault's writings. Foucault argued that society and institutions are designed to give vision to certain people, forcing others to behave in certain ways. Foucault's famous example is Jeremy Bentham's 'panopticon' prison design, whereby the prisoner cannot see any other fellow prisoner, and yet knows that the eyes of the prison guard could be upon them at any one time. Britain's obsession with CCTV is perhaps the same - we change our behaviour because we know that at any given time, we could be being watched. This is the very idea of surveillance.

It's within this framework that Foucault assembles his theories of knowledge. Foucault throws out the idea that truth is somehow innocent - instead, certain ideas and biases and prejudices are combined in order to control others as we would like. Like the architecture of the panopticon, Foucault claims that we assemble ideas as 'truth' in order to make people behave in a certain way. And so we come to Foucault's famous slogan - 'power is knowledge' - as Smith puts it, 'at the root of our most cherished and central institutions ... is a network of power relations.' Power and knowledge are inextricably linked, in order to make people conform in certain behaviours.

And so, linked to this is the idea of a deep 'hermeneutic of suspicion' - we can now consider no truth to be innocent. As Smith puts it, 'what might be claimed as obvious or self-evident is, in fact, covertly motivated by other interests - the interest of power.' And so different historical eras have had different 'truths' because certain people have wanted to have power over others in some way. Foucault's picture of society is a disturbing one - one of control and domination - and his message rings through: be suspicious of all.

Taking Foucault to church

Smith's main contribution here is a reflection on the nature of power. In the main part, he is happy to go along with Foucault's description of society and its institutions, and the web of power relations within. But he is unhappy to take the negative Foucauldian of power. This longer quote is, I think, helpful:

Should we accept this negative view of power? Is power all bad? Specifically, can Christians share in this devaluation of power and discipline as inherently evil? Can we who claim to be disciples - who are called and predestined to be conformed to the likeness of the Son (Romans 8:29) - be opposed to discipline and formation as such? Can we who are called to be subject to the Lord of life really agree with the liberal Enlightenment notion of the autonomous self? Are we not above all called to subject ourselves to the Domine and conform to his image? Of course, we are called not to conform to the patterns of 'this world' (Romans 12:2) or to our previous evil desires (1 Peter 1:14), but that is a call not to nonconformity as such but rather to an alternative conformity through a counterformation in Christ, a transformation and renewal directed toward conformity to his image. In fact, by appropriating the Enlightenment notion of negative freedom and participating in its nonconformist resistance to discipline (and hence a resistance to the classical spiritual disciplines), Christians are being conformed to the patterns of this world (contra Romans 12:2).

This seems, to me, to be a wonderful insight. Another sentence from Smith, 'what constitutes the proper end, or telos, of human formation depends on the ultimate story we tell of what human beings are and what they are called to be.' In other words, Christians must absolutely refute the view that power is all bad: the Spirit's power at work in us, for instance, is wonderful - he frees us from our sin and makes us more like Jesus, the perfect human being and the only one since Adam to experience living as humans were created to live (ie in perfect relationship with God). Power is positive if it is used for positive ends - and living the life we were created to live is the greatest of these.

Smith makes a couple suggestions for how Foucault's work ought to work itself out in the world. Firstly, we the church should recognise the process of disciplinary formation in society - unveiled we can be aware of those processes that would make us behave as those with power want (particularly to be capitalist animals) and then diagnose the correct Christian response. We need to realise that this process runs counter to what it means to follow Jesus as a disciple.

Smith then says that we must come up with our own disciplines 'that will counteract the formation of MTV and television commercials'. Smith goes on that 'we would do well to recover the tradition of spiritual disciplines such as prayer and fasting, meditation, simplicity and so on as a means of shaping our souls through the rituals of the body.' I guess this is where I think James Smith sells himself a bit short. He's right in quoting Romans 12:2 ... but spiritual disciplines themselves cannot transform. What is needed is to 'be transformed by the renewal of your mind' (ESV). Smith does speak about the need for grace to change - but this comes powerfully through the work of the Spirit as he transforms us by the Word. The greatest way of being transformed in a culture which screams out anything but Jesus is Lord is the Spirit's transforming power through the Word.

In particular, it would seem to me that teaching on God's design for humans is going to be necessary if we are to crave the Spirit's power in transforming us to be like Jesus. I remember the first time when someone told me that Jesus was the only person who has ever lived who was truly human. Jesus is the only one who lived as he was created. A Christian view of freedom (the view of John 8:31-32) that we are free when we live as we were created (rather than the more 'democratic' view of choosing A or B) will be vital. Christians and non-Christians alike need to see the beauty in God's blueprint for humanity in order to want the Spirit's power for change.

A couple of final things
In closing, I want to add a couple of points. Firstly, as I hope you've seen, I've tried to give an accurate and fair review of this book. I think, overall, it's a great and helpful read. However, the book's reviewers (on the back cover) are nearly all emerging church leaders, including Brian McLaren, Robert Webber and Carl Raschke. Why is it that the emerging church seems so happy to engage with the postmodern mindset, where others - which I think are often set upon more Scriptural convictions - seem slow to do so? Must we choose between a grouping of churches that probably unhelpfully panders to the postmodern mindset and between the rest that seem completely unwilling to do so at all? (Or is that a caricature?)

To finish, I want to draw attention to something that James Smith doesn't examine at all, and that's addressing Foucault's hermeneutic of suspicion. I remember giving a talk about a year ago at the height of the Da Vinci Code hype: now there's a postmodern idea - 'trust no-one!' In this talk, I addressed the natural suspicion that we have of truth - 'why do they want me to believe this?!' It seems to me that the way in which we counter the suspicion that people have of the gospel is authenticity - to share our lives with others. I remember asking those present in the talk to question the motives of the Christians that brought them - 'Why do you think they want you to become a Christian?' Christian authenticity - sharing our lives as well as the gospel - is a key way in which we can demonstrate that we are not trying to have power over others, but that we long for them to come to the truth, because we love them and long for Jesus' glory. Now there's two motives that in eternity won't be questioned.

Taking Lyotard to church

In a previous post, I started a review of James Smith's book, Who's Afraid of Postmodernism? Taking Derrida, Lyotard and Foucault to Church and considered what he had to say about Derrida and his theory of deconstruction. This post focuses more on Smith's chapter on Jean-Francois Lyotard.

Again the chapter opens with a film reference, this time O Brother, Where Are Thou? Smith sees a powerful message in the film's closing scenes, where despite apparent evidence to the contrary (and despite having just found himself praying in a moment of distress), the film's main character, McGill, ridicules religion as 'spiritual mumbo jumbo'. Smith describes it thus:

Everett Ulysses McGill is never quite disabused of his (religious) commitment to modernity. Despite the persistent challenges to his scientistic faith, he clings to the religion of the Enlightenment.

To this view, Smith contrasts the suspiciousness of the postmodern mindset. Postmodernity has led to the erosion of confidence in seemingly 'rational' and 'objective' deliverers of truth (what Lyotard calls 'meta-narratives'), such as modern science, which claims to have an ultimate theory of everything. Those of us who have studied geography, sociology or other social sciences will, for instance, know of the work of Bruno Latour and others, whose work in the 1980s showed that there are many subjective factors in the creation of seemingly objective 'scientific' knowledge. Postmodernism is therefore suspicious of knowledge that comes from all-encompassing meta-narratives such as science, which by nature then rule out other forms of knowledge. McGill's commitment to the meta-narrative of rationalistic scientism caused him to rule the spiritual out of hand completely, without even examining the pre-suppositions of the meta-narrative on which he had built his claims. Similarly Lyotard would seek to cast doubt on the claims of other meta-narratives, or 'all encompassing theories', such as Hegelian dialectics, the rationalism of Immanuel Kant and others, 'the invisible hand of the market' championed by Adam Smith, and theories of Marxism. All of these meta-narratives are, as James Smith puts it, 'opposed to narrative, which attempts not to prove its claims but rather to proclaim them within a story'. They are, 'universal discourses of legitimation that mask their own particularity ... [they] deny their narrative ground even as they proceed on it as a basis.'

All of this can seem bad news for Christianity, which forms its understanding of the world from Scripture. Is the Christian worldview a meta-narrative to be dismissed?

Not according to James Smith. Instead, he argues that 'the biblical narrative and Christian faith claim to be legitimated not by an appeal to a universal, autonomous reasons but rather by an appeal to faith'. In other words, Christians claim that Christianity is true not because of rational thought, but because of spiritual revelation (it should be noted that here Smith does admit that evidential apologetics do seek to present Christianity as meta-narrative in the way rejected by Lyotard). In other words, Christians can publicly share their narrative and should not be rejected because it is based on 'faith' - because 'faith' presupposions are everywhere, even in modern science. Smith sums up thus:

While in modernity science was the emperor who se the rules for what counted as truth and castigated faith as fable, postmodernity has shown us the emperor's nudity. As such, we no longer need to apologise for our faith - we can be unapologetic in our kerygmatic proclamation of the gospel narrative.

Taking Lyotard to church

Smith sees several implications from Lyotard's work on Christian life and witness:

• Lyotard shows us that there is no such thing as 'neutral' public or secular space. Lyotard calls all thought to own up to the presuppositions it requires. Secular thought requires as much presupposition as thought more obviously based on 'faith'. The debates up and down the country a few months ago regarding the PURE course came based upon an argument that public space ought to be 'secular', on the presupposition that the secular is somehow 'faith-free'. According to Lyotard, this is a myth.
• Lyotard's work has profound implications for our evangelism. Everyone makes presuppositions about the world. Evangelism that pays attention to Lyotard's work will require everyone putting their own presuppositions on the table and then narrating the story of the Christian faith, proclaiming the story of the gospel in the power of the Spirit (see Chris' blog for someone who is attempting to do this). Evidentialist apologetics which refuses to admit to its presuppositions will, increasingly, only be met with suspicion (and I have heard of how some of the great evidential apologetic speakers in the US have all but abandoned their campus outreach events for this reason).

Some of Smith's other suggestions seem to be somewhat more abstract. He speaks about the need for church-based hospitality (which I heartily endorse but fail to see how that comes from Lyotard's writings), an emphasis on biblical theology that shows how the story of the Bible fits together (amen!), but then also an emphasis on traditional worship. This was where I really failed to follow his line of thought. I think that Smith was arguing that Christianity should not be ashamed of its distinctiveness and the presuppositions it makes, and that it therefore should not pander to modern culture too much. But I wonder whether this is helpful - after all, the presuppositions of Christianity do not necessarily play to one style of worship more than another. I guess that sometimes modern evangelical worship can overly 'de-spiritualise' and I recognise that this is a balance that could be redressed, but does this demand a return to more 'traditional' styles of worship? Or am I showing my own evangelical presuppositions here?!

Tim Chester of the Crowded House Church in Sheffield, Director of the Northern Training Institute and all-round legend reviews the book more adequately than me here.

Taking Derrida to church

I think I had might as well admit it. I'm a geek. And so when I got an email from Amazon a few weeks recommending me a book that ties together two of my passions, it wasn't long before I found myself clicking and ordering.

The book? Who's Afraid of Postmodernism? Taking Derrida, Lyotard and Foucault to Church. To some, these three French men won't mean very much at all. But to those who have studied social theory or social science at any level, they are recognisable as three of the most important postmodern French thinkers of the 20th Century. Much of the present postmodernist movement roots from their writings from the 1970s onwards. Derrida and Foucault, particularly, featured heavily in the syllabus of my Masters course that I undertook a few years ago in Bristol.

I always think that a good indication of how well you can understand something is shown in how clearly you are able to explain it. This book explains the theories (often made unnecessarily complex) admirably. The book includes references from films such as Memento, O Brother Where Art Thou and even The Little Mermaid to help the reader understand the philosophical challenges brought by the French trio. The author, James Smith, then seeks to think about how these writings impinge upon church life for evangelicals in the 21st Century.

The book has given me loads to think about, and I'm planning to share my thoughts on the chapters over the coming few weeks. In this post, I thought I'd start with the chapter on Jacques Derrida's writings (which I think was probably the strongest of the book) and Smith's understandings for the implications this has on church life.

Derrida in a nutshell

Derrida's writings focus on the central place of texts in mediating or understanding our experience of the world. By text, Derrida means something similar to 'worldview'. In other words, each of us has a necessarily filter through which we see things and the world appears to us. He's not doubting the reality of things we see, but shows that the way we see things varies depending on who we are and the position from which we see them. Derrida's best known slogan is 'There is nothing outside the text', but he later clarified more clearly what he meant, saying, 'There is nothing outside context.' As James Smith puts it, 'The context of both a phenomenon (whether a book, a cup or an event) and the interpreter function as conditions that determine just how a thing is seen or understood.' All this is very true: the way in which you diagnose a certain situation will depend upon several embodied circumstances that you possess - your period in history, your gender, your ethnicity, your socio-economic status and so on. We become wary of anyone who claims to know Truth - how can they possibly know the Truth when they only have a partial perspective on the world? (Derrida, like most people today, doesn't necessarily doubt the existence of Truth, but he would be suspicious of those who can objectively claim to know or tell it.)

The way in which Derrida's writings is most commonly experienced by Christians is probably in talking to non-Christians about the Bible. A Christian explains to a non-Christian something of the Bible's claims in a particular area. The non-Christian replies, 'Well, of course, that's just your interpretation of what it says. You can make the Bible say anything you want it to say.'

Taking Derrida to church

How should we respond to Derrida's writings. Interestingly, Smith makes a three suggestions.

• Fascinatingly, Smith suggests that the first thing that a Christian who takes Derrida's philosophy seriously will do is resonate with the Reformers' claim of sola Scriptura. If all events are subject to interpretation, informed by our own horizons, presuppositions and experiences, then we can say that there is no 'uninterpreted reality'. All people - Christians included - see the world through an interpretative framework or lens. Smith says that this frees us as Christians to lay our pre-suppositions on the table (for they are as valid as anyone else's), but 'also to ask ourselves whether the biblical text is truly what governs our seeing of the world'. He goes on, 'If the world is a text to be interpreted, then for the church the narrative of the Scriptures is what should govern our very perception of the world. We should see the world through the Word. [...] To say there is nothing outside the text, then, is to emphasise that there is not a single square inch of our experience of the world that should not be governed by God in the Scriptures. But do we really let the Text govern our seeing of the world?'
  
  This is a very helpful observation. Like David, we need to realise that our understanding of the world can sometimes be clouded. We, too, need to see Scripture as 'a lamp to my feet and a light to my path' (Psalm 119:105). Scripture alone, through the power of the Spirit, can cut through our own pre-suppositions and those of the culture and society of which we are a part, and help us interpret the world as it really is.
  
  
• Secondly, Smith says that Derrida's work will affect how we read the Bible. He calls for us to be honest. When we are charged with the fact that we might only interpret a text in a particular way, we need to admit that this is true. A case in point came for me in studying Romans 13 at church last Sunday on submitting to the authorities. It became immediately obvious that the fact that our Bible study group were all from democracies and historically situated after the regime of Nazi Germany affected our reading and interpretation of the text. The honest reply to the charge of is, then, 'Yes that could be true.'
  
  Smith's answer to this problem is community. He exhorts community as the way of, together, combining people's contexts and together forming an interpretative framework. Practically, then, he says that the serious Bible scholar will not only read commentaries and interpretations of passages from other people like them, but will also want to hear what other voices of people not like us have to say on these passages. Smith would, then, have Western Bible scholars look to the global church to hear the interpretation, say, an African can bring to a text (it would certainly be interesting to hear they interpret Romans 13!). As Smith puts it, 'These other voices - so often marginalised by the Western church - are received as voices of the Spirit at work in our global brothers and sisters, illuminating us by illuminating them.' I guess that this is what the Global Christian Library series is attempting to do, providing inter-cultural exposition and application of the Christian faith.
  
  However, Smith also wants to include historical voices in the interpretative community. As he puts it, ideally 'we recite the ecumenical and historic creeds because these are witness of our community past - the way for us to hear the interpretations of the ancient community, which was indwelt by the same Spirit that indwells us and grants illumination today. The pastor's preaching indicates a serious engagement with the early Church fathers and Reformers as co-interpreters. All of this helps us understand that the church is a community, a 'holy, catholic church', which has endured through millenia.'
  
  
• Thirdly, Smith commends wide preaching of the Bible. In other words, in order to take the totality of the text of the Bible seriously, a church which is engaging with Derrida will not impoverish itself by staying in one part of the Bible alone. Rather it will be committed to a systematic teaching across all of Scripture, which, as Smith puts it, '... will guide us through the entirety of the Text's narrative, rather than leaving us to the private canons and pet texts of the pastor.'
  
  Smith doesn't use this terminology, but Scripture itself then becomes the third 'interpretative layer'. Of course, without the other interpretative layers mentioned above, we are open to the charge of mis-interpretation. But the 'golden thread' of Scripture is a third vital layer (which I think is underplayed in the book) that helps us to be more sure that our interpretation of Bible passages is correct. As the Westminster Confession puts it, 'The infallible rule of the interpretation of scripture is the scripture itself; and therefore when there is a question about the true and full sense of any passage it must be searched out and understood by other places that speak more clearly.'
  
  

I find all of this very helpful. Smith's reading of Derrida makes us humble. We can admit that we do not understand all of Scripture, and that we need other voices and, above all, God's Holy Spirit to help us to understand it better. However, this needs to be balanced alongside the idea of 'spiralling into the Truth' - incomplete knowledge is not necessarily false knowledge.

So how would I now respond to the charge of, 'That's just your interpretation'? I think now I'd admit that, yes, it could be. But I'd then seek to show how orthodox views of theology are shared across history, across geography and across the Bible. Praise God that his truth is able to speak into all cultures and situations - praise God for Revelation 7:9: 'After this I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb.'

I'd be very interested to see what you make of this discussion, and will add my thoughts on Smith's chapters on the writings of Lyotard and Foucault in due course.

Book Review: 'Tell the Truth' (Will Metzger, IVP USA)

I have to say I have no idea as to why this book is known so little in the UK. In all of the circles I have moved in: both within UCCF and within a number of evangelical churches, I have never heard it even mentioned. And yet this is probably the best book on personal evangelism I have ever read. I only heard about it through recommendation from the 9Marks website.

Metzger's heart is for genuine evangelism: in other words, he longs to see the gospel taught faithfully within a Biblical framework so that repentance and faith are clearly seen as the proper responses to Jesus' death and resurrection. He longs to see true conversions and new life, which only the Holy Spirit working through the power of God's word can give. And he longs to see evangelism that seeks God's glory and tells people of their utter dependence on God for salvation. Metzger warns against proclaiming a 'partial' or 'packaged' gospel that does not call for the whole person to repent and believe; in their emotions, in their minds and in their wills. He wants to see rebels transformed by God into worshippers of him as the gospel is proclaimed (and includes an excellent chapter on worship).

The first section of the book thinks about what the Biblical gospel is, and contrasts it with the 'me-centred' gospel that is so often pedalled in evangelism. As Metzger writes, 'My plea is that we taste and see the difference between modern evangelism with its methods / me-centred gospel and the historic God-centred gospel.' Fans of John Piper's emphasis on God-centredness will love Metzger's Bible overview (and Piper himself writes a commendation of the book). The section on sin is particularly strong, and Metzger expertly shows that sin can only be understood Biblically as a correlative of God, the soverign Creator. He writes that they need to be 'lovingly shocked' as they are told about their true spiritual position, in rebellion against the God worthy of all glory. Metzger quotes JI Packer on this, 'To be convicted of sin means not just to feel one is an all-around flop but to realise that one has offended God.' And so Metzger advocates strong teaching on the doctrine of God early on in sharing the gospel. Don Carson also commends the approach of teaching the doctrine of God as creator and sovereign in evangelising post-moderns (you can hear an example of this here). Why is this so important? Well, because until unbelievers realise this, they will never see the importance of repenting or the urgency to place trust in the cross of Christ with their whole beings.

Part 2 of the book is entitled 'To the whole person: the gospel to whole people'. This was perhaps the most helpful section of all. A true Christian is one who responds to the gospel intellectually (but not only with head knowledge), emotionally (but only with emotions led by truth) and in the will (as true conviction of sin will lead to a re-orientation of one's life). This section can perhaps best be expressed by one longer quote:

Our desire must be nothing less than to see the whole individual converted. We are looking to God for changed persons, not just a response from one segment of a personality. God's regenerative work is a thorough renewing that involves all the faculties of a mind, emotions and will. Scriptural language calls this a 'new creation', a 'new birth'. People are either saved or lost. To weaken this radical but scriptural cleavage of mankind by suggesting a third category for people is an attack on the biblical doctrine of regeneration. There is no such thing as being a half Christian - for instance, being a Christian but not a 'Spirit-baptised' Christian'; being a 'Christian' but not accepting Jesus as Lord; or being a Christian but living a life continually characterised by being carnal (spiritual adultery).

Part 3 of the book centres on God's grace. In fact, God's grace shocked me once more as I read through this section! Metzger spends time unpacking some of the sections of the gospel, focusing on the account of the rich young man who asked what he needed to do to inherit eternal life, and the parable of the prodigal son (or better, the parable of the two lost sons) in Luke 15. Both legalism and considering oneself unforgivable are blockers to the gospel of grace in which God calls us to trust. This all leads to a chapter on worship, where Metzger quotes from Piper's 'Let the Nations be Glad' at length, reminding us again that worship of God is the real passion and purpose of evangelism.

The final section of the book looks at personal evangelism, and here Metzger focuses more on method. However, what really impressed me is that the God-centredness that the book has displayed shines through all of the examples and tools that Metzger employs. The gospel outline he advocates (called 'Come Home') is perhaps quite complex for the average person to use in evangelism, but does demonstrate how the Biblical story can be taught faithfully in a few short steps, leading to the challenge to repent and believe with one's whole self. The book concludes with a lengthy set of appendices: including training materials for learning God-centred evangelism, learning the gospel outline 'Come Home', a study guide for the book, and a rather juicy essay called 'Doctrine is not an obscene word'.

'Tell the Truth' was initially published in 1981 (the most recent edition that I read was published in 2002), and as I said at the top of this blog entry, I have no idea as to why this book is unknown to the extent that it is here. I finished the book with a new passion for God's glory and with a new urgency for telling the gospel to others. It might perhaps be considered to be on the lengthy side at 272 pages, but is a must-read for all of those who want to be reminded of God's passion for people as evangeliser, and for those who want to see genuine repentance in unbelievers.