So, how are Christians to respond to this new reality? 

The response of some is to do whatever they can to mimic their surroundings.  Thus, they feel they must forgo distinctions that are out of step with the wider culture in order for Christianity to remain viable and relevant.  So, in speech and action, they seek to excise exclusive language and to avoid an uncomfortable stance on issues related to morality, gender, and eternal destiny.  Their mission, they say, is to accompany society in such a way that they have a voice in the national/cultural conversation.

Fear is one of the motivators for these Christians.  They fear being marginalized by society, so they carefully measure their words and actions in order not to alienate.  The result is that society determines what the concerns, priorities, and sensibilities of the church are to look and sound like.  And while this is in many ways appropriate and healthy, a line can easily be crossed and the church loose its distinct voice and its cause begins looking no different than that of any other club or group.  An indication that this line has been crossed is when the standards for the kind of music used in worship, the way the church markets itself, the services it offers, the subject matter of sermons, and the causes that the church undertakes are set chiefly by external forces rather than internal convictions.

The tendency of other Christians in the face of the new reality is to mount a vigorous defense of the church, to reiterate its rightful place within American society, or to redouble efforts to bolster it’s reputation and profile.  The shift underway threatens the existence of the church, and thus, these Christian feel compelled do whatever they can to secure the church’s place, protect its interests, and ensure that Christians get what they need.  The end result is that much of the church’s mission becomes the garnering of resources necessary to perpetuate who it is and to protect its interests.

Fear is likewise a motivator for these Christians.  Specifically they fear being taken advantage of by the wider society or losing what they feel rightfully belongs to them.  These fears also impact their speech and action.  They employ insider language in order to create a sense of belonging for those on the inside and exclude those on the outside.  And while this language provides a secure connection and identity for brothers and sisters on the inside, it also categorically defines the outsider.

As a result, these Christians act out their faith in sacred rather than public space.  They travel to a specific building called church to do Christian kinds of things.  They gather within havens of agreed beliefs about morality, politics, and gender.  The safety of these havens protects them from threatening, worldly influences and forces.  And while they must make necessary forays into the world to work, shop, and attend public events, it is in the sacred space that life makes sense.  Thus, mission for these Christians means attracting those on the outside to the sacred space and then convincing them to defect.

In both cases, response is not a matter of conservative versus liberal, mega versus small, rural versus urban, or Baptists versus Methodists.  Rather, in both we find two ways in which Christians of all theological persuasions and denominational affiliations and churches of all sizes and locations deal with the changing context.  At one extreme, the mission of the church is to accommodate.  On the other side, mission is to attract.

There is a third response.  Rather than being for or against society, Christians set themselves toward the mission of God.  Orientation and response are not ultimately determined by changes in society but by the unchanging and relentless purposes of God.  The mission of God rises above mere accommodation and attraction to a way of being in and for the world defined by who God is and how God acts toward the world.

Mission and missional are used by both those who accommodate and those who attract in order to describe and justify what they do.  And yet, before describing mission as what we do, mission must be understood as divine being and action.  Mission does not belong to us, rather it originates from and is defined by who God is and what God does.  Rather than accommodating the spirit and patterns of society, God is distinctively other.  Rather than submitting to a temporal, local agenda, God’s ways are higher than any person or society’s ways.  Rather than seeking to be relevant or current, God makes all things new.  Rather than protecting what is his, God gives.  Rather than looking out for his own interests, God loves.   Rather than pulling everything to himself, God sends.  God, who creates and sustains all things, so loves the world, that He gives his only begotten Son.  This is mission; this is the mission of God.

For our response to the current shift in American society to be faithful and true, it must begin with an acknowledgment of God’s mission and an alignment of our minds and hearts, words and actions with this mission.  Christopher Wright says, “it is not so much the case that God has a mission for his church in the world, as that God has a church for his mission in the world.  Mission was not made for the church; the church was made for mission–God’s mission” (The Mission of God, 62).  Missions goes awry when the church acts though mission begins and ends with it.

The mission of God encompasses more than a few verses in the New Testament and includes more than missionaries who live and work in cross-cultural settings.  How it impacts the whole of the church is a longer conversation than this post, but I will suggest four ways in which we might acknowledge and align our lives with it.

• Interpretation.  The mission of God should guide the way in which we read and interpret scripture.  Reading the Bible, both Old and New Testament, as a missionary text about a missionary God changes everything – the way we view our purpose, God’s action in history, the end of all creation, etc.
• Inversion.  The mission of God should critique the manner in which we speak, act, and love.  If we allow it, the mission of God provides a lens through which everything is turned upside down – is inverted.
• Imagination.  The mission of God should frame the way we imagine the world – economics, race, politics, relationships, vocation – and only then will it affect our actions.  As a missional reading of scripture inverts our way of seeing reality, we can begin imagining what could be, what should be.
• Implementation.  The mission of God calls us to action.  If acknowledged and understood, the mission of God will not allow us to passively acquiesce to or quietly retreat from our culture but will demand that we respond as Christ did – with our lives.

We do not live above God’s mission, as if it is ours to control and manage.  His mission is not a program to run or resources to manage.  Mission is his words and actions of love and grace toward the world.  And while we are always the object of this mission and never the subject of its design and intent, we can become participants through God’s gracious invitation and by his empowerment.  But in order to do so, we must set aside our fears and re-read scripture, re-think our lives, re-imagine the world, and re-enact God’s glory, passion and love, in light of the mission of God.

Two defining questions …
Which mission guides my response to the changing society around me?
Whose mission gives definition to who I am and how I act?

My friend is absolutely correct for a number of reasons.

First, thoughtful speech is essential to the witness of who we are and what we believe.  If our witness to the larger questions of life, such as faith, fidelity and purpose, are to be plausible and authentic, then our speech about minor or mundane matters must be thoughtful as well.  People will fail to hear our confession of Jesus, our devotion to ideas, and our pursuit of worthy causes when dubious statements concerning politics, unfounded accusations about people, or overstatements of fact cloud our speech.  When we fall prey to juicy gossip, gross generalizations, and partisan jabs, we forfeit the opportunity to speak with credibility to ultimate concerns.  If we are to give faithful witness to who we are and what we believe, our speech in matters large and small must be thoughtful and measured.

Second, thoughtful speech is necessary if true conversation is to take place.  So much of what we call conversation is not true exchange.  Rather, it is just competing monologues.  Authentic exchange suffers when we feel we must aggressively make our point in order to be heard.  So we employ overstatements, accusations, and generalizations to ensure a hearing.  In the end, rather than being heard or opening issues for meaningful discourse, we merely trump the voice of another or shout the person down.  True conversation is a graceful art that takes place when words are offered within the tensions of humility and certainty, openness and conviction.

Third, thoughtful speech is essential for the growth of our capacity to understand and the nurture of our ability to communicate.  Because so much of the language around us is crude, brutish, and uncivil, it is easy to sink to a low level of discourse.  We may feel that in order to communicate we must likewise participate in rude banter or mean spirited exchange.  And yet, in time we become what we speak – crude, brutish, and uncivil.  Thoughtful speech, on the other hand, lifts us to a new place of understanding, elevates our level of communication, and makes us better people.

You may be thinking, “It sounds as if thoughtful speech means we say little to nothing.”  As it is, I think we say too much.  We have more than enough ability to speak and the wonderful freedom to say whatever we wish, so we open our mouths and let the words fly.  But when words flow without the benefit of thought, our tendency is to say too much about people we don’t really know, expound on topics about which we do not have first-hand knowledge, and prattle on about matters that have no meaning or bearing on anything.  And on matters that really do matter, our speech is often careless, thoughtless, and vacuous.  The irony is that for credible witness and meaningful conversation to take place, we may need to say less, not more.

In this age of verbal excess, as evidenced in constant streams of texting, posting, tweeting, blogging, and instant messaging, and in the midst of relentless violent and hateful talk, as heard and seen on our radios and televisions, we must actively pursue an alternative, more authentic, form of speech.  In order to speak thoughtfully, we must think before we open our mouths.  And in order to think before we speak, we may need to pause and have a chat with ourselves before letting words fly.  We need to ask ourselves …

• Is what I am saying what I truly believe, or am I just repeating what I have heard on the radio or television, or read in a book?
• Whose agenda or bias informs what I am saying?
• Would I want my words to be broadcast or printed for everyone, everywhere to hear or read?
• Is what I am about to say concerning this person actually true?  Would I want him or her to hear what I am about to say?
• Is what I am saying wholesome, encouraging, and for the common good, or is it crude, demeaning, and destructive?

What we say is important, if we want to be believed and trusted.  How we say what we say is essential, especially if we want to learn and grow.  Why we say what we say is crucial, because people may actually be listening and may act on what we say.

Lyons addresses this question with inspiring stories of those he dubs as “Next Christians,” and with the promise of what could happen through their words and deeds.  His faith in these Next Christians is boldly asserted in the subtitle on the book’s jacket, “How a New Generation is Restoring the Faith.”

The book begins by describing the reality of Christianity’s lost place in America and the negative image Christians represent to the wider society.  Lyons follows this assessment with a call for Christians to relearn and practice restoration through “a vision for a whole new way of being, living, and interacting” (67).  Those who embody this vision are characterized as being provoked, not offended; creators, not critics; called, not employed; grounded, not distracted; in community, not alone; and counter-cultural, not ‘relevant’.  The second part of the book, fully two-thirds of the whole, illustrates in turn how each of these characteristics is to be lived and how each will aid in the restoration of the faith.

At the heart of Lyons’ positive and, at times, inspiring challenge is a call for Christians to engage the society around them.  This engagement is framed not necessarily as a theological or biblical necessity but arises from “how things ought to be” (63).  He seems to say that these practices have a particular and good effect on people and society, and thus, we ought to do them.  “Common good,” or “doing the most good for all people,” (94-95) is the aim of restorative practices.  The doing of the common good, for Lyons, is found between the extremes of Christians who are “Separatists” and those who are “Cultural Christians.”  Between these extremes are “Restorers” who are neither isolated from or “blended” into culture but who are engaged, creative, focused, and counter-cultural.

The aim of the engagement of this third or middle way seems to be the restoration of Christianity, through kinder and more altruistic practices, to a place of respect and influence within American culture.  The subtle message is that if Christians will get their act together, Christianity will be returned to its proper or normal place.  While authentic service and genuine love are stated first concerns of Lyons’ restorative practices, a very close second is the healing of Christianity’s wounded image.

As I came to the end the book, I was left wondering … What if the Next Christians in America are those who are required to live as Christians do in the Sudan, China, and Indonesia – or as first-century Christians?  What if the aim is not restoration of the faith but the survival of our witness?  What if the vision is not the creation of a hospitable or friendly environment for Christian engagement but how we remain faithful as our churches and homes are being burned?  Impossible?  Certainly not.  These kinds of realities are just as possible as those associated with a Christian America.  Left unchallenged in The Next Christians is the assumption that while Christian America may have come to its end, an ordained functional Christendom has not.  In fact, it sounds as though its rehabilitation is just a matter of time.  Lyons hopes that by embracing restoration the Next Christians will be able to set “off a chain reaction that can revitalize our faith in the post-Christian century” (66-67).  We need to come to term with the fact that this revitalized faith may not be a revised, less offensive version of its past.

If we are to embrace the whole biblical story, then exile and lament, wandering and repentance, persecution and tragedy may be part of our narrative.  Possibly what we are witnessing at the end of Christian America is not an image problem, but the sins of twentieth-century Christianity – our lust for power, excesses, and arrogance – making their visitation upon our children.  The Next Christians may need to learn how to live as dispossessed, powerless captives who weep by the rivers of Babylon.  Possibly the question is not – when we get it right, will we be restored to our place within American culture?  Rather, the questions posed to us at the end of Christian America may be – when we are without place, influence, and applause, will we live with hope?  When we are rejected and persecuted, will we find that Jesus is enough?

To the modern mind (not that BrettG has a typical modern mind), listening to the Spirit is a bit nebulous and subjective.  We prefer a rational or programmatic approach to most everything in life, even our religion and devotion.  So, we rely chiefly on reasoned or formulaic answers rather than those generated by processes that are Spirit-induced or Spirit-guided.  This is not to say we should forgo reason altogether or that there is nothing to be gained from processes that people in other places have found helpful.  The difference is that reasoning and formula can take us only so far and routinely give us expected, uniform answers when what is needed are new and local answers.

The Spirit is not predictable nor is he uniform.  He creates new understandings and thus brings into being new kinds of obedience.  Because every situation is unique and personalities vary wildly, new answers and new kinds of obedience should be the norm not the exception.  It seems to me that listening to the Spirit is a necessity not an option, if we are to respond faithfully to particular contexts and innovate unique solutions via local processes.

In order to listen to the Spirit, I have to … well … stop and listen.  This sounds simple, but it is really quite hard.  Whereas a ten-step program or formula requires that I merely do step one, step two, step three and so on til I complete ten steps, listening to the Spirit necessitates that I journey down uncharted, unscripted paths.  It entails interruptions in my normal and recognizable processes and involves the centering of mind and emotions on hearing the Spirit.

Hearing the Spirit includes …

• living in the hope that the Spirit will speak.  When the disposition and longing of my heart are to hear from God, I am open to hearing what the Spirit is saying.
• yielding to the convicting work of the Spirit through which my pride, ethnocentrism, and prejudice are exposed.  My experience is that the Spirit’s words are usually addressed first to me and then to wider concerns.
• reading scripture.  As I read how God dealt with men and women of the past, I understand better how he speaks today and what he might be saying to me.
• turning down the volume on other voices (TV, radio, music, twitter, facebook) and be still before the Spirit.  Possibly I cannot/do not hear the Spirit because background noises dominate and crowd out the voice of the Spirit.
• listening to what the Spirit is saying to my community of faith.  While the Spirit speaks to me as an individual, the chances are that he is speaking the same message to those with whom I have relationship – wife, friends or church members.

So once again .. too often and too quick we look for globalized answers before listening to what the Spirit is saying to his church.  Don’t rely on globalized answers – rather, stop and listen to what the Spirit is saying.  You and I will hear Spirit-formed answers for our particular contexts as we live with hope toward the Spirit, yield our lives to the Spirit, open the scriptures, turn down other voices, and listen to what the Spirit is saying to our faith community.

Pat answers or simple solutions that I might recite to myself or offer others may be well intended but are usually not helpful and at times offensive. And yet, I believe that in the darkest hour there is hope to which I can cling, with both hands.

With one hand, I cling to the hope that the purposes of God are bigger than what I am facing. Call it providence or whatever you wish, but it is the hope (read: assurance, confidence) that God knows what I am facing, and its horror and darkness are not beyond him or his purposes. My hope is that in his way, in his time he will redeem the situation and me for his purposes.

With the other hand, I cling to the hope of prayer. I pray not as a way of negotiating my way out of darkness, or as a magical incantation that absolves and solves, or as a salve for my hurt. Rather, I pray because that is all I can do. I cry out in the hope that God hears me and will be with me in my anguish, desperation and brokenness. My pleas for peace, wisdom, and hope are confessions that I am at the end of myself and am desperately in need of him.

With both hands, I cling to hope. Prayer makes no sense without the hope of God’s purposes, and it is prayer that ignites within me the hope of seeing those purposes realized.

As you can see, some changes have been made to mereHope.  In upgrading WordPress, my blog gurus (Michael and Jayson) have totally reworked the banner and format.  The ‘eyes’ are gone!  What is left is a cleaner look that is hopefully easier to read.  For sure, it is a lot easier for me to manage and post.

More importantly, it is just good to change.  The worst thing for the mind, heart, or spirit is get into a rut — for things to stay the same.  Without change atrophy sets in, we perform by rote, and growth ceases to be part of our lives.  Change is good in that it challenges us to call on different skills, take another path, and think new thoughts.  Change forces us to hope for a different kind of world and to hope we might be people of change in that world.

My greatest sin is not that I make wrong decisions (of which there are many). Rather, I truly fail when I choose to think that I exist as an island, for Mike alone. This isolated or alienated self is akin to what Charles Taylor (A Secular Age, 2007) characterizes as the “buffered self.” Living in a disenchanted world and with the failures of individuals and societal entities (family, church, organizations) around us, we find it all too easy to withdraw into a world ordered solely by our desires or self-perceived realities. Taylor names this as our tendency toward “a sense of invulnerability” and “self-possession.” As buffered selves, we seek to escape the world that might challenge our sense of well-being, security, or self-consciousness.

The fears, anxieties, even terrors that belong to the porous self are behind it. This sense of self-possession, of a secure inner mental realm, is all the stronger, if in addition to disenchanting the world, we have also taken the anthropocentric turn, and no longer even draw on the power of God. (300-301)

When I buffer self, I am no longer open to the world around – family, friends, associations – and ultimately shut myself off from the world beyond – Father, Son and Spirit. And yet, for me, such buffering is an allusion, a lie, a self-deception, for the world of family, friends and associations still exists and God is still God.

Reality is this: I am a father; I have brothers; I have a son and daughters; and I relate to friends and colleagues. I am not a monad but part of people, places, community, family, creation. Even though I am free to decide what I will do and say, and how I will act and respond, I am not so powerful as to dissolve or alter these realities. I exist within the context of a sacred responsibility and trust toward my daughters and son, wife, parents – and God. I may choose to buffer but not to negate these sacred and eternal obligations.

When I act as a responsible and ‘porous self’ with and toward my community and the Creator, I am a better husband, father, and brother. I am a better man than my own choosing might make me. Without this community, I am an empty and hollow man. With this community, I know love, hope, and salvation.

As a free individual with the God-given capacity to make decisions, I choose to lean into my community, to admit when I am wrong, to give and receive forgiveness – to give of myself. At the same time, I am choosing love and hope for myself.

In simplest terms, a mission collective is a group of people and churches united around the proclamation of Jesus Christ in word and deed. This means they are, above all, pursuing collaborative mission activity and contributing resources to the common witness of the collective. In its essence, collectivism honors the contribution of each church and every individual, trusts the work of the Spirit in each, and seeks involvement in the diversity of God’s mission. Absent are organizational enormity, top-down control, forced uniformity, and politicized, single-issue missions. Front and center is the mission of God – it is the sinew and muscle holding the collective together, the electricity empowering collaboration, and the nerve center providing coordination and direction. It is the singular reason for diverse, autonomous congregations and unique individuals to unite in trust and respect for mission.

In practical terms, a mission collective translates into churches giving people and money to joint mission endeavors, sharing ideas and materials, working across demographic and doctrinal lines to create and hold in common needed training materials, systems, procedures, strategies, and encouraging each other to do more and be the best possible witness to Jesus Christ. A concrete example of a mission collective is Global Connection Partnership Network. GCPN is “a community of churches committed to a direct global witness.” It connects, partners, resources, provides material, trains, collaborates, and supports in order for “God’s glory to be realized throughout the earth.”

While the traditional, hierarchical mission paradigm will not cease to exist, growing numbers of young students, adults, and pastors are looking for something different – something more organic, relational, and participatory. For them, mission involvement no longer rises or falls on promotion or mobilization originating from a distant place or a famous people. They see and hear mission all around them – in their churches, from fellow students, among friends and in their pastor. Mission is bubbling up from the bottom. The revolution is underway as collectives in Waco, Arlington, Oklahoma City, Atlanta, etc., form, grow, and encounter the world. Long Live the revolution!

What is conversion? … Conversion is part of the deal; it must take place. Conversion must be to a person, not a religion, creed, culture, institution, etc. In order to be made whole, reconciled to God, to be forgiven of my rebellion, I must turn from my way, my self aggrandizement, and to God through Jesus Christ.

What is the gospel? … The gospel is not a group of words or a set of propositions in an elite or special language meant to convince the mind. The gospel is a person who confronts my whole existence (not just my mind). Jesus is Good News.

What is community? … Community is more than coffee, songs, handshakes, and kisses. Community is friendship, solidarity, love, and life. Community is not clean and easy … it is messy, confusing, and expensive. It requires me.

Who are the people of God? … The church is not defined by who shows up to meet within four walls. The church is the people of God on pilgrimage through the mall, school, workplace, home, giving witness to Jesus. This witness is not from position, power, or privilege by the power of the Spirit.

How are we to do missions? … The mission of God is much, much more than what happens through the professional missionary or the mission enterprise. Because God is the Creator of life, his mission runs through the whole of life, finds expression in every aspect of life. Mission is best done via relationships, trust, and the people of God.

Am I authentic? … I am authentic if I make known what is true – I am a sinner, an inadequate teacher, a poor husband, a struggling follower of Jesus Christ, and so on. I am in the process of being transformed and always will be. If this process stops, I am no longer authentic.

Am I still living? … My aim is to live – to feel the hurt around me, to give of myself to those who cannot give back, to listen -really listen- to the people talking to me, to act out of conviction, to love well.

While I have questions, I do have some answers. Yet, the largest question for me is … am I living into the answers that I do have?

What is conversion? … What does it look like when one steps across the line to be a committed follower of Jesus? When does this happen? Is it at a point in time? Through a long process? Is it continual? Does it ever end?

What is the gospel? … What part of religion (my religion) is Christian and what is culture? I ask this because I am afraid that extras I have added to the Jesus message confuse those who do not know Christ and create pseudo-barriers.

What is community? … Community has become the new cool word and thus co-opted to mean whatever one wishes. I want to know and experience real community.

Who are the people of God? … What is the essence and purpose and mission of the local church? What marks as being God’s people in the world?

How are we to do missions? … Structures, means, and pathways that we once used for mission involvement are quickly fading. What is the new mission paradigm? What does it mean for the church to encounter the world?

Am I authentic? … What does authentic living look like? How do I get there? Am I willing to do what it will take to be there? What does transformation look like in my life? Why am I so afraid of living an open life?

Am I still living? … Not am I still alive, but am I living? Am I on cruise control, asleep at the wheel? Am I passionate about something (someone)?

These are some of my questions … not all. I remind myself often that the questions are not my enemies but necessary friends. It is only through asking, owning, and living into these questions that I can grow and hope.