Review: Confessions of a Reformission Rev

Confessions of a Reformission Rev.: Hard Lessons from an Emerging Missional Church
Mark Driscoll

I read this on the way to and in Japan. Maybe something was lost in translation. At least I'm clearer now on Mark Driscoll and what he is doing. I don't think I could belong to his church.

For, from the book, it sounds very much like his church. Yes, he's aware of the contributions of others, and he wants to give glory to God. But for all the "I don't care about numbers" protestations, there's something there which points to a man driven to create, for a reason not really explored, a really large church of which he is to be senior pastor. Ooops. I mean Senior Pastor.

It's a very honest book, I think. And it has many lessons which would be good for many of us to learn. There is a genuinely novel mission described, among the evidently very needy people of Seattle. Clearly, something remarkable is being achieved. And - as I said in a previous review - Driscoll is at his best when speaking from the heart and telling his own story. There's not much theorizing here, just lots of raw stories of life.

But it's the theorizing that gets me down. His passion is to do things biblically, which is fine. And so he manages, through searching the scriptures, to reject all sorts of unbiblical received patterns for doing stuff in church, and to come up with some which he judges to be biblical. Where then does his insistence on being Senior Pastor of a number of by-now separate congregations fit in? What was that about having "let go" the Worship leader because he couldn't handle co-ordinating bands across several different venues and services? All that reorganizing for growth, over, and over again.

I know we all have blind spots. But if you're going to set yourself up as a highly biblical person (with a very particular view of inspiration, and so on), then it seems most peculiar to me to come out with quite such a blend of good grounded theology, but also some strongly held dogmatic stuff which seems to have no obvious grounding in that same scripture.

The last review left me not knowing what to make of Driscoll and all his works. I have a clearer idea now, and I fear I can take it or leave it, probably the latter. How ironic, then, that whilst in Japan I should meet someone who invited me to spend a week or two visiting Microsoft in Seattle this summer.

Duplicity

Since I'm leaving Sydney tomorrow, I thought I ought to go and check out the phenomenon which is the "Sydney Anglicans" before I do. For those not familiar with this particular tribe, they are known for a strong Conservative Evangelical zeal, which places them close to one end of the spectrum which is the Anglican Communion. Their Archbishop is quite outspoken about women in ministry, homosexuality, and a few other things beside.


The parish I found seemed to fit the bill well, with a substantial expository sermon as centrepiece. Trying to get away after the service without staying for coffee (because I did have to get somewhere else), I found myself talking to a genial chap at the door, who asked lots of questions about where I was from, whether I was married, whether I was saved, what I was reading at the moment, and a whole lot else beside. He had taken no part in the service, but getting home and checking out the web site, I discover that he was the minister... (I guess Sydney Anglicans are not big on clerical garb).

I answered his questions nicely, like a good evangelical. (I've only once before been asked at a church door whether I was "saved". That was in Australia, too. 12 years ago, at a most astonishing Brethren assembly. But I digress). I know all those answers to the evangelical questions. I could do the discourse in the style and vocabulary of an Anglican, if pressed, or a Baptist, or the Plymouth Brethren. But that's life: within limits, we tend to express ourselves in terms that will be understood by our hearers, and, if you're like me, to simplify the discourse as much as possible and so not challenge or unnecessarily evade the simple answer.

So I told him the kind of things he wanted to hear. All were substantially true, but it has to be said that I would tend to challenge the premiss of many of his questions. Is it duplicitous not to bother?

Relationality

Many people have discussed the way that we are created to live in relationships. We worry (or, occasionally, joke) about people who have no friends. It strikes me, though, that we are almost defined by our relationships.

What is the real "you"? The person you are in your quiet moments, or the person you are when relating to people (if we include things like consumer choices in the latter)? In a sense, it's related to the tension of faith and works. If there are things I might think, but would never express for fear of offending my friends, and would never act upon, for fear of being found out, then how strongly do I really think them? Hmm. There's deep water there. Hold that thought.

I've always had -- and I guess most people do -- a number of more-or-less distinct circles of friends. There's family, then there's colleagues, then there's church friends, then there's other friends, friends from other churches, guys I bump into at the gym, and, now, internet friends too. Facebook has a little application which draws a picture showing which of your friends are friends with others of your friends. My picture has lots of little, more-or-less isolated groups.

There's a wierd dissonance when people from those isolated groups do meet up. It's not generally bad, in fact, but it makes you slightly fearful: am I consistent with these different groups, or do I have different personas? If so, which is the real "me"?

Current wisdom encourages people to be true to themselves; to live the dream; to avoid suppressing their inner selves. I'm sure that's founded on good psychology, but it strikes me that this course of action frequently leads to dislocation, pain, and so on. If I said what I truly thought, and in the process alienated my family (for example; I don't know of anything likely to do that :-) ), would I really be happier than if I bit my tongue? I guess it depends. But so often, friends and family are the ones who keep us honest, who act as correctives upon our whackier points of view or purchasing decisions. That's good, it seems to me; we are made to live in relationships.

One of the engaging features of TV's LOST drama is the way that the cast do not have super knowledge of everything which has happened to everyone else. Rather like real life, each person has their own perspective on events, shaped by what they have witnessed and what conversations they have had, and what secrets they keep from each other. It's an interesting picture, and part of life's complexity I sometimes overlook.

Is there a point to this rambling?

I wonder. Profoundly, we need one another. I suspect that relationships are sometimes more important than truth: truth about ourselves, or truth in what we believe. We disrupt them at our peril.

Blogging the emerging

I was pointed to a new blog today (how many can there be?!). C. Michael Patton has been giving an analysis of things evangelical, emerging, and emergent. There's much to think about there - an an awful lot of comments (no, I'm not yet liberated enough to describe them as a ___-load of comments, not in writing, anyway).

The last part (linked above) struck me as the most interesting: it identifies five aspects of emerging:

1. Emerging Ecclesiologically
2. Emerging Sociologically
3. Emerging Theologically
4. Emerging Epistemologically
5. Emerging Politically

Clearly, they rather overlap (some of his theological examples sound epistemological to me), but this is a good start. Moreover, it gives us a five-dimensional space in which to place ourselves. It is, then, little wonder that the earlier blog posts struggle with a 1- or 2-dimensional representation.

Where do I place myself? Well, do you have a five-dimensional piece of paper? What's the five-dimensional version of a quadrant? Put me in the upper-right one of those, but not too far into it.

I laughed aloud

Something about this cartoon made me laugh heartily; I had to share it.

Jon Birch has always had a great sense of humour. He's proof that the world is a small place: I found his blog from ... someone else's ... but then realised I knew him at school, er, 25 years ago.

What's in a title? : Call me "pastor"?

I'm reading a book at the moment: the title and author don't matter. Let's call him "Mark". Mark complains that when he was first leading his new church fellowship, he was disarmed by the fact that no one addressed him as "Pastor Mark". That bothers me very much.

I can't begin to imagine why some men (generally men?!) would wish to stand on such titles. Perhaps it's just my upbringing, but it seems odd to me. Many of us hold that we have been created as "equals", and that we are all brothers in faith. The purpose of the label "Pastor" seems to be to separate; to distinguish; to place in a place of honour.

That seems very much at odds with the "one body many parts" picture, unless we also give special titles of honour to those who make the coffee, or sweep crap off the steps (yes; historically, the church of England does for the latter; he's called the Verger). It seems to imply that some kinds of service matter a whole lot more than others. In fact, it seems to put us back in to the situation many Reformed people would hate, of giving a special status to the Vicar, or Priest - and if we are not careful, denying the "priesthood of all believers".

It puts me in mind of Jesus' words (Matthew 23, TNIV):

5“Everything they do is done for people to see: They make their phylacteries wide and the tassels on their garments long; 6they love the place of honor at banquets and the most important seats in the synagogues; 7they love to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces and to have people call them ‘Rabbi.’ “But you are not to be called ‘Rabbi,’ for you have only one Master and you are all brothers. And do not call anyone on earth ‘father,’ for you have one Father, and he is in heaven. Nor are you to be called ‘teacher,’ for you have one Teacher, the Messiah.

It's easy to diss the Catholics because they tend to call their priest "Father", and Jesus seems to suggest this is a bad idea. But doesn't the same apply to all titles of honour?

What is so bad about such titles? Well, besides seeming to imply that the body has some parts more important than others (which may, after all, be true), they seem to divide people into categories of those "allowed" to do theology, and those expected to take whatever they are given.

In that regard, I'm so grateful for my upbringing, wherein the truth about God "belonged" to everyone. Sure, there were elders, under whose authority members of the church placed themselves, but they exercised a lightness of touch which allowed for many voices, many perspectives. Sure, there are some who have a particular gift of teaching - but we don't expect gifts of prayer, or serving, or giving, or encouraging to be exercised exclusively by those who excel in those gifts, so why not also teaching and interpreting and prophesying? I don't want spiritual teaching to be dominated by one who does not have spiritual insight: but I'll value everyone's story of how God has spoken to them.

I'm not sorry to say that I don't recognise titles of honour or distinction among God's people. When I produce the church notice sheet/bulletin, no one gets a title; no one at all. Each of us has a name, and that suffices.

Yay! I have a blogroll

At last. Something pointed me to draft.blogger.com, where they keep the experimental stuff. And one of the new gadgets is something to suck your feed list out of Google reader, and present it as a side-bar here. So I have. The list is too long, really: it implies I'm incredibly well-read, whereas actually I confess that I dip in as and when I can. I have A-list blogs and B-list blogs: I probably need a better characterization than that. And I should edit the list for public consumption. Oh well. At least there's a little link-love there now.