Rachel’s book is structured around her own story. She was raised in the strongest of evangelical apologetics, ready to defeat a host of arguments without listening to them and treat threatening views as dangerous views, and her own views as unquestionable. This part is called “Habitat.” But eventually, her critiques and questions of the views of others are turned on her own, and this part is called “Challenge.” Finally, she learns that her faith can change, and indeed must change. This, of course, is called “Change.”

In the first part, there are powerful stories of Dayton, Tennesee and the world of conservative evangelicalism, and of herself and other folks that Rachel has known. There are stories that will make you cringe, either because you remember the same experiences in your own life or because you can’t imagine such experiences really happening. There are stories that give glimpses into its cracks and dangers, stories that give glimpses into what it taught her, and stories that just make it look old in a world that no longer needs it.

One example is this:

With this assurance [that reality would always support their "biblical worldview"], we studied common challenges in Christianity, such as the problem of evil and the destiny of the unevangelized. These were treated as issues that atheists and agnostics might raise to try to undermine Christianity, not issues that believers generally struggled with themselves, so I had to be careful how I phrased my questions in class.

In the second part, the questions of skeptics become Rachel’s questions. She deals honestly with issues of hell, pluralism, the fact that the time and place in which we were born is the most likely factor to decide the religion we will practice, the guilt that can plague us when we begin to honestly look at the suffering of people in the world, and other questions that people with these frameworks really don’t like to think about.

This is a profound section, partly because it is willing to give us a glimpse into a deep wrestling with questions that have been equated with a faithful theology for Rachel’s entire life up to this point, and partly because it gives us a glimpse into how deeply we can encounter the love and grace of Jesus within these questions regardless of whether or not there are satisfying answers to them.

In the end, the same question that frightened and intimidated me as a child provided the clearest way out: What if I’m wrong? It was a question loaded with uncertainty, possibility, and hope, and it was a question to which I often would return. To be wrong about God is the condition of humanity, for better or worse. Sometimes it lures us into questioning God; sometimes it summons us to give him another chance. After I’d thought for so many years that good Christians are always ready with an answer, it was a question that eventually drew me back to belief.

So following this, the final section tells us how Rachel has learned that her faith can be flexible, that God is full of grace, and that it’s okay not to know things. One last quote to illustrate this:

And slowly I am learning to live the questions, to follow the teachings of a radical rabbi, to live in an upside-down kingdom in which kings are humbled and servants exalted, to look for God in the eyes of the orphan and the widow, the homeless and the imprisoned, the poor and the sick.

I hope I’ve expressed a bit of the profound theological and spiritual story that is in this book, and the freedom and beauty that is in its message. It doesn’t tell us that real faith is easy and lets us float above the hard parts, or that we can settle for a lifeless faith that offers nothing that can change us and nothing that can change the world. It offers us hope through the stories of folks Rachel has met and shares with us, through the parts of her own journey that she shares with us, and the ways that we can turn an honest look on our own journeys and know that Jesus is in them.

I’d love to encourage you to get this one. You can buy it on Amazon, or get more info on Rachel’s site.

Anyway, the book is partly a story of how Richard Stearns’ life has been impacted by the essential call to justice that the message of Jesus brings, and partly an expression of that call to justice and the ways in which the American church has, for the most part, completely missed it and thus presented the world with a gospel that is not complete.

What the book says

That needs to be restated: the American church has presented a gospel that is not complete. The book then goes into deep observances of how true that is, giving overviews of what the Bible expects of us with regard to justice – holistic, all-encompassing justice – and how that has played itself out in bringing Richard Stearns to a place of spending his life in pursuit of that justice.

A large part of his information here is designed to get folks who would call themselves Christians to understand that their faith demands that they seek to alleviate the plight of the poor and oppressed around the world. The rest of it is designed to tell stories that have the power to shake folks out of their ignorance and indifference toward these things, getting rid of misconceptions about poverty and disease and showing our role in oppression and in freeing oppressed people.

What the book says to me

I found this to be a necessary book, even though I was already aware of the majority of the issues of poverty, disease, and oppression that it covers. Each still had much to teach me, many places to encourage and challenge me, and many places to remind me of things that I’ve forgotten or neglected to do anything about. It is also, importantly, insistent that there are things that I can do, and this is essential in a book of this nature. It is so easy when learning of systemic issues of justice to become complacent from simply being overwhelmed, and Stearns does not allow this.

I also found it necessary from a theological perspective. Stearns has a strong grasp of the theological and biblical issues around justice, and beautiful stories with which to express them. It’s also a beautiful thing for me to see someone who is clearly an evangelical be willing to throw himself so wholeheartedly on the line in support of justice.

I can’t overemphasize how much I loved seeing it. I have occasional theological differences with things written in the book, and that’s fantastic. It’s great to see that it is possible for him to have such a profound love for justice and the poor and oppressed, in spite of the theological and political structures within evangelicalism that keep so many from grasping it, that he is able to devote his life to them. Beautiful book that needs to be read, and its call to action needs to be heard.

1. In the interest of disclosure, I received the book for free, and am not required to write positively about it.
2. Many folks who know of World Vision know (as I did) of their child sponsorship programs, but maybe not much else. In recent months, both from this book and from other things I’ve run across, I’ve been learning about all the additional work they do among the poor and oppressed, seeking to promote justice and bear witness to the kingdom of God. It’s a wonderful organization.

I wasn’t really sure how to go about reviewing this, so I decided not to read other versions for the sake of comparison, and also not to find out which authors were the contributors in any of the books I read. I got my copy during Passion Week, so I read the various accounts of the days of that week, and then continued through Acts and on to Romans, hoping to give myself a strong enough feel for the way the translation works.

So, to start: this Bible, if you are not familiar with it, is unique in the sense that there is a (fairly typical) team of scholars working to translate the Greek texts of the New Testament, and a (not at all typical) team of authors, pastors, musicians, artists, and so on working to write these texts into narrative, letter, or other form in current English, striving to maintain the personality and voice of the original authors as much as possible.

In doing this, steps are taken such as a screenplay format in narratives to show who is speaking, additions to the text (in italics) to provide information that would have been evident to folks to whom Scriptures were written, and some brief outline boxes that expand upon what is being said. This means that if you were attempting to be scholarly about a text you’d want to have another translation with which to compare things. Taking that to its logical conclusion, of course, you’d want to know Koine Greek and have a thorough knowledge of first century Middle Eastern culture.

I took a class in college where half was Greek and half was Hebrew. I made, by far, the worst grade I’ve ever made in a class. I have at least a decent grasp of first century culture, but there’s certainly stuff that I don’t know, and most people would also claim this limitation of themselves. In light of how far removed we are from the world of the New Testament (in this case) and how hard it is to get there, I’d take criticisms that talk about the additions and clarifications used in this translation with a grain of salt.

I’ll close by noting one of the greatest strengths I’ve noticed. Certain words that some folks may be really attached to are taken away and replaced with other things (“Christ” is replaced with “Liberating King,” for example, and “righteousness” is often replaced with “justice”). These replacements do two things: they get rid of words that have such historical and cultural baggage that they have become shallow and thoughtlessly used, and they bring us back to the sense that the original hearers would have had when they heard these words. It’s fascinating, and well worth getting the translation just for that.

As I said, I didn’t find out who the modern text of any of the individual books were “written” by while I was reading them, though there are wonderful folks from Brian McLaren to Chris Seay to Matthew Paul Turner and others. All of them do wonderful things with these texts in different ways, and I’d encourage you to get it.

1. In the interest of disclosure, I received the book for free, and am not required to write positively about it.

Among these kind of communities, as well as in the broader emerging/missional church, leadership is often a tricky issue. It is hard to lead people who have been burnt by bad leadership, and are often skeptical that there is such a thing as good leadership. But that’s what this book is about: good leadership. This is leadership that is willing to lead and follow folks into something bigger than an individual, through crisis and pain, rejecting the power of violence and oppression in favor of the power of the Cross, toward freedom and real community; patiently waiting for the dreams of God.

I’ve read a number of books on leadership, from a business and a ministry perspective. This one and Henri Nouwen’s In the Name of Jesus stand apart from all the others, and have shaken the ways I think about the idea and the practice of leading. I can’t recommend both highly enough, and I really think it’s possible to spend a lifetime learning the principles that both teach.

But at the moment, I want to look at two specific concepts from this one, as they deal directly with a deep fear that I have, and a dangerous tendency that I have.

The first is said like this:

A blessing is like a living organism, not some kind of plaque we hang on a wall or meal we eat at the end of the day. The promise contains hope, but there is always an element of it that goes unfulfilled. Sure, we might make progress and see some of that promise come about, but what we pass along is hope and a vision that can be carried forth, and a little bit more of it will be fulfilled by the next generation, and then the next.

I often wonder if I’ll accomplish anything with my life. Part of it, I’m sure, is American individualism. Another, just selfish pride. Part, still, is a genuine desire to be used for the kingdom of Jesus, but the fear is betrayed when I grasp the truth of simple things like this. I do think there is a tension between living into a view of promise like this one, and living into a good story, and I think that is where the Spirit can take us.

It seems as though I could lean on this idea of a future promise and never do anything, and later wonder why I didn’t live a good story; yet it also seems that I could try to force myself into a story and accomplish nothing better than burnout, hurting any number of folks around me. Folks like Donald Miller and Shane Claiborne, encouraging us to live into good stories, are not pushers of legalism but it is possible for us to take their thoughts, like so many other beautiful thoughts, and put legalistic demands upon ourselves. I need to learn this.

The second concept that I hope to learn is said like this:

One of the great things about my generation is our global awareness. With the Internet and all, the world has shrunk into a global neighborhood. Folks are aware of what’s happening in Uganda and East Timor. Young folks care about who made their clothes and where their bananas come from and how much the folks who grew their coffee got paid. But there is also a sort of missional ADD. Young people want to do everything … for three months.

The discussion there goes on to talk about the need for developing roots, and the need for patience – especially in the kind of neighborhoods where people like Shane and John live. John makes a statement that it takes 10 to 12 years to see lasting change in these kind of places. The same is true for folks in underground subcultures – roots and stability are necessary things.

I’ve yet to find a place where I feel I can put down these kind of roots, and part of it is because of this kind of “missional ADD” that Shane talks about. I see so many beautiful things that God is doing in the world, and so many places where the world bleeds for the peace and justice of the kingdom of God, and I want to do something for all of them. It becomes paralyzing to narrow down the things I could do and the places I could go because I fear that I’ll miss out on what I should be doing.

I don’t have the financial resources to follow through on this kind of missional ADD, at least in an extreme sense, but I fear the potential of spending five years in one place, two years in another, three in another, and so on without planting these kind of roots into something bigger than myself.

The book seeks to link together a number of thoughts and disciplines – ecclesiology, science, network theory, missiology, and spirituality, among others – to indicate the incredible interconnectedness in which we can live, and how that affects the way we think about leadership, theology, ministry, and the mission of God and the church in the world.

The subtitle is a little misleading, first of all. I don’t recall more than one or two mentions of Facebook, specifically, in the entire book. This is a wonderful thing, as far as I’m concerned, because Facebook is just one part, albeit a very large and influential part, of much broader things that are going on in culture. It is also just one manifestation of the larger discussion that Dwight brings to us of scale-free networks, of hubs and links and nodes of various sizes and connectedness, connecting everyone to everything.

A related observation: the book does not spend time telling us how to use Facebook, or Twitter, or any other specific networks. I think he assumes we can get this information elsewhere, or that we are already doing these things. This is one of the great strengths of the book, as most books that try to tell people how to use social networks are out of date by the time the print has dried. Thinking about networks theologically and thinking about the church through network theory is, in my opinion, far more valuable and can help us understand the implications of these core parts of culture.

This is the image that he gives us of the people of God – nodes of people connected through real relationships and encounters to other people. He also gives us this image of a connected, linking God, and reminds us of the perichoresis. God is not a lighthouse, standing afar off from us, but even in God’s essence there is linking, connecting, and relating in the Great Dance between the Father, the Son, and the Spirit, and we are invited into that Dance.

There are beautiful thoughts on leadership in the days of Google, which for me fit really well with the conversations that are happening around Theology After Google. The ideas being presented in the book remind us that people don’t come to us, as the church or as ministers or as individuals, giving us authority or asking us to give them information.

They come to us, and we can give away our authority by creating genuine connections. Connections with God and the reconciling work of Jesus in the world, and connections with others. This kind of image of the kingdom of God, then, is relational and always moving, and is thus chaotically unpredictable.

These images lead into specific practices, and specific ways of creating space for people to engage God and others. There are beautiful ideas on how leaders can creatively seek to create this kind of space in their networks, and how each network has to be in relation to other networks in order to thrive. This leads into discussions of missiology, and how we understand our encounters with people who are fully Other from us; whether or not we allow ourselves to be shaped by these encounters.

All of the images in the book move back to the mission of God in the world – creatively reconciling people to God and to each other, and understanding that mission in light of things we know about the world through computer networks, ecological systems, tapestries, and other intricately connected things. I’d highly recommend this one.

I’ve been a fan of Sojourners and Jim Wallis for almost ten years, but I’d never met or seen him in person, so this was a great experience for me. We listened to his talk, and then we almost accidentally bumped into him when everyone was heading into the lobby. We bought his new book, and got to shake his hand and thank him for coming, and he asked us a couple of questions, and then we left.

When we first came in, he was talking about the excessive bonuses that bankers from the biggest Wall Street firms recently received. He spoke of all of the things that the hundreds of millions of dollars could have done instead, and also of the folks who have been foreclosed upon because of their unjust practices (people who had enough money for a house loan but were tricked into dangerous loans, for example). He compared the story of these bankers to the parable of the unjust servant that Jesus told. The bankers were given extraordinary grace, in that sense, when we bailed them out; but they have refused to extend that same grace to folks who have been affected by their own choices.

Moving on from the specific example of the bankers and their bonuses, he spoke profoundly about the condition of which the bankers are a symptom. Our need to have everything, focus on ourselves, and only worry about the present has led us into the present economic crisis, and we can either (gradually) go back to the way we were, and at some point find ourselves in another crisis, or we can be truly affected by where these things have brought us, and move somewhere else. We can realize that “enough is enough,” “we are all in this together”, and think about “the seventh generation out,” as he reminded us.

He spoke of the winds of change that are occurring, speaking of his experiences at the World Economic Forum in Davos, where he had conversations about values and morality in our economic system with folks ranging from Eric Schmidt to Barney Frank. He spoke of his own travels around the country, speaking with folks who have the two great hungers he sees – spirituality and social justice – and the desire for something to bring them together.

He constantly reminded us that religion does not have a monopoly on morality, but that faith traditions offer practices and perspectives and histories to achieve these kind of changes. He reminded us of the need for a hopeful populism. If you know of Jim Wallis, you know that he is not a Tea Partier, and he recognizes that they have affected our perception of the word populism, and reframed it differently than the focuses that they have into something that is much more concerned with justice, the poor, and hope.

After talking for an hour or so about these kind of things, he answered several questions and then went into the lobby to hang out with folks. Not having read the book yet, I’m not sure how much of his talk was from it and how much was just informed by its concepts, but either way I’d encourage you to see the tour if it comes near you, and pick up the book. I disagree with him from time to time, as I often lean more toward the Anabaptist way of looking at culture, but he is an important voice for those of us who want to see spirituality and justice come close.

But picking a few lets me look back on the thoughts that have impacted me the most, and hopefully try to figure out how my life is different because of them, and how it should be if it isn’t. This year I tried to narrow it down to ten.

1. A Million Miles in a Thousand Years

   Donald Miller

   This book shook me to my core. I can’t say it enough. I have still not recovered, and hope I never do. have loved all of Don Miller’s books, but none have had the impact on my thought processes, dreams, and way I want to live my life that this one has. It is a book to read, ponder, and read again. Live a beautiful story.

2. Drops Like Stars

   Rob Bell

   I put this here as a book, though in my mind I have the event as well, which I assume will be made into a DVD at some point. It is a beautiful work, and for me it was made so much more poignant by the interplay between it and A Million Miles in a Thousand Years. In itself, it is powerful – the images of engaging the suffering of others, and also of what to do about our own suffering, are images that can teach and inspire.

3. Red Moon Rising

   Pete Greig

   I’ve been familiar with 24-7 Prayer as an organization for almost ten years, and have always loved the things they do. Additionally, one of my favorite ministries became a 24-7 Boiler Room. But regardless, for some reason I hadn’t read this book until this year. It is a beautiful story, and these folks are a beautiful part of the emerging church.

4. The Practice of the Presence of God

   Brother Lawrence

   This one is a hard read. It is a very small book, and very cheap (it’s always less than $6). But it is hard, even so, because to me it feels like the awareness of, and participation in, the presence of God that Brother Lawrence experienced is unattainable. But I am reminded, again and again, that he was a cook in a monastery kitchen. That he didn’t see his experience as anything other than what is available to all followers of Jesus. And I want that. It’s among the beautiful things that are presented by the Pentecostal movement, in its best moments, as well as mystics and other folks like Brother Lawrence (it is important for Pentecostals to be reminded that they do not have anything close to a monopoly on this kind of life). I’m not there, but I want to be.

5. The Out of Bounds Church?

   Steve Taylor

   Steve Taylor is a pioneer in the emerging church, and this demonstrates it. I was late coming to this book, but it is still incredibly relevant. It is a missiological book, and God moves throughout it. I can’t recommend it enough, as a vision of what the church can be.

6. The Justice Project

   Multiple authors

   This is another one that shook me. Multiple chapters contain images and thoughts that I can’t get out of my head – from racism as our national demon, to our need to come to the table with Native Americans, to justice as the undeconstructible reality. Each voice in this book offers us something that we desperately need to get into our lives. It is one to ponder, over and over again.

7. How (Not) to Speak of God

   Peter Rollins

   I briefly got to meet Peter late last year when he came to Atlanta. I had followed his blog for a long time, but hadn’t gotten around to reading any of his books. This one is a wonderful thing, and is still needed by those of us in the emerging church seeking a generative theology, and how it can work itself out in practice (an example, based on Ikon, is the second half of this book). It’s a beautiful theology that Peter presents to us – flowing out of the Event of God. It is humble in realizing that we cannot speak of God, but passionate in realizing that we must speak of God, even as we know that we cannot.

8. The Prophetic Imagination

   Walter Brueggemann

   My book reading is a strange process, and this is a good example of that. I’ve wanted to read this since one of my favorite professors in college introduced me to Brueggemann’s writing in general, and this one in particular, but I didn’t get around to it until this year. The insight and significance that this book has for an understanding of the prophetic vein through Scripture, and how to engage in prophetic ministry, is simply invaluable. It cannot be read too much.

9. Everyday Justice

   Julie Clawson

   I read this one right after reading The Justice Project, and in my mind the two talked together. This one looks at issues from coffee to clothing to cars, and asks us to look at our involvement in them from a desire for justice. It has the potential to shake up countless areas of our lives, and it should.

10. Surprised By Hope

    N. T. Wright

    I’m generally a big fan of N. T. Wright’s thoughts, and find him to be much more compelling than lots of other leading New Testament scholars. This book deals with the resurrection of Jesus – the evidences for it and the theological reasons for it, none of which are new but certainly are expressed better than most. But it also teaches us how to shape our lives, considering that this event began the kingdom of God into which we are to live.

The Justice Project is written by many different authors, and it covers very broad issues – theological, cultural, etc.. These are desperately important issues for us to consider, and again I think the book has potential to take conversations on justice within the emerging church to an entirely different level. But Everyday Justice covers our role in very specific issues – slavery, sweatshop and child labor, and so on. It also has vital importance to our conversations around justice.

The conversation around everyday issues of justice is a hard one to begin with many folks, both because it is hard for people to learn that they are complicit in systemic injustice, and because it is an overwhelming realization when it does come. Julie’s book does a great job in avoiding both of these difficulties, by making it clear that legalism and guilt are not the answers, and also by giving us specific ways to live justly.

It is additionally hard for many folks in the church to have these conversations, because there is an understanding of justice that is reduced from the expansive, holistic nature that is meant in biblical language, and Julie deals with this as well.

In a specific sense, the book deals with issues of coffee and chocolate (which are often produced by slave labor and worsened by various economic policies), clothing (which is often produced in sweatshops and also worsened by various economic policies), cars and food (which have obvious environmental issues and also human rights issues), waste (which has its own consequences but of course speaks to our desperate desire to consume things), and debt (which details our specific economic and political relationships to the debt-ridden nations in the developing world and what needs to be done, though of course our own debt is relevant as well). The chapter on each issue is well-researched both on the broad issues themselves and how we are individually involved with them, and gives specific ways we can live justly with regard to that issue.

Some folks will find the issues to be very familiar through trying to understand justice, but even in these cases it is fantastic to have the research on the issues, and the resources on living justly, together. I think most folks, though, will learn something about all of the issues, whether it is related to just how far systemic injustice reaches and how much we are complicit in it, or ways to continue moving life toward justice.

I spend a lot of time in thinking, learning, having conversations, and trying to seek justice around these issues, and I find the book to be invaluable in all of these things. I’m very familiar with most of the issues, but still learned a great deal.

This variety makes the book really hard to review, but an amazing read. The book is divided into these sections: The God of Justice (theology, postmodernism, church history, etc.), The Book of Justice (justice throughout the Torah, the prophets, the Gospels, and the epistles), Justice in the U.S.A. (issues of race, politics, etc.), A Just World (a global perspective on justice), A Just Church (how the church can seek justice), and Conclusion (just what it says). I read the book straight through, but it could easily be read out of order.

I believe that by its very existence, this book can, and should, take the conversations about justice that occur in the emerging church to an entirely different level. It has done a number on my thoughts, expanding them and deepening them on all of these issues. None of the core issues here are new to me, but the voices and perspectives are often new to me, and more experienced in these stories, than any I’ve encountered before.

I hope many outside of emerging conversations will read this, especially evangelicals and Pentecostals as many of the stories and perspectives will be new to them, and are incredibly necessary for them to know about. Often the voices are people they will trust, and that’s a valid thing. There is a sad extent, though, to which many in these circles have no understanding of a biblical vision of justice – viewing it as simply punishment, retribution, or strictly in an eschatological sense. Really getting what this book is saying will not allow that to continue.

I think many within Emergent will have similar experiences with this book to mine: we know these issues and stories, but these perspectives and experiences can shake us, if we let them. Often we so badly want to be part of justice, and this gives us incredible things – theological resources, amazing people to learn from, stories to join, and a holistic vision of what God is doing in so many areas in the world so we can be a part of it.

The book discusses the history of Arthur Guinness, his beer, and his descendants – especially the line that managed the brewery until 1986, and the other line that lived in ministry and missionary work, both in Ireland, England, and China. So really, it looks for God in the story of Guinness, and it does a great job. It tells fascinating stories of the social good that the wealth of the company accomplished for its own employees, the city of Dublin, and the British Isles, especially in the 19th and early 20th centuries.

Parts of the book trace stories of people connected to the Guinnesses or the company and are hard to follow, but overall the story flows well and is one of the most inspiring examples of capitalism – serving, and in many cases living among, the poor and downtrodden as well as its own employees and neighbors – that I have ever seen.

This should give us hope for a sustainable capitalism that is not consumed by prosperity at any cost, but seeks to take care of its neighbor and do good for the world, even while selling and marketing a product that people really love. This is not to say that there are not problems in the Guinness history, and the book doesn’t gloss over these and there are, at times, disagreements that I have with the author’s views, or the characters’ views, on society or things of God.

But I want to strongly recommend the book to anyone who loves a good pint of Guinness, and also anyone who wants to see an example of this kind of company, that at times reaches into outlandish territory in serving the world.