Agnostics and Atheists Know More about Religion than Christians...

Companions,

Yesterday, the Pew Forum on Religion in America released the results of its study of religious knowledge in the United States.

And the findings are... interesting. 

You can see them, and links to a test you can take yourself, here.

In essence, they findings in this study support what Alan Roxburgh notes in his book, Missional Mapmaking. Christians who actually attend our congregations are generally biblically and religiously illiterate, even on very basic questions such as "Which Bible figure is most closely with remaining obedient to God despite suffering?" (Only 34% of white, mainline Protestants in the survey could answer that one correctly-- and it was a multiple choice question!).

Slightly less than half (49%) of white, mainline Protestants could distinguish the golden rule from the Ten Commandments. That was 6 percentage points worse than the overall population, and only three percentage points higher than people who said they had no religious connections. Atheists and agnostics got that one right 62% of the time.

Maybe if we still taught the Ten Commandments, or used them in worship as part of a penitential order, those numbers might have been better?

And that wasn't the lowest score. There were two others lower than that-- one of them about Christianity, the other about Buddhism.

It also reaffirms the findings of Kenda Creasy Dean and the other researchers involved in the National Study of Youth and Religion in Almost Christian.

Neither youth nor adults are learning even the basic stories of our faith-- or much about those of other faith traditions.

In this study, the best overall scorers were Atheists, Agnostics and Jewish people. 

The first two, I suppose, are clear about what they don't believe. Judaism-- at least in its closer to Orthodox forms, still has a powerful teaching tradition.

But mainline Christians? Not so much.

Evangelicals and Mormons-- somewhat better, but only about Christian faith. 

So what does this all mean for us seeking to be missional Christians in a mainline and mostly white denomination?

We have a charge to keep. 

Part of that charge is to teach the faith, in season and out of season. 

Certainly we teach it in actions.

But we also must teach it in words-- the stories, the people, and yes, the doctrine. Regardless of the cultural contexts in which we find ourselves, we United Methodists have doctrinal standards to teach and live out-- the Standard Sermons of John Wesley, his Notes upon the New Testament, the Articles of Religion and the Confession of Faith.

Related to all of of these, the doctrine and way of life described in the baptismal covenant.

And of course, first of all, the Bible itself. (I think you know where to find one of these!).

One of the accusations often lobbed at those of us seeking the missional way is that we're all action, no doctrine.

If that is true, it's time for us to repent.

If it's not true, it's time for us to prove the fruit of our efforts to teach-- by our deeds and our words.

There's work to do. Folks in our congregations know our stories less well than atheists and agnostics who despise them or do not find them compelling.

What will you do where you are?

Peace in Christ,

Taylor Burton-Edwards

As a person with a fascination for disciple making and evangelism, I tend to see methods of church growth in everything, even in unexpected places. For example, psychiatrist M. Scott Peck would begin every FCE community building workshop by reading the following parable known as The Rabbi's Gift:

The story concerns a monastery that had fallen upon hard times. Once a great order, as a result of waves of persecution in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and the rise of secularism in the nineteenth, all its branch houses were lost and it had become decimated to the extent that there were only five monks left in the decaying mother house: the abbot and four others, all over seventy in age. Clearly it was a dying order.

In the deep woods surrounding the monastery there was a little hut that a rabbi from a nearby town occasionally used for a hermitage. Through their many years of prayer and contemplation the old monks had become a bit psychic, so they could always sense when the rabbi was in his hermitage. "The rabbi is in the woods, the rabbi is in the woods again " they would whisper to each other. As he agonized over the imminent death of his order, it occurred to the abbot at one such time to visit the hermitage and ask the rabbi if by some possible chance he could offer any advice that might save the monastery.

The rabbi welcomed the abbot at his hut. But when the abbot explained the purpose of his visit, the rabbi could only commiserate with him. "I know how it is," he exclaimed. "The spirit has gone out of the people. It is the same in my town. Almost no one comes to the synagogue anymore." So the old abbot and the old rabbi wept together. Then they read parts of the Torah and quietly spoke of deep things. The time came when the abbot had to leave. They embraced each other. "It has been a wonderful thing that we should meet after all these years, "the abbot said, "but I have still failed in my purpose for coming here. Is there nothing you can tell me, no piece of advice you can give me that would help me save my dying order?"

"No, I am sorry," the rabbi responded. "I have no advice to give. The only thing I can tell you is that the Messiah is one of you."

When the abbot returned to the monastery his fellow monks gathered around him to ask, "Well what did the rabbi say?" "He couldn't help," the abbot answered. "We just wept and read the Torah together. The only thing he did say, just as I was leaving --it was something cryptic-- was that the Messiah is one of us. I don't know what he meant."

In the days and weeks and months that followed, the old monks pondered this and wondered whether there was any possible significance to the rabbi's words. The Messiah is one of us? Could he possibly have meant one of us monks here at the monastery? If that's the case, which one? Do you suppose he meant the abbot? Yes, if he meant anyone, he probably meant Father Abbot. He has been our leader for more than a generation. On the other hand, he might have meant Brother Thomas. Certainly Brother Thomas is a holy man. Everyone knows that Thomas is a man of light. Certainly he could not have meant Brother Elred! Elred gets crotchety at times. But come to think of it, even though he is a thorn in people's sides, when you look back on it, Elred is virtually always right. Often very right. Maybe the rabbi did mean Brother Elred. But surely not Brother Phillip. Phillip is so passive, a real nobody. But then, almost mysteriously, he has a gift for somehow always being there when you need him. He just magically appears by your side. Maybe Phillip is the Messiah. Of course the rabbi didn't mean me. He couldn't possibly have meant me. I'm just an ordinary person. Yet supposing he did? Suppose I am the Messiah? O God, not me. I couldn't be that much for You, could I?

As they contemplated in this manner, the old monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect on the off chance that one among them might be the Messiah. And on the off off chance that each monk himself might be the Messiah, they began to treat themselves with extraordinary respect.

Because the forest in which it was situated was beautiful, it so happened that people still occasionally came to visit the monastery to picnic on its tiny lawn, to wander along some of its paths, even now and then to go into the dilapidated chapel to meditate. As they did so, without even being conscious of it, they sensed the aura of extraordinary respect that now began to surround the five old monks and seemed to radiate out from them and permeate the atmosphere of the place. There was something strangely attractive, even compelling, about it. Hardly knowing why, they began to come back to the monastery more frequently to picnic, to play, to pray. They began to bring their friends to show them this special place. And their friends brought their friends.

Then it happened that some of the younger men who came to visit the monastery started to talk more and more with the old monks. After a while one asked if he could join them. Then another. And another. So within a few years the monastery had once again become a thriving order and, thanks to the rabbi's gift, a vibrant center of light and spirituality in the realm.

The question I'd like to pose for discussion is simple: Why does this work as a strategy for church growth?

It took me a while to come up with my own answer, again from an unexpected source, so I'll post that in a few days. But I would like to hear your thoughts on the matter.

Grace without Works Is... Antinomianism, Gnosticism and Mere Rationalism Revisited

Companions,

So I found a link to this video posted in one of the comments on Shane Raynor's blog.

What Shane was talking about was the opening chapter of Adam Hamilton's book, When Christians Get It Wrong.

I'm not reviewing the book here. I'm sure Shane will do a good job of that over at his place. 

Or if any of you who are already authors on this blog (your names are on the right) would like to, by all means do so!

Here's the video...

Okay, so this video has a subtitle, "So Who's the Mean Guy?" If I turn off the sound and I'm just looking at tone and voice and body language, no question. It's the narrator, not Adam. 

But who is meaner isn't the problem here, is it? The problem here really is a theological and even anthropological one.

The theological problem is twofold: antinomianism and gnosticism. Both the apostle James and "our apostle," John Wesley, were ardent opponents of any notion that the grace of God or faith itself could be lived apart from actually living them-- practicing them. It just doesn't get any clearer than "Faith without works is dead." And yet there emerged in the 17th and 18th centuries at sort of the fringes of Reformed theology this notion that ANY sort of enactment of faith or grace was to be rejected on the principle of "Sola Gratia" (by grace alone). These folks, like the narrator in the video, Wesley and other theologians in the mainstream of his day called "antinomian"-- "against the law." He would have nothing to do with them, apart from rejecting their teaching as forcefully as he could and urging them to repent, and would not allow persons who held their doctrine membership in the Methodist societies. 

So was Wesley "the mean guy?" Maybe so?

Wesley and nearly all Christians have affirmed that salvation is God's action offered to us to enter into and enjoy purely on the basis of God's grace. But the vast majority of the Christian witness (including Paul himself-- What, should we sin that grace might much more abound? By no means!) have always understood that salvation is not primarily a juridical transaction but rather a whole new way of living, one we either enter into ("take up your cross and follow me") or don't. Where we don't, forgiveness is offered as we confess our failure. But if we don't even try... Jesus said something about the one who built his house upon the sand... the one who said, "Lord, lord" but did not do the works of his Father in heaven.

Okay, so now Jesus is "the mean guy?" 

The second theological problem here is closely related to some of the more rabidly dualist versions of gnosticism. There were gnostics who were committed to practices that did seek to subdue the body as an essential means of expressing the spirit. They were at least incarnational somewhat (even if philosophically opposed to that!) in what they did. But there were others who made such a separation between body and spirit that their conclusion was that what one did with one's body mattered nothing at all. All that mattered was having the right knowledge in one's spirit. Salvation for these 'hyper-dualists' consisted of having the right ideas/ideology. Know the secret words and you're in-- no works or other actions required.

But as I've said there's an anthropological problem as well.  Rationalism simply does not describe actual reality as we are coming to know it more and more through either the sciences (especially neuroscience and cognitive science) or philosophy. That I believe X to be the case may mean only that. The holding of cognitive assertions actually commits the rest of our selves to almost nothing. Why? Because such cognitive assertions work primarily at "top level processing." They're the icing on the cake, if you will. They don't go "all the way down" to the "whole self" unless or until they are actually embodied, practiced, lived into. But for that to happen requires... well, doing something!

If the incarnation means anything, it means that God is out to save us "all the way down," to redeem our entire humanity. That redemption only happens as God's  grace moves "all the way down" and God's will gets encoded into our own-- conscious and unconscious, in thought, word and deed.

The experience of salvation in our lives and the life of the world is both unthinkable and undoable without works. They do not constitute it solely, nor are they the basis God chose to set out to redeem us. But they are surely the means by which God's saving grace in Jesus Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit is made real in our lives... and becomes real in the life of the world.

Even if, philosophically, you are an antinomian, a gnostic, or a mere rationalist. 

Peace in Christ,

Taylor Burton-Edwards

Has the Missional Conversation Devolved?

I was struck by how many affirmed that the missional conversation was now a series of books about church growth and health or romantic notions of ideal church types. It’s a disappointing aspect of a movement that began with such promise raising questions about the value of the missional conversation.
--Alan Roxburgh, reflecting on a consultation with leaders in the Denver Area (UMC) 


Has the missional conversation come to this? Has it been derailed and coopted, at least in the popular awareness of it, by the same old same old church growth, church vitality and church types conversations we've been having in North American Protestantism for the past century or more?


Of course part of the answer is, "Yes." And part of that "yes" is inevitable in a market economy. What gets press gets impressed into our minds. And what gets press is typically those who dominate the press, who have large publishing contracts, show up on the right shows and podcasts, and generate a sense of "guruship" the most effectively.


And what gets published and remains in the press is what is or is at least thought to be "popular." And what is most popular-- as it has ever been-- is the promise of a quick fix that will turn whatever condition you have around if you just buy it. Marketing 101. 


So yes, in the marketplace of perception, the missional conversation has come to this. 


But that doesn't mean the missional conversation IS this! 


It's not.


And the missional conversation is unlikely ever to sell well or get the breakthrough that its populist proclaimers (wrapping it around their real goods-- which are as attractional and anti-discipleship as ever) have gotten.


Why?


Our work doesn't make headlines. It's too small to be seen on most radar screens. And in this environment it's hard to start it and hard to maintain it-- at least until it takes root, and that takes years. Years-- not 40 days or three months, or even a quadrennium. When Alban and others note it takes at least six years for real pastoral effectiveness to emerge, they're still only talking about effective institutional leadership in congregations. Double that, and we might be closer to the right scale to see significant results. Maybe. If we work at it every day and diligently do so over all that time, bringing others on board with us along the way as we can.


Roxburgh talks about this as investing the time and effort to develop "parallel cultures" in his book, Missional Mapmaking. 


Now, we can certainly see significant results in the lives of individuals and small groups of Christians sooner than that-- but not in congregational cultures. My sense has continued to be that if we invest well in both, maybe just maybe we could move the dial back from 12 to maybe just 6 years on the congregational scene... that is, if we invest heavily in missional groups connected to but not programmed by the congregation. Roxburgh is not alone in being leary of this "parachurch" approach, fearing as many do that it's just one more way of outsourcing congregational work. But I've noted that in fact the core work of discipleship and mission got outsourced centuries ago-- and remains that way. If it will impact the culture of congregations now, it has a far better chance of doing so if developed in healthy connected ways from the outside than trying to generate it inside alone.


So yes, the missional conversation has been coopted.


That just means we need to keep working, keep talking and keep pulling folks into the real thing-- not a veneer covering the 'same old thing'-- ourselves.




Peace in Christ,


Taylor Burton-Edwards

Moralistic Therapeutic Deism: Treating the Parasite on Discipleship to Jesus

Companions,

Kenda Creasy Dean is making headlines in both the religious and the secular media these days, thanks to the findings of research published in her book, Almost Christian. 

Chief among her conclusions is that in many congregations across the United States, youth (but not only youth!) are being formed  to embrace not Christian theology, practices and teaching but instead a set of principles and practices based on what she calls, "Moralistic Therapeutic Deism" (MTD).

Here are its core teachings:

1. A god exists who created and orders the world and watches over life on earth.

2. God wants people to be good, nice and fair to each other, as taught in the Bible and by most world religions.

3. The central goal of life is to be happy and to feel good about oneself.

4. God is not involved in my life except when I need God to resolve a problem.

5. Good people go to heaven when they die. (-- from Chapter 1: "Becoming Christianish", Kindle location 272-279).

Both she and the researchers she cites (Christian Smith and Melinda Denton, principle investigators for the National Study of Youth and Religion (2003-2005) note that MTD is insufficient to create a religion in its own right. Instead, like the worm Ascaris Lambracoides (pictured above), the largest roundworm that regularly infects the human intestines and lungs, it is a parasite on Christianity and any other tradition it can encounter, colonize and infest.

Here's what Smith and Denton had to say about it:

"We have come with some confidence to believe that a significant part of Christianity in the United States is actually only tenuously Christian in any sense that it is seriously connected to the actual historical Christian tradition, but has rather substantially morphed into... Moralistic Therapeutic Deism." 

The result is that while the vast majority of American teenagers claim to have a connection to a Christian faith tradition, very few of them can articulate their faith in any coherent way. What they say when asked about their faith, if anything, sounds far more like MTD than anything remotely resembling discipleship to Jesus Christ who sends us into the world to witness to and embody God's mission. 

And if pressed, I would imagine we'd find very similar results among most adults in Christian congregations as well. Indeed, as Alan Roxburgh points out in Missional Mapmaking, even the most frequent "remedy" proposed for increasing involvement and discipleship, the small group, actually gained prominence in the late 20th century and functioned (and still functions!) primarily as a way of mutual care, feeling good about oneself and each other, and not as a way of mutual accountability and rigorous growth in practicing the way of Jesus.

MTD is nothing new. It is really the essence of American Civil Religion, with a slight therapeutic twist added in the late 19th century and through the 20th and into the 21st with something like a vengeance. 

So not just today's youth, but very likely the majority of today's living Christians in the US have been formed more as disciples of MTD than the Jesus revealed in the Bible and the long testimony of the Church. 

So What Do We Do? How Do We Treat This Parasite?

Medically, many parasites, including the imposing Ascaris Lambracoides,  can be eliminated by taking a course of medications for a few days. Medicine goes in, worms die and quit reproducing 220,000 eggs per female worm per day, you're cured. But of course, if other issues, such as sanitation and water supply are not addressed, it's very likely you will become infected and infested again almost immediately. The personal cure is fairly quick. The long-term solution requires substantial systemic intervention and change. 

Kenda Creasy Dean is not sanguine or simplistic about the degree of change necessary for our congregations and our youth to become disciples of Jesus rather than disciples of MTD. She is quite clear about what it will take. 

And it is no small transformation. 

First, it requires parents to step up and talk and live as disciples of Jesus. Why parents? Because parents remain by far the single most important influence in their children's lives, including in matters of faith. This is why she insists that "adults need spiritual apprenticeships... and need them first."

Second, it requires some way to give youth (and adults!) practice in giving testimony to their faith, and particularly about Jesus-- in words, as well as in deeds-- not as an occasional "special" practice, such as one might find in camping programs, but as an ongoing and regular part of their socialization in the congregation and their practice in daily life. 

Third, we must all learn to practice detachment-- in the medieval Christian sense. Kenda Creasy Dean describes it this way: "disentangling ourselves from whatever distracts us from Jesus Christ, so all of our attention-- and all of our lives-- may be fixed upon him." Detachment from such entangling practices was at the heart of the First General Rule and its list of practices to be avoided. The idea was not to separate oneself from other people, but rather to pull away from practices that consumed time, attention and focus from doing what really needs to be done to love God and neighbor with our whole hearts. And, she notes, such detachment (or reflexivity, another term she uses interchangeably) is often kick-started in thin places and liminal or de-centering situations-- or what Alan Hirsch calls "an ordeal."

Prospects for shedding the MTD parasite permanently are slim and grim. As Kenda Creasy Dean admits, MTD is likely here to stay in a consumerist culture bent on making people feel badly enough about themselves to purchase something to make themselves feel better. So it's not going to leave the culture or most of our congregations. And not without a fight in our congregations!

And even if the fight happens, what keeps us from being reinfected? Building enough of the real thing-- the gospel and the way of Jesus in this world-- into the lives of others and with others (adults and youth and children alike!). Or, as Peter Berger would put it, a vital "plausibility structure."

That's where Kenda Creasy Dean sees part of the hope in the NSYR. Though youth are "buying into" MTD as a way to succeed in life in American culture, they don't see it as anything substantial enough to invest their lives or risk their lives for it. It's ultimately bland. Nice. Boring. She sees the geometrically escalating drop-out by younger adults as a product both of the major drop-out that occurred among their parents beginning in the 1960s and as an indicator that MTD really does present a God who is only barely worth caring about. 

And meanwhile, it remains always and everywhere possible to form people into missionally-minded and practicing disciples of Jesus, now as ever. Peers can help. Congregations or groups committed to this vision can help. Kenda Creasy Dean writes, "The single most important thing the church can do to cultivate missional imagination in young people is to develop one as a church, reclaiming our call to follow Christ into the world as envoy's of God's self-giving love."

So what now?

Who is ready to take the medicine to get free personally where you are?

Who is ready to join you in engaging the systemic work-- with parents, youth, older adults and children-- where you are, so that discipleship to Jesus is supported well enough that those who have gotten free of the MTD parasite may be more immune to it going forward?

Peace in Christ,

Taylor Burton-Edwards

Photo: Public Domain from CDC.