Three years ago I started writing a “year in review” blog. Measuring by life events alone, 2010 sucked. But considering how I’ve experienced God’s hope and joy, this was actually the best year of my life so far.

A solidarity is forming within me as I’m learning to hope. Coming through suffering with more hope than before feels like being grounded by a cruise ship anchor:

This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast and one which enters within the veil, where Jesus has entered as a forerunner for us… (Hebrews 6:19, 20)

This verse says that hope is an anchor; it grounds us. Emily Dickinson described hope as “the thing with feathers,” a bird that “perches in the soul” and sings throughout life’s storms. I’ve heard hope sing to my soul, but what’s more useful in a tempest: a little songbird, or a cast-iron anchor?

Songbirds are nice to have around, but not extremely helpful in a tempest.

Both the Victorian poet and the first-century author of Hebrews identify that hope is tied to the soul, because hope is emotional, not rational. The day after my second consecutive miscarriage, I started hoping for another baby, though the day before I never wanted to be pregnant again. Hoping so soon after tragedy doesn’t make sense. That’s why it’s hope. For “we do not hope for what is seen, but what is unseen” (Romans 8:24). Hope looks forward to a reality we aren’t experiencing just yet.

Anchors aren

What can we look forward to that will carry us through suffering today? Romans 5 explains:

Therefore, since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us. Because of our faith, Christ has brought us into this place of undeserved privilege where we now stand, and we confidently and joyfully look forward to sharing God’s glory. We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. (Romans 5:1-4)

If life seems to be working here and now, we don’t feel much need to look forward to a better place. Life never works for long, though. We can’t choose much of what happens to us, but we can choose our response: we will mope or hope? Hope is also a choice. Even in mourning we can thank God for the life-changing, undeserved access we have to a personal relationship with God. This is what Hebrews 6 means by a hope “which enters the veil,” where Jesus has gone before us. Jesus has gone between us and God so we can intimately know Love Himself. Hope looks forward to the day when we will more literally experience our privilege of entry into the throne room of the Almighty.

My life has been light on suffering. This little taste of tragedy this year made me long for eternity when one day I’ll see my Father and my children. Hope is knowing this life isn’t where it’s at, but God’s Kingdom is. When God establishes His Kingdom on earth as well as heaven, there will be peace: no more war between nations and family members, no more oppression and injustice, no more pain and death. Can you imagine waking up tomorrow to nothing but good news stories and loving, meaningful interactions with all your friends and family? That’s a little bit what God’s Kingdom will be like. And we don’t have to wait till heaven to start experiencing peace and joy:

hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out within our hearts through the Holy Spirit who was given to us. (Romans 5:5)

Rejoicing in God means our hearts are brimming with His love, and we can start sharing that now. I’ve got my work cut out for me if I’m really looking forward to eternity since I want to take as many friends with me as possible. Hope supplies a new zeal and urgency about sharing the good news of God’s grace with others who desperately need access to His throne. Ecclesiastes 3:11 says God has put eternity in everyone’s heart, so all people hope for something better. By sharing “the reason for the hope that is in us” (1 Peter 3:15) we can bring good tidings of great joy to all the people.

On the way home from the hospital, a voice pleaded, “Why, God? Why?”

I learned so much the first time, but what was this supposed to teach me? No idea.

“Wait for the Lord.”

That funny phrase from the Old Testament…it never made much sense to me. What exactly are you supposed to wait for? How can you wait for Someone who is always there?

“Be still and know that I am God.”

My soul was writhing in anguish, anything but still. Like a tranquillizer to the heart, the very thought of stillness calmed me. “Don’t give up, don’t freak out,” Someone said to my soul. “Stop thrashing around. You’re already in pain. Just accept it, and Wait for the Lord. See what He is going to do.”

Don’t get me wrong. God didn’t make this happen. He’s just as sad about it as me, and even more, though it’s hard to believe. “Why?” is the cry for meaning in the midst of suffering, but the meaning was most certainly NOT “it’s God’s will.” After all, He gave me the desire to have kids. I couldn’t muster such a sacrificial, illogical yearning on my own.

When Take 1 didn’t take, I experienced God in a new way, clinging to His comfort and presence. He took my broken heart and softened the hard protective shell. I actually felt joy while I was profoundly sorrowful, and emerged with a new sense of victory and solidarity. It’s a joy to know you can have joy despite the circumstances.

Four months later, with Take 2 taken out, temper tantrum and pity party were both attractive options. I’m temperamentally inclined to wallow, but I’m not above a good flail, either. Neither baited me like “Wait for the Lord,” though.

Maybe this was phase two of learning to cling to God, just letting all the resistance slip away as my weight rests on Him. Not knowing what will happen, or what I’ll learn from it, but believing that God is good and can use anything for good. And waiting to see what that will be. Someone had the same idea three thousand years ago:

“I would have despaired if I had not believed I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord. Be strong and let your heart take courage. Yes, wait for the Lord.” –Psalm 27:13, 14

People want to find meaning in suffering because they know this is not how life is supposed to be. Pain feels so wrong because it is wrong. We want to fight it, escape it, numb it—anything but feel it. No one can escape it, and now I’d turned up a few bad cards in the game of life. When you can’t know the meaning, you can flop and flail, or you can wait for the Lord and learn as He teaches.

It’s hard to let your heart take courage. The day before, I never wanted to be pregnant again. Today, I caught hope sneaking in the back door to my heart, and I welcomed it in. Logic nagged not to let hope in—not so soon, not so much. But hope doesn’t make any sense; that’s why it’s hope.

“Be still and know that I am God.” –Psalm 46:10

Be still means stop striving, relax, let go. Such impossible yet soothing words for a control freak like me. “Stop flipping out” is how I’d translate it, “Stop flipping out and let Me do My thing.” God is always doing something if we let Him, something good for us, better than we could ever ask for or imagine. And He blesses us for the purpose of blessing others: “I will be exalted among the nations.” God will turn our suffering into joy, and when we give thanks to Him, other people will see His greatness.

I don’t know exactly how God is going to use this tragedy for good. But I know He is working it out, and He graciously reminded me of this when His Spirit’s voice answered my cry with “Wait for the Lord.” So it’s one day at time for me.
Check out this song: Not as We

The playground antics of elementary-school boys are at once comical and revolting. As miniature men, they compete relentlessly, and turning down a dare is social suicide, with effects that reverberate through high school. Eating bugs, jumping from the jungle gym, tackling in football, and chasing girls are some of the main events. As I observed the other sex as a child, I regularly thanked God for making me a girl. Second-grade feminism declared “Girls rule, boys drool!” and I staunchly advocated this position.

My contentment subsided as gender relations became more confusing in middle school. Guys, as the boys were now called, still seemed repulsive and retarded. But they also seemed to have it so much easier. Everything that was complicated for girls—clothes, hair, thoughts, feelings, friends—seemed simple for boys. And they didn’t even have to worry about make-up, bras, or tampons. I was bothered that girls were supposed to wait for guys to “ask them out,” even though I would never have the confidence to ask someone.

In high school I added to my list of complains the fact that women were supposed to submit to their husbands, and had the dirty work of bearing children. I wasn’t sure how to reconcile my views with the Bible’s take on marriage, so I vowed never to marry. And as if it would do any good, I wished I was a boy, although I was not gender-confused in the clinical sense.

I must confess, my behavior wasn’t very consistent with my wish. I wore dresses nearly every day, had long hair, and obsessively read women authors. I even prayed that if God wanted me to marry, He would not make me endure a bunch of boyfriends, but that I could efficiently marry the first guy I dated. Graciously, God said yes, and I said yes at the young age of twenty.

Neil Brooks dancer look-alike

But what does a wife who doesn’t want to be a woman do? For I was still harboring ingratitude about my identity. I was glad about being female because I loved Neil and liked being his wife. By the time I got married, I understood biblical submission is not degrading or subservient, and biblical leadership is not pushing people around. I trusted that Neil would be a good leader most of the time, and I was willing to learn how to follow him. Often, I learn what submission is by practicing what it isn’t: making significant decisions without talking to my husband, or worrying about matters he said he’d take care of, or getting defensive instead of listening to him, or being mean instead of forgiving.

Almost five years later, I feel increasingly grateful to God for my identity and His design for women and marriage. For me this appreciation could only come from experiencing how deeply fulfilling it is to follow a man who is committed to the Lord. To any woman who is contemplating marriage, please don’t marry a man you wouldn’t want to follow. If you don’t think he is worth following (because he doesn’t consistently follow the Lord), then think again!

Marriage is like ballroom dancing. There’s a reason the man leads. Both people can’t lead the dance, or it wouldn’t work. The partners would be constantly stepping all over each other’s feet and bumping into walls. Instead of creating art, they would just create bruises and scars on one another. Wives cause the same effect in marriage when they try to control their husbands through fighting and manipulation (and I am often guilty here). And men must learn not to fight back for control, but to win the wife’s respect through sacrificial love.

Marriage as God created, as the Bible describes in passages like Ephesians 5:22-32, is as beautiful as ballroom dancing. Two people learn to move fluidly, purposefully, and with unity. Each partner has a different role, a unique function in the dance, but neither is more valuable or essential to the routine than the other. As Elaine Stedman emphasizes in A Woman’s Worth, men and women are absolutely equal before God, but in His wisdom He made different functions for each. Sometimes the partners move in perfect unison, but often they perform complementary parts. Each person’s moves complete the other’s, connecting to form shapes, lines, and meaning that could not be accomplished alone.

Beautiful lines.

And wouldn’t it look awkward if the man performed some of the feminine steps? Wouldn’t it be unattractive if the woman hoisted the man into what should be intricate and beautiful lifts?

Anyone woman has tried partner dancing knows how much depends on the man. A woman doesn’t even really need to know how to dance well if the man is a good leader in the dance. I have performed steps I don’t even know while paired with an experienced dancer. All I needed to know was the basic steps and style of the dance, and to be willing to follow. In marriage, a woman needs her own personal walk with the Lord, and should know the Word and how to serve others. But with these basic elements, the husband’s leadership can take her new heights of faith, hope, and love. Just lean into his arms, feel the beat of the Holy Spirit, and let your husband sweep you off your feet into spiritual growth.

Gorgeous lifts.

Now I am glad my husband carries the burden and sacrifice of leading our marriage. Leadership is a huge responsibility, as I’ve experienced in serving others. Servant-leadership certainly isn’t about being in charge, bossing people around, or getting your way. Instead, in marriage both partners have the authority to serve one another. But the husband has a special responsibility before God to lead his wife spiritually. And the wife has a special role to make it easy for her husband to lead. Since getting married, I’ve found it easier to follow God by serving others, largely because of Neil’s leadership.

Professionals make very difficult dances appear effortless. And a good marriage is the result of much diligence and sacrifice. Find marriages worth looking up to and ask the couple what makes it work. I remember asking wives for examples of submission before I got married, and this helped me understand what the concept meant in everyday life.

My attitude toward having children has also changed, and now I feel privileged that I will one day experience the special connection only a woman has with her children. Just as God gave me the desire to get married when it was time, He has provided me with a yearning to have children. I encourage women of any age to let God continually reveal His design for You, because we were created to reflect God’s image in a unique way.

God delivers an outrageous command in Leviticus 11:44: “Be holy, for I am holy.” But it’s impossible to be like God, so why did He command this? Unfortunately this isn’t just one of the “those Old Testament” things we can ignore under the New Covenant, because Jesus repeated it in even clearer terms: “Be perfect, as Your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matthew 5:48). And Peter echoed it is as well: “it is written, “YOU SHALL BE HOLY, FOR I AM HOLY” (1 Peter 1:16). What are we to do with this formidable demand for God-like perfection?

Before the command, God provides a little context in Lev. 11:44: “For I am the LORD your God. Consecrate yourselves therefore, and be holy, for I am holy.”

The word consecrate, like holy, is a churchy word, and we hardly have any sense of what it means outside a religious setting. Holy and consecrate are from the same root word, which means to be set apart. The connotation is being set apart for a purpose. I could say I consecrate my stove for cooking. I don’t use my stove as a table, or a cutting board, or a chair. (I do sometimes use it as a drying rack, I’ll confess).

To be holy means to be set apart. And God is saying, “Set yourselves apart for my purposes, because I’m the LORD your God. I’m really important to you, so why not live for me?” Such a request only makes sense. Being set apart is being separate and different. God is “holy” because He’s so vastly different from us. For starters, He’s perfectly loving, a trait no human can claim. But we can learn to love more like God does, which is why he calls us to be separate and different. The high divorce rate indicates people do not understand how to love, and pop culture confirms this. Countless song lyrics, movies, and television shows reflect the selfish demands typical of modern love: “I need your love” is the theme, and that desperate plea dominates in families and friendships as well as romance.

God offers a way far different from the selfish love-taking which surrounds us. We can learn to give love instead of taking, and not in response to selfish demands. So He sets us apart from selfish taking, and sets us apart for selfless love.

But none of these synonyms for “holy” do justice to the full meaning. The idea of this verse is closer to “Be ye outlaws!” (KJV-j/k). Societal outlaws are separate because they act outside the norms of society (laws). They reject the rules, and consequently are set apart from others (prison). Until caught, they live on the margins of society, banded together with fellow criminals who are the only people willing to associate with them. In this close-knit community, they establish ethics and leadership different from those of the larger society.

Sound familiar? The description has an uncanny resemblance to the early Christians of the New Testament. But they would be appalled at the dirty cultural baggage the term “Christian” has acquired, so let’s use “the called out ones.” This is what the Bible calls them, since God called them out of the world system, to be different, separate, set apart, “called to be his own holy people” (Romans 1:7). In other words, they are called to be outlaws.

The called out ones don’t follow the normal ways of their secular counterparts. They obey the laws of the land so long as they don’t contradict their Leader. But these Jesus freaks admit to following a known criminal: “this Man…you nailed to a cross by the hands of godless men and put him to death” (Acts 2:23). Only the lowest criminals were crucified, but such was the fate of their King. Even when the formal laws are obeyed, the called out ones are a subversive group undermining the unwritten laws of power, greed, and self-first. In fact, their manual says not to conform to the patterns of this world (Romans 12:2).

Instead, these outlaws follow an different ethic, called the Greatest Commandment, the Law of Liberty, or the Royal Law. Romans 13:10, 13 summarizes the one law of the outlaw: “Owe nothing to anyone except to love one another; for he who loves his neighbor has fulfilled the law….Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfillment of the law.” Laws are superfluous when love is present; love fulfills the law, and then it goes beyond it with “joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self control; against such things there is no law” (Galatians 5:22-23).

While the called out ones live as part of normal society, they have their own marginal community which they like to call “The Body of Christ.” Working together, they have special roles assigned by their Leader and they all need each other to survive, just as human organs are interdependent (Romans 12:5). The following passage describes this community well:

“We are both hungry and thirsty, and are poorly clothed, and are roughly treated, and are homeless; and we toil, working with our own hands; when we are reviled, we bless; when we are persecuted, we endure; when we are slandered, we try to conciliate; we have become as scum of the world, the dregs of all things” (1 Corinthians 4:11-13).

Such was the standard of living among the first called out ones. They were constantly being arrested, beaten, and thrown in jail. Their property was seized unlawfully and their leaders were executed. They were literally outlaws, persecuted for worshipping a criminal through a lifestyle of love. But why did the authorities punish them for such an innocuous cause?

Because love is actually quite dangerous. God’s way of loving threatens to “upset the world,” as the early outlaws did (Acts 17:6). Love is so different from the world’s business as usual, because it breaks down barriers and ignores demands disguised as rules. The early outlaws hung out with the prostitutes, criminals, demon-possessed, lepers, paupers, and other scum of society. They ripped down ethnic, social, and gender barriers and challenged the idol worship and temple prostitution which fueled whole economies. They refused to follow the rule to settle down and build a kingdom for yourself on earth, and instead worked to grow God’s kingdom by introducing people’s to His grace.

And “Christians” today are also called out to be outlaws, living in the world, but not following its rules and ways. We’ll look at more verses about this lifestyle of outlaw love next.

I sing the Body electric,
With much more melody than Whitman,
For I sing a Body that is even more beautiful
Than that which is made with fear and wonder.
I sing the Body eclectic,
Made up of many members,
Not take-a-class-and-sign-a-covenant
And become a member members,
But hands that serve,
Feet that GO with the gospel,
Hearts and minds that make disciples,
Eyes that fix themselves on Jesus
As they run the race relentlessly.
Ears that hear the voice of the voiceless
And mouths that speak for them,
And for all the ears which will not hear
Without a herald.

I sing the Body electric,
Which shocked me out of death,
Paddles on a heart that did not love.
A mustard seed faith
Led to a miniscule prayer
Which asked for friends
And led me to the Body electric
Through a different type of friend
Than I bargained for—boy,
Was that friend a good one.
But that mustard tree didn’t stop there.
It led me to a precious blossom
In gray hoodie and jeans,
Better than I could ask or imagine—best
Friends are forever in the Body electric,
Faithful foundation from fire.
When I asked for a fish I didn’t get a stone,
Or a fish, but a feast.
As some slipped away,
A cat crawled in and lay on my lap
And taught me a gentle zeal.

This is why I sing the Body electric,
A shock to life, a spark to love.
The Body eclectic,
A feast full of friends,
The Body eccentric,
Strangers in a strange land,
The Body of Christ.

How was 2009? It was just fine. Compared to last year it was fairly un-dramatic for me, in a good way.

But of course serving the Lord never lacks excitement. It was the year of The Article, the year we learned that persecution actually grows a church. It was the year we moved to the Michaleks. The year of the gum grafts, so everyone got to see how anxious and obsessive I am. The year Neil took Perspectives—always a dangerous move. And the year we took our second stab at buying a house, but couldn’t.

Probably the biggest change for me was moving to the Michaleks. It was such a great decision, I can’t believe it took us so long to make the move! So thank you Dar for suggesting it, and Mark and Diana for having us! I would definitely recommend “married ministry houses” to anyone with the space. Or even if you don’t quite have the space, which is probably how the Michaleks feel, squished into the top story of their house with a baby—no, a toddler! It’s probably how my spaghetti feels, too.

Living with others revealed my sin, as I expected. Diana indicated she felt like I judge her. I wanted to ask, “Why do you feel judged by me?” But I caught myself as I realized the answer: because I was judging her! As much as I loved living with her, I couldn’t help thinking she was doing everything all wrong. It was stupid stuff, and I had to learn how to let it go and realize there’s more than one way to skin a cat. Apologizing to her and talking about it brought us closer, though. I’m not judgment-free, but it always helps to recognize it and remember how sinful and irrational I am, and how God graciously saved me from worse judgment than I know.

What I really love about living there is getting to hang out with Diana so much. For the most part we get a running commentary on each other’s lives, and I love it! Whenever we get back from a meeting or just hanging out with someone, we can share what happened. We always mourned that we didn’t get to live in a ministry house together but now we had this awesome opportunity. It’s also fun on the rare occasion that all four of us are home and get to talk. Now I’m glad our last house deal fell through. Seven-tenths of a mile is close, but eight doors down will be way better!

This year also taught me to let indigenous leaders lead their church. I should’ve caught the idea after stepping aside in the Michalek home church a year and a half ago, to their great success. But I must be a slow learner, as I was still micro-managing Word like we did back when they were in junior high. A word of advice: when the students start complaining about activities, it’s time to let them take over. We also allowed only a select handful of “experienced” students teach home church, and a swarm of a dozen adults hovered over their meetings.

With the help of Lina, Keith, Rolland Allen, and the students we slowly realized it was truly the students’ ministry. It never was ours and never would be. Still, it took a minute for the implications of our revelation to penetrate. We made a few attempts at delegation and succeeded in bringing on more students leaders, but we finally got it when the students decided to have home church every week, plan their own activities, and decrease the number of adults per meeting.

Next thing we knew, the home church was seeing forty or more students each week. We decided to split, at least for a while. Roland Allen says, “The wind blows where it will” (wind = Holy Spirit as per John 3). We never know where he’s going to take us next. No matter what home church you’re in, one of the best lessons you can learn is that it’s never really your ministry. It’s the Lord’s. We refer to it in first person possessive for simplicity’s sake, and that’s fine. But it’s never really ours to control, ours to grow, or ours to take our identity from. So think about where the Wind is blowing and how you can cooperate, and give others the chance to participate, too.

In related news, Neil took Perspectives class this year and we went to The Journey Deepens missions retreat. We didn’t conclude much, but I did learn a lot about my fleshly willpower. Keith confronted me about it (while I was trying to have an infantile argument with him). I always sort of thought my strong will was sort of a good thing (although I knew some drawbacks). I knew if I was accomplishing things because of my will and not God’s power, it was worth nothing, but I don’t think I really believed it. That I can function through tasks and get ‘er done isn’t actually a strength if I’m not relying on the Lord, because “when I am weak, then I am strong.” So my will needs to break, is what I really learned from our missions inquiry. We’re still on our “journey” to discern God’s role for us in missions, but we’re not charging ahead at breakneck speed anymore, and I’m content.

Some books make you angry. Others make you drowsy. Why We Love the Church manages to do both, often simultaneously. I should’ve predicted both reactions from the subtitle, which prompted me to read the book: “In Praise of Institution and Organized Religion.” It’s baffling that anyone would defend institutional Christianity and organized religion, and I certainly wasn’t convinced.

Co-authors Kevin DeYoung and Ted Kluck , pastor and “member” of University Reformed Church in Michigan, respectively, denounce “revolutionaries” in favor of the “traditional and old.” Their sad attempt at humorous, conversational writing adds to the irritation of their thesis that we should persist in the old, humdrum way of doing church. They dismiss the statistics showing Americans’ mass exodus from church, only to argue a page later such an exodus isn’t a bad sign since Jesus said “small is the gate and narrow the road that leads to life, and only a few find it.” And they assert there’s no New Testament command or emphasis (?!) to grow. Their argument from silence for the former is no more convincing than their misinterpretation of the New Testament for the latter. If growth isn’t emphasized or at least valued, why does Luke repeatedly record the number of believers being added in Acts? Why does Paul praise the churches (the Thessalonians, for example) for spreading the gospel? But in keeping with their Reformed theology they eliminate any concern for growth with the statement, “no one can change the number of God’s elect.”

The authors are committed to the gospel and its love ethic, but they don’t see this as revolutionary because they’re enamored with tradition. Consequently they cannot conceive of church without a worship service, or a meeting without professional teaching. Ultimately this leads to a consumerist approach to church. Kluck writes:

“I’m also glad that my church is ‘organized.’ I’m glad I know where to put my toddler on Sunday morning. I’m glad somebody was institutional enough to think through topics for a Sunday school class or two. I’m glad my pastor, rather than just freewheeling it, cares enough to study Scripture and a bookshelf full of dead authors to give me real spiritual food each Sunday….I’m glad somebody (not me) makes sure the kids are learning something biblical in their classes. It is, at its most basic, organized religion. And I love it.”

I’m glad he’s grateful for the ways his church is serving him, but this selfish argument for “organized religion” doesn’t pull any biblical weight. The fact that I like eating ice cream doesn’t make it good for me. Bruxy Cavey addresses this point well in The End of Religion when he writes, “The problem with organized religion isn’t that it’s organized. It’s that it’s religion.” Amen!

It seems the authors wrote this book to refute emergents who are leaving church in favor of frequenting Starbucks and soup kitchens. This (other) selfish view of church needs to be challenged, and the authors are right that believers need to commit to serving in a local body instead of just whining and leaving. But Why We Love the Church has no alternative to help disenchanted people love the church. The authors refer in passing to an array of nauseating fundamentalist practices, from to infant baptism to the “turn and greet your neighbor” ritual, to clone-like greeters and open mic nights, to the have-six-children-and-home-school consensus of the congregation. They don’t directly endorse all of this, but it’s the snapshot they provide of their beloved church. But how many cynical millenials from broken homes could love such a church?

What the authors fail to see is an option somewhere between leaving church to just golf, and the traditional, unbiblical, outdated worship service of institutional Christianity. Just as Viola, in Pagan Christianity, could only come up with completely unstructured meetings devoid of any teaching, these authors land on the extreme opposite end of the “doing church” continuum. Is there no alternative?

There is, and I think we’ve found it. How about a large meeting with high-quality teaching, discussion, prayer, and fellowship? Then add smaller home groups, also with teaching, sharing, and prayer, plus opportunities for tighter community? And then smaller gender-specific Bible studies where discipleship and intimate relationships are built? But if the authors of the book saw the Xenos model they’d ask, “Where’s the music? Where’s the communion? Where’s the nursery?” They predict that home churches will be the next hot trend in Christianity (old news) but argue for a larger worship service where people can be entertained by clergy teaching and bored by bad singing. In fact, the authors can’t imagine how a church would work without a clergy-laity model.

This two-hundred page book has little real content. The type is double-spaced and the chapters alternate between “theological” pieces by the pastor and “personal” pieces by the sports writer. Ideas are supported by a proof-text or two, or the biblical support is cited but not explained. If it were, readers might see the importance of church as a local Body of Christ which doesn’t consist of worship services in a steepled building. Their support is much more historical than biblical, but history can’t tell us what the church is. They demean those who seek to model the early church by worshipping in houses, arguing that it was done only out of necessity. (But it worked!) And they see Constantine’s politicization of Christianity as helpful.

Speaking of history, the pastor actually defend the Crusades. Go ahead, let your mouth fall open. I, too, am still shocked he even goes there. His rationale is based on the idea of Christendom, or a Christian-political earthly kingdom. He says since Muslims took over Christian lands, the Christians had to go reclaim them for God. If Muslims stormed Washington, he reasons, wouldn’t we go defend our nation’s capitol? Wait, what? That analogy is not analogous at all. A national defense/political issue does not parallel a religious war where atrocities were committed in the name of Christ.

So that’s why I hate Why We Love the Church. I appreciate their argument against the uncommitted emergent church-leavers. But in the end they have nothing better or biblical to offer, and often end up sounding whiny, proud, and selfish themselves. I think they mean well, so I hope they come to their senses and join the revolution. Until then, check out Cavey’s End of Religion which is the polar opposite of Why We Love the Church, from its revolutionary subtitle “Encountering the Subversive Spirituality of Jesus” and message, to its quality writing and biblical content, to its humble tone.