Category: md-7

Dyron B. Daughrity. To Whom Does Christianity Belong?: Current Issues in World Christianity. Understanding World Christianity. Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2015. 301 pp. $25.45.

World Christianity has emerged as an important academic discipline. Reflecting the shift in Christianity’s center of gravity from the Western world to the non-Western world, the discipline aims at exploring the global development of Christianity, with a particular focus on non-Western forms of Christianity. Over the last few decades the discipline has developed through the publication of scholarly articles and books, as well as the production of reference works and new academic journals. Dyron B. Daughrity’s To Whom Does Christianity Belong?: Current Issues in World Christianity contributes to the development of the discipline in a unique way. Previous books have attempted to explain the shift of Christianity’s center of gravity to the global South or the contours of today’s Christianity throughout the globe. Daughrity’s book goes beyond those aims: it summarizes the development of the discipline of world Christianity, and it discusses significant overarching themes that are likely to shape the future of world Christianity discourse.

Daughrity, Associate Professor of Religion at Pepperdine University, is well suited to write this book. He has already been a significant participant in the world Christianity discourse, as he has authored, among others, The Changing World of Christianity: The Global History of a Borderless Religion (2010), a useful textbook on the subject, and “Christianity is Moving from North to South: So What About the East?” (2011), a provocative article in one of the leading journals of the discipline.1 Daughrity has also taken part in the global conversations of Christians through his involvement with the World Council of Churches. With this background, Daughrity serves as the editor of a new series from Fortress Press, Understanding World Christianity, and To Whom Does Christianity Belong? is the introductory volume of the series.

The book has four parts. Part 1, “Introduction,” helps the reader quickly comprehend some of the key issues in the recent development of the world Christianity discourse. The section of chapter 1 titled “‘Global Christianity’ or ‘World Christianity’?” is particularly helpful in this regard. It discusses important and sometimes controversial issues in a well-balanced manner, referring to various perspectives offered by such scholars as Lamin Sanneh and Robert Wuthnow (9–13). The first part also sets the tone of the book by explaining why defining Christianity is a difficult task, in view of Christianity’s historical and geographical/cultural diversity. In order to analyze the complex nature of global Christianity, Daughrity examines in Part 2 certain aspects of Christianity that are theologically and phenomenologically important: the churches and their pastors, Jesus, the Holy Spirit and Pentecostalism, and the afterlife. In Part 3, “The Church and the World,” the author talks about Catholics and Protestants, as well as secularization and migration. Part 4 engages the contemporary situation, discussing global issues relating to marriage and sexuality, women and gender issues, and music. Daughrity skillfully helps readers understand how people throughout the world view these issues differently.

The book has a number of strengths. First, Daughrity’s thematic treatment of world Christianity, including the discussion of contemporary themes, is fresh and perceptive. Many introductory books on world Christianity divide the content geographically. The geographical approach could potentially hinder the analysis of the transnational and transcultural nature of the issues involved in world Christianity today. Daughrity’s approach avoids such pitfalls. Readability is another strength of the book. Arguments are presented clearly and succinctly. Perhaps reflecting his extensive knowledge of church history, his experience with Christians in various parts of the globe, and his familiarity with the mindset of today’s university students, Daughrity frequently utilizes stories and mentions contemporary topics and names, from ISIS to Katy Perry. The book certainly deals with issues of scholarly interest, but the content is presented in ways readers with various backgrounds can follow easily. The book also contains fair amount of Scriptural references, which I consider part of its strength. Non-Christian readers will be able to understand how Christian claims are related to the Bible; Christian readers in the West who have less familiarity with world Christianity can learn how the use of Scriptures has been a key element in the development of Christianity in the non-western world.

Although many key issues in the world Christianity discourse are treated in the book, consideration of the polycentric paradigm is missing. As Lamin Sanneh and others have argued, part of the theoretical framework of the present world Christianity discourse is multiculturalism, which is reflected in the prevalent insistence on the polycentric nature of world Christianity. On the one hand, there has been a contextual need for the polycentric paradigm, as it has effectively put away the Eurocentric paradigm, which Daughrity appropriately characterizes as obsolete (xi). On the other hand, several scholars, such as Namsoon Kang and Charles Farhadian, have raised concerns about the polycentric paradigm, pointing out that it has the potential of fostering disconnectedness or isolationism. In light of today’s growing nationalistic or isolationist tendencies in the world, it would have been better if the book dealt with this issue and provided suggestions for overcoming isolationism and exploring connectedness.

Overall, To Whom Does Christianity Belong? is an excellent introduction to the world Christianity discourse, and it should be a welcome companion for university and seminary classes, as well as congregational Bible studies. Those who have already been engaged with the discipline can also benefit from the book, especially if they seriously consider the questions raised in the book and discover more questions to ponder.

Yukikazu Obata

PhD Candidate

Fuller Theological Seminary

Gunma, Japan

Jared Looney

A rapidly changing context presents new opportunities for evangelism, church planting, and related outreach. Christians can and must become missionaries in their hometowns and cities throughout the US.

Introduction: Beyond Past Assumptions

How do you picture the state of missions in the United States? Do you think of sharing the gospel narrative with people who have never heard the story? In my team’s experience with the growing number of citizens of non-religious America and among adherents of various world religions, this is an accurate picture. Do you think of reaching out to Muslims? The church in the United States may have an emerging consciousness when it comes to loving our Muslim neighbors. In places like New York City, where one out of ten people is a Muslim, or in cities like San Francisco, Tampa, Atlanta, Houston, or Minneapolis, encounters with Muslims are increasingly commonplace. Do images of lovely countryside chapels come to mind, or does mission in the United States—a society long considered to be eighty percent urban—conjure up images of high-rises, ethnic enclaves, and sprawling suburbs?

The changing face of the US and Canada now means that Somalis in Columbus, Arabs in Brooklyn, Sikhs in Vancouver, and Kurds in Nashville represent our newest neighbors. It may mean that the emerging leaders of the American church speak English only as a second language. In large states like Texas, California, and Florida, Hispanic/Latino populations represent a growing demographic. For instance, in California Latinos have surpassed whites as the largest group profile in the state.1 Dan Rodriguez’s work in A Future for the Latino Church documents some of the most dynamic new churches in the US, which stunningly are still not considered “mainstream.”2 While we may not think in terms of people who have never actually heard the gospel narrative before when we think of missions in the United States, between the growing number of religiously unaffiliated households and an influx of immigrants from the majority world, it is increasingly common to encounter individuals who have never heard of Jesus.

Our world is increasingly a globally connected place, and that affects the American church. The first step in addressing missions in the United States may be to move beyond our assumptions and see the dynamic, diverse harvest before us. There can be little doubt that our context for missions has been experiencing some shifts in the cultural landscape. While there are emerging challenges, we must recognize the opportunities for missions in the twenty-first century.

We must recognize the opportunities for missions in the twenty-first-century US.

Globalization & Migration

As I have discussed at length in Crossroads of the Nations: Diaspora, Globalization, and Evangelism, flows of migration, globalization, and urbanization deeply impact the context for Christian missions.3 This is especially true in the United States, as it is a top receiving country of immigrants. This reality presents opportunity. It means that the majority of American Christians can participate in cross-cultural missions without moving to another country. In some cases the most unreached nations or tribes in our world are within our own cities or neighborhoods. This global reality also entails some significant challenges. Can the American church move beyond nationalist ethnocentrism and cultural isolationism to reach out in friendship as a respectful witness to the “other”? Will leaders of evangelism and church planting efforts in the US be mindful of missions principles such as contextualization and avoid the pitfalls of syncretism? Will Christians in the US be willing to follow experienced Christian leaders who don’t sound or look like them, or will they relegate them to second class status in our leadership circles? The current realities of the American context raise numerous, pressing questions.

Urbanization

The United Nations has forecast that by 2050 nearly seventy percent of our planet’s population will live in metropolitan areas, and the United States is already an urban majority nation.4 Yet, the churches of the Stone-Campbell tradition, like other evangelical traditions, come from a rural background. Will we be able to overcome our origins to face the urban reality? These days, most missions leaders in the US realize the need to launch their ministry efforts in cities, but I can’t help but wonder if we are only scratching the surface of urban realism. In other words, ministries strategies will need to adjust to the changing environment impacting the task of Christian missions. With increased urbanization comes increased stresses impacting the psychology of daily life. Therefore, how do we form disciples facing increased pressures on people’s time and availability as they labor within the oppressive demands of the global economy? How do we develop grassroots leaders in markedly fragmented societies? How do we nurture families and build community despite the busyness of urban life? Are we prepared to take advantage of the missional opportunities presented by a networked society? I suspect that we have only begun to shape our ministries around the questions raised by a predominantly metropolitan existence.

Post-Christendom

While international immigration, the global economy, ongoing urbanization, and similar factors are making an impact on the cultural landscape of the US, there is another cultural current that has been steadily on the rise: a post-Christendom culture. Christendom is a context in which cultural Christianity holds the position of greatest influence and authority in a society, especially when it comes to shaping laws, influencing common values, and impacting moral expectations. In very recent years, it seems that a growing number of Christian leaders are acknowledging the demise of Christendom, exchanging it for something that we can presently only label as “post.” This leads to more questions. How do followers of Christ evangelize among groups of people who do not inherently assume the Bible speaks with authority? How do churches pursue spiritual formation among a community that is only hearing the gospel narrative for the first time? How do we approach church planting in communities that are suspicious of the church as an institution? The American church is being forced to recover its identity as aliens in a strange land.

The US church is being forced to recover its identity as aliens in a strange land.

Meeting the Challenge

When we began Global City Mission Initiative (http://globalcitymission.org) only a few years ago, we recognized that there is a need to address these challenges head on and to embrace the opportunities that this new world presents. We saw the need for a missions organization to work strategically to advance evangelism through the context of global cities. In our first three years, we have connected with several evangelistic contacts who have in turn shared what they are learning from the gospel to family or friends in their home country. Working locally in urban neighborhoods in the United States, we have encountered numerous Americans who have never heard the most basic stories of the gospel. We are a network of missionaries working intentionally to spark disciple-making at global intersections where local and global often overlap.

Meeting the challenge for the American church means embracing our identity as a missionary people. This is more than just a conceptual self-understanding. It means that American Christians will need to learn how to move across cultures if they want to reach their neighbors. Church planters in the United States will need to take contextualization seriously. Churches will need to earn trust rather than assume it. Many of our friends are going to be starting from different authority structures than we might have for ourselves. And it means that multitudes of Christians in the United States will have the opportunity to share the story of Jesus with those whose ears would hear it for the first time.

American Christians will need to learn how to move across cultures to reach their neighbors.

In a global world, old dichotomies of missions as “foreign” or “domestic” are not only less relevant, they may even be a hindrance. Indeed, many of the structures built to advance Christian missions were not constructed with the emerging realities of our contemporary society in mind. It wasn’t very long ago that the idea of “change” represented a religious battleground of sorts, but in an urban world change is the only constant. Adaptability is an essential ministry skill in the twenty-first century. A world once built on stability is now operating around the axes of mobility and connection. This new world might seem scary and intimidating for the American church and its leaders. However, I want to raise a rallying cry here to open our eyes to the harvest and seize the amazing and unprecedented opportunities that overshadow even the greatest challenges. Global partnerships offer new possibilities for the mission of the church, and leading theological voices from around the world can provide what we need for us all to learn together in mutual humility. Not only can American churches participate in global missions within a few square miles of their building and share the joy of the gospel with first-time hearers, but the enormity of the challenge, I believe, is actually forcing the American church to recover her true identity as a missionary people—as exiles in a foreign land.

Dr. Jared Looney is the executive director of Global City Mission Initiative (http://globalcitymission.org). Serving in NYC for 15 years, he has worked in evangelism, church planting, and teaching in multicultural communities, and has spent several years training new missionaries in NYC sent from multiple missions agencies. He currently lives with his wife and daughter in Tampa, Florida.

Missional mentoring is at its best when marked by three core traits: a healthy distinction, drawn on the part of the mentor, between the particulars of his or her calling and that of the younger leader; the fostering of an adventurous, risk-taking faith on the part of the protégé; and the encouragement of a fixed attentiveness to the promises and activity of God on the part of both the mentor and the protégé. This article explores the traits of missional mentoring by considering the examples of three biblical mentors as well as the author’s experiences of mentorship.

Missional mentoring is an intentional style of mentoring that encourages young leaders to embrace change and innovation in their pursuit of God’s mission. The challenge is that missional mentoring requires older leaders to confront their own instinctive resistance to change and instead encourage younger leaders to intentionally pursue God’s mission along new and unexpected paths. Charles Handy focuses on this challenge for older leaders noting, “The paradox of aging is that every generation perceives itself as justifiably different from its predecessor, but plans as if its successor generation will be the same.”1 These words are a reminder that it is one thing to initiate change and quite another to have change foisted upon us by others! Missional mentoring is at its best when marked by three core traits: a healthy distinction, drawn on the part of the mentor, between the particulars of his or her calling and that of the younger leader; the fostering of an adventurous, risk-taking faith on the part of the protégé; and the encouragement of a fixed attentiveness to the promises and activity of God on the part of both the mentor and the protégé. This article examines the examples of three often-overlooked biblical mentors who teach us to transform mere mentoring into missional encounters: Eli, Naomi, and Elizabeth. Along the way I will reflect on the intentional mentoring efforts of older leaders who have blessed my life.

In its simplest form, mentoring is a relational experience in which one person empowers another by sharing God-given resources, such as knowledge, skills, tools, connections, habits, and insights.2 This type of relational connectedness does not happen accidentally. Mentoring is a voluntary relationship that is marked by intentionality, intensity, exclusivity, and persistence.3 Eli, Naomi, and Elizabeth shed light on missional postures that transform ordinary mentoring into purposeful missional relationships.

Eli, Naomi, and Elizabeth shed light on missional postures that transform ordinary mentoring.

Eli: Missional Mentoring as Fostering a Spirit of Healthy Indifference

The reader may recall the night young Samuel was awakened by a voice calling to him within the tabernacle (1 Sam 3.) Samuel awakened Eli three times, mistakenly assuming his mentor had been calling him. Eli finally instructed Samuel to respond to the voice by saying, “Speak, Lord, for your servant hears.”4 When the Lord next spoke, the young man found himself listening to an announcement that would prove unsettling for Eli. God revealed a message of judgment on Eli and his entire family. God had also revealed a divine determination to launch something new in the unfolding story of his mission. The function and status of Eli’s priestly family would soon be obsolete (1 Sam 3:11–14.) Later that morning Eli required that his young protégé reveal everything the Lord had spoken. Awkward!

The details of this story have much to teach older mentors about the importance of maintaining a healthy distinction between the particulars of their own calling and that of younger protégés. Without a proper sense of healthy neutrality about the particulars of the younger companion’s calling, an older mentor may unwittingly hinder the emerging leader from fulfilling his or her calling. The intention is not to foster a disregard for the protégé. It is instead to foster a spirit of neutrality: a calculated awareness that younger leaders are sometimes called to follow God in paths the mentor never imagined. It is easy for older leaders to assume that younger leaders function merely to prop up and maintain the older leader’s plans and purposes. This assumption hinders a younger leader’s ability to freely enter into a new era of missional strategy. Eli’s interactions with Samuel remind us that emerging leaders might be called by God to pursue different paths than that of their predecessors. Indeed, older leaders ought also to be reminded, however painful it might be, that God’s new steps forward may portend the end of their own ministry systems and structures.

Younger leaders are sometimes called to follow God in paths the mentor never imagined.

I suggest that Eli’s finest leadership was exhibited not in what he did but in what he did not do. Once Eli realized that it was the Lord calling Samuel, Eli took a step back and gave Samuel the necessary space to encounter God on his own.

The text reveals that visions from the Lord were rare in Eli’s days (1 Sam 3:1). Certainly Eli might have welcomed the opportunity to be present in the room when God finally chose to speak. It is highly instructive that Eli did not intrude into Samuel’s experience. Instead of returning to the room with Samuel to “help” the lad hear from God, Eli stepped back. He sent Samuel back to hear God, alone. This should remind older leaders that we are not to be the focus of our protégé’s attention. Mentoring serves to help the leader focus on God, not to focus the leader on the mentor. God is to be the sole focus! It is also instructive that Eli made no attempt to restate, inform, interpret, or control the negative intent of Samuel’s message. Even though Samuel’s emergence ultimately undermined Eli’s leadership, nothing indicates that Eli resented or resisted the new direction God’s mission took through Samuel. Eli appropriately differentiated his calling and functions from those God had assigned to Samuel. This is set before us clearly in Eli’s response to God’s judgment: “It is the Lord. Let him do what seems good to him” (1 Sam 3:18).

Mentoring becomes missional when it prompts young leaders to pursue the next steps in God’s mission. This pursuit must be encouraged regardless of the consequences for the preexisting structures and personnel. To embrace this type of relationship, older mentors must maintain a healthy awareness of the distinctive differences in the shape and contours of the protégé’s mission and their own. Missional mentors understand that what has been true for them might not be true for the next leaders. What has worked in one generation may no longer work in the next. In order to foster this healthy spirit of neutrality, older leaders might find it helpful to reflect upon Jesus’ response when Peter inquired into the particulars of his fellow disciple’s calling. Jesus’s response to Peter was brief and to the point: “What is that to you?” (John 22:22).

Mentoring becomes missional when it prompts young leaders to pursue the next steps in God’s mission.

The mentor who in my life most clearly exhibited an ability to differentiate between his own calling and that of younger leaders under his mentorship was Bob Sloniger, the director of the Chicago District Evangelistic Association.5 Bob led a church-planting ministry that focused on the greater Chicagoland region. It was Bob who hired me straight out of seminary and assigned me the task of starting new church-planting churches in the suburbs North of Chicago. Bob served as my supervisor during my first thirteen years of ministry. My first assignment under Bob was to launch a church for unchurched people, using only unchurched people to do it. Bob, and his board, wanted to see what might happen were a new church to start without taking members out of neighboring churches. This assignment was a daunting task, and it stretched our imaginations, calling many long-held assumptions into question. Many of the methods the resulting new church utilized were unfamiliar and uncomfortable for Bob. But he faithfully provided me with the gift of a healthy indifference regarding my methods and strategies. Over the years I witnessed Bob fostering a studied willingness to allow younger leaders to try new and unproven ideas. He was not perhaps the most creative leader with whom I’ve worked, but he was one of the most open-minded and tolerant. The spirit of Bob’s indifferent perspective toward methodology was summed up one morning when he sent me home from a meeting with these words: “You just do what you’re called to do, and I’ll watch your backside.” I can’t help but wonder how many young leaders have found themselves held back by older leaders who are unable to properly differentiate between themselves and their calling, and that of the emerging leader. May God give us the ability to foster a healthy distinction between the particulars of our calling and that of emerging leaders!

Naomi: Missional Mentoring as Fostering a Spirit of Adventurous Risk-Taking.

As the story of Naomi and Ruth opens we discover that the wheels had fallen off their lives. Their husbands are dead. They are childless, penniless, homeless, and separated from family. In Naomi’s words, her life has gone from being full to being empty (Ruth 1:21). Naomi summarizes this sharp reversal of fortunes by changing her name from Naomi (meaning pleasant) to Mara (meaning bitter). Ruth faced the additional complication of being an outsider in Israelite society. She was from Moab. Upon their arrival in Bethlehem these women faced two immediate and stark challenges: they needed food and sustenance, and they needed to reestablish connection with their extended family. It was not easy for unattached women to navigate Israelite society. Fortunately, Israel’s traditions provided the possibility that a male relative might take them into his household, care for them, and perhaps even provide them an heir who could continue their husband’s lineage. To do so was to play the voluntary role of being their kinsman redeemer.

Ruth’s passionate refusal to abandon her mother-in-law (Ruth 1:16–17) reveals that a healthy mentoring relationship existed between them. Ruth felt a deep love and affection for Naomi. Ruth’s statement also reveals that her personal faith had been nurtured through Naomi’s instruction, as Ruth referred to God as “your God” (Ruth 1:16–17). But as the story unfolds the reader can witness Naomi’s mentoring advance beyond mere mentoring into missional mentoring as she encourages Ruth to take risky and adventurous steps toward securing a marital relationship with a potential kinsman redeemer.

The barley harvest had just commenced when the two women arrived in Bethlehem. The harvest offered them a lifeline. Ruth took advantage of the opportunity to secure food by venturing into the fields to glean behind the harvesters. This was risky behavior. Naomi and Boaz both confirm that gleaning alone, as a single woman, was dangerous (Ruth 2:9, 16, 22). The dangers associated with gleaning alone in the field, however, paled in comparison with the risks associated with implementing Naomi’s scheme for getting Ruth married to Boaz.

Noticing that Ruth has met Boaz, one of their potential kinsman redeemers, Naomi took it upon herself to initiate plans for Ruth to become Boaz’s wife. Naomi’s strategy was for Ruth to watch and wait until Boaz had properly celebrated the end of his harvest and had enjoyed enough wine to be in good spirits. Ruth was to note where Boaz settled down to sleep so she could later quietly approach Boaz in the dark, pull back his blankets, and settle in beside him until he awakened. After that, well—the plan was risky. Naomi instructed Ruth: “Go and uncover his feet and lie down. He will tell you what to do” (Ruth 3:4). Having executed Naomi’s scheme flawlessly, Ruth returned home to join Naomi as they waited to see what Boaz would do next.

This story highlights a distinction between mentoring and missional mentoring. The missional nature of Naomi’s advice can be seen in the way she fostered and encouraged Ruth’s adventurous spirit of risk-taking faith. Naomi did not attempt to hide or remove the risks she encouraged Ruth to take. Neither did Naomi attempt to artificially boost Ruth’s confidence with a façade of false bravado. She simply pointed Ruth to faint signs of God’s presence and provision. Upon a slight indication of God’s presence and activity Naomi declared that the Lord’s “kindness has not forsaken the living or the dead” (Ruth 2:20). Robert Hubbard notes that the book of Ruth “offers no awesome display of divine might” or “terrifying glimpse of the divine being” but instead depicts God as “present, though invisible to human view.”6 Naomi was spiritually sensitive, showing Ruth how to find faith and courage in dark and uncertain times. As we saw with Eli, Naomi did not presume to act in Ruth’s place. Naomi instead pointed Ruth in the right direction and stepped back to see what would happen. Naomi let her younger companion work things out herself. But she did require that Ruth embrace the adventurous steps needed to prompt Boaz into action.

Normal mentoring can happen without encouraging younger leaders to take risks. But missional mentoring will always involve risk. God’s mission is always moving forward, and those who are called upon for leadership must step out in faith as they follow God’s prompting. The mentors in my life who most fostered adventurous risk-taking faith are the leaders with whom I worked while we launched Stadia: New Church Strategies.7 As our church-planting ministry spread across North America we repeatedly found ourselves facing faith-stretching decisions. Dean Pense, Roger Gibson, Marcus Bigelow, and Dan Converse worked together and mentored me, introducing me to the prayerful process of discerning God’s direction and activity. Under their leadership I witnessed a team embracing God’s next steps forward. And even as I ventured out on my own to launch Nexus: Church Planting Leadership,8 starting churches in partnership with Independent Christian Churches and Churches of Christ, I continued to benefit from their missional mentoring. They encouraged me to embrace the risk that is always attendant with God’s missional ventures. I often wonder how ministry might have been different had I not been encouraged to take risks, try out new ideas, and foster a playful spirit of adventurous exploration. May God give us the ability to foster an adventurous spirit of risk-taking faith in emerging leaders as they pursue the mission of God!

Missional mentoring will always involve risk. God’s mission is always moving forward.

Elizabeth: Missional Mentoring as Fostering a Fixed Attentiveness to God’s Promises and Provision

Luke tells us how John the Baptist’s mother, Elizabeth, found herself unexpectedly mentoring her younger relative Mary, the mother of Jesus. Mary’s miraculous pregnancy threatened to derail her marriage with Joseph (Matt 1:18–19). Whereas Ruth had enjoyed the benefit of Naomi’s companionship, Mary initially faced her crisis alone. Fortunately, the angel had told Mary about Elizabeth’s miraculous pregnancy (Luke 1:36). Mary hurried to Elizabeth’s side (Luke 1:39–40), opening the door through which Elizabeth could help Mary fix her attention on the promises and provision of God.

Elizabeth’s relationship with Mary took on the traits of missional mentoring when she proclaimed Mary to be a blessed woman (Luke 1:41–42). This proclamation helped Mary place her circumstances in proper perspective. Norval Geldenhuys notes that it was not after the angel called Mary “highly favored” that she sang praises to God (Luke 1:28). Mary instead sang God’s praises only after Elizabeth, an older companion, had called her the “mother of my Lord” (Luke 1:43).9 Elizabeth’s perspective helped Mary appreciate the fact that God was with her even though events were threatening to ruin her life (Luke 1:45). Missional mentoring helps younger companions perceive God’s present activity in current circumstances.

Missional mentoring helps younger companions perceive God’s present activity.

Missional mentors also help protégés sort through and clarify what they believe about God. It is likely that Elizabeth helped Mary craft the Magnificat (Luke 1:46–55). Luke places Mary’s song in the context of the three months she spent with Elizabeth (Luke 1:56). It is possible that they coauthored the song during their time together. A handful of manuscripts actually attribute the song to Elizabeth and not to Mary.10 As these two women compared their situations it is likely that they would have sought to discern what their surprising pregnancies revealed about God’s purposes and intentions. The Magnificat reveals an intimate knowledge of God’s word, as the lyrics are comprised almost entirely of Old Testament quotations and phrases.11 It celebrates the Mighty One who has begun to turn human society upside down, ushering in the Messianic age (Luke 1:52-53). The shared knowledge that both of their sons would serve God’s purposes in special ways may have boosted Mary’s ability to trust in God. In light of their shared experiences Elizabeth helped Mary realize, “All generations will call me blessed” (Luke 1:48). Elizabeth’s mentoring was missional to the extent that it helped her protégé fix her attention solely on God’s promises and provision.

We should remember to read this story in light of the fact that Elizabeth was herself experiencing a miraculous pregnancy. Her pregnancy, at such an old age, made her the object of much attention. After so many years of being barren, Elizabeth finally had her opportunity to be the center of attention. Even so, Elizabeth focused the attention on Mary and not on herself. Instead of letting Mary fuss over her, Elizabeth fussed over Mary. Once Mary entered the scene Elizabeth’s “baby leaped in her womb,” and in a loud voice Elizabeth proclaimed Mary to be the truly blessed one (Luke 1:41–42). Instead of standing back and expecting to hear how blessed she was to have her barrenness reversed, Elizabeth firmly pronounced Mary—an unwed girl, roughly ranked as the very least in Jewish society—blessed above all women. As with Eli and Naomi, Elizabeth willingly and joyfully vacated the spotlight to focus attention on her young companion. In this vein, older leaders need to approach younger companions with a similar spirit of humility. Younger leaders cannot flourish and discern God’s presence and promises in difficult circumstances when older leaders continually seek to be the center of attention.

John the Baptist, Elizabeth’s son, might later have reflected the humility he learned from his mother when he responded to a question about Jesus’ rising popularity by stating, “He must become greater, I must become less” (John 3:30). In saying this John responded to Jesus in similar fashion that his mother had responded to Mary. As Jesus observed, “everyone who is fully trained will be like his teacher” (Luke 6:40). While we do not know the particulars of how Elizabeth trained her son, it is surely not a far reach to assume that her spirit of humility is reflected in the disposition of her son. Like his mother before him, John’s attention was fixed on the promises and provision of God. Missional mentoring turns everyone’s attention to that end.

Missional mentoring turns everyone’s attention to the promises and provision of God.

The mentor who best helped me learn to discern God’s promises and provision was a former seminary professor, Dr. Bill Bravard. Bill surprised me after graduation by calling each month. My surprise grew as he continued, calling each month for the next twenty-five years. I admit that I did not initially warm to Bill’s calls. I was too busy. Too focused by goals. Too captivated by accomplishments. Moreover, Bill’s calls were not designed to encourage work-focused sensitivities. He never asked about my ministry. He always asked about my wife, our children, our marriage, and what I was learning from the Lord. Bill eventually helped me realize that life consists of more than task-oriented pursuits. J. Robert Clinton points out that younger leaders often focus on their accomplishments. They should instead focus on the transformation God is accomplishing within them. This is because healthy leaders minister out of who they are, not out of what they do.12 Bill’s monthly calls weaned me from being focused on my own achievements and quietly led me to focus on the identity I have in Christ. Instead of fixating on what I was doing I learned to give attention to God’s promises and provision, and ultimately to God’s plan. Interestingly, it was not the specific content of Bill’s calls that made the difference. After twenty-five years of calls, which ended last year with Bill’s death, I am unable to recall the specifics of any particular conversation. Bill did not exert his influence in any particular thing he said, but by what he did not say, or more specifically, what he did not ask about. His missional mentoring gradually shifted my focus from my own purposes to the promises and provision of God. May God give us the ability to foster within young leaders a fixed attentiveness on the promises and provision of the God who calls them into his mission!

Conclusion

I have suggested that missional mentoring is an intentional style of mentoring. It is a mentoring posture that encourages emerging leaders to embrace change and innovation as they pursue God’s mission. We can glean from the examples of Eli, Naomi, and Elizabeth that missional mentoring is at its best when marked by three core traits. Eli highlights the importance of mentors maintaining a healthy distinction between the particulars of their calling and that of the younger leader’s calling. From Eli we learn that sometimes the next step in God’s mission might involve the closure of the older leader’s systems and structures. Eli also reminds us that sometimes our best leadership moment comes not in what we do but in what we permit. From Naomi we learn that older leaders best serve younger protégés when they intentionally foster within them an adventurous, risk-taking faith. The steps God wants us to take to pursue his mission will likely require faith, which in modern vernacular might be best identified as risk-taking. Finally, from Elizabeth we learn that missional mentoring involves both the mentor and the protégé meditating on the promises and provision of God.

These three missional mentors filled critical roles in the unfolding drama of Scripture. Eli and Naomi served during the transition from the period of the Judges into the Davidic monarchy. Elizabeth played a vital part as the Davidic kingdom found its ultimate fulfillment in the arrival of the Davidic Messiah. In each instance these mentors had no way of imagining how impactful the mentoring they accomplished with young and unproven leaders might prove to be. They did what they needed to do by helping the next generation do what it needed to do.

I reflect again on Charles Handy’s words: “The paradox of aging is that every generation perceives itself as justifiably different from its predecessor, but plans as if its successor generation will be the same.” Perhaps a slight alteration of his wording better captures missional mentoring: The advantage of missional mentoring is that every generation perceives itself as justifiably different from its predecessor, and makes proactive plans to ensure its successor generation does the same! May God raise up mentors who empower the next generation to passionately pursue the mission of God!

Dr. Philip Claycomb is the director of Nexus: Church Planting Leadership (http://nexus.us). Nexus starts churches through collaborative partnerships between Independent Christian Churches, Churches of Christ, and other like-minded congregations. Nexus is based in Texas but currently works in fifteen states throughout the central portion of the US. Phil and Barb have been married thirty years and have invested their energies in starting new churches. They spent their first thirteen years of ministry starting four new churches in Chicago. They then worked with Stadia: New Church Strategies for five years (during which time Stadia started seventy-two churches.) Since starting Nexus in 2006 they’ve been blessed to see forty-three new churches launched. Phil spends most of his time mentoring emerging leaders, creating church-planting partnerships, coaching churches and networks, and teaching leadership and spiritual formation courses at Cincinnati Christian University.

For all people, food plays a role in everyday life. While some who are busy may see food as simply a means of subsistence, meals have a deeper meaning in most cultures, including those found in the Bible. Meals can be associated with issues like a deep concern for the poor and the value of community sharing amongst followers of Christ. Another biblical aspect is the use of meals for the purpose of missions. With so much time spent on the repast, it is not a surprise that Jesus used the mealtime—in addition to communion with believers—to transfer the gospel message to unbelievers. Meals are a good way to do evangelism.

Meals are woven into the fabric of life. Every tribe, tongue, and culture dines, with many taking great pride in their native fare. Regardless of national pride, a great amount of time is spent in the shopping, preparing, cooking, eating, and washing of the mealtime experience. If the average person eats three meals a day for a year, that amounts to 1,095 meals per person, and if, hypothetically, the average is one hour of time spent per meal, almost forty-six days of time is devoted in a year just to the event of consumption.

Meals bridge every civilization, offering any individual an instant cultural experience. A meal as a tool of evangelism bridges any cultural gap. While foreigners may not easily share in the customs, celebrations, mores, and language of a new land, they can always share in its food. Since Jesus used the mealtime as a significant aspect of his time on earth,1 a study of his meals proves fruitful to applied missiological studies. John Koenig writes, “Well before the origin of our Christian Eucharist, Jesus used a meal setting to inspire a vocation for outreach in his followers.”2 Koenig continues, “My guess—in fact my conviction—is that we have seriously undervalued our church meals, both ritual and informal, as opportunities for missionary discernment, planning, and outreach.”3

In particular, the writer of Luke records many of Jesus’s meals—nineteen total and thirteen that are specific to the Gospel.4 Jesus uses the mealtime as a significant aspect of fulfilling his purpose on earth. Robert Karris writes, “There is considerable truth in what one wag said about Luke’s Gospel: Jesus is either going to a meal, at a meal, or coming from a meal.”5 Markus Barth writes, “In approximately one-fifth of the sentences in Luke’s Gospel and in Acts, meals play a conspicuous role.”6 With Jesus’s overall purpose, as stated by Luke, being that he came to “seek and save the lost” (Luke 19:10), the significant attention to Lucan meals would signal a substantial tool in fulfilling this purpose. Whether it was communal sharing, fellowship with believers, discipleship, training, or evangelism/mission, Jesus was very purposeful during the repast. Karris pushes further: “The extent, though, of Luke’s use of the theme of food is appreciated only when the reader realizes that the aroma of food issues forth from each and every chapter of Luke’s Gospel. Food is definitely an important theme and, as such, draws the reader into Luke’s faith-inspiring kerygmatic story. It is a theme which, because of its elemental nature, resonates at the depths of our contingent being.”7

Jesus was very purposeful during the repast.

Thus, while other helpful resources look at the meaning of Jesus’s meals as a whole, this article will focus on Luke 5:27–32 as a paradigm for making meals a means of evangelism.8 First, we will note secular research on meals.

Non-Ecclesial Research on Meals

Secular studies demonstrate that meals have a deeper meaning to various groups and cultures. David Bell and Gill Valentine state, “the history of any nation’s diet is the history of the nation itself, with food, fashion, fads and fancies mapping episodes of colonialism and migration, trade and exploration, cultural exchange and boundary-marking.”9 Food choices driven by culture and forms of consumption ultimately came to be grasped as “distinguishing” citizens and nations.10 Pamela Kittler and Kathryn Sucher write, “Eating, like dressing in traditional clothing or speaking in a native language, is a daily reaffirmation of cultural identity.”11 Catherine Palmer adds, “Rituals and practices relating to food consumption are often used to define and maintain boundaries of identity; boundaries that serve to define the identity of a minority ethnic community from the dominant core identity of the nation with which it resides.”12

Secular studies have shown that this thought persists today. Bell and Valentine find that food is a mode of communication that “articulates notions of inclusion and exclusion, of national pride and xenophobia.”13 According to Palmer, “it is the embodiment of such notions in the foods themselves and in the uses to which these foods are put that enables food to act as a boundary-marker between one identity and another.”14 Paul Fieldhouse finds that “food habits are an integral part of cultural behavior and are often closely identified with particular groups – sometimes in a derogatory or mocking way. So the French are ‘Frogs,’ and the German’s are ‘Krauts,’ the Italians are ‘spaghetti eaters.’ . . . The word ‘Eskimo’ is an Indian word meaning ‘eaters of raw flesh,’ and was originally used to express the revulsion of one group toward the food habits of another.”15

Meals’ Deeper Biblical Concept

Eating together is more than just filling up on food; in Biblical times, it represented an association and acceptance of the individual(s) with whom one was dining. Dennis E. Smith adds: “Table fellowship is a symbol of community fellowship. The table designates a special relationship between those who sit at the same table. Jesus eats with sinners and tax collectors (Luke 5:27–32; 7:34; 15:2). He goes to the house of Zacchaeus (Luke 19:1–9). The table is for the oppressed, handicapped and disenfranchised (Luke 7:22; 14:12–14).”16

The table designates a special relationship between those who sit at the same table.

According to Jeremias:

In Judaism . . . table-fellowship means fellowship before God, for the eating of a piece of broken bread by everyone who shares in the meal brings out the fact that they all have a share in the blessing which the master of the house had spoken over the unbroken bread. Thus, Jesus’ meals with the publicans and sinners . . . are not only events on a social level but had an even deeper significance. . . . The inclusion of sinners into the community of salvation, achieved in table-fellowship, is the most meaningful expression of the message of the redeeming love of God.17

Meals carry a deeper meaning than just repast consumption. The Scriptures communicate a social, spiritual, and communal dimension. Reta Halteman Finger especially emphasizes the intense communal sharing of goods as a significant aspect of biblical meal and argues that much of this has been lost in interpretations of texts like Acts 2:42–47.18 Finger adds, “Luke’s description is so simple in Acts 2:42–47. The believers were united spiritually and shared material possessions so that none were in need, and they ate together every day with joy. . . . Faith, work, family relationships—Luke presents a seamless whole in the daily lives of people in a subsistence economy struggling to keep themselves and each other alive and thriving.”19 Finger’s research portrays the biblical meal as not just a time of sustenance but of community survival and sharing in which each member looked at another as part of a community that lived and depended on one another. Yet, Fingers is realistic when applying the meal of the New Testament times to today: “Anyone with historical and cultural sensitivity knows that social practices cannot be imported whole from an earlier time and place to our present modern and postmodern societies. . . . Even if this practice was tried with great effort, the theological meaning of those meals might change or look forced.”20

Though the intense communal meal and sharing aspects of Finger’s research may not be easy to apply to today’s situations, using the meal as a tool for evangelism will be. The rest of the article will focus on how Jesus used the meal as a means to add people to this fellowship of communal sharing.

Luke 5:27–32: Meals as a Means of Evangelism

One of the best examples of Jesus using meals as a means for missions is the story of his disciple Levi, also known as Matthew (Luke 6:15). When Luke introduces this character, he makes it clear that Levi is a “tax collector” and not a disciple of Jesus. His conversion does not occur until Jesus approaches him and says simply: “follow me.” At this request, the text reads that Levi left his tax booth, leaving behind his vocation to follow Jesus, becoming his disciple. According to Morris, “Matthew must have been the richest of the apostles. . . . When Levi walked out of his job he was through. They would surely never take back a man who had simply abandoned his tax office. His following Jesus was a final commitment.”21

The next scene is Levi holding a banquet for Jesus in his home.22 The guests are highlighted. Though Jesus’s disciples are present,23 they are not the invitees who are emphasized. Joel Green adds, “In this pericope . . . the disciples of Jesus are again present, but they are only indirectly developed. . . . At this juncture they remain only stage props, so to speak.”24

The crowd is fellow tax collectors and “others” who the Pharisees later designate as “sinners.” These guests of Levi, with whom Jesus is dining, are scandalous in the eyes of the religious leaders.

The Pharisees, mentioning tax collectors and sinners together, are in fact communicating that these two groups are conceptually unified.25 Tax collector would be another way of identifying a sinner. Robert Stein writes, “ Tax collectors . . . were dishonest and practiced distortion (cf. Luke 5:32). Note the advice of John the Baptist to them in 3:12–13, which assumes dishonesty, and Zacchaeus’s behavior in 19:8–9.”26 Therefore, tax collector and sinner would be one unified concept.

Jesus eating with such a group communicates to the Pharisees that Jesus accepts them as people but in no way endorses their lifestyle; it is clear Jesus’s purpose is mission. According to Darrell Bock, “Jesus reclines with them in meal fellowship. In doing so, he is carrying out his ministry to the spiritually needy. At the same time, Jesus offends the separatism of the Pharisees, who would have never shared a meal with such rabble.”27 Bock goes on to write:

The problem in their view is not mere contact with sinners, but table fellowship that seeks out and welcomes these people. As Jesus’ reply in 5:32 makes clear . . . sinners . . . refers to a wide group of people, including the potentially impious, like tax collectors. In other words, it refers to any who need to be healed and not only to the worst sinners in the harshest possible sense. . . . The Pharisees regard the disciples and Jesus’ association with such people as inappropriate for any religious leader.28

Conflict arises between Jesus and the Pharisees regarding his associations. Jesus knows, just as the Pharisees that he dines with “sinners” but it is precisely their state that makes them a priority to associate with. Jesus can free the sinner with the gospel message.29 Jesus makes his intentions clear in 5:31–32: “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I have not come to call the righteous but sinners to repentance” (ESV). Luke develops the issue of repentance more deeply than either Mark or Matthew with the understanding that repentance is “leaving all and following Jesus.”30 Jesus’s eating a meal with Levi’s guests is his way of trying to reach them with the message of the kingdom, and uses the mealtime as an opportunity to communicate the gospel to those who are “sick.” Jesus knows that during the meal there will be opportunities to talk and given the fact that news about Jesus began to spread (see Luke 5:15), those dining with him could possess knowledge that he could be Messiah and ask him questions related to his messianic position.

But Jesus’s decision to share meals goes deeper than ministry efficiency—he also is making a theological point. He is modeling the need to share meals with the “sinners,” for it is clear that the religious leaders of the day discouraged meals with “sinners”. Finger writes, “Rather than excluding people, Jesus especially welcomed those who could not or did not meet Pharisaic regulations. This strongly suggests that Jesus’s open table fellowship was a strategy used to challenge social and religious exclusivism wherever it was officially sanctioned or accepted as normal.”31 Jesus models to the religious leaders and those present that dining with those who need repentance is crucial. Because meals are such an important aspect of every culture, Jesus’s example is crucial for people in his day and today to follow.

Because meals are such an important aspect of every culture, Jesus’s example is crucial.

Conclusion

With such a heavy emphasis on meals in Luke, it is clear that the writer is trying to communicate that the mealtime can be used for the purpose of seeking and saving the lost (Luke 19:10). Luke 5:27–32 shows that meals communicate the worth and acceptance of a person as an individual by spending time with them over food, allowing a chance to communicate the gospel of the kingdom of God. Since Jesus used mealtime so purposefully, the church should take the meal as a means of evangelism. Meals offer a time of relaxation, enjoyment, and instant cultural engagement, an ideal milieu for discussing spiritual topics, particularly the gospel. Jesus clearly had this as one of his goals for dining with unbelieving people and Luke 5:27–32 offers one such glimpse in how he did it.

Michael Chung has taught New Testament and Christian Formation at Fuller Theological Seminary–Texas, Biblical and Theological Studies at Houston Baptist University, and is visiting faculty to Calvary Theological Seminary in Indonesia. He was a missionary to Asia and served CRU from 1997 to 2005. He has published in journals from North America, Europe, and Asia and is the author of the forthcoming book The Last King of Israel: Lessons from Jesus’s Final Ten Days.

Comparative Review

Reggie McNeal. Kingdom Come: Why We Must Give Up on our Obsessions with Fixing the Church—and What We Should Do Instead. Carol Stream, IL: Tyndale Momentum, 2015. 224 pp. Paperback. $11.95.

Scot McKnight. Kingdom Conspiracy: Returning to the Radical Mission of the Local Church. Grand Rapids: Brazos Press, 2014. 304 pp. Paperback. $15.16.

“Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near” (Matt 4:17). Jesus inaugurates his ministry in Galilee with these words. After Pentecost, Jesus’s followers began preaching and teaching about the kingdom of God throughout the Roman empire. For the early church, the gospel of Jesus was intertwined with the kingdom. But how should we understand the kingdom of God? What does the kingdom mean for us living in the twenty-first century? How do we, individually as Christians and corporately as church, participate in this kingdom?

Typically, responses to these questions fall into two distinct categories. Some see the kingdom as political and social action, working for justice and equity in our world on behalf of the oppressed. Others define the kingdom as the church itself, with its worship, service, activities, and teachings. Two recent books written by Scot McKnight and Reggie McNeal help illustrate these different approaches to the kingdom of God. Although they discuss similar themes—the identity of and participation in the kingdom of God—they come to different missiological conclusions due to their differences in ecclesiology and soteriology.

In his book Kingdom Come, Reggie McNeal contends that the American church has become so enamored with doing church and fixing the church that they have missed out on the kingdom of God. Churches spend the vast majority of their assets (time, money, energy, attention, and people) on what happens during the assembly on Sunday, but they fail to make a difference in the communities that surround them. The church scorecard is measured in terms of “celebrated church activities on church property led by church people for other church people” (McNeal, 3). In McNeal’s eyes, the church has spent so much time trying to get the message right that it has forgotten about mission. That mission is what he wants the church to recover.

At its core, McNeal’s book contends that the kingdom is not synonymous with the church.1 Jesus did not come to establish the church but to expand the kingdom. The key to this mission is found in John 10:10—“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” Evil and sin are anything that destroys or diminishes life, whether from intentional and immediate actions or consequences of actions done long ago. This sin affects our relationships with God, one another, and all of creation. The kingdom is working systematically to restore abundant life to those affected by sin. These efforts can include anything from feeding the hungry to teaching newly released prisoners to raising money for a local charity to creating art and music. Anything that involves “people helping people to experience life as God intends it” is a manifestation of the kingdom of God (McNeal, 41). Jesus’s ministry was characterized by healing the sick, driving out demons, and feeding the hungry; adherents of the kingdom are those who do the same.

McNeal also argues that the kingdom of God is bigger than those who claim allegiance to its king. For McNeal, “whenever and wherever God’s character and will are displayed, the Kingdom is made evident” (McNeal, 25). Any initiative that demonstrates love, mercy, compassion, and justice, among other godly attributes, is a manifestation of the kingdom. Those that participate in these actions, whether believers and followers of Christ or not, are part of the kingdom of God. Those who follow Jesus should look for the initiatives where God is at work and collaborate with those who are doing them, whether or not they claim Christ as their motivation.

McNeal’s desire for the church is a shift from self-orientation to kingdom-orientation. For church-centric thinkers, the church’s practices of worship, sacraments, and teaching are the reason for its existence. But McNeal wants the church to recover its identity as a kingdom of priests sent out to bless the world. As he contends, “The church was created on purpose, for a purpose—to partner with God in his redemptive mission here on earth” (McNeal, 90). Church is more about a way of being in which every aspect of life is an organic and incarnational manifestation of faith (McNeal, 8–9).

For McNeal, this does not mean that the church is irrelevant. Indeed, he directs his book to current church leaders and those who are involved in church but yearning for something more relevant. His overarching desire is for the church to speak and work prophetically in the culture, looking for ways in which God is already at work confronting the effects of sin and partnering with those who are participating in God’s redemptive work. The church must begin to work to transform culture, both the culture in the surrounding community and, more importantly, the culture of the church itself. The priorities of the church must shift from activities that built up the organization to kingdom-focused initiatives.2

In his book Kingdom Conspiracy, Scot McKnight calls views of the kingdom like McNeal’s the “skinny jeans kingdom.” According to adherents of this position, “Kingdom means good deeds done by good people (Christian or not) in the public sector for the common good” (McKnight, 8–9). The kingdom, then, boils down to anything done in the world that helps better the human life or experience. The other extreme, according to McKnight, is the “the pleated pants kingdom.” Adherents of this position focus on understanding the nature of the kingdom and the timing of its arrival, specifically through the lens of personal redemption. The kingdom is boiled down to those who are personally “saved” from sin and those who are not. This kingdom is about those who believe and those who do not, and the kingdom only exists as a “not yet” because not everyone believes. For these, the kingdom will only be fully realized at the eschaton (McKnight, 9–13).

McKnight contends that both understandings of kingdom run counter to the biblical concept. When the Bible talks about a “kingdom,” it always has in mind a group of people in a physical place under the rule of a king. Thus, the kingdom of God is where “there is a king (Jesus), a rule (by Jesus as Lord), a people (the church), a land (wherever Jesus’s kingdom people are present), and a law (following Jesus through the power of the Spirit . . .)” (McKnight, 99). For McKnight, the biblical narrative is about more than just creation, fall, redemption, and consummation. Rather, the biblical story describes how God is at work extending his rule throughout time and space through Jesus the Messiah, the Lord and King (McKnight, 23–35).

For McKnight, the kingdom cannot be divorced from the church. Throughout history, God has always chosen to work through a people, regardless of how messy and broken they were (and still are.) The church of today is the group of people who accept the lordship of Jesus Christ, even though it might seem marred and distorted at times. Indeed, McKnight says “the church now is the church gathered in broken leadership, broken fellowship, broken holiness, broken love, broken justice, and broken peace” (McKnight, 94). But the church now is leading toward the “church not yet,” the eschatological realization of all that the church (and the kingdom) are meant to be. There is an integral overlap between the kingdom and the church of today in that “they are the same people governed by the same king living out the same law under the same kingdom redemptive powers” (McKnight, 95–96).3

For McKnight, salvation is multidimensional, involving salvation from sin, Satan, and systemic evil. Sin is the “Adamic condition” of rebellion against God, and redemption means a return to right relationship with God through his sacrifice on our behalf. Salvation also rescues us from the dominion of the evil one, which entraps us in death and distortion. Finally, redemption fights against the effects of systemic evil by “principalities and powers,” both demonic and political. The church is made up of individuals who have accepted the redemption of God through the lordship of Christ and practice a cruciform lifestyle of righteousness living and loving service. The church is working to establish redemption through “kingdom community in the here and now,” while realizing that the kingdom can only be partially experienced in the present (McKnight, 157). For the church, this means offering holistic salvation that addresses the spiritual, physical, emotional, and social needs of the world.

For McKnight, the key is recognizing the integral connection between the church and the kingdom. The kingdom does not exist apart from the church, and the mission of the kingdom cannot be realized outside of the participation of the church. While McNeal and other missional church advocates would state that any work that brings “life” is a manifestation of the kingdom, McKnight would not call these expressions of kingdom mission. These benevolent actions are done for the common good, but when they have no impact on the local church nor lead to people accepting the kingship of Christ they are not kingdom endeavors. Indeed, McKnight contends that social activism becomes idolatry when it replaces the church (McKnight, 121–22). But if the church is truly following Jesus as its king, it will engage in a mission of extending justice, equity, peace, and redemption into the world, confronting the effects of sin, Satan, and systemic evil. “Any kingdom mission that does not offer this kind of redemption is not kingdom mission” (McKnight, 158).

While McKnight and McNeal make different assertions through their books in regard to salvation and mission, their desire is the same: they call the church to truly be the church on mission in the world. For McNeal, this means realizing that following God is about more than just what occurs on Sundays. Kingdom participation is not just about showing up on Sundays and “doing church” but is also about participating with God in what he is doing in the world to bring light into darkness. McKnight wants to caution against the millennial mindset that the church is outdated and unimportant, and that kingdom work must often be done outside of the local church. Instead, kingdom work is about building up and edifying the local congregation as it participates in the mission of God.

There are parts of each book that also miss the mark. While McNeal argues that the book is written to help the church be the church, it often feels more like a guide on community activism devoid of the church entirely. His treatment of sin is relatively light, as well, addressing only the ways in which sin “damages life” in social and economic parameters. Anything that enhances beauty or “restores life,” including classical music, are seen as redemptive manifestations of the kingdom. McKnight’s view seems to negate the possibility that God is at work in ways outside of the church. Kingdom mission and advancement is solely the responsibility of the church, yet that is out of step with other biblical examples (e.g., Cyrus being God’s “anointed” to return the people from Exile; the work of the Holy Spirit in the world convicting the world of sin.) The church is called to join God in what he is already doing in the world, which also means participating with others who are engaged in kingdom initiatives. While McKnight reminds us of the primacy of the church, his contention that the kingdom is restricted to the church’s actions is overstated.

Both of these books add to the ongoing conversation about the way in which the church participates in the mission of God to extend his lordship over all of creation. McNeal reminds us that we are not called simply to be “churchy” but to be redeemed people participating actively in redemption. McKnight reminds us that this redemption should not be separated from the life and mission of the church because the church is God’s chosen instrument. When read in conversation with one another, McNeal and McKnight call us to a deeper understanding of the kingdom and the mission of God than we may have considered before.

Daniel McGraw

Minister

West University Church of Christ

Houston, TX, USA

Jared Looney. Crossroads of the Nations: Diaspora, Globalization, and Evangelism. Urban Ministry in the 21st Century. Portland: Urban Loft Publishers, 2015. 330 pp. Paperback. $16.99.

Jared Looney is the executive director of Global City Mission Initiative (http://globalcitymission.org), a nonprofit organization that equips churches and evangelists for ministry among immigrant communities in major urban centers. He writes Crossroads of the Nations, the first book in the Urban Ministry in the 21st Century series (Urban Loft Publishers), encouraging dominant culture churches of North America to take advantage of the opportunities for mission now at our doorstep thanks to the twin forces of urbanization and international migration. For clergy and lay persons desiring a well-informed introduction to the changing face of urban ministry that does not bog down in scholarly minutiae, Crossroads of the Nations is a great place to start.

After an adulatory foreword by diaspora missiologist Enoch Wan, Looney’s first chapter opens with a number of poignant anecdotes on the ways that globalization and migration are transforming North American cities. His use of stories and real-life examples strengthens the book, lending to its accessibility and readability. Chapter one summarizes the book’s major themes and arguments—the central argument being that urban centers ought to be the focus of missiological thinking and strategy. Chapter two furthers this argument by exploring the strategic importance of cities in a world of transnational social networks, which, among other things, give Western churches unprecedented access to many unreached people groups.

Chapter three, the most impassioned chapter of the book, addresses anti-immigrant sentiments within the dominant culture, arguing that hospitality toward the migrant is the biblical standard. Chapter four then revisits the missional opportunities afforded by diaspora networks in order to challenge churches to reimagine church multiplication strategies, cross-denominational partnerships, and adaptive community structures that better reflect society’s growing mobility. With the decline of the church in the West and the rise of Christianity in the global South and East, Looney repeatedly points to the influx of Christian immigrants, the growth of ethnic churches, and their potential missionary force as signs for hope.

Chapters five and six turn to the topic of how to equip churches for evangelism among diaspora communities. Here, the author maintains that our evangelism and church planting must be relational, reproducible, and easily contextualized. Looney concludes chapter six with a particularly insightful discussion of ways that churches can take advantage of diaspora networks to make short-term mission trips more strategic and relational. The final chapter challenges congregations to reclaim their missionary identity, to train their congregants for cross-cultural ministry, and to intentionally build relationships outside their usual sociocultural circles. He closes by highlighting the importance of hospitality and of creating safe and welcoming spaces outside of church buildings for engaging unreached migrants.

Reflection questions at the end of each chapter facilitate the use of this text in small group settings (which likely explains some of the book’s repetitiveness). Lay readers will benefit from the many practical examples of how churches can get involved in mission among migrants. This book is a timely read in this controversy-ridden election year, as it represents a challenge to the large population of majority-group Christians in our country who have too often been fertile soil for anti-immigrant sentiment. Looney calls Christians to think missionally about the immigrant among us, and I long for that day when our conversations on immigration sound less like Trump and more like Looney. I long for the day when we stop seeing immigrants as threats to national security and instead welcome them as partners in global mission. I long for the day when we no longer see them as drains on our economy but as “bringers of blessings” (71) for the work of global mission.

Looney locates his book within the field of “diaspora missiology” and draws heavily on the research of major proponents Enoch Wan, Sadiri Joy Tira, and J. D. Payne. Unfortunately, much of their research unintentionally characterizes immigrants (two-thirds of whom are Christians!1) as objects of missionary outreach in need of help, training, and mobilization from Western sources and thus falls short of fully grasping the significance of non-Western initiatives and movements for the future of the global church. Thankfully, Crossroads of the Nations is more balanced in portraying Christian migrants not only as objects of mission but also as agents of mission whose dynamic faith and evangelistic zeal are contributing significantly to the revitalization of the church in the West. The inclusion of more research on ways that migrants and their congregations are already shaping the American religious landscape would have strengthened this excellent text. At its core, Crossroads of the Nations is the fervent appeal of a well-informed practitioner for Western churches to embrace our missionary identity, and my hope is that Looney’s book will spark many long-overdue conversations among majority-culture churches throughout North America.

Martin Rodriguez

PhD Student

School of Intercultural Studies

Fuller Theological Seminary

Pasadena, CA

Dean Flemming. Why Mission? Reframing New Testament Theology. Nashville: Abingdon, 2015. 184 pp. Kindle ed. $14.99.

The dichotomy between theory and practice is, as Kevin Vanhoozer has put it, “a mortal fault line that runs through the academy and church alike.”1 Missiology has often stood across the chasm from theology, mission being stereotypically the realm of practitioners with little patience for the abstractions of academic theology. Yet, advocates of missional hermeneutics have begun exploring a space in which textual hermeneutics, ecclesial commitments, missional practices, biblical studies, and constructive theology converge. Even in missional hermeneutics, however, the theory/practice dichotomy tends to manifest in articles and books that discuss interpretive theory without practicing exemplary exegesis.

In this context, Dean Flemming’s slender volume Why Mission? is a welcome contribution. Aware that, to date, “no other study engages in a missional reading of a range of New Testament books within one volume” (Kindle loc. 177), Flemming showcases the application of a missional hermeneutic to a variety of New Testament texts. The book’s six chapters undertake missional readings of Matthew, Luke-Acts, John, Philippians, 1 Peter, and Revelation. Following closely on the heels of Michael Gorman’s watershed missional interpretation of various Pauline writings,2 Why Mission? widens the scope of the current discussion considerably.

As the fourth volume in the Reframing New Testament Theology series (ed. Joel B. Green), the book participates in the contemporary shakeup of the biblical theology movement. This “reframing” is driven by “a keen sense that scripture has in the past and should in the present instruct and shape the church’s faith and life”—challenging the theory/practice dichotomy from another angle.3 Flemming, who holds a PhD in New Testament Exegesis from the University of Aberdeen, is specially qualified to take up the question of mission’s particular contribution to this churchly engagement with the biblical text. He was a missionary for the Church of the Nazarene from 1987 to 2011 and is now Professor of New Testament and Missions at MidAmerica Nazarene University. By itself, the rarity of a New Testament scholar with long-term missions experience makes Flemming’s work an exciting addition to both the reframing of New Testament theology and to the missional hermeneutics movement.

The introduction briefly explains the premise of Flemming’s intention “to read scripture in light of God’s comprehensive mission” (Kindle loc. 189). He asserts: “Perhaps we can speak of two essential dimensions of a missional hermeneutic. One has to do with what the Bible is about. The other concerns what the Bible does. The former sees the Bible as a witness, the latter as an instrument” (Kindle locs. 204–6). Flemming accordingly structures subsequent chapters by examining each biblical text as both “a witness to God’s mission” and “an instrument of God’s mission”—the assumption being that every New Testament book can help answer “two foundational questions: ‘What is God up to in the world?’ and ‘What is the church’s role in what God is doing?’” (Kindle loc. 274). In this way, he clearly addresses the series’s concern with both New Testament theology (producing a multifaceted theology of mission rooted in whole books rather than proof texts) and the church’s life and faith (consistently highlighting the ways these texts send and shape the church in mission).

The exegesis itself is uncomplicated by technical issues and relatively readable—very accessible for seminary students and trained church leaders but probably heavy going for the average lay reader. Flemming works in broad strokes, connecting major themes to his guiding missional questions. Although every chapter deals with its biblical text’s role as witness and instrument, each one is different. The chapter on Matthew, for example, plays with the theological notion of recapitulation, whereas the chapter on 1 Peter deals narratively with the concept of identity. Occasionally, Flemming engages a scholarly dispute, such as J. Todd Billings’s critique of the term incarnational or Brian Peterson’s denial of the Philippians’ practice of verbal evangelism, characteristically taking a moderating position. More commonly, Flemming simply traces the missional contours of a body of mainstream biblical scholarship that has emerged in recent decades, providing ample footnotes for the studious reader. These missional readings, in other words, solidly represent critically engaged New Testament scholarship. They are concise, insightful, and well worth the price of the book.

The book’s primary weakness is that it gives priority to the “text itself” (Kindle loc. 203), as though the text alone, if read correctly, yields understanding of and participation in God’s mission. To his credit, Flemming’s epilogue states that “at the end of the day, we can only read scripture faithfully as communities of people who are actively engaged in God’s mission, in our various contexts and cultures, just as the original authors and readers of the New Testament were caught up in the missio Dei” (Kindle locs. 3415–17). Yet, his conclusion on this basis is that “a missional reading of scripture, then, seeks to bring about not only a clearer understanding of scripture but also a better grasp of what it means to live as a missional people today (Kindle locs. 3418–19). His hermeneutic still runs in one direction, from text to understanding to active engagement. This approach assumes that the bridge across the theory/practice divide is built from one side. Missional hermeneutics, however, cannot afford to ignore the interpretive implications of practice. Certainly, Scripture shapes the participation of the missional church, but if, in turn, participation in God’s mission shapes the reading church, then practice is not merely a result of the text’s formative influence. It is also a hermeneutical key.

Greg McKinzie

PhD Student

Fuller Theological Seminary

Pasadena, CA

DAN MCVEY. Confronting the Hubris of Hope: A Christian Reflection in an Islamic Mirror. San Bernardino: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, 2014. 184 pp. $9.99.

Dan McVey serves in an adjunct role with Abilene Christian University, primarily with the International Studies Department in the Study Abroad programs. He is also adjunct with Heritage Christian University in Accra, Ghana, and the University of South China, Hengyang, Hunan Province, China. McVey tries to spend his time building bridges between Christians and Muslims, especially in Europe and Africa, where his work quite often takes him. Due to his experience both as a missionary and a teacher in primarily Muslim contexts, McVey is well equipped to address and reflect on this topic.

Confronting the Hubris of Hope is a challenging text in which McVey asks difficult questions about both Christianity and Islam. For example, McVey asks, “How can any religion contain all that is good, true, virtuous, and honorable?” (157). According to McVey, such a religion does not exist. Rather, all of our religious traditions are simply human attempts at explaining divine revelation. It is impossible to place ourselves in the historical contexts of those who originally received the Scriptures (i.e., the Bible and the Qur’an). McVey challenges both Christians and Muslims to speak out for each other on common concerns, and to rush to defend one another whenever possible. He questions Christians’ reliance on creedal definitions (e.g., the development of the title “Son of God”) that are restrictive for cross-cultural communication. Likewise, McVey asks Muslims to be more open-minded regarding shared theological conversation (e.g., regarding the role of Jesus).

The “Hubris of Hope” is the strongest chapter, in my opinion. For McVey, a cursory glance at religious history reveals that both Christians and Muslims have done unspeakable things in the name of God, Allah, or their respective religions. Rather than meeting each other as equals, Christianity and Islam have often met due to conquest, oppression, and violence towards one another. We must not let the hubris of our hope in our respective religions (e.g., Christianity and Islam) blind or prevent us from respecting and loving one another. This hubris deceives people into believing that their religious tradition has a monopoly on absolute truth. For Christians, the hubris of certainty regarding God leads to aberrations of the teaching of Jesus. As McVey writes, “Certainty seeks no partners” (126). McVey cautions against equating the authority of God with our own authoritarian tendencies. When we speak of God, we always speak from limited knowledge. There is a measure of ambiguity in the Scriptures, as humans must interpret them. Rather than confusing our limited understandings of God with Truth, McVey encourages Christians and Muslims to allow the ambiguity to “make room not only for tolerance in mercy that reflects God’s own character, but also for dialog” (135).

The book seems unorganized in places. However, McVey does provide a qualification at the beginning of the book, writing, “I am by nature and experience a practitioner rather than a theoretician or academic, so please excuse the clumsiness of thought” (7). Yet, where the book lacks in organization, it certainly makes up for it in content. The reader will not discover a detailed bibliography or footnotes but will learn from McVey’s personal experiences and reflections following years of living in primarily Muslim contexts. These reflections from an experienced cross-cultural practitioner are valuable and challenging—both to the lay and academic reader.

The text is particularly relevant for Christians seeking to engage with Muslims. However, this book will be challenging for the reader who has a limited scope for what McVey defines as hope. McVey believes, “hope is a mellowing influence upon faith, an admission of the incomplete nature of religious allegiance in that recognition by all humble believers that whenever we speak about God, we always speak in incomplete knowledge and terminology” (124). Likewise, an unobservant reader might accuse McVey of pluralism. However, McVey is simply calling for an end to religious fundamentalism. A Christian approach can, historically, range from crusade to colonialism, and from triumphalism to hubristic intolerance. Because of this, McVey hopes that it will be our goal to be Christlike rather than Christian. For McVey, the Way of Jesus is not a set of beliefs. Rather, “the brilliance of Jesus is seen in the fact that his prescription that we should love our enemies in fact requires us to get to know our enemies” (158). We ought to humbly acknowledge our incomplete understandings of the divine, apologize for our failures that have hurt others, and seek to work together in our pursuit of truth.

Brady Kal Cox

Graduate Student

Graduate School of Theology

Abilene Christian University

Abilene, TX, USA

A better understanding of how practices are related to participation in the life of God is crucial for helping congregations discover their missional vocation in the world. To that end, this article surveys the recent literature devoted to Christian practices and, in turn, proposes more eschatological understanding of participation. After briefly considering christological and pneumatological perspectives on Christian practices in light of eschatology, hospitality is taken as an example of the practices that bear the conditions of possibility for participation in the life of God.

In the consulting work I do with congregations who are interested in missional innovation,1 we often talk about participation in the life of God as a way to invite them into the missio Dei. However, we never stop to define what this means, partly because we are never asked. I’m not sure what people hear when we say “participation in the life of God,” and I’m not even sure what we mean. What are we saying when we invite congregations to participate in the life of God, and how is that participation related to practices? A better understanding of how practices are related to participation in the life of God is crucial for helping congregations discover their missional vocation in the world. Though many have written on Christian practices and participation in the life of God, few have made it clear how these things are related. In what follows, I propose a way of thinking about this relationship that would help congregations identify practices that possess the conditions of possibility for participation in the life of God.

As a way of getting at the relationship of practices and participation in the life of God, I want to begin with a survey of the recent literature devoted to Christian practices. Christian practices have received a lot of attention the past few years, due in large part to the work of Alasdair MacIntyre. MacIntyre’s notions of practice seem to be the starting place for all who dip their toe into this conversation, even if their ecclesiologies are very different. He defines a practice as “any coherent and complex form of socially established cooperative human activity through which goods internal to that form of activity are realized in the course of trying to achieve those standards of excellence which are appropriate to, and partially definitive of, that form of activity, with the result that human powers to achieve excellence, and human conceptions of the ends and goods involved, are systematically extended.”2

This definition is useful for theologians. It recognizes, for instance, that practice is rooted in social systems of meaning, which are in turn valued because of a particular account of the world shared by those who “cooperate” in a particular practice or set of practices. This socially embodied understanding conforms well to an understanding of the church or congregation as more than an aggregation of individual, religious consumers. The faith is primarily a socially embodied experience made both concrete and coherent through practices.

The faith is primarily a socially embodied experience made both concrete and coherent through practices.

Moreover, MacIntyre’s notion of “internal goods” releases the church from the need to ground its own practice in some prior, or general, account of reality. The shared practice of the church emerges from its unique account of the good. Still, while internally coherent, practices extend beyond the boundaries of a given tradition as the realities of changing times and circumstances are engaged and notions of the good are enlarged.3 Additionally, practices assume bodies.4 Any account of the church in which practices are constitutive is simultaneously rooted in creation and the incarnation. Through the church’s practice, the body of Christ becomes visible in the world in a material way. The church visible through practices avoids ideal or essentialist accounts that stand above or behind the actual existence of Christian communities. This shift from the ideal to the actual can also be applied to what it means to be Christian. To be Christian is not simply to hold certain ideas or to believe certain notions. Faith is not simply belief in this sense, but faith works itself out in love—in material practices with others for the sake of the world.

Through the church’s practice, the body of Christ becomes visible in the world in a material way.

Prominent Proposals about the Place of Practices

As I mentioned above, MacIntyre has been conscripted in the service of diverse theological viewpoints. An impressive literature on practices has been produced by a group led by Dorothy Bass and Craig Dykstra, including writers like Miroslav Volf, Diana Butler Bass, and Christine Pohl.5 Following MacIntyre, they define Christian practice as “things Christian people do together over time to address fundamental human needs in response to and in the light of God’s active presence for the world.”6 They are vague, however, on how these practices relate to the life of God. After all, these practices contribute to the thriving of all human life—“good for oneself, for other people, and for all creation”—but are done by Christians “somehow differently because of their knowledge of God in Christ.”7 As Roger Owens suggests, for the Bass/Dykstra project, practices are a response to what God has done. While Dykstra and Bass hope for an account of practices that also provides an adequate account of participation, these practices are a response to what God has done. As Owen summarizes, “This way of talking about practices—“in light of and in response to”—suggests that the activity of God for the life of the world is happening somewhere other than in the practices of the church, so that through the church’s practices the church must find where God is working, and join with God, cooperating, so to speak, in meeting human needs.”8

A quite different perspective on practices, also relying on MacIntyre, is represented by theologians like Stanley Hauerwas and James McClendon. For instance, McClendon finds in MacIntyre helpful correspondences to an account of the world revolving around notions of principalities and powers. As Owen summarizes McClendon,

MacIntyre’s concept of a social practice is useful not only for understanding the undeniable social constitution of human life; it is helpful for understanding the Bible’s suggestion that the social constitution of human life is corrupted and redeemed, rebellious against God’s reign and yet conquered by the victory of Christ. The social constitution of human life, embodied within a web of social practices, finds its place in the theological narrative of God’s creating and redeeming the world as those biblical ‘principalities and powers’ with which Christ conflicts and over which he conquers.9

Additionally, McClendon imagines how practices constitutive of Christian community create a distinctly Christian engagement with the larger society, a note that resonates with the work of Hauerwas. In fact, this is the advantage of MacIntyre’s definition for “baptist” theologians like McClendon and Hauerwas: it refuses a general account of morality, leaving us instead to particular accounts, rooted in particular narratives, that result in concrete, embodied, and contrast communities.10

I find the approach taken by McClendon more helpful than that of the Bass/Dykstra group in providing the conditions of possibility for practices to be an actual participation in the life of God. However, I want to make my own proposal in light of the helpful, albeit incomplete, work of Roger Owens. Owens is very specific in laying out a detailed proposal that would allow some practices to be an actual participation in the life of God. Owens’s proposal is considered and expansive, moving through a variety of influences, including Maximus the Confessor, Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and Herbert McCabe, to name only a few. His account of participation insists that “the church’s participation in God is Christ’s practicing himself as the embodied practices of the church, in the Spirit, for the world.”11 As such, the following descriptions apply:

1. An account of participation must faithfully maintain the distinction between Creator and creation. . . .

2. An account of participation must be given in terms of the particular and embodied nature of the church. . . .

3. An account of participation must begin with the particularity of Christ and the church and not in a general account of creation’s participation in God qua creation. . . .

4. An account of participation should show how participation in God is not an invisible essence or interiority, but is socially visible and has the shape of the life of Jesus’s peacefulness. . . .

5. An account of participation will need to be given in particular terms of the activity of the triune God.12

What is missing in Owens’s account is a truly eschatological understanding of participation. His understanding of participation would be strengthened, perhaps even significantly altered, with a sixth criterion: An account of participation will define the relations of God, church, and world in light of the coming kingdom of God. While Owens gives lip service to participation as eschatological, his notions of it are not strong enough to warrant a listing in his criteria.

Owens’s “eschatology” is better labeled a “teleology,” or an end in which theosis, or deification in the life of an individual, is the result. There is little talk of participation in the life of God for the sake of a new heaven and a new earth. As teleology, the life of the church may be seen as continuous with the life of God.13 Eschatology, however, is not necessarily simply the state of things at the end, or the telos of existence. In particular, an apocalyptic eschatology works from the future into the present. The church experiences its life, not only in continuity with God, but also in discontinuity with the larger realities of the coming kingdom of God.

Owens’s lack of a robust eschatology, in which the future of God is breaking into the present in material ways, betrays the fact that his account of participation does not escape the gravitational pull of a substantialist ontology, which defines participation principally in terms of “natures.”14 This becomes evident, for instance, in Owens’s use of Dietrich Bonhoeffer.15 In explaining Bonhoeffer’s understanding of preaching as an actual participation with Christ, Owens gives attention to Bonhoeffer’s Christus totus ecclesiology. “‘The Church is the body of Christ,’ writes Bonhoeffer. ‘It does not signify the body of Christ. When applied to the Church, the concept of body is not only a concept of function, which refers only to the members of his body. It is a comprehensive and central concept of the mode of existence of the one who is present in his exaltation and humiliation.’”16

Bonhoeffer is aware of the difficulties of identifying the all-too-human church with Christ. He is clear that while the church is the body of Christ, Christ must also be distinguishable from the church. According to Owens, Bonhoeffer can, by way of Chalcedon, hold that “in the church itself is Christ’s adoption of humanity, without any confusion between the divinity and the humanity.”17 Bonhoeffer, according to Owens, both totally identifies and distinguishes Christ and church through an appeal to “natures.”18

Instead of conceiving of the space between Christ and the church through an understanding of “natures,” I propose an understanding of participation that honors the daylight between church and kingdom around notions of “identity” seated in a temporal or dynamic ontology. Here I am following Robert Jenson (and others19), who move to make discussion of God’s identity prior to a discussion of his nature. Jenson would shift the discussion of God from “a perduring something” or “continuing subject” toward more personal, temporal, and dramatic meanings.20 The way the identity of God is known is through the narrative construals of the biblical testimonies. “To the question ‘Who is God?’ the New Testament has one descriptively identifying answer: ‘Whoever raised Jesus from the dead.’”21

Jenson’s discussion of God’s “being” moves away from a list of God’s attributes and toward a series of relational qualities of the God rendered through the narrative testimonies of Scripture. God is an event, a person, a decision, a conversation.22 These render not so much God’s nature but rather his identity. This is not to deny the category of natures, of God’s nature or human nature, but to suggest the priority of identity in participating in the life of God, and subsequently, its methodological/theological priority. This is the case simply because identity is a step closer than nature to rendering an actual person. Identity refers to a concrete person who can be “identified” as distinct from others. The first question of participation is not, “In what do we participate?” (substance, power, causation, knowledge, etc.) but “With whom do we participate?” (The One who raised Israel’s Messiah from the dead).

The first question of participation is not “In what do we participate?” but “With whom do we participate?”

Participating in the Life of God: Trinitarian Eschatology and the Practice of Hospitality

This move from nature to identity bears fruit precisely around the question of the relation of practices to participation in the life of God. Imagining participation in relation to natures leads Owens to describe only those practices that deliver a mystical sacramentalism as a real participation in the life of God: preaching, eucharist, and baptism. So, on the one side, we have the Bass/Dykstra school of thought that speaks only vaguely of Christian practices as participation in the life of God, if at all. Practices are, after all, things other people do as well, but that Christians do “somehow differently because of their knowledge of God in Christ.”23 Nowhere in the Bass/Dykstra literature are the eucharist or baptism even discussed as practices. On the other side, we have Owens, who because of his onto-theological commitments can only talk about the sacraments as practices that provide a real participation in the life of God. The shift I have described, a narrative approach rooted in God’s eschatological identity, would offer a third way that would include both the sacraments and the longer list of practices by Bass/Dykstra, all as a real participation the life of God.

While evoking eschatology as a factor in an account of practices as participation is already a step forward, in my opinion, the gains are amplified when considering eschatology from a Trinitarian perspective. For the sake of space, I want to consider briefly christological and pneumatological perspectives in light of eschatology.

Cruciform Christology

For Paul, the death and resurrection marks a dramatic turn of the ages, wherein the future realities of the new creation have broken into the present. The resurrection, anticipating the resurrection at the end of the age, is the sure sign that the new age has broken into the present. More than that, the self-giving death of Jesus displays the very power of God, a power other than that of the principalities and powers of this present age. The death of Jesus, in this view, is more than a transactional event whereby sins are forgiven. Rather, it is a reality in which we participate. This is notable in Paul’s autobiographical texts, which feature the language of participation. “I am crucified with Christ” (Gal 2:20). “I want to know Christ, and the power of his rising, share in his sufferings and conform to his death” (Phil 3:10). “For while we live, we are always being given up to death for Jesus’ sake so that the life of Jesus may be made visible in our mortal flesh. So, death is at work in us, so that life may be at work in you” (2 Cor 4:11–12).24 Statements like these are what Paul indicates by the phrase, “in Christ.” He is participating in his cruciform identity.

No one has written more persuasively about the cruciform shape of Pauline faith than Michael Gorman. Gorman views cruciformity as more than just an imitation of Christ but as an actual participation in the life of God. For this to be an actual account of participation would require that the shape of God’s life be cruciform, which Gorman finds in various places, particularly in the Christ hymn of Philippians 2. Kenosis is not simply something Jesus did but is an expression of who God is, possessing a self-emptying life for the sake of others.25 Gorman, in fact, claims for Paul an understanding of salvation as theosis, defining theosis as “transformative participation in the kenotic, cruciform character of God through Spirit-enabled conformity to the incarnate, crucified, and resurrected/glorified Christ.”26 For biblical authors, like Paul, participation in the arc and movement of the dramatis personae Dei,27 is an actual participation in the life of God precisely because God inhabits the space created by this movement.

So, we participate in the cruciform life of God through practices that are kenotic or self-giving. Narrative practices conforming to the identity of God established eschatologically in the power of the crucified one, therefore, constitute a participation in the very life of God. Jesus, as the second Adam—the firstborn from the dead and progenitor of a new humanity fit for the realities of the coming age—makes available to us God’s life in human form, or practice. The Spirit of God—the Spirit of the risen one and agent of the future glory of God—empowers the eschatological people of God to share in Christ’s life in anticipation of the coming new creation.

We participate in the cruciform life of God through practices that are kenotic or self-giving.

Advent Pneumatology

This brings us to a consideration of the Spirit from an eschatological perspective. Since Moltmann’s epochal The Crucified God,28 the Spirit has frequently been identified as the agent of God’s coming future. The Spirit, for Moltmann, does not bring about the consummation of history (futurum) but rather a deliverance from history as the Spirit works as the agency for the coming future of God (adventus).29 Jenson refers to the Spirit as “the End of all God’s ways . . . because he is the Power of the divine future.”30 The pouring out of the Spirit in Acts 2, therefore, is a sign that the future Day of the Lord has become effectively present.

Michael Welker provocatively refers to the Spirit’s effective, eschatological presence as a “force field,” through which we participate is the Spirit’s life, in “valid, liberating, and liberated life.”31 Welker’s notion of the Spirit as force field rescues the Spirit from overly individualistic conceptions—the Spirit working only for the benefit of the individual. The Spirit of God, more characteristically, creates spaces in which the cruciform power of God works for redemption, justice, and liberation, working not just within people but among and between people—even in and through creation.

Hopefully, I have given enough description to establish both a cruciform christology and an advent pneumatology as eschatological and participatory, creating the possibility that Christian practices participate in the life of God. I would like to end the paper with an exploration of hospitality as a preeminent missional practice, largely determinative of missional vocation and identity, that bears the possibility of participation in the life of God.

Hospitality

When coaching congregations to practice hospitality, we certainly mean they should provide room for others when they venture into “our space.” You should treat visitors well. We emphasize more, however, the capacity to participate in God’s hospitality in other people’s space. Part of this is due to the missional critique of Christendom that claims the “if you build it, they will come” days are largely over. Congregations in a new missional era will have to increase their capacity to form relationships apart from their own privilege—a kenotic move. This commitment is embodied in year one (of a three year process) in the practice of Dwelling in the Word, in which Luke 10 is used and participants are invited to share with a “reasonably friendly looking stranger” (a member of the congregation they may not know as well) and “listen them into free speech.”32 The act of attending to the other as stranger is hospitable. Luke 10 is chosen precisely because it depicts God’s hospitality occurring on other people’s terms. It depends on finding “people of peace.” God’s hospitality often takes place away from home in Luke-Acts: for example, Zacchaeus, Cornelius, Lydia, the jailer. Often, these encounters are arranged by the Holy Spirit.

Congregations…will have to increase their capacity to form relationships apart from their own privilege.

In the second year of our process, we invite congregations to “plunge” into their communities to find “people of peace.” We encourage them to shed paternalistic notions of mission attached to the prepositions “to” and “for,” and instead to go expecting God’s hospitality under the preposition “with.” This shift in prepositions is itself a foregoing of privilege in anticipation of the Spirit’s ability to create liberated and liberating space between and among people. It embodies both a cruciform christology and advent pneumatology.

Hospitality is an example of the practices that bear the conditions of possibility for participation in the life of God. Others have helpfully pointed to the centrality of hospitality to being Christian,33 but few if any discuss it as participation in the life of God. I believe that moving the possibility of participation from a substantialist to a narrative ontology, with the attending move from “nature” to “identity,” frees the necessary space to explore hospitality and other practices more explicitly as real participation in the life of God. The integration of belief and practice in this way, moreover, would highlight missional theology’s own unique contribution to broader theological conversations. If theology is not simply thinking the faith within certain categories (e.g., Trinity, christology, eschatology, etc.) but instead is concerned first with naming the missio Dei contextually, then theology must necessarily be done within practices that promise participation in the life of God. Seen this way, theology itself is a practice, and the congregation is its primary location and agent. Apart from wedding practices and participation in this way, missional theology loses both its unique place in the larger theological enterprise and its ability to help congregations reimagine their lives.

Dr. Mark Love is Director of the Resource Center for Missional Leadership, Dean of the School of Theology and Ministry, and Associate Professor of Theology at Rochester College. Mark served congregations in Texas and Oregon full-time for 17 years before finding his place in the academy. In addition to teaching courses in evangelism, missional ecclesiology, and congregational transformation, Mark works extensively with congregations pursuing missional innovation.

This paper discusses the fact that the notions of missio Dei and missionality have for decades been intimately connected to the Trinity and to Trinitarian theology, but Churches of Christ have been little impacted by this connection. This is due to the relatively distanced position of Churches of Christ from both missionality and Trinitarian theology. In response, the specifics concerning a void with respect to Trinitarian theology in Churches of Christ need identification and attention so that this theological lacuna may be filled, leading to missional possibilities for Churches of Christ. Then, given their history and ethos, what are the ways in which the connection between missionality and Trinitarian theology could and should specifically manifest itself in Stone-Campbell churches overtly expressing a Trinitarian theology?

Although missio Dei has been understood and applied for over sixty years, the turn of the millennium has witnessed a widespread popularizing and proliferation of missionality among not only mainline denominations but also among those typically counted as evangelicals. In fact, in the same way that both the post-World War I era and the second half of the twentieth-century each became known for their respective key theological paradigms, one of the theological moves for which the earliest part of the twenty-first century will be known is the widespread popularization of missio Dei and missionality. Several theological perspectives—those oriented toward social justice, N.T. Wright’s this-worldly eschatological perspective and his contribution to what has become known as the New Perspective on Paul, postconservativism, the acquiescence of a Western, industrialized bias to a global perspective concerning church and theology, the resiliency of Barthian theology—have received attention at the beginning of the current century. Along with these noteworthy concentrations, missio Dei and the missional church are greatly contributing to contemporary theology and the ministry of the contemporary church.1

The identification of missio Dei as a significantly relevant advancement within Christianity and the embracing of missionality by denominated Christian fellowships and their individual churches, ministries, and theological and ecclesiastical instructional centers has come at different rates. Mainline denominations in North America and the state churches of Europe began applying missio Dei decades ago;2 some evangelicals in North America are yet to make its acquaintance.3 Indeed, it makes sense that where there is essential correspondence between, on one hand, the basic theology of any segment of Christians interested in expanding the influence of Christ and his kingdom and, on the other hand, the theological roots of missio Dei, there would be a readier acceptance of missionality. And, of course, when the theological ethos of any grouping of Christians stands removed from those elements that comprise the theological identity of missio Dei, missionality is likely to be received more slowly and with less enthusiasm.

After a brief glance at the presence of theologically centered ministry and missio Dei among a cappella Churches of Christ,4 the following will focus on one central theological foundation for missio Dei—the doctrine of the Trinity—and the potential impact of the Trinitarianism (or lack thereof) of the Churches of Christ on the embracing of missionality by this fellowship of Christians. If the doctrine of the Trinity is central to missio Dei, then ​reception and application of Trinitarian doctrine among Churches of Christ ​should decisively shape ​their ​missionality.

Trinitarian doctrine ​should decisively shape ​the ​missionality of Churches of Christ.

Theologically Centered Ministry and Missio Dei in Churches of Christ

There is a sense in which the ministry and mission of Churches of Christ have always been theologically motivated. In typical Restorationist thought, the mission of the contemporary church should center on emulating the mission of the primitive church, which in turn emulated Christ. The Christ-directed mission derived from scriptures like Matt 4:19, 23; 28:18–20; Luke 4:18–21; Acts 1:8, or from a host of other biblical passages has compelled the church to go into all the world with the good news of Christ. To minister to the unfortunate ones and preach the good news about what God has done in Christ is to participate in the Father-originated ministry and mission of the Son through the presence and power of the Holy Spirit. And of course the biblical example of Jesus has significantly figured in the mission of the church, which exists “to seek out and to save the lost” (Luke 19:10) as Christ did.5 The church is called to wash one another’s feet in response to the example set by Christ (John 13:14) and to love one another just as they have been loved by him (John 13:34). God sent the Son into the world not to condemn the world but to save the world (John 3:17), so the church responds by attempting to achieve the same.

Where Churches of Christ have emulated the ministry of Christ, their efforts amount to being a theologically motivated ministry. The concept of missio Dei may be only recently known among some in Churches of Christ, but it is not as if there has never been a connection between ministry conducted in Churches of Christ and the mission of God through Christ and Spirit in the world—even including the existence of some ministries, operating now for decades, that possess a decidedly social-justice orientation.6

Additionally, that there has been within Churches of Christ during the last four decades, or so, significant theological and ecclesiological change in areas that have been linked by missiologists and missional theologians with missio Dei partially explains why there has been some acceptance and application of missio Dei and missionality by Churches of Christ. This major theological refocusing and renewal has included a move from ecclesiocentricity to theocentricity (actually, to a specifically more Christocentric focus).7 It has formulated a greatly altered conception of the gospel (attendant with the newly Christocentric focus) that accentuates God’s role in saving us and the transformation of all creation through Jesus, rather than on the steps of salvation that are the biblically required believer’s response to what God has done.8 There has been a recognition of the universally effective, dynamic character of the kingdom (as opposed to viewing as identical the kingdom of God and the visible church), combined with an acceptance of an “N. T. Wright-like” concern for the renewal of all creation, and positive affirmations of the role of the Holy Spirit in the mission of the church.9 There has been an ever broadening conception of where the church’s efforts should impact the world for the gospel, so that domestically and internationally Churches of Christ find themselves going out not just to evangelize but to bring God’s healing presence.10

Further, although there has always been a great interest among Churches of Christ in the advancement of the gospel and Christianity among the unchurched, there has occurred in the last few decades a much needed relaxation among Churches of Christ of interest in converting those who are part of another Christian fellowship to the “Church of Christ” way of looking at the gospel and church. This has been an attitude that unfortunately dominated much of the domestic evangelism and international missions efforts of Churches of Christ for much of the previous 75 years. A number of Churches of Christ, then, have completely altered the basic orientation of their ministerial focus. They more frequently than in the past possess the revised goal of reaching with the impact of God’s in-breaking kingdom those hurting ones who both remain apart from Christ and those who endure the suffering of being in a broken world far from God. Ministerial priorities include the creation of new ministries oriented toward social justice and a reorientation of the evangelistic efforts of Churches of Christ toward those who really do stand apart from the influence of Christ and God’s reign in the world.11

All this to say that the concepts of theologically driven ministry or of missionality have not fallen on deaf ears among Churches of Christ. In fact, to cite one place of recent, specific influence, the connection of Mark Love (now Dean of Theology and Ministry at Rochester College in Rochester Hills, Michigan) with the Gospel and Our Culture Network and his efforts at promoting missionality within Churches of Christ have been effective and are expanding. It is significant for Love’s work (and for several others) that since the 1980s, or so, many in Churches of Christ are no longer convinced of their exclusive status as the singular body of Christ. As a result, ministerial practitioners and theorists have felt a new freedom to collaborate with those from other theological and ecclesiastical traditions. This is especially significant in the case of discussions regarding missio Dei and missionality in light of the fact that these central concerns for mission and ministry, present in missiological discussions among theologians and missiologists of mainline denominations and those linked to the World Council of Churches for over half a century were, until the 1990s, unknown to or largely ignored by missiologists and practitioners in Churches of Christ. Expanding openness in Churches of Christ to the missional theorizing of others has fortuitously coincided with the revivification and popularizing of missio Dei and the rise of missional church thinking among missiologists in North America, meaning that collaboration regarding missionality between those in Churches of Christ and those at the center of the missional church revival has in some quarters easily occurred.

Trinity, Missionality, and Churches of Christ

The modern day theological and historical roots of missio Dei and the missional church have been carefully researched and discussed. The origins of missio Dei applied in the contemporary context go back first to the work of Karl Hartenstein and the crisis of German missiology occurring in the first half of the twentieth-century.12 In a series of articles beginning in 1928, Hartenstein argued for the missionary existence of the Christian community by grounding mission in the sending of the Son into the world by the Father and the eschatological expectation of his return following his ascension. He used the expression missio Dei in a 1934 article to describe the proper impetus for the nature of the missional church.13 For Hartenstein, the church and its commission from God, rather than God’s immanent nature as Triune being, is the primary locus of missionary agency. Thus, although John Flett dissociates from Hartenstein’s work a specifically overt grounding of missio Dei in the Trinity, missionality is no accident or sidebar in Hartenstein’s theology.14

Nonetheless, the exact roots of a connection in our era between Trinitarian doctrine and missio Dei are disputed. For example, David Bosch implies that the roots are Barthian, saying that

indeed, Barth may be called the first clear exponent of a new theological paradigm which broke radically with an Enlightenment approach to theology…. His influence on missionary thinking reached a peak at the Willingen Conference of the IMC (1952). It was here that the idea (not the exact term) missio Dei first surfaced clearly. Mission was understood as being derived from the very nature of God. It was thus put in the context of the doctrine of the Trinity, not of ecclesiology or soteriology. The classical doctrine on the missio Dei as God the Father sending the Son, and God the Father and the Son sending the Spirit was expanded to include yet another “movement”: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit sending the church into the world. As far as missionary thinking was concerned, this linking with the doctrine of the Trinity constituted an important innovation.15

In response to Bosch and others, John Flett argues persuasively that it was not Barth but Paul Lehmann, H. Richard Niebuhr, and F. W. Dillistone—with help from Lesslie Newbigin—who were responsible for lending to Willingen a link between missio Dei and the Trinity. Lehmann, Niebuhr, and Dillistone were part of the North American commission who between 1950 and 1952 prepared what is commonly known as the American Report, a preliminary document prepared in advance of the Willingen conference. Although the commission did not meet with the express intention of drawing a connection between Trinity and mission, this constituted one of its major premises. It directly influenced the final report for Willingen, drawn up by Newbigin.16

While the exact origins of the link between Trinity and missio Dei are important, what is most important is that this connection was indeed made. When Trinity is the impetus for the church’s mission, mission is not primarily something for which the church is responsible, as if mission is a church-centered, church-originated concept. Rather, mission is what God is and does in inviting and empowering the church to join in with what he himself is and is doing. The church is not first a sending institution but is a people sent by God to fulfill his mission, which coincides with his own nature as Trinitarian sender and Triune sent ones. In this it is God’s Trinitarian character and activity that is most decisive, casting the shadow of his immanent nature over all that the church does for the kingdom of God.

Apart from the reality that there are issues concerning the specific impact Trinity has and should have on missionality, our concern here is the very limited way in which Trinitarian doctrine impacts missionality within Churches of Christ.17 The problems/needs are at least threefold. First, there is a need for increased theological depth and reflection by those in Churches of Christ with reference to the theological underpinnings of their ministerial efforts, including consideration of the bases on which they have been impacted by missio Dei. Second, there is the struggle Churches of Christ face with respect to their Trinitarian orientation. They need to become explicitly Trinitarian. Third, there is a void within Churches of Christ regarding the structures needed for effectively fostering theological and ministerial change, including helping Churches of Christ be both explicitly Trinitarian and Trinitarianly missional. I will address each of these in turn.

Churches of Christ need to become explicitly Trinitarian.

The Need for Theological Reflection Regarding Ministry

Historically, the ministries of Churches of Christ have been shaped by their restorative stance, whereby they have attempted to replicate the ministerial forms of the earliest Christians. In some respects this has been advantageous in that the primitive church was essentially theologically driven with respect to its ministering efforts and focus on mission. The consistent witness of the New Testament is that the apostles and other early Christians were driven by God’s history with Israel and their connection to Israel, by their Christology, by their acknowledgement of the Spirit’s presence, by how they conceived the kingdom of God, by agape, by their vision of the church as the chosen people of God, by their notion of koinonia, and by the renewal of all creation. To the extent that Churches of Christ have replicated the primitive church’s theologically driven ministry, their cooperation with God as he works for kingdom transformation has been noteworthy.18

However, the biblical primitivism that has been so much a part of the ethos of Churches of Christ has not always served them well. Too often the forms of the primitive church have been viewed as the end goal. Replication of external forms was thought a crucial and decisive element in making for biblical ecclesiology, without those in Churches of Christ seeing the need to connect ecclesiastical forms (e.g., ecclesiastical polity, ecclesiastical mission, ecclesiastical service to the world, ecclesiastical relationship to political and social structures) to core theological foundations.19 This is changing, and it would not be wrong to say that this is rapidly changing, especially in larger churches in urban locations and in places where church leadership has made a point of exploring the relationship between their ministerial effectiveness and the extent to which their ministries are driven by the dominant theological themes of the Bible.20 But there remains a need for a much broader application of theology to the church’s ministry, including the need to see the very nature of God and his key Trinitarian activities directly related to the church’s practice.

It was noted above that there has been in Churches of Christ some acceptance of missio Dei and the concept of missionality, and, as noted, this has much to do with the progress made in recent decades as many in Churches of Christ have exercised their autonomous theological and ecclesiastical freedoms and made much-needed theological changes that run parallel to missio Dei. However, I wonder if at this point the theological parallels have been often serendipitous rather than intentional. Churches of Christ have become more theocentric, less ecclesiocentric, more Christocentric, more kingdom oriented, and so forth, but my impression is that this was not explicitly done in order to reflect missio Dei, even if these moves have been made with a view to becoming more theologically centered. This raises a question: if missio Dei were intentionally given a greater priority among factors affecting ministry in Churches of Christ, would it not enhance the extent to which our churches would be both theologically and biblically centered? Is there not room then for deeper and more pointed reflection regarding the specific theological factors that would raise the profile of missio Dei in Churches of Christ? This would especially be the case if a Trinitarian turn was included as part of reflection upon missio Dei in Churches of Christ. As seen below, because of the disparagement of overtly Trinitarian doctrine within the Churches of Christ, there has been little opportunity for the Triune God qua Triune to directly and overtly influence mission within Churches of Christ. I suggest that this reality be changed and that Churches of Christ give due attention to the Trinity as the primary foundation on which their efforts at being missional should be grounded.

Churches of Christ and the Trinity

While many Churches of Christ have been quite open to the progress of missionality and missio Dei, there is at least one place at which their own theological infirmities will continue to hinder both their theoretical contributions to the missional church discussion and their applications of missio Dei to the praxis of missionality. This is in reference to the merely implicit nature of the commitment of Churches of Christ to Trinitarian theology.21

The history of thought within Churches of Christ demonstrates that they, along with their sister fellowships in the Stone-Campbell Movement, have generally been orthodox Trinitarian in their theological orientation. Although there have been exceptions, Restorationists have generally implicitly believed in the Trinity in a way that corresponds with historic, orthodox Christianity.22 However, there is a long history in Churches of Christ of a hesitancy to use traditional Trinitarian language in expressing their beliefs about the Triune God. In Churches of Christ, Trinitarian theology has been largely understated (or not stated, at all!), and it certainly has not been overtly influential in individual churches, having little impact on either theology or ministry in Churches of Christ. Although in recent decades, as mentioned above, a Christocentric influence has significantly impacted the thinking, preaching, teaching, and practice of many in Churches of Christ, historically Trinitarian doctrine has not been a shaping force with respect to either doctrine or practice.23

The lack of impact of Trinitarian theology on ministry within Churches of Christ stems from the approach taken to the Trinity by those who initiated the Stone-Campbell Movement. Although essentially Trinitarian, Thomas and Alexander Campbell (especially Alexander) were hesitant to speak or write about anything they perceived to require “speculative language.” In addition, relatively insignificant disagreement between the positions of the Campbells and that of classical Nicean-Constantinoplean Trinitarianism occurred when Thomas Campbell accepted a mild subordination of the Son and when Alexander Campbell raised questions concerning the eternality of the Son and the incorrectness of referring to the logos by using Father-Son terminology. Clearly one does not find in the Campbells’ strong advocacy for classical Trinitarian doctrine, even if this for the most part represents their view.24

Barton Stone, for his part, refused to accept what he thought of as the irrational, illogical, unbiblical explanations of theologians who resolved the unexplainable relationship between the so-called persons of the so-called Trinity by positing theological mysteries and by using philosophical language that was neither found in the Bible nor helpful for rationally delineating the relationship between Father and Son. With Stone there is a definite move in the direction of Arianism, whereby the Son finds his origin in the Father at a specific time prior to natural history, meaning that the Son cannot be identical with the one and only true God, who alone is eternal.25

The outcome of these early beginnings is that there has never been a strong affirmation of the Trinity within Churches of Christ, even if there has never been a pervasive rejection of classical Trinitarian doctrine. The generations that followed after the Campbells and Stone were often simply silent with respect to Trinitarian doctrine, refusing, like Campbell, to use speculative language and rejecting the creeds as authoritative—or even as valuable statements of faith—so that the Trinitarian doctrine so often at the center of these creeds was for the most part ignored.26

At the same time, the rise and then the influence of evangelicalism in North America—which coincided to a great degree with the historical timeline of the Churches of Christ—has meant that the pervasiveness of classical Trinitarian doctrine among evangelicals, not to mention the Trinitarian doctrine that has characterized so much of the remainder of Christianity, has influenced Churches of Christ, becoming the basic position for Churches of Christ with respect to the Father, Son, and Spirit. That Churches of Christ are in fact for the most part classically Trinitarian, even though this belief is implicit, often goes unrecognized, and is given little place as a foundation for the fellowship’s ministerial praxis.27

With this in view, it would seem that an overt, intentional renewal of focus upon Trinitarian theology would be quite fitting and in order for Churches of Christ, and there is little reason why it should not be welcomed. In fact, whether in conjunction with a call for Churches of Christ to accentuate missio Dei or not, the recommendation here is that Churches of Christ make explicit their already implicit commitment to a doctrine of the Trinity that is essentially in line with that found in the classic ecumenical creeds of Nicea and Constantinople. But what course should be followed in actually developing a vibrant Trinitarianism that could serve as solid foundation for missionality among Churches of Christ? How will they actually become explicitly Trinitarian? Although much more could be said, a primary attitudinal change must take place within Churches of Christ that will allow them to develop a perspective different from that of their theological ancestors, who, as seen above, were hesitant to focus on explicit Trinitarian doctrine.

Alexander Campbell and those who followed after him refused to take a stronger position on the Trinity largely because Campbell himself capitulated before contemporary events and understandings, not because he perceived that biblical justification for the Trinity was entirely absent. There was so much controversy and ecclesiastical disunity over the Trinity that Campbell concluded through his empirically considered, propositionally oriented evaluation of the biblical witness that the Bible’s language about the Trinity was insufficiently clear to develop a highly nuanced Trinitarian position.28

Part of what today makes possible a different approach to Trinitarian doctrine is that the entire climate of Western epistemology has changed, not only from what it was two hundred years ago, but also from what it was sixty years ago, bringing with it changes in the theological/ecclesiastical milieu of Christianity. There is now a freedom and a need to reach new conclusions regarding the biblical foundations of Trinitarian doctrine, and there is no longer the worry among many adherents of Churches of Christ that rampant disunity will be propagated if an overt Trinitarian stance is espoused. Postmodern acceptance of differences of opinion and the loss of confidence in foundational truth claims mean alternative perspectives can more easily coexist. In such a context, overtly expressed belief in a particular Trinitarian perspective is less threatening and less polemical, allowing for new conclusions freely to be entertained without pressure. The hope expressed here is that this will take place.

The Way Forward For Trinity-Based Missionality

What, then, should be the way forward for Churches of Christ as they attempt to apply in their contexts the ferment of missio Dei, the missional church discussion, and the assertion of a Trinitarian foundation for missionality?

Unfortunately, this is not a question as easily answered among Churches of Christ as it might be among some other Christian fellowships. Inculcating doctrinal transformation in Churches of Christ is not an easy task. They possess no denominational headquarters and no authoritative statement of faith that is bound on their churches. Nor is there a unifying, universally effective means of communicating to all churches the ferment of a discussion like one about missio Dei and its theological foundations (even if such a discussion were to take place in some context)—all in a fellowship that prides itself on the autonomy of its individual churches. The structures, then, that might allow for uniform, efficient transformation in doctrinal views are not in place. Typically, the independent, autonomous, often disconnected nature of ecclesiology in Churches of Christ means that new paradigms are communicated and inculcated within our churches with difficulty. Widely distributed publications, travelling teachers, the training that occurs in educational institutions, blogs, university sponsored lectureships, and scholarly conferences are some of the ways in which new ideas are shared, sometimes with effectiveness, but the fact is that this pattern of discussing and being influenced by new ideas is often sporadic and incomplete. As part of communicating effectively and persuasively something as dramatic a change as a new emphasis on Trinitarian doctrine, along with a coinciding focus on the impact the Trinity should have on the missional nature of ministry in Churches of Christ, Churches of Christ need to continue proceeding down a path of transformation they have already begun, exercising all of the above options for communication, and more, with the specific intention of being more overtly Trinitarian.29

In the course of such efforts Stone-Campbell churches should continue moving in the direction of replacing what has primarily, or at least often, been a concern for their ecclesiological mimicry of the primitive church forms with an interest in being theologically driven regarding ecclesiological function. For many this has now been happening for several decades. For others this will require that they ask a new set of questions regarding the identity of their churches, whereby, key loci and elements of biblical theology will receive pointed attention. This means that even before they begin thinking in terms of the influence of the Trinity on their nature as missional church, there is a need to broaden the impact on them of a more holistic view of the biblical theology. They should take their clues for how to be the church from God’s attitudes and great acts in creating and restoring his entire creation, from his interaction with Israel, and, most centrally, from a set of identifiable core theological principles, ideas, and driving concepts that comprise the ethos present in God’s saving interactions with his creation. What is God’s fundamental attitude toward all that he has created? What are God’s fundamental attitudes toward His children? What are God’s goals for humankind? What are the basic forms of relationality God exemplifies in interacting with his people and with those who for the time being do not acknowledge his Lordship? What is God’s attitude toward human sin, toward sin as an influence within all of creation, and what is it that God does in response to sin?

Further, if biblical theology is to drive the identity and mission of the church, the foundational, fundamental Christocentric turn signaled by the earlier efforts of Thomas Olbricht, Rubel Shelly, Randy Harris, Leonard Allen, Monroe Hawley, and many others needs to find continued expression and further expansion among those currently thinking and working on behalf of Churches of Christ.30 What are the core features of the personhood, mission, and teaching of Jesus? How should the central teachings of Jesus impact the efforts of the church in a culture that is rapidly becoming less Christian? How should the uniqueness of Christ and the faith he founded help Christians to respond to religious and cultural pluralism, to a world driven by social media, to issues of social justice, and to what seems to be an escalated and spiralling devaluation of what were previously identified as moral norms?

Additionally, there is a need for a deepening of the sense that the church’s mission is not to be viewed as activity that has merely originated in God but as the ongoing mission of unity and cooperation with and in the Triune God. Although Churches of Christ have followed the example of God and Christ, there has been little direct expression of the church participating in a cooperative mission with God. The church has been sent out by God as Christ was but without the mutual working with God in the mission that is part of the Son’s existence in the Father’s mission. The Son is sent, but the sending occurs in mutual participation with the Father, rather than as an isolated monarchical action. Further, the sending of the Son includes incarnational participation with those to whom the mission is directed, so that the church following after Christ will find itself participating both with God and with the world, even as it is sent into the world.

The church following after Christ will find itself participating both with God and with the world.

Finally, Churches of Christ have largely missed cooperating with and being driven by the Spirit in the mission of the kingdom of God, including missing the realization that the Holy Spirit is at the center of the ministry of the Word of God in the world. Reciprocal relations between Father, Son, and Spirit constitute the fullness of the communal, cooperative mission they share in redeeming humanity, but discussion of this kind of Trinitarian reciprocity is simply missing in a fellowship unfamiliar with allowing Trinitarian theology to directly and influence its praxis. This must change, and help in doing so can be readily found. Jürgen Moltmann’s The Church in the Power of the Spirit and The Spirit of Life together provide a vision for the impact that the Holy Spirit should play both in ecclesiology and the church’s redeeming ministry, and in both the concepts of Trinity and kingdom are never far away.31 Michael Velker’s God the Spirit advocates Spirit-fostered change, where justice, mercy, and our understanding of the nature of God conjoin to create a community where self-giving on behalf of other creatures becomes the rule.32 Craig Van Gelder’s The Ministry of the Missional Church: A Community Led by the Spirit may be the most accessible of recent works that join missionality with pneumatology, and his overview and comparison of ecclesiological models, his look at open-systems theory and organizational structures, and his theologically skillful look at the Spirit’s role in the church’s ministry would likely be instructive, even for those familiar with missional church.33

Rather than bringing to an end this look at missio Dei, missionality, Trinity, and Churches of Christ merely by drawing together a summary and conclusions, at this early stage of Trinitarian missional thinking for Churches of Christ two series of questions are in order, along with some provisional answers to these questions. First, how explicitly Trinitarian should Churches of Christ become? Hopefully, quite explicitly. Will overt, clear formulations of Trinitarian doctrine be formulated and adopted by individual congregations in a fellowship in which congregational doctrinal autonomy is still defensibly the norm? Hopefully; prayerfully. Will an explicit Trinitarianism within Churches of Christ closely follow the classically stated orthodox Trinitarianism of the ecumenical creeds? There seems to be no reason why this should not happen; whether it does or not, explicit Trinitarian doctrinal formulation is in order for Churches of Christ. Can Trinitarian doctrine be explicitly formulated, stated, and accepted in non-exclusionary ways, so that specific forms of Trinitarianism do not become the basis on which lines of fellowship are drawn? It will be the responsibility of church leaders to avoid the mistakes of the past, the mistakes which moved progenitors of the Stone-Campbell Movement to avoid shaping for themselves and those who came after them an explicit Trinitarianism. The current ecclesiastical and theological climate of graciousness, openness, acceptance, and non-judgemental cooperation in Churches of Christ should make it possible to celebrate the Trinity without denigrating the specific Trinitarian doctrinal formulations of others. Disunity within the community called forth by the being and acts of the Trinity does not have to be the excessively ironic outcome of thinking deeply about the being and unity of the Father, Son, and Spirit.

Further, it would seem that merely stating an overt belief in an orthodox view of the Trinity, although a crucial first step, will not take our churches far enough in the direction of allowing Trinitarian doctrine missionally to shape the ministries of our churches. What aspects of Trinitarian doctrine should be most decisive for shaping missio Dei as it comes to fruition among Churches of Christ? Should those interested in allowing the Trinity and Trinitarian doctrine impact their ministries focus primarily on the proclamation and revelation of the immanent Trinity, as Barth did, or on the interaction with creation of the economic Trinity34 in line with Catherine LaCugna35 and Jürgen Moltmann?36 What Trinitarian theologians should most influence the manner in which Trinitarian doctrine impacts our perceptions of the church as a ministering community created by and emulating the community that is the Trinity: Alan Torrance?37 John Zizioulas?38 Miroslav Volf?39

Whatever may be the answers to such questions, Churches of Christ need to accept and apply an overt, robust view of the Trinity and Trinitarian theology, even while they allow the real divine Trinity, the Trinitarian God, directly to impact and advance their work in the world and for the kingdom of God.

Kelly Carter has, since 2006, been the Lead Minister at the Calgary Church of Christ in Calgary, Alberta, where he also serves as an Adjunct Professor of Theology and Bible at Alberta Bible College and Ambrose University. After ministry with the Shelbourne St. Church of Christ in Victoria, British Columbia, from 1986 to 2001, Kelly attended Southern Methodist University, completing there a PhD in Systematic Theology. He also holds a BS and MA from Abilene Christian University and an MDiv from Regent College in Vancouver, British Columbia.