We in the West must constantly seek out reminders of what real hardship looks like. Last week I was given a screener for “Paul, Apostle of Christ,” starring Jim Caviezel, who played Jesus in “The Passion of the Christ,” as well as James Faulkner from “Downton Abbey.” This biblical movie was just such a reminder, not only of what it’s like to endure persecution for the name of Christ, but of the fact that the Apostles and early Christians were real people who didn’t know they would become living legends–or even that anyone would remember their stories. (more…)
Book Review: Dynamics of Spiritual Life: An Evangelical Theology of Renewal
Lovelace, Richard. Dynamics of Spiritual Life, An Evangelical Theology of Renewal, IVP Academic, 1979
Lovelace’s book “is a manual of spiritual theology (11).” The book is a historical and a sociological overview of major renewal movements in the last few hundred years. Not only does Lovelace offer a rewarding analysis of each movement, but he also theologizes expertly in each of them giving even the most ardent critic an appreciation for the author’s labors.
Lovelace offers us a way towards revival, but also alerts the reader to the consequences of spiritual decline, what he calls “a destructive enculturation (184).” Gleaning from an almost encyclopedic knowledge of the ecclesiastical landscape, the author surveys different renewal movements and provides the good, the bad, and the ugly of each.
Most salient, it seems, is his critique of pastoral elitism (225). He concludes that the “elimination of pastoral elitism is…the principal reason for the growth of Pentecostalism…in the third world (225).” The democratization of the laity is an incentive to carry on the kingdom’s work without the over-dependence on a sole authority figure, he argues. The activism of the Pentecostal and Charismatic churches and their propensity to lead by prayer rather than by organization is what makes these movements a force in the revivalistic tradition.
Lovelace is not guilty of false prophecy since he spoke as a man of his time writing in the 1970’s. However, he would have been shocked to see the level of stardom attributed to modern day leaders in the Charismatic and Pentecostal movements of the 21st century. These churches, in this reviewer’s estimation, no longer thrive via the decentralization of congregations, but through the forceful and “charismatic” personalities of its leaders who have used the naivete of their laity to bring in millions of dollars through ungodly methods.
While this critique is unfair, since the author has not (to my knowledge) addressed this matter, it is perhaps a form of cyclical inevitability that decentralized congregations eventually fall under some hierarchical structure for good or ill.
This reviewer is inclined to see Lovelace’s analysis of cycles in various renewal movements as a way of reading current movements in the Church and perhaps offering some prophetic pronouncements to an age that has abandoned the work of the Spirit in exchange for a few crumbs under the intellectual table of pagans. The book offers a way forward, but the reader will have to digest the profound insights and biblical answers for a modern revitalization of the church of our Lord.
The author’s constant exhortation to pursue prayer as a means of bringing about change offers all of us, especially in pastoral ministry, a fresh account of the need to seek God in times of plenty or want.
Best Quote:
“History teaches us the danger and futility of fighting and separating over the ceremony that is supposed to unite us instead of living the reality it embodies.” (170)
Book Review: Rod Dreher’s Little Way of Ruthie Leming
I recently read Rod Dreher’s remarkable book The Little Way of Ruthie Leming. My expectations for the book were extremely high, as the near-universal praise of reviewers has been effusive, and Dreher is one of my favorite bloggers and writers. Reading his earlier book Crunchy Cons was uncanny: it explained a great deal of me to myself (why do my wife and I – evangelicals, Baptists, and conservatives – belong to a community-supported agriculture co-op??). The Little Way is a very different book, in which Rod Dreher explains Rod Dreher to himself. But it did not disappoint. Before I say anything else, let me get to the crux of my review: read this book as soon as you can. I have not read a more compelling, thought-provoking (contemporary) book in some time.
Some of you may know the Dreher family’s story from his blog or from other reviews, such as one at Patheos by Amy Lepine Peterson: as Dreher and his family endured the tragic death of his beloved sister Ruthie from cancer, they decided to move back to Rod’s hometown of St. Francisville, Louisiana. It was a move for community and love of family. They wanted to help raise Ruthie’s daughters in her absence, and to help take care of Rod’s aging parents. They wanted to dwell among the remarkable family and friends who rose up to bless and honor Ruthie as her health declined. Although they had made friends in the big cities of Dallas and Philadelphia, they had found no community like St. Francisville.
Not that Dreher paints a rose-colored picture of his hometown, or even his relationship with his sister, which was loving but fraught with classic tensions between the carefree, self-sacrificing sister who devoted her life to that hometown, and the bookish, angst-ridden brother who could not wait to get out. That tension is one of the critical themes of the book: our culture celebrates the global, the technological, the place-less. But life in community – the kind that brings comfort when you’re dying of cancer – requires place, history, family, and settledness. Settledness that sticks even in the midst of frustration and despair.
This is the first main lesson of The Little Way: the importance of making decisions for place and community. I have now lived in Waco, Texas, for eleven years, and it is the longest I’ve ever lived anywhere (we moved a lot when I was growing up). We’re just starting to feel like we’ve got a few roots here. Reading this book made me appreciate the value of having been in a church for eleven years, a house for eleven years. It’s made me think about the prospect of my children growing up in the same place their whole childhood, and having a place that is, without question, their “hometown.”
The second main lesson is the purposefulness of suffering. Ruthie’s death was shocking and incredibly painful – spiritually, emotionally, and of course physically – and Dreher does not hold back in his depictions of how his family grieved through her travail. (I defy anyone to read this book without weeping repeatedly.) But good things came out of her death, including charity, blessing, and reconciliation, that would not have happened otherwise. If you, like me, have experienced unexpected death in your family, you will find this book phenomenally helpful and redemptive.
I hesitate to raise any critical questions about the book, but I do think that some readers will find aspects of The Little Way unsatisfying. Most notably, the church, and the specifics of Christian belief, are very much in the background, and in a book on death, that is a little troubling. Perhaps the tension has to do with me being an evangelical, Rod being Orthodox (an adult convert), and Ruthie being United Methodist. Nevertheless, some Christians reading the book may realize that while they do not live in their hometown or have a tight-knit kin network, they have found true community, perhaps the most authentic community of all, in the ekklesia, among the called-out ones of the church.
I think of wandering Abraham, who left his home and lived in tents in the promised land because “he was looking forward to the city that has foundations, whose designer and builder is God.” [Heb. 11:10] That’s the permanent hometown. Any place can feel like home if you have a good church. But this is not a either/or proposition – being rooted in your church and your broader earthly community are hardly exclusive.
Also, while remarkable spiritual experiences and divine manifestations populate the book (again, some Protestant readers might get nervous!), Dreher almost celebrates the non-theological, practical orientation of Ruthie’s faith (a faith which was clearly substantial and marked by spiritual fruit in the form of relentless acts of mercy, service, and charity). Some will wince when Rod describes her convictions this way: Ruthie “believed God existed, and loved us, and wanted the best life for us, though not necessarily the easiest life. That was all Ruthie knew about God, and all she wanted to know.” I suspect this is not literally true – did she read the Bible, or know and believe the Apostles’ Creed? God has made himself known to us, through the Word and the incarnation of Jesus. Not wanting to know more about God, then, is a bad thing. Doctrine and practice are not at odds in biblical Christianity.
But I quibble. Read this book – read it with a friend or family member. You’ll want to live differently when you do.
