Everything Must Change by Brian McLaren

So begins the second chapter in Brian McLaren’s book Everything Must Change. I’m returning to the book in the second installment in the series I began a little over a week ago with my post on “Hope Happens.” As I said before, I hope you’ll pick up a copy, read along with me, and join in the discussion either here, or on the Anderson Zone Nazarene Youth Pastor’s blog, where I will be reposting this.

Summary

In chapter two, McLaren introduces the two questions he claims are among the most shaping things in his life, “introduces” being the key word. If you’re looking for many answers, or even an in depth exploration of the questions, you’ll be disappointed. That’s coming later. This chapter is simply meant to get us thinking about these two core questions:

1. What are the biggest problems in the world today?
2. What do the life and teaching of Jesus Christ have to say about them?

These are questions that McLaren feels don’t get asked enough, especially by the church. At least according to him, the Jesus portrayed by most churches is concerned with either a) how I can get to heaven when I die, or b) how can I be more happy and successful as I wait for (a) to happen. Note the emphasis on “I”. The Christ of modern Christianity is too preoccupied with the fate of individuals to worry about the world. Or so says McLaren.

These questions also lead to other questions. Questions like: Given the size and resources of the Church, why haven’t we made more of a difference in these global problems? Or, what has to change before we really start making a difference.

He concludes with the beginning of the story of his trip to Burundi – an African nation which, together with Rwanda, has been torn apart by decades of civil war and tribal violence. He notes that in the fighting between the rival Hutu and Tutsi tribes, more people have been killed in Burundi than in Rwanda.

McLaren talks about visiting Burundi at the invitation of Claude Nikondeha. Upon arrival he was invited to the home of Claude’s parents. On the way, Claude explained the proper Burundian greeting. “Then kiss my mother on one cheek and then the other,” were the instructions, “and each time whisper into her ear the word amahoro.” The word, explains Nikondeha through McLaren, means “peace.”

McLaren asks “Exactly how many times should we do this?”

“We basically do it again and again, until we feel the amahoro flowing between us.”

One wonders if McLaren isn’t telling this story for more reasons than just introducing what comes next. There would seem to be the suggestion that what we need most is to keep coming back to these questions about world crises and Jesus’ response until we begin to feel the amahoro begin to flow.

Perhaps the most insightful observation in this chapter, however, comes earlier. McLaren notes that when it comes to the problem of helping the poor, most Christians don’t know how to turn good intentions into concrete action. Because when it comes to identifying the causes for poverty and prescribing remedial action, no one seems to be able to agree. McLaren then goes on to summarize the conflicting and sometimes contradictory arguments about the causes and cures.

We seemed polarized by our ideological diagnoses of the causes and cures of poverty and even worse, we were paralyzed by our polarization, and so the poor continued to suffer – trapped by their poverty and our polarizing paralyzing arguments about poverty. (p 11)

It’s easy to read right past that sentence, especially because couched in the past tense as it is, one can easily rationalize that McLaren’s describing what used to be his problem, not ours. But sadly this isn’t a past tense problem for the church. We are paralyzed by our polarization.

A few summers ago I lead a workshop on social justice at our district’s Junior High camp. We looked at the systemic nature of evil in our world, and the fact that we can take action to begin undoing the web of injustice. The workshop concluded with some small group discussions, in which I asked students to identify how some of these systemic evils are manifested in their own local communities. I realized just how poorly I had done teaching as I listened in on one group’s discussion.

“See, it all comes from the fact that all those Mexicans are coming here and stealing our jobs,” explained one middle school participant in good talk-show host diatribe.

As long as we’re debating causes of poverty and whether or not those who are trapped by it deserve our help (after all, why should they get a bailout?) we will continue to suffer from paralysis, and the Jesus of our pulpits will continue to address our congregations as individuals rather than the world as a whole, because we, his body, can’t decide what he’s trying to say to the world.

Discussion Questions

1. How do you respond to the author’s two preoccupying questions? Have you ever asked them? Have you heard others ask them?

I read McLaren’s description of the Jesus we preach as one who is concerned largely with individuals rather than the redemption of the world and its systems with a little bit of skepticism. I wonder if sometimes we’re not painting the church with too broad of brush strokes. There certainly is a lot of preaching and singing that focuses on the individual’s relationship with God. And the affable pastors who preach in the big churches do at times seem more interested in telling us how we (read “I”) can be happy and successful than about how Christ wants to change the world through us.

But I don’t think theirs are the only voices out there, especially these days.

Yes, I have asked these questions. (I wouldn’t be reading this book if I hadn’t.) And yes I’ve heard others ask them. And I am optimistic that the revolution of hope that McLaren mentioned in the introductory chapter is gradually gaining momentum.

2. Have you heard the debates about the causes of poverty? In your current understanding, what are the primary causes of poverty?

Ask many tough questions, Mr. McLaren? Seriously, to distinguish between cause and effect in something as cyclical as poverty is really tough. Obviously, Imperialism is a core problem. Powerful empires have, from the beginning of civilization, removed resources – natural, financial and human – to fund and fuel their own endeavors. It was true of Herod the Great, over-taxing the Judeans to fund Roman building projects. It was true of the Spanish, using new world gold to fund their old world empire. It was true of the slave traders, exporting human resources from Africa to build the Americas. And it is true of us. We still go about foreign policy with an eye to what is in our immediate self-interest.

Similarly, lack of access to the basic necessities of life also contributes to global poverty. It’s hard to build a business when you have to devote such a significant amount of time each day simply making sure you have enough water for the day. Likewise, lack of access to education contributes to systemic poverty.

Add to these the challenges created by war, weather and the wickedness of humanity (crime and corruption) and you really do begin to have a suicide machine.

However, when it comes to the causes of poverty, one of the things in which I’m most interested is how often our efforts to help actually contribute to the cycle of poverty. I was first sensitized to the issue when I began studying the causes of the famine in Malawi and the way in which structural adjustments recommended by and at times even required by the International Monetary Fund contributed to the food shortage. Or consider the unintended effects of U.S. food aid on local markets. The web site Global Issues has an excellent analysis of this problem. Our government, in the interest of maintaining profitability for American farmers, buys up surplus crops. In an attempt to provide food aid, we send our surplus to third world markets, which causes the price to fall out from under local farmers. Non-emergency food aid actually impoverishes the very countries it was intended to aid and undermines their ability for self-sustenance.

Of course the theologian in me wonders if there isn’t a deeper cause. Perhaps, like the man born blind, “This happened so that the work of God might be displayed in [their] life. (John 9:3, NIV)” That’s not to suggest that somehow God actively wills poverty and any attempt on our part to mitigate poverty is an act of rebellion against his will. But perhaps the reason God allows poverty to continue in our world is so that we who are wealthy might have someone to serve.

And somehow I think if we could get our heads wrapped around that understanding, some of the paralysis by polarization will begin to fade. No longer will the question be “Are they worthy our help?” but rather “Will I prove myself worthy by helping them?”

3. How do you think most Christians today respond to the issue of poverty? Does their faith make them care about it more or less than the average person? What has been your experience with the issue of poverty as it relates to your faith?

I always hesitate to try to characterize (or caricaturize) how “most” of anyone does anything. Like a caricature, it’s too easy to focus on the idiosyncrasies and exaggerate them until the picture that remains no longer realistically represents the “average person.” That said, in my experience, it seems like most Christians care about poverty, but are relatively uninformed about the real issues, ignorant about what can be done to help, and too preoccupied with their own struggles to persistently mourn with those who mourn. And that is for the most part indistinguishable from the “average person” in our culture.

I think I’ll stop there. The final questions are about trips abroad (which in my case have had very limited contact with the poor in those places) and about watching a movie as a group. I’m interested in hearing what you have to say about these issues. Sound off in the comments below!

Everything Must Change by Brian McLaren

With those words, Brian McLaren ends the introductory chapter of his book Everything Must Change: Jesus, Global Crises, and a Revolution of Hope. And I must admit, I find those words just a bit inspiring. The emerging church has been about the business of dismantling some one the self-serving concretions of Christianity that came with its establishment as one of the major centers of power in society. There’s been a lot of deconstructing, a lot of overturning.

But there hasn’t been as much rebuilding, imagining and creating as I might hope. Pockets of creative re-imagination can be found here and there, especially within the last decade, but it’s a process that is only beigning and I have hopes that McLaren’s book will carry that reimgining forward in regard to the global crises facing our world. Constructive criticism has it’s place, but in the emerging church there are times it seems like there is far too much criticism and not much construction. I suppose that too is part of the everything that must change.

In that same concluding paragraph McClaren suggests an optimal way of reading his book: “slowly and thoughtfully . . . with some friends if possible.” Truth be told, my first time through the book was none of the above. But recently a colleague of mine, Paul Ward, invited the Nazarene youth pastors in our area to read the book together. He even set up a blog where we can discuss what we read.

And so I’m embarking on my second journey through these pages – a little more slowly, a little more thoughtfully, and this time with some friends along for the ride. I’d like to invite you to be among those friends. I’ll be posting my reactions to the reading both here and on the Anderson Zone Youth Pastor’s blog. Feel free to read along and jump into the discussion in the comments below. Let’s do McLaren proud and create a little conversation.

Now to summarize . . .

Hope Happens

McLaren begins by noting his discomfort with the conventional questions which much of Christianity finds itself focusing on.

Why do we need to have singular and firm opinions on the protection of the unborn, but not about how to help poor people and how to avoid killing people labeled enemies who are already born? Or why are we so concerned about the legitimacy of homosexual marriage but not about the legitimacy of fossil fuels or the proliferation of weapons of mass destruction (and in particular, our weapons as opposed to theirs)? Or why are so many religious people arguing about the origin of the species but so few concerned about the extinction of species? (EMC, p 3)

McLaren notes that what we really need is to rediscover the message of Jesus which is not so much a Hitchhikers Guide to escaping this galaxy but a call to citizens of his Kingdom to seek to do His will on earth as it is done in heaven. Too long we’ve used the philosophy that “This World is not My Home” to excuse our calloused inaction regarding injustice in our world, especially considering that such an idea is unscriptural.

McLaren goes on to categorize the global crises to which the subtitle refers in four broad categories:

1. The Prosperity Crisis – or the environmental collapse caused by the pursuit of wealth through unsustainable industry
2. The Equity Crisis – or the growing social gap between the rich and poor, its attendant animosity and distrust
3. The Security Crisis – or the threat of ever-increasing violence that stems from the growing animosity and distrust between the various sectors of our world
4. The Spirituality Crisis – or the failure of religion to provide what McLaren calls a “framing story” capable of redressing the issues created by the other three crises.

And it is this framing story that this book intends to pursue. McClaren claims he is seeking a “fresh vision” of Christ and his message, an understanding that Jesus came not only (or not at all) to save us from his angry Father, but rather from our tendency to act in ways that create the crises that threaten our world. McLaren wants more than “the popular and domesticated Jesus, who has become little more than a chrome-plated hood ornament on the guzzling Hummer of Western civilization (EMC, p 6).”

Such an encounter, he argues, will inspire a revolution of hope. It will lift us from the lethargy of despair and will energize redemptive activity in the world. It will help us to begin to plant the seeds of a better future for our world.

At the end of each chapter McLaren includes discussion questions to facilitate group dialogue. I’ll address those here and invite you to do so in the comments below.

Discussion Questions

1. As you begin this book, what are you most excited about? Confused or curious about? Eager to learn more about? What feelings has this chapter elicited in you?

I already alluded to this, so I won’t belabor the point here. But what excites me the most is to see the chance to move beyond deconstruction and get to rebuilding. I’m hopeful that this book will move beyond pointing to problems and begin suggesting solutions, or at least responses.

2.What are your impressions of the author? Is he winning your confidence or do you feel some of the skepticism he identified in the opening paragraphs of this chapter?

I wouldn’t mention this if he hadn’t asked, but my initial impression of the author is that he is a little smug and self-assured. From his implication that anyone who doesn’t understand Christianity the way he does is either “an angry and reactionary fundamentalist . . . a stuffy traditionalist . . . a blase nominalist . . . a wishy washy liberal . . . a New Agey religious hipster . . . a crusading religious imperialist . . . [or] an overly enthused Bible-waving fanatic” to his subtle reminders of his popularity based on the “couple hundred thousand people who have read my previous books” I find myself somewhat put off my his self-assured tone. And I find myself wondering how often I come off the same way. I’m not really skeptical of his premise – I’m already a pretty hopeful guy – I’m just skeptical of the way McLaren presents himself at times. Which surprises me — I’ve gone out of my way to hear him speak in person whenever possible, and I don’t think he’s really all that arrogant. It’s an inaccurate perception of the author based on the reading of this chapter.

3. How do you react to the summary of global crises in this chapter? . . . Think of issues you’ve seen in the headlines lately. How do they fit under these four categories?

First, I find the inclusion of the equity crises to be very perceptive. We’re quick to notice environmental breakdowns and outbreaks of violence, but to see that behind these crises is inequity is insightful. However, I wonder where the much covered economic collapse falls into these four categories. It would appear that our world’s way of doing business unsustainable, both environmentally as well as economically, so I wonder if it fits under the prosperity crisis. It seems the collapse is largely result of the desire to make money without production, and thus one more symptom of the prosperity crisis. But it would seem that any response to the crises covered by this book must now also demonstrate that they are economically feasible in this new situation.

4. This chapter introduces the subject of hope. How would you describe your level of hope about global crises as you begin this book?

My theological tradition makes a big deal about what we call “the radical optimism of grace.” So it should come as no surprise that I feel extremely hopeful about our grace-enabled ability to transform our world. Of course, typically that phrase is used to describe the hope that Jesus desires not only to rescue his followers from the guilt of their sins, but also to actually enable them to live holy lives. And it’s used by people who are typically pretty pessimistic about the world in which such a rescue takes place. But I serve a Christ, through whom and in whom God was reconciling the world, not just the believing parts of it, but the whole world to himself. I serve a Christ who came to destroy the devil’s work. And I serve a Christ who promises “anyone who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even greater things than these, because I am going to the Father (John 14:12, NIV).”

The final three “questions” relate to the mechanics of weekly discussion group meetings, something that is not quite so applicable to this medium of discussion, so I will conclude here. Again, I encourage you to read the book and join in the discussion. Leave your comments below.