I’m an Anabaptist.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not Mennonite, Hutterite, Brethren, or Amish and my name is Rozko for Pete’s sake!, but I’m an Anabaptist nonetheless.  I may have been baptized in an Episcopalian church when I was a baby, baptized again in a Church of Christ in high school when my faith became my own, ordained in the Christian Church tradition, and I may be part of a church community that is part of the Christian and Missionary Alliance denomination and work for an American Baptist seminary, but I’m an Anabaptist nonetheless.

“How’s that work exactly?” you ask.  Good question.  In fact, it’s the question behind this post which is itself the result of a conversation I had with my good friend Dave Stutzman (he’s my Anabaptist passport for those of you skeptics out there

Well, here’s my brief answer.  It works because I’m one of thousands of seminary-trained people between the ages of 25 and 35 who have been orphaned by the Christendom-shaped theology and ecclesiology that raised us.  Like many, many others, left to fend for ourselves among the cultural wilderness that is Post-Christendom, Anabaptism has provided me with the theological and ecclesiological shelter and nourishment that I needed to sustain and guide me as I’ve sought to make sense of the world and my personal and ministerial place in it. 

To be a bit more specific, as Christianity has moved (been pushed?) from the center to the margins of our society, by and large, the responses of the Church have come in two types:

1) Fight – here I have in mind the typical right-wing Christian response of scraping and clawing through powerful maneuvering and campaigning to “take back America for God” in order to regain a place of power and privilege believed to be, if not rightfully ours, God’s ultimate aim for his people.

2) Ignore – here, there is either a complete lack of awareness (especially in the South) of the growing reality of Post-Christendom or an apathetic attitude toward what is simply dismissed as an inevitability.

Anabaptism, I believe, presents a third way, a posture more faithful to a biblical (at least through the lenses of Anabaptist theology & ecclesiology) vision of what it means to be the people of God living under the reign of God in the midst of a world that, while fallen, remains deeply loved and addressed by God.  It was this humble and hopeful vision that drew me in.

My initial touch points with Anabaptism came through a handful of professors at Fuller Theological Seminary such as Wilbert Shenk (anyone else think Wilbert needs to start a blog already?!), Nancey Murphy, and Glen Stassen (though there’s a palpable Anabaptist current throughout much of the school) and some time at Pasadena Mennonite Church.  These opened me up to the world of Anabaptist theology and (missional) ecclesiology, which has worked to powerfully shape both my identity and the contours of my life.

Anabaptist theology has had a profound impact on my thinking and practice with regard to, among many other things, missional church, politics, preaching, theological education, and the Gospel.  In fact, it was these touch points and their consequent exposure to the unique features of Anabaptism that inclined me to further study with Wilbert Shenk and James Krabill as part of DMiss cohort at Fuller focused on Anabaptist Perspectives in Missional Ecclesiology.

Interestingly, the one thing that my exposure to Anabaptism didn’t do, and I suppose this might be the real point of the post since it seemed to be one of the things Dave and I talked most about in our conversation, was incline me to seek out and join a (traditionally thought of) Anabaptist congregation.  I think there are 3 primary reasons for this.

1) There are only a couple “denominationally-Anabaptist” congregations near me and they are all incredibly introverted and insular – a startling reality in light of the fact that the inherently missional dimension of all Anabaptist theology was one of the things I initially found so freeing.

2) I have experienced and continue to understand Anabaptism as a theological and ecclesiological paradigm that defies denominational hegemony.  This of course relates to the first point, but personally, inasmuch as I have come to see Anabaptism as a theological (as opposed to denominational) tradition, I actually feel like I would be close to betraying my Anabaptist convictions to not seek to live them out in whatever other contexts it seems God has and is directing me.

3) Lastly, I am surrounded by people who share my story – people who, while having no official exposure to or experience with traditionally thought of Anabaptist congregations, have discovered, through any number of different means (books, blogs, classes, friends, conferences, etc.), that Anabaptism is the theological tradition that best expresses their core convictions. Thus, I am far more inclined band together with these folks to see the Anabaptist vision carried forth and lived out across an array of denominational and other contexts rather than I am to isolate myself to one of the few traditionally recognized contexts.

The point I suppose is this, there is a large and growing population of Christians who resonate with Anabaptist theology and ecclesiology.  It sure would be awesome if those who have been part of historically Anabaptist traditions were leading the way on this, but as of yet, that just doesn’t seem to be the case.  I don’t claim to have any divine insight or wisdom on this, but I think this much should be apparent: as Christendom continues to crumble, as denominational identity comes to mean less and less, and as more and more Christians/ministers have to figure out how to make sense of the world and their relationship to God and God’s work in it, there is a HUGE opportunity for those who espouse Anabaptist ideals to speak up and lead the way.  I represent a group of people who would gladly welcome the guidance!

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Recently, an episode about the President and a real-life encounter with a jerk had me doing some personal reflection.

The President

In the show, a situation has developed in the Middle East.  A Palestinian terrorist has attacked a US motorcade, killing two congressmen and a retired Admiral, a close friend of the President.  This attack, it is suspected, is due in no small part to American support of Israel.  The suspected terrorist is then found hiding out in a residential apartment building.  Both Palestinians and Israelis are aware of his whereabouts, but neither side is willing to make a move due to their fear of how the other side will respond.

82% of the American public, the whole of congress, and the majority of the President’s staff are calling for the President to order an attack on not just the building where the suspected terrorist is hiding out, but the countries suspected of supporting him.  All parties seem willing to accept not just the obvious civilian casualties, but the certainty that this will result in further violence, so long as America, via the President, is willing to exact justice (revenge?) on the supposed perpetrators.

With blatant disregard for all these factors however, the President decides that the only way forward is to negotiate peace talks between Israeli and Palestinian leaders.  He accomplishes this by shrewdly orchestrating the apprehension, as opposed to assassination, of the suspected terrorist.

Sidenote: This is at least one of the reasons that I have opted not to vote and believe that the prospect of Christians entering into the democratic political system is fraught with difficulty.  In cases like this, to whom do you show your allegiance?  On one hand, you are seemingly obligated to execute the desires of the people you represent, who elected you to govern for them.  On the other hand, if you are a sincere Christian, you are obligated to do justice in keeping with the life and teaching of Jesus.  But I digress…

Against the advice of his political advisors and the overwhelming majority of Americans calling for blood, the President negotiates peace talks, believing that violent retaliation on the part of Americans will only play right into the hands of the enemies and beget more violence.  I was so proud of my fictitious, TV President!

The Jerk at the Grocery Store

The day after we watched these episodes, I had a meeting at a coffee shop and Amy was getting groceries.  She finished and came to pick up – all a-flutter.

Turns out that the guy behind her in the self-checkout line was passive-aggressively verbally expressing his displeasure at the fact that my wife, who had a cart-full of groceries had opted to use the self-checkout line.  He made comments about her, not directly to her, but to someone else in line.  As she scanned some of the vegetables she had picked up and had to input their corresponding codes to get the right price, he was trying to confuse and mock her efforts.  Again, all w/o addressing her, just taunting her and taking advantage of the fact that no one else was there to defend her.  Amy isn’t really one for confrontation so she just remained quiet and choked back the tears as she grew more and more embarassed.

Me

As Amy recounted the story to me, everything in me wanted to drive back there, find this guy, and beat him until he apologized.  There was this raw flood of emotion and adrenaline that overtook me and I felt like it wouldn’t subside until I forcefully dominated the cause of my wife’s pain and embarrassment.

We didn’t turn around and the feeling subsided, but after it did, I was left with questions…

Why do I react like this?

After years of seeking to internalize and cultivate a spirit of non-violence, why do these feelings still come?

Why is my first reaction to violently end the sources of injustice and oppression rather than to run to the aid of the victimized and opporessed?

At least in part, I venture to guess that the answer to these questions is that I haven’t encountered nearly enough situations in which I can put my theology to the test.  Sadly, it seems that had Amy and I been together at the grocery store, I would have gotten an even better glimpse into just how much work God has yet to do in me.

Not to discount the role of personal discipleship in this matter, I am left pondering one final question.  What is the role of the church as a community in putting to death attitudes and actions of violence in followers of Jesus?  One might wonder whether or not our disposition toward Christian faith has become so accommodating to our broader culture that we don’t even know what this might entail.

Until we do, at least we have Jed Barlett.

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Lots of voting took place here in the US the other day and both in person and virtually, I found myself engrossed in conversations surrounding, not the issues/people which were to be voted on, but the practice of voting itself.

I devoted a more focused post to this topic a couple years ago, but I wanted to add another thought that came up in the midst of these conversations.  To be clear, I’m not saying that it’s flat out and always wrong to vote.  I am saying that we do well to recognize exactly what democratic voting entails for those of us seeking to differentiate ourselves from others as citizens of another Kingdom.

One of the reasons Christians may choose to not vote is that we are first and foremost part of a community that roots its identity in what I would call an invitational politics.  That is to say, following Jesus, our fundamental political posture toward the world is to invite people into a way of seeing and engaging life that is rooted in the good news of God’s Kingdom.

The democratic process of voting, on the other hand, is anti-invitational.  It is (at best) 51% of a given population mandating that the other 49% conform to their particular political bents.

Therefore, if we are to vote in democratic elections, we must concede that we are participating in a political process which runs against the grain of God’s ultimate desire for us.

Jesus does not coerce or force people into his vision for the world.  He (and his disciples after him) live into that reality and invite others to experience it and do the same.  Like Jesus, we opt “to serve” others (and invite them to do the same) rather than “to be served” by voting our preferences so that others are compelled to obey.  Christians are those who are willing, in all matters and affairs to be counted among “the least” instead of using worldly power and influence to “lord it over” others.

There is a flawed logic at work in our dominant political vision.  It would have us believe that the future of the world and its peoples is in our hands and we therefore have a responsibility to vote to determine our future.  Sadly, this vision completely ignores the far greater reality held out to us in Scripture that God is in charge of the course of history and is at work in Christ to “bring everything under his control.”  Does this mean we just sit back and relax because God is in charge?  No!  Instead, the gospel of the Kingdom offers to us an alternative political reality and responsibilities.

In humility and weakness we die for that which is right before we ever dream of killing for it.  And we invite!

We speak with courage and boldness of the sovereignty of God and his righteousness.  And we invite!

We embody the truth we claim to believe – trusting that the truth itself and not our persuasiveness will win the day.  And we invite!

We run to the rescue of the poor and oppressed – we spend our lives on their behalf.  And we invite!

We invite, we invite, we invite!  And we pray to God that in the midst of our stumbling attempts to embody the sort of Kingdom reality held out to us in Scripture, that others see forgiveness, they see generosity, they see sacrificial living and a refusal to repay evil with evil and God draws them.  This is the sort of political reality and responsibility that God calls us in to as citizens of his Kingdom.

Looking forward to some discussion around this topic.  Let’s keep it civil and be open-minded with one another, eh?

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Here’s a few gems from Stanley Hauerwas’ interview on his new book, “Performing the Faith: Bonhoeffer and the Practice of Nonviolence.

I have argued that Christians’ first political responsibility is to be the church, and by being the church they should understand that their first political loyalty is to God, and the God we worship as Christians, in a manner that understands that we are not first and foremost about making democracy work, but about the truthful worship of the true God.

This is a deep misunderstanding about how Christianity works. Of course we believe that God is God and we are not and that God is Father, Son and Holy Spirit but that this is not a set of propositions — but is rather embedded in a community of practices that make those beliefs themselves work and give us a community by which we are shaped. Religious belief is not just some kind of primitive metaphysics, but in fact it is a performance just like you’d perform Lear. What people think Christianity is, is that it’s like the text of Lear, rather than the actual production of Lear. It has to be performed for you to understand what Lear is — a drama. You can read it, but unfortunately Christians so often want to make Christianity a text rather than a performance.

HAUERWAS: The difficulty about becoming a public official in America is that the training necessary for being a politician makes you the kind of person that can’t distinguish a lie from the truth anymore.

HOMILETICS: So politicians should not go to law school, they should go through seminary.

HAUERWAS: That would be a really good idea — a way of formation. But then, you see, one of the things that bothers me deeply about the situation we’re in is how seldom preachers tell their congregations the truth! That’s where you’ve got to start in a genuine politics.

Explanations are attempts to domesticate the wildness of God’s Spirit in a cause-and-effect model. You can’t explain God. If you think an explanation is possible, then you think that there’s some principle that is more determinative than God to explain God. One way to put it: People say, “Well how do I know that Jesus was raised from the dead?” I say, “If you need a theory of truth to explain that Jesus was raised from the dead, worship that theory, don’t worship Jesus!”

Read the whole thing here and be sure to check out the book as well.

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It’s a biblical/theological decision that has to do with conscience (1 Cor. 10:31-33) and not the candidates themselves

The longer, but hopefully more interesting answer:

As I did 4 years ago, I have toiled and prayed over this decision for months and have not come to it lightly.  But, for the life of me, when I try to envision Jesus living here and now, I just can’t see him walking into an election booth.  Others have no problem with this vision, many of them even have no problem stating for sure just which box he’d tick, but the Jesus I encounter in the gospels refused to capitulate to the political parties of his day and in trying to follow him, I am simply more interested in charting a different course altogether and inviting others along.

Tim Kumfer, in his brilliant article, “Between Sojourners and the Simple Way? Rethinking Radical Evangelical Politics in ’08 with John Howard Yoder” says,

A majority of the church in the United States still assumes that voting is one of the most meaningful ways Christians can engage themselves politically. This assumption is Constantinian; it assumes that politics for Christians is primarily about ensuring that society is headed our way…the problem occurs when we are more concerned with managing this realm than witnessing to a different one.

This mentality was perfectly embodied just the other day as I listened to a gentleman speak to a large crowd, encouraging them to vote for whichever candidate they thought would most ensure freedom of religious rights for Christians.  I find this sort of thinking to be positively debilitating to the character of the Church.  To think for a moment that the Church would believe that its ability to function had anything whatsoever to do with government protected rights is just the sort of posture that led to the utter decimation of the people of God in the First Testament.  A Church which looks to the government to protect its rights is in grave danger.

This really worries me.  Not only because I live in a place where the reality of this assumption is thicker than I have ever experienced, but because I am not above falling prey to it.

As I understand the Bible, I would say that all those who follow Jesus are given freedom to vote if they choose, but nowhere do I sense that this is an obligation. There are typically two common biblical objections to this which I will try to respond to briefly.

The first is Jesus’ command, “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s.” (Mark 12:17)  I actually think (ala NT Wright) that in classic Jesus fashion, this is an underhanded way of saying, “Caesar actually doesn’t have a right to anything since everything is God’s.  So, if you want to pay taxes (or vote or otherwise participate in government), go right ahead, just don’t forget who you are ultimately accountable to.”

Others would quote Romans 13:1, “The authorities that exist have been established by God.”  But I am reminded that secular governments, even democratic ones, are a result of people rejecting God (1 Sam. 8:7).  Not rebelling against them is one thing – we made our bed and therefore must lie in it, but assuming they have a claim on our allegiance and participation is quite another.

Not voting is a way to remind myself (and hopefully others) of these things – that it is the church and the church alone which witnesses to a new world order – which is called to put on display in the here and now what God dreams for the new creation.

A few influences.  Shane Claiborne wrote a good article entitled, “Advise Everyone… Endorse No One” that helped me to think about these issues.

As one with Anabaptist leanings, I was influenced, first in 2005, and again this year, by this article from John D. Roth, “Polls Apart.”

The words of Stanley Hauerwas in this article/audio were helpful.

As were David Fitch’s musings on, “Not Voting as an Act of Christian Discernment: Calling the Emerging Church Into a Different Kind of Faithfulness.”

Liked Mark Van Steenwyk’s thoughts here.

Finally, once again Derek Webb has come through on the bonus track of the re-release of Mockingbird (which you can get for free here), with “How Then Shall We Then Vote?”

It may very well be that my decision on this matter comes from having a weaker conscience than some others, but as it indeed is my conscience here I stand and can do no other.

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I have been positively stressing over how to construct my thoughts on the very different ways in which McCain and Obama addressed Rick Warren’s question on evil.  If you don’t know what I am talking about, check here.

Rather than attempting any sort of biblical/theological argument or position, I will simply speak plainly and try to articulate the way I felt as I listened to the 2 responses.  Perhaps the biblical/theological defense will come later if necessary.

Obama answered first and I thought, “Wow, I am not sure I am even imagine someone giving a better answer.”  He spoke to the diversity of ways in which we see evil in the world, he offered an answer that wasn’t on Warren’s contrived list (confrontation), acknowledged that final task of erasing evil from the world was God’s task, and emphasized the need to approach confronting evil from a posture of humility.

McCain answered later with one simple phrase, “Defeat it.”  My gut response to this was, “Are you kidding me?  How incredibly arrogant, presumptuous, and narrow-minded.”  In typical “We’re the United States and therefore what we say goes” sort of fashion, McCain didn’t even feel the need to qualify his answer.

To be clear, I am saying that I think Obama gave the better, and not necessarily Christian, or right answer.  What really frightens/saddens me is that so may who profess to follow Jesus think that McCain did.  I am not seeking to comment here on the whole range of political stances that each candidate takes, but let me be honest, how these candidates answered this question instantly became a big deal to me and I have no reservation in saying that if this was all it came down to (and surely it’s not), I am much, much more comfortable as a citizen of the United States following a Commander-in-Chief who both acknowledges the limitations and pervue of the government and is willing to approach issues with humility.

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“Does evil exist, and if so, should it be ignored, negotiated with, contained, or defeated?”

The clip is below, but in short Barack’s response was,

“Evil does exist, and it must be confronted, but with humility as the eradication of evil is ultimately God’s task.”

McCain was more straightforward,

“Defeat it.”

Just wondered if anyone wanted to comment on this before I try (maybe) to say something about it. The entire transcript for the forum is here (no longer available, but this links to a press release). And you can view the forum in 4 parts here.

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I came across a really cool video by David Ford last week and have been trying to listen to more of his music since then. I think he’s a great lyricist. And that includes this song, which I think offers a justifiably scathing critique of much that passes for Christianity out there. (video here if you prefer)

I hardly know where to begin in terms of unpacking what he seems to be conveying here so maybe I will just wait for some comments and go from there. You are gonna comment right?

The lyrics are here – probably my favorite line…

Come on, Jesus Christ, come back, all is forgiven. We are lost, we are lost, we are lost.

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Jim Wallis is an author and speaker who emphasizes the ways in which Jesus is a political figure, the gospel is a political message/lifestyle, and the church is a political body. IMPORTANT: Neither Jim Wallis nor I would ever say that this is ALL Jesus, the gospel, and the church are – just that they are vital, but often overlooked dimensions.

These were new and not-so-easy-to-swallow concepts for me as a student at Fuller. In ten years as a christian, and until coming to Fuller, I had never been invited to contemplate what it means that Jesus died, not an abstract atoning death, but at the hands of the Roman empire for being a political insurrectionist. Additionally, the gospel (far from being poised as a life to be lived – which has political implications) was reduced to a truth to assent to, namely, that Jesus was God and that he died in my place so I can go to heaven when I die. Incidentally, I should say that I believe this insofar as it goes, but rejoice that I have come to embrace a much more robust and holistic understanding of God’s good news. Lastly, I understood the church as little more than a collection of saved individuals, not as I do now, a community called to embody an alternative way of life – a polis with the Triune God as its Lord.

Anyway, in a recent article, Wallis discuses the way in which an increasing number of people in my generation (current 20-somethings), are “abandoning a worldview that reduces the gospel of Jesus Christ to an afterlife-oriented, fire-insurance, salvation pitch.” He claims, “These are Matthew 25, Luke 4, and ‘Sermon on the Mount’ Christians. They really believe that the kingdom of God represents God’s best hopes and dreams for this present age, not only for the life to come.”

In calling this demographic of people “the Fuller Seminary Generation,” Wallis notes the enormous role Fuller Theological Seminary has played in shaping a generation of pastors, theologians, and missionaries who don’t quite fit into traditional molds. Depending on who you talk to Fuller is either too conservative or too liberal – too political or not political enough – too rightist or too leftist. No one quite knows what to do with the school and I would say that this is to their credit as they seek to transcend conventional dichotomies.

I believe that Fuller is able to overcome these dichotomies, not by finding a balance between them, but refusing to see them as the only viable options (FYI – I think they get this from Jesus who also refused to pick sides). As my friend Sam pointed out, people like Rob Bell (maybe one day I’ll have my own wikipedia page!! jk, I don’t want one and Tony Jones are products of Fuller and I think they are doing a world of good for the state of the church in Western culture (I’m compelled to add, there are plenty of other people – non-white/male people, from Fuller doing a world of good – I mention these however because, sadly, they are still the only figures our culture tends to give any attention to – this is a serious problem!)

Anyway, here’s the point. I love Fuller and I am thrilled that someone like Jim Wallis is giving them credit for the contribution they are making to the reshaping of the church in Western culture and beyond.

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One of his most recent songs, with Caedmon’s Call, was featured the other night on Grey’s Anatomy (not originally their song). I didn’t see the show, but was able to check out the song and I have probably listened to it 30 times since then. I think it’s amazing and thought I’d share it with you.

Here are the lyrics.

how long you have traveled in darkness weeping
no rest in language, no words to speak
but there in the wreckage beneath bricks and bindings
love has come, love has come for you

against the night sky of your waiting
your face is like starlight when he walks in
everything worth keeping comes through dying
love has come, love has come for you

so lift up your heart now, to this unfolding
all that has been broken will be restored
here runs deep waters for all who are thirsty
love has come, love has come for you

ten thousand angels will light your pathway
until the day breaks fully in the East
they will surround you and make your way straight
love has come, love has come for you
love has come, love has come for you

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