Zach Hoag Is Uncategorized
In 2008, NT Wright appeared on the Colbert Report to promote his popular book, Surprised by Hope.
This was a pivotal moment for me and for our embryonic missional community, the community that would become a church called Dwell. That is to say, from the beginning we were cutting our teeth on a theology. We were theologically inclined. We were basically obnoxiously nerdy. Our first study track as a freewheeling living room community was Romans with Wright’s epic commentary as our guide.
Also, from the beginning we were rather preachy. We really never had a category for totally open study or Quakerish, leaderless “everyone hath.” We were inclusive of everyone present, asked questions and gleaned input, but I do know that we annoyed a few people because we seemed to dig heady content and weren’t afraid of monologue. If that was unintentional at first, it has become highly intentional now, although our current rhythm of larger and smaller gatherings allows for less monologue in the smaller expressions (expressions we call “dwellings”).
The point, though, is that there has always been a point. There has always been a vision. We have been writing our vision since day 1, making it plainer and plainer. And sometimes, this chafes against the concept that many folks have of “missional.”
This is where we find a connection to the last post. When missional is relegated to form, whether relevant megachurch or embedded microchurch – and especially the latter – theology suffers, becoming secondary at best and incidental at worst. One of the common refrains in some circles claiming to be missional is “timeless message, timely methods” which is not in itself wrong until you realize what it means: no real thought need be given to a timely theology.
But wait a sec. Isn’t timely theology inherently bad? I mean, isn’t that, like, the definition of heresy? Answer: Totes no! The truth is, theology itself must be timely; not novel, not artificially relevant, but an ongoing enterprise in the hands of faithful scholars (I mean people who are alive right now or only recently deceased) which then gets into the hands of practitioners who build structures and movements out of it. And the goal of good, timely theology is always to dig deeper into the ancient, historic contexts and meanings, so that, with the vast gap of hermeneutical distance in place between 1st and 21st centuries, communities may begin to live into the same narrative with creativity, innovation, and Spiritual power.
On the contrary, what is bad, what is, dare I say it, heretical, is the tendency to enshrine theological systems simply because they were built by dead men. This is my main objection to the objection often leveled against me, that I and my community could not have anything valid to add to the systems built by Luther and Calvin, or Warfield and Machen, for that matter. But who are Luther and Calvin? Scholars in a timely theological enterprise for the 16th century. Arbitrary revisionism (it’s lame because it’s old) is ridiculous, but scholarly revisionism (the old monk Luther got it wrong because he wasn’t old enough, like 1st century old) is utterly necessary.
I firmly believe, to use the Reformer rhetoric, that the missional movement (and maybe even the Christian movement) will stand or fall not on leadership terminology or the kinds of spaces people gather in, but on whether or not a timely theology is the driving force behind it. Formal or structural strategies become quite nearly irrelevant when a timely theological project is underway. Praxis is a natural outflow of the theological project flowering within communities of faith.
Again, this is not to say that the form a community takes is unimportant but merely that it is almost irrelevant as a focus in the missional pursuit. The form will come, and it will come naturally and necessarily. The form will be appropriate to missional meaning. But missional meaning – a missional theology! – is always the point.
The question before us, then, is simply, What does a missional theology look like? That is, What are the theological underpinnings of missional? What are its markers?
Because this is a blog post (that’s getting too long), I’ll sum it up under three headings with both simple and complex subpoints:
[1.a. Incarnation – see part 4.]
1. Covenant
Simply, missional theology is a relational theology; God is a God for people (see Bosch) who is actively seeking relational engagement with the whole world through Jesus (and his people). The complexity is this: when covenant defines and structures theology (instead of, say, “individual salvation”), the entire vision of God’s character and nature fundamentally shifts; he is a Covenant God, and his fundamental direction is outward. Over and against the simplistic self-glorification-through-salvation motif in Reformed theology, there is a layering, overlapping, overflowing covenant relationship in the Trinitarian love that is both creating and re-creating the world. This is how God is glorified; this is how worship happens; as both the pre-fall and fallen cosmos are embraced in the covenant faithfulness of God. The covenant to which a missional theology always hearkens back is the Abrahamic covenant – that through God’s relationship with Abraham and his people, all peoples of the earth would be blessed. The New Covenant is naught more than the filling to the full of this Abrahamic one, with the cruciform reconciliation and inclusion themes of the Gospels and Epistles at the forefront (see Wright). In covenant theology, the cross is at the center because God is a relational and reconciling God, a God-for-people, oriented outward, and turning his people outward to see the world reconciled (“the particular for the universal”). And missional theology is covenant theology.
2. Kingdom
Simply, missional theology is a people-theology, not a person-theology. That is, the Liberating King (Messiah) arrived to inaugurate a kingdom movement of people, of communities – not to merely “save souls,” – and through this movement of people he intends to restore the world. The complexity is this: these communities are outposts of the domain of God which by their very life in the world give witness to the world of the shalom, peace, wholeness, & justice of God’s realm. “Witnessing” verbally for the purpose of “getting people saved” is thus a misguided approach (though not entirely ineffective); the approach ought to be for communities to live together in the world in a totally new kind of way (a sermon on the mount kind of way, see Yoder/Hauerwas) as a brand new politic (see Fitch), all for the sake of the world and as they engage the world. The community of witness moves confidently into culture believing that the King has gone before them; he is preparing the atmosphere for the kingdom to come in a tangible way to every nook and cranny of the city (see Halter/Smay). In kingdom theology, mission is everything we are and everything we do as we worship, reflect, and embody Jesus the King for the world’s sake; the church is mission. And missional theology is kingdom theology.
3. Restoration
Simply, restoration theology is a this-world-matters theology. Which brings us back to Wright, 2008, and Surprised by Hope. Instead of seeing this world as headed for the trash bin “when Jesus comes back”, we see the risen Jesus beginning to restore all things now, to be completed when this world is totally restored on the last day. The complexity is this: over and against the plethora of otherworldly and end-times theologies that have captured evangelicalism and driven evangelicals into consumeristic, uncaring, us vs. them cultural and political posturing, restoration theology is telling a surprisingly hopeful (yep) story about the world we live in and the people we live with. It is a holistic story; it is not separating people into utterly distinct bodies and souls and mandating that we prioritize spiritual needs over physical ones (because after all, the physical ones don’t matter when a person’s soul is going to be tormented forever in hell), but rather seeing them as beautiful, broken image-bearers of God in every way. Likewise, the church’s work of restoration becomes holistic, dynamically engaging physical and spiritual needs through the word and work of the gospel, allowing the Spirit to designate how word and work intertwine, interact, and correspond. And this is all Jesus-centered; as the people of Jesus go out with love, justice, and compassion in the name of Jesus, real, lasting restoration comes, and – as a natural part of the holistic work – people enter into full and unique restoration through faith in Jesus. “The fact is, where Christians restore, people get saved” (Gabe Lyons). Restoration theology is a holistic, embracing, this-world-matters theology that is always centered on Jesus.
And missional theology is restoration theology.
Well. This has gotten too long, and I’ve gotten out of hand. I’ll build on this theological focus and respond to Halter/Smay’s gathered and scattered formal suggestion in the next post!
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