Four Recent Proposals for Missional Theological Method

A Missional Method for Constructive Theology (Part 5)

So far, I have sketched my question, thesis, and working definitions of missional, and missiology. In this post, I briefly survey recent proposals for missional theological method from Stephen Bevans, Paul Chung, Stan Nussbaum, and Jason Sexton.[1. When I wrote this survey, Sexton’s book, The End of Theology: Shaping Theology for the Sake of Mission (Philadelphia: Fortress, 2016), had not come out. I will undoubtedly review it separately.]

Stephen Bevans: Missional Systematic Theology

Catholic missionary-theologians Robert Schreiter and Stephen Bevans have, for longer than anyone else, worked to develop a consciously missiological vision of constructive theology. Their now classic works, Constructing Local Theologies (1985) and Models of Contextual Theology (1992) are standards in the missiological study of contextualization, and both theologians have lived with one foot firmly in systematic theology and the other in missiology.[2. Robert J. Schreiter, Constructing Local Theologies (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1985); Stephen B. Bevans, Models of Contextual Theology, Faith and Cultures, rev. and exp. ed. (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2002). See also Robert J. Schrieter, “Cutting-Edge Issues in Theology and Their Bearing on Mission Studies,” Missiology: An International Review 24, no. 1 (January 1996): 83–92; Stephen B. Bevans and Roger P. Schroeder, Constants in Context: A Theology of Mission for Today, American Society of Missiology Series 30, Kindle ed. (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2004).] In a 2008 article, Bevans characterizes his career, patterned on Schreiter’s work: “I am trained in systematic theology and still see myself as a systematic theologian, but I do theology from a definite missiological perspective, developing into a mission or missional systematic theologian.”[3. Stephen Bevans, “DB 4100: The God of Jesus Christ—A Case Study for a Missional Systematic Theology,” Theological Education 43, no. 2 (2008): 107.] In this article, his missional development is on full display as Bevans presents the revised curriculum at Catholic Theological Union and, in particular, his class on the doctrine of God as a case study in “missional systematic theology.” The class, called “Witness and Proclamation: The God of Jesus Christ,” comprises four elements, which actually form a pedagogy for missional theological education; by the same token, they constitute the theological method Bevans imparts to his students. As the trinitarian focus of missional theology already suggests, the doctrine of God is perhaps the easiest to develop as a case study, but Bevans goes beyond suggesting that the typical missional account of the Trinity is the proper point of departure for constructive theology, or even that it is paradigmatic for developing other loci missionally. Too briefly put, he commends (1) the method of practical theology (praxis-theory-praxis), (2) sensitive intercultural and interreligious dialogue based on rootedness in one’s own culture, (3) emphasis on the priority of the mysterious presence of the Holy Spirit in history and in the mission of Jesus, and (4) a social, relational account of the Trinity that warrants 1–3.

Paul Chung: Mission as Constructive Theology

The most ambitious endeavor to develop a missional theological method so far is Paul Chung’s 2012 volume, Reclaiming Mission as Constructive Theology: Missional Church and World Christianity. He develops a richly hermeneutical and anthropological account of missiological theology with which I am extremely sympathetic:

Mission as constructive theology is not isolated from other theological disciplines, but entails an interdisciplinary implication for theology in engagement with cultural anthropology, comparative study of religion, and cultural theory of interpretation. I argue that we must reclaim mission as constructive, public theology in a hermeneutical-practical manner for the sake of embarking on innovative initiatives in missional theology. In other words, missiology as a hermeneutical-practical discipline provides an academic locus for the interdisciplinary investigation of God’s mission, the church, congregational study, and culture. It employs the methodologies of theology, hermeneutics, anthropology, history, intercultural relations, and communications.[4. Paul S. Chung, Reclaiming Mission as Constructive Theology: Missional Church and World Christianity (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock, 2012), Kindle locs. 358–63.]

Though missiology is an “academic locus” in mission as constructive theology, Chung unfortunately still characterizes missiology as “a complementary science to other theological disciplines.”[5. Ibid., Kindle loc. 395.] This phrasing fails to capture the integrative vision he otherwise holds forth, which is the critical aspect of his proposal for the present study. Chung, in other words, takes a huge step toward a participatory, interdisciplinary missional theology that is anthropologically intercultural, narratively hermeneutical, and publicly constructive. In the course of the book, though, the anthropological dimension remains underdeveloped from a missiological viewpoint.

Stan Nussbaum: Missiology as Queen of Theology

“What we missiologists are asking for is not a bigger slice of the pie, it is a total restructuring of theology as a discipline,” states Stan Nussbaum with admirable candor.[6. Stan Nussbaum, “A Future for Missiology as the Queen of Theology,” Missiology: An International Review 42, no. 1 (January 2013): 58.] His proposal begins by characterizing modern and postmodern theological models. Modern theology is a pyramid with the doctrine of God at the base, and other doctrines are the truths built on top—truths that practitioners (including missiologists) can apply. Postmodern theology is a menu of competing methods that disparately match theological constants with components of the life context. Unlike modern theology, postmodern theology does not attempt to construct a comprehensive system, because it rejects all metanarratives. By contrast, Nussbaum advocates a missional model:

The missional model of theological structure has the coherence of the modern but unlike the modern, it starts with the reign of God, that is, God’s interaction with the world, rather than God’s attributes in timeless detachment. The proclamation of the kingdom replaces the doctrine of God as the first topic of theology, and engagement with the world replaces philosophy as the standard of theology.[7. Ibid., 61.]

Whereas modern theology focuses on “timeless truths” to the detriment of narrative, and postmodern theology focuses on “timely connections” without metanarrative, missional theology is concerned with the metanarrative of God’s already/not yet reign.[8. Ibid., 62–63.] Nussbaum believes that if theologians would begin with the reign of God—the metanarrative of mission—rather than the doctrine of God or the context, “they would reconfigure their discipline, crown missiology the queen of theology, and inject mission into the heart of church identity and life.”[9. Ibid., 63.] He is aware that his caricature of the alternatives is exaggerated and provocative, but he also knows they are near enough to basic tendencies in theological method to merit consideration.

Jason Sexton: Systematic Theology as Missional Theology’s Missing Ingredient

Finally, Jason Sexton argues that “in its current shape, much of missional theology seems to be developing with an overwhelming and perplexing disregard for systematic theology.”[10. Jason S. Sexton, “Missional Theology’s Missing Ingredient: The Necessity of Systematic Theology for Today’s Mission,” Mission Studies 32, no. 3 (2015): 384–97.] This is the case because missional theology dislikes abstractions and systematic constructs, without which (properly understood) missional theology is guilty of methodological irresponsibility. Sexton believes that systematic theology actually has a missional form (the coherent shape of the gospel), a missional content (the whole gospel), and missional aim (articulation of the gospel). In short:

Theology must be understood and constructed as a missional enterprise. Mission must also not be thought of as taking shape in any other way than the way it most naturally does—systematically—accounting for all reality under Jesus’ lordship and in relation to him as the foundation of our faith. Systematic theology takes shape both whilst on mission and as part of the church’s mission.[11. Ibid., 391.]

Sexton is interested in revising missional theology systematically and not the reverse. His claim is that systematic theology is always already missional by nature. This does not take into account the history of Western theology or the particular character of missional theology, but it does put a finger on missional theology’s methodological lacuna and reiterates the fundamental question: if missional theology seeks something like a coherent, comprehensive articulation of Christian theology, how should it proceed? If it is not enough to be merely “systematic,” what constructive method might serve missional theology’s commitments?

***

All four of these proposals contribute something to the development of a missional method for constructive theology. Bevans highlights the importance of sensitive intercultural and interreligious dialogue based on rootedness in one’s own culture. Yet, what, methodologically, would be the basis for this cultural sensitivity? Chung indicates, in partial answer to this question, the importance of an interdisciplinary method. But what, specifically, do anthropology and intercultural studies offer? In my view, the missiological conception of worldview stands out among other resources. Similarly, what would it mean to crown missiology as the queen of theology as Nussbaum proposes? The competing narratives of postmodernity are irreducibly cultural. Every rendition of the metanarrative of God’s mission must inevitably confront two methodological problems: its own cultural influences and the worldviews with which it engages (not to mention the worldviews represented in theology’s scriptural sources). Likewise, any account of all reality, which Sexton identifies as the subject of a properly systematic missional theology, calls for profound cultural consciousness.

Across the board, the sort of methodological basis that a missiological conception of worldview can provide proves indispensable for the development of the truly praxeological, interdisciplinary, narratological, and systematic theological method that recent missional proposals call for. Subsequent posts will explore a conception of worldview that might serve a missional theological method.


Notes

Two Years into the Program

This fall I begin the third year of my PhD studies at Fuller.

The program has been ideal for me because of its flexibility and openness to interdisciplinarity. From within the theology concentration and the New Testament minor concentration in the School of Theology, I’ve been able to work on theological hermeneutics from various angles, including crossing into the School of Intercultural Studies (read: school of missiology and world Christianity).

It has been a blast—and exhausting. The fall quarter (yep, it’s a quarter system) is my last class before comprehensive exams. Which are as ominous as they sound. After that I launch into the second half of the program, which involves coursework geared specifically for writing the dissertation.

I guess I’ll reach the moment when I’m ready to be done, but it hasn’t come yet. Even when the workload is overwhelming, I (usually) feel shocked and a little giddy at the privilege of concentrating on theological reflection. When I was thinking about applying to PhD programs, a former teacher told me only to do the degree if I couldn’t be happy doing anything else. It’s that hard, and the financial return doesn’t justify the effort unless you’re one of the few people who can write best-selling books. Scholarship has to be a labor of love. For me, it is.

I’m looking forward to teaching, though. I’ll be a teaching assistant for my mentor in the program this quarter, in a masters-level class called “Jesus and the Kingdom of God.” Sounds good, right? Teaching assistant mostly means grading, I expect, but it will be fun to think about curriculum design and instruction in the context of a real class. One of the nice things about Fuller—and other schools too, I suppose—is that they build extracurricular professional training requirements into the program. Basically, they offer training in pedagogy. Which is good, because I’m pretty sure I need it.

There’s a lot more going on, of course—family and church stuff, writing, editing, and whatnot. But this is where things stand with the program. Pretty much, I’m loving it. The next couple of weeks are the deep breath before jumping into year three.

An Intertextual Reflection on Cruciform Leadership

Leadership not “like the nations”?

I hear a lot about “servant leadership” in Christian circles. Nonetheless, I see a lot of tacit, unexamined interest in and exercise of coercive power. For God’s people, conforming to the cultural patterns of leadership of the “nations” among which we live has  always been easy. In fact, there is no evidence that Israel ever accepted the model of kingship held forth in Deut 17:14–20. Nor, for that matter, does Christianity have a great track record for leadership that imitates Christ. It’s as though the church tends to take Jesus’s teaching about leadership in Mark 10:35–45 to be a category mistake: his example is valid for the purposes of salvation but impractical for leadership. Humble service for others may be a virtue or criterion for assigning leaders, but leadership per se is still often an exercise of power and authority that, in practice, is not confused with service and self-sacrifice.

In the imaginations of many, savior and king are distinct categories. In fact, many evangelical Christians say the problem with nominal believers is that they have accepted Jesus as “Savior” but not “Lord.” In this way, they maintain the dichotomy: it is possible to accept the gift of Jesus’s sacrifice without obedience to his rule and commands as lord of my life. The kingship of Jesus, in other words, is still about Jesus fulfilling the authoritarian role of the kings of “the nations,” in distinction from the humble self-sacrifice that qualifies him to be king. In this imagination, the narrative of Jesus’s humiliation and exaltation still ends with a position of power and authority on the analogy of existing cultural models of exaltation.

In my reading of Mark, however, Jesus is at pains to make the definition of Christ (king) inseparable from his humiliation and death (and vindication in resurrection). And this means more than that only the one who is humbled will be exalted: the sacrifice itself is the kingship; the humiliation is the glory. For John, the cross itself is clearly the “lifting up” and “glorification” of Jesus (e.g., John 12:20–28). If this is less clear in Mark, I think he has the same idea. The inversion is absolute in Mark: the servant is great, the slave is first. And this is a claim about both position and the exercise of authority—the practice of leadership itself. What the leaders of the nations—”those recognized to rule” (οἱ δοκοῦντες ἄρχειν) and “their great ones” (οἱ μεγάλοι αὐτῶν)—actually do is called “ruling over” (κατεξουσιάζω). It is with this kind of leadership that serving all and imitating Jesus’s redemptive self-giving is the contrast.

Then again, what other option is there if not analogy with existing cultural models of leadership? How else can king signify? Here we run up against perplexing issues in linguistics and ethnotheology. Now doubt, we have to start with existing models, but the question is how radically the encounter with Scripture transforms those models—moderately, completely, or something in between? In this case, I’m convinced that there is consistency in the vision: leadership imagined specifically in contrast to the cultural models that, without fail, conceive of power and authority in violent, coercive, and utilitarian terms.

Jesus is, finally, the one who embodies a kingship not “like all the nations” (Deut 17:14). I think, in other words, that Deut 17:14–20 echoes in Mark 10:35–45.

Deut 17:14–20 (NRSV)

14 When you have come into the land that the LORD your God is giving you, and have taken possession of it and settled in it, and you say, “I will set a king over me, like all the nations that are around me,”  15 you may indeed set over you a king whom the LORD your God will choose. One of your own community you may set as king over you; you are not permitted to put a foreigner over you, who is not of your own community.  16 Even so, he must not acquire many horses for himself, or return the people to Egypt in order to acquire more horses, since the LORD has said to you, “You must never return that way again.”  17 And he must not acquire many wives for himself, or else his heart will turn away; also silver and gold he must not acquire in great quantity for himself.  18 When he has taken the throne of his kingdom, he shall have a copy of this law written for him in the presence of the levitical priests.  19 It shall remain with him and he shall read in it all the days of his life, so that he may learn to fear the LORD his God, diligently observing all the words of this law and these statutes,  20 neither exalting himself above other members of the community nor turning aside from the commandment, either to the right or to the left, so that he and his descendants may reign long over his kingdom in Israel.

Mark 10:35–45 (NRSV)

35 James and John, the sons of Zebedee, came forward to him and said to him, “Teacher, we want you to do for us whatever we ask of you.”  36 And he said to them, “What is it you want me to do for you?”  37 And they said to him, “Grant us to sit, one at your right hand and one at your left, in your glory.”  38 But Jesus said to them, “You do not know what you are asking. Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism that I am baptized with?”  39 They replied, “We are able.” Then Jesus said to them, “The cup that I drink you will drink; and with the baptism with which I am baptized, you will be baptized;  40 but to sit at my right hand or at my left is not mine to grant, but it is for those for whom it has been prepared.”  41 When the ten heard this, they began to be angry with James and John.  42 So Jesus called them and said to them, “You know that among the Gentiles [the nations] those whom they recognize as their rulers lord it over them, and their great ones are tyrants over them.  43 But it is not so among you; but whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant,  44 and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.  45 For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”

In what way can Israel’s king be like those of the surrounding nations if he cannot build military might (many horses; Deut 17:16), ensure political alliances by marriage (many wives; Deut 17:17a), or garner the prestige and influence of personal wealth (much silver and gold; Deut 17:17b). What sort of king’s primary charge is to meditate on God’s will daily and refuse to “exalt himself above other members of the community”?! These guidelines break the existing models—the analogy becomes extremely thin. But it remains intact. That is to say, if Israel wants a “king,” then the very idea of kingship must be redefined. The text subverts the dominant concepts of leadership and takes possession of the word king.

Thus, as the king of Israel who fulfills Scripture, Jesus brings to life a different kind of leadership. His self-sacrifice is his exercise of authority. His exemplary obedience to God’s will is his influence. His humility is what God the Father exalts.

The use of coercive (e.g., military, political, and economic) power is not only contrary to such leadership, it is irrelevant to it. It is categorically a different thing. It is far from enough to say that Christian leadership is nonhierarchical or democratic or egalitarian. Any of these leadership styles may still be unlike Jesus’s. Certainly, some of them may be more fitting for Christian leadership than the alternatives, but that is a matter of contextualization (Jesus, for example, leads his followers initially by taking on the first-century model of “rabbi”). Regardless, neither equality, populism, nor inclusivity are at the heart of Jesus’s leadership. Rather, “the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.” Ransom—the price of freedom. Not service for the sake of humility. Not character or spiritual maturity in a vacuum. Self-sacrifice in order to lead followers out of captivity.

Christian leadership is redemptive by definition: it liberates those it leads, at personal cost.

Working Definition of “Missiology”

A Missional Method for Constructive Theology (Part 4)

Missiology in Theological Perspective

Because missiology’s relationship to the rest of the theological curriculum has been uncertain since its inception, the discipline’s definition itself highlights the a methodological question for my approach to missional theology. How does the study of mission relate to constructive theology? The historical transitions from the juxtaposition of “theology and mission” as discrete activities to a robust exploration of the “theology of mission” and finally to a “missional theology” put a fine point on the issue.[1. Darrell Likens Guder, “From Mission and Theology to Missional Theology,” The Princeton Seminary Bulletin, n.s., 24, no. 1 (2003): 36–54, reviews these transitions deftly.] If missiology is a discrete sub-discipline of “practical theology,” mission is not likely to function as a basis for theological method.[2. Wolfhart Pannenberg, Theology and the Philosophy of Science, trans. Francis McDonagh (Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1976), 357–58, 413, portrays the classic location of missiology as a sub-discipline of practical theology.] The theology of mission would likewise seem to be a single locus of constructive theology rather than a methodological crux. Hence, the emergence of missional also marks a revisioning of missiology as a discipline.[3. Craig Van Gelder and Dwight J. Zscheile, The Missional Church in Perspective: Mapping Trends and Shaping the Conversation, The Missional Network, Kindle ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2011), 35, thus include the “renewal of missiology” among the theological concepts that define missional. This does not offer much conceptually, however, and they rightly present the “renewal” as the culmination of the other five developments listed above.]

This is not to say that missiology, or even its subset “theology of mission,” is coterminous with the missional theology movement, but the major components of missional theology have all developed in the context of ecumenical missiology and are arguably indistinguishable from an account of its major late modern developments, except for one. In this regard, it is vital to note that Van Gelder and Zscheile contrast the convergence of missional theology toward missio Dei and the reign of God (represented by Newbigin) with the divergence precipitated by evangelical missiologists’ entrenchment in “classical evangelical themes of the modern missions movement” (represented by Donald McGavran).[4. Van Gelder and Zscheile, 33–36.] This is critically important for defining missiology in relation to missional theology, because McGavran also represents the burgeoning of missiological anthropology, which thrived among evangelicals in a way unparalleled in mainline missiology.[5. For a review of this bifurcation, see Robert Montgomery, “Can Missiology Incorporate More of the Social Sciences,” Missiology: An International Review 40, no. 3 (July 2012): 281–92.] While McGavran’s Church Growth Movement utilized anthropological insights in order to advance the agenda of the modern missions movement (especially cross-cultural evangelization and “church planting”), missiological anthropology quickly led beyond the reinforcement of ecclesiocentric missions to ethnotheology and then self-theologizing as the “fourth self” of the indigenous church.[6. Charles Kraft and Paul Hiebert are the key representatives here. For Kraft’s ethnotheology, see Charles H. Kraft, “Dynamic Equivalent Churches: An Ethnotheological Approach to Indigeneity,” Missiology: An International Review 1, no. 1 (January 1973): 39–57; Charles H. Kraft, with Marguerite G. Kraft, Christianity in Culture: A Study in Biblical Theologizing in Cross-Cultural Perspective, rev. 25th anniversary ed. (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 2005). For the development of self-theologizing, see Paul G. Hiebert, Anthropological Insights for Missionaries (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1985), ch. 8. Rochelle Cathcart and Mike Nichols, “Self Theology, Global Theology, and Missional Theology in the Writings of Paul G. Hiebert,” Trinity Journal, n.s., 30, no. 2 (Fall 2009): 209–21, trace the development of Hiebert’s understanding of contextualization from self theologizing to his sketches of “missional theology” in a way that is very relevant to the present study.] In other words, the major development in late modern missiology that missional theology typically ignores is theological contextualization based on missiological anthropology. While the preeminence of the majority world church is the great new fact of twenty-first century missiology, missional theology remains a notoriously Western movement. I suspect that this shortcoming is related to its construal of evangelical missiology’s “divergence” from the ecumenical consensus about missio Dei. If evangelicals are warming to missional theology,[7. Van Gelder and Zscheile, 36.] one can hope that missional theology will in turn realize the paradigm-shifting importance of anthropologically-informed contextual theology.[8. Given the rise of the majority world church, the only future for missional theology is intercultural, global dialogue in which anthropological tools such as worldview analysis are indispensable. Two good examples of such dialogue are Craig Ott and Harold Netland, eds., Globalizing Theology: Belief and Practice in an Era of World Christianity (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2006), and Stephen B. Bevans and Katalina Tahaafe-Williams, eds., Contextual Theology for the Twenty-First Century, Missional Church, Public Theology, World Christianity (Eugene, OR: Pickwick, 2011).]

In any case, aside from indicating major theological paradigm shifts in missiology, the story of missional theology’s missiological origins highlights two key aspects of the discipline’s ambiguous relationship to constructive theology: its practical concerns and its relationship to the social sciences. Furthermore, the fact that missional theology’s emergence is presently redefining missiology implies that the articulation of missional theological method will itself affect the relationship between missiology and constructive theology. Finally, postmodernity, globalization, and majority world Christianity exert pressure on missiology, which seems to find itself in a constant state of disciplinary renegotiation.[9. The last few years have been rife with discussion of missiology’s definition and role, driven not least by the American Society of Missiology’s study of the question. See Charles Fensham, ed., “Group Discussion Conclusions on the Future of the Discipline of Missiology: Annual Meeting of the American Society of Missiology,” Missiology: An International Review 42, no. 1 (January 2013): 80–86.] Altogether, this state of affairs calls for a tentative but functional definition of missiology by which my study of missional theological method can proceed with conceptual clarity.

To this end, I do not claim what missiology should be but describe, minimally, what it is. In service of minimalism, it helps to whittle away a few definitional options typical of the discipline’s ongoing self-assessment. Virtually every current definition of missiology includes an acknowledgement of its interdisciplinary nature; interdisciplinarity is constitutive of missiology. This does not, however, justify defining missiology merely as interdisciplinarity for the sake of mission.[10. Kenneth Nehrbass, “Does Missiology Have a Leg to Stand On?: The Upsurge of Interdisciplinarity,” Missiology: An International Review 44, no. 1 (January 2016): 50–65, comes very close to such a notion.] Furthermore, my working definition does not attempt to predetermine the meaning of mission (e.g., making disciples or crossing boundaries) or the scope of its concerns (e.g., theology, history, and anthropology). Meaning and scope are both liable to change precisely by virtue of doing missiology. Finally, I do not attempt to distinguish between discrete components of missiology, such as the distinction between the missiological “dimension” of all theology and and missiological “intention” of missionary training,[11. Bernhard Ott, “Mission Oriented Theological Education: Moving Beyond Traditional Models of Theological Education,” Transformation, 18, no. 2 (April 2001): 74–86.] between descriptive (e.g., historical) and prescriptive (e.g., strategic) concerns,[12. Dwight P. Baker, “Missiology as an Interested Discipline—and Is It Happening?,” International Bulletin of Missionary Research 38, no. 1 (January 2014): 17–20.] or between theoretical and practical study.[13. The very idea of “practical theology” as a separate branch of theological education is a symptom of dualism that missional theology, being fundamentally participatory and theoretically praxeological, rejects.] Any of these types of missiological work may be undertaken individually, but missiology as such exists as an integrated whole.[14. “It includes the theology that gives rise to mission, the effect of mission on theological understanding, and the interconnectedness of mission with other dimensions of the life of the church.” John Roxborogh, “Missiology after ‘Mission’?,” International Bulletin of Missionary Research 38, no. 3 (July 2014): 123.] Thus, I define missiology as interdisciplinary theological study of and for Christian participation in God’s mission.[15. Missiology is committed Christian study, therefore it is inherently theological. It is inseparably study both of and for mission: secular study of mission unrelated to participation in mission is not missiology but religious studies. Because missiology is interdisciplinary, it may be best to call it a “field” rather than a “discipline.” See Ross Langmead, “What Is Missiology?,” Missiology: An International Review 42, no. 1 (January 2013): 67–79.]


Notes

Working Definition of “Missional”

A Missional Method for Constructive Theology (Part 3)

The Meaning of Missional

It has been nearly twenty years since the publication of Missional Church, which introduced the term missional into mainstream theological discourse in North America. Equally as important, it has been nearly forty years since Lesslie Newbigin published The Open Secret, which purported to be an introduction to the theology of mission but ultimately established the trinitarian lineaments of missional theology.[1. Darrell L. Guder, ed., Missional Church: A Vision for the Sending of the Church in North America, Gospel and Our Culture Series (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998); Lesslie Newbigin, The Open Secret: An Introduction to the Theology of Mission, rev. ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1995). The first edition was published in 1978.] Despite fears among its chief proponents that the rapid popularization of missional meant its terminological demise,[2. E.g., Darrell Guder, “Missio Dei: Integrating Theological Formation for Apostolic Vocation,” Missiology: An International Review 37, no. 1 (2009): 65.] it seems safe to say that the theological movement is here to stay, and there is no word better than missional to describe it.

But what is missional theology? To begin, it is necessary to make the distinction between a description of the theological methods of Lesslie Newbigin or Darrell Guder, for example, and an argument in favor of a theological method for the movement that their work has catalyzed. To some extent, their methods are in the genes of missional theology, but fundamentally, they established the commitments of a movement still in search of a method.

Craig Van Gelder and Dwight Zscheile’s The Missional Church in Perspective definitively traces the emergence of missional, arguing that the word “displays an inherent elasticity that allows it to be understood in a variety of ways.”[3. Craig Van Gelder and Dwight J. Zscheile, The Missional Church in Perspective: Mapping Trends and Shaping the Conversation, The Missional Network, Kindle ed. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2011), 3. See also Darrell L. Guder, Called to Witness: Doing Missional Theology, The Gospel and Our Culture Series (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015), which consolidates a good deal of the material Guder has published to date.] Moreover, Van Gelder and Zscheile do not seek to foreclose on further development of the concept. Still, their genealogy of missional presents a clear picture of its essential theological components: (1) a trinitarian missiology, (2) a focus on the already/not yet reign (kingdom) of God, (3) a broadened understanding of mission as missio Dei, (4) an understanding of the church as missionary by nature, (5) and a transition from “theology of mission” to a hermeneutic of both Scripture and church history from the perspective of mission.[4. Ibid., 25–35.] Indeed, the book attributes much of the diversity among supposedly missional churches to the underdevelopment or misappropriation of these key themes. The implication is twofold: the theology of a church is missional by virtue of its appropriation of these themes, and appropriation is a process, not a result. Each theme merits methodological reflection, but for now they signal a fuller, if indeterminate, understanding of two basic commitments—teleology and participation—and circumscribe missional meaningfully.

See Also

Theology after the Missional Turn (1)

Theology after the Missional Turn (2)

Theology after the Missional Turn (3)


Notes

The Expanse Is Outstanding

The books, not the TV show. The show is fun, but the books kill.

Some of my favorite things:

  • There is a sort of realism about future tech and the nature of life in space that is often missing in scifi, which in turn gives perspective on alien tech that is exponentially advanced and basically incomprehensible.
  • The (more or less) main character is a person of integrity who manages to be intelligent and complicated but believably incorruptible. His integrity stands up to the necessary compromise and expedient evil that governs most everything else.
  • Conversely, another character gives me the same satisfaction that watching Taken did. He unselfconsciously does “the obvious thing” without hesitation or remorse. He’s a bit of a sociopath, but the way his loyalties give absolute clarity to everything else is entertaining.
  • The crew’s rapport eventually morphs them into extensions of each other, so that they become each other’s conscience and mirror. It’s an impressive rendition of friendship and community.

My Thesis

A Missional Method for Constructive Theology (Part 2)

Missional theology is a movement without a method—a movement with many methods. Born of interculturality, contextualism, and an adaptive instinct, the missional disposition entails a certain eclecticism, even a methodological relativism. Indeed, the commitment to mission precedes the question of method and judges the demand for methodological rigor and unity. This is, in fact, a dual commitment—one practical and one theoretical. The practical commitment is that of being committed to a course of action, of being beyond the point of no return—the bodily locus of having already been sent to participate in God’s mission. The theoretical commitment is that of being committed to a formal assumption—the presupposition that God’s mission is theologically primary. Missional theology is theology born of mission, theology for the sake of mission, and theology as mission.[3. I have in mind the felicitous title of J. Andrew Kirk’s book, The Mission of Theology and Theology as Mission, Christian Mission and Modern Culture (Valley Forge, PA: Trinity Press International, 1997).] Thus, it is radically participatory and radically teleological.

These characteristics circumscribe a single movement, and the exploration of the origin and basis of its commitments may yield methodological fruit. Yet, participation and telos engender methodological pluralism nonetheless. Therefore, the question that motivates this essay is how to move missional beyond the eclecticism of mere methodological inevitability toward a method capable of playing a clarifying role for missional theology. My thesis is that the missiological conception of worldview is the best theoretical basis for a missional method. Theology is ultimately about transformation, which happens on the level of worldviews, through the encounter of worldviews. Furthermore, theology itself is always the product of a worldview and makes sense to a worldview. Transforming theology[4. The phrase “transforming theology” is an homage to three works that have been seminal for my development of missional theological method: David J. Bosch, Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission, American Society of Missiology Series 16 (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis, 1991); Paul G. Hiebert, Transforming Worldviews: An Anthropological Understanding of How People Change (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2008); and Brian J. Walsh and J. Richard Middleton, The Transforming Vision: Shaping a Christian World View (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1984).]—the transformation of theology into a theology that transforms—calls for a deep methodological engagement with worldview. The missiological conception of worldview in particular offers constructive theology an analytical framework of tremendous value.


Notes

The Edomite or the Samaritan?

Reading Obadiah alongside the Good Samaritan

Most of us are familiar with the story of the good Samaritan. But there is more than one story in the Bible about deciding what to do with vulnerable travelers.

Obadiah (NRSV)

The vision of Obadiah.

1 Thus says the Lord GOD concerning Edom:

We have heard a report from the LORD, and a messenger has been sent among the nations: “Rise up! Let us rise against it for battle!”

2 I will surely make you least among the nations; you shall be utterly despised.

3 Your proud heart has deceived you, you that live in the clefts of the rock, whose dwelling is in the heights. You say in your heart, “Who will bring me down to the ground?”

4 Though you soar aloft like the eagle, though your nest is set among the stars, from there I will bring you down, says the LORD.

5    If thieves came to you, if plunderers by night—how you have been destroyed!—would they not steal only what they wanted? If grape-gatherers came to you, would they not leave gleanings?

6 How Esau has been pillaged, his treasures searched out!

7 All your allies have deceived you, they have driven you to the border; your confederates have prevailed against you; those who ate your bread have set a trap for you—there is no understanding of it.

8 On that day, says the LORD, I will destroy the wise out of Edom, and understanding out of Mount Esau.

9 Your warriors shall be shattered, O Teman, so that everyone from Mount Esau will be cut off.

10 For the slaughter and violence done to your brother Jacob, shame shall cover you, and you shall be cut off forever.

11 On the day that you stood aside, on the day that strangers carried off his wealth, and foreigners entered his gates and cast lots for Jerusalem, you too were like one of them.

12 But you should not have gloated over your brother on the day of his misfortune; you should not have rejoiced over the people of Judah on the day of their ruin; you should not have boasted on the day of distress.

13 You should not have entered the gate of my people on the day of their calamity; you should not have joined in the gloating over Judah’s disaster on the day of his calamity; you should not have looted his goods on the day of his calamity.

14 You should not have stood at the crossings to cut off his fugitives; you should not have handed over his survivors on the day of distress.

15 For the day of the LORD is near against all the nations. As you have done, it shall be done to you; your deeds shall return on your own head.

16 For as you have drunk on my holy mountain, all the nations around you shall drink; they shall drink and gulp down, and shall be as though they had never been.

17 But on Mount Zion there shall be those that escape, and it shall be holy; and the house of Jacob shall take possession of those who dispossessed them.

18 The house of Jacob shall be a fire, the house of Joseph a flame, and the house of Esau stubble; they shall burn them and consume them, and there shall be no survivor of the house of Esau; for the LORD has spoken.

19 Those of the Negeb shall possess Mount Esau, and those of the Shephelah the land of the Philistines; they shall possess the land of Ephraim and the land of Samaria, and Benjamin shall possess Gilead.

20 The exiles of the Israelites who are in Halah shall possess Phoenicia as far as Zarephath; and the exiles of Jerusalem who are in Sepharad shall possess the towns of the Negeb.

21 Those who have been saved shall go up to Mount Zion to rule Mount Esau; and the kingdom shall be the LORD’S.

Luke 10:25–37 (NRSV)

Just then a lawyer stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he said, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”  26 He said to him, “What is written in the law? What do you read there?”  27 He answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your strength, and with all your mind; and your neighbor as yourself.”  28 And he said to him, “You have given the right answer; do this, and you will live.”

Luke 10:29   But wanting to justify himself, he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?  30 Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and fell into the hands of robbers, who stripped him, beat him, and went away, leaving him half dead.  31 Now by chance a priest was going down that road; and when he saw him, he passed by on the other side.  32 So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side.  33 But a Samaritan while traveling came near him; and when he saw him, he was moved with pity.  34 He went to him and bandaged his wounds, having poured oil and wine on them. Then he put him on his own animal, brought him to an inn, and took care of him.  35 The next day he took out two denarii, gave them to the innkeeper, and said, ‘Take care of him; and when I come back, I will repay you whatever more you spend.’  36 Which of these three, do you think, was a neighbor to the man who fell into the hands of the robbers?”  37 He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Luke 6:27–36 (NRSV)

27 “But I say to you that listen, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you,  28 bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you.  29 If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also; and from anyone who takes away your coat do not withhold even your shirt.  30 Give to everyone who begs from you; and if anyone takes away your goods, do not ask for them again.  31 Do to others as you would have them do to you.

32   “If you love those who love you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners love those who love them.  33 If you do good to those who do good to you, what credit is that to you? For even sinners do the same.  34 If you lend to those from whom you hope to receive, what credit is that to you? Even sinners lend to sinners, to receive as much again.  35 But love your enemies, do good, and lend, expecting nothing in return. Your reward will be great, and you will be children of the Most High; for he is kind to the ungrateful and the wicked.  36 Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful.

In the early sixth century BC, as Babylon invaded from the North, Judeans fled south into Edom. Israel and Edom have a complicated history, to say the very least. They are at once brothers, neighbors, and enemies.

When I read Obadiah alongside the story of the good Samaritan, in the context of Jesus’s teaching, it occurs to me that when we’re asking, “Who is my neighbor?” we’re really asking, “Do I recognize my brother?”

Edom cut off the Judean refugees of war, turned them away, even handed them over. Obadiah is clear: their culpability is really about their failure to recognize their brothers and sisters. All they could see, after centuries of strife, was enemies.

So I want to know, who is the American church: the Edomite or the Samaritan?

Will I let my enemy become my neighbor? Will I recognize my enemy as my family?

Do to others as you would have them do to you.
Make neighbors of those who have done wrong to you.
Do to your enemies what your brothers and sisters would do to you.

Because they already are your brothers and sisters too.

Evaluating Mission Work

Talking with a missionary (read: full-time, cross-cultural kingdom worker) recently, something struck me about the way we evaluate mission work.

We use “vision statements” to set an evaluative standard. In other words, we take a best-case scenario—essentially an aspiration—and make it a measure of effectiveness. If a mission team’s vision statement is, “A movement of disciples who make disciples,” then how are they to self-assess? How should their supporters judge their work?

The biggest problem with this scenario is not that it is unrealistic, or even just a high bar. The imitation of Christ already sets a high bar in every aspect of Christian life, including ministry. The problem is that such a vision is theologically skewed away from the imitation of Christ. It devalues what mission is about most of the time. What if missionaries and missional churches envision their ministries in terms of Jesus’s? How would we state that? “Sowing tiny seeds, taking the narrow path, and calling people to the cross”? “Discipling a few people closely and getting abandoned”? “Incarnation, faithful love, and obedience unto death”?

There is more than one way to construe Jesus’s ministry. The fruit of his labor after it concluded was, by the power of the Spirit, a movement of disciples making disciples. But that would not be an appropriate measure of his ministry while it was ongoing. In fact, though he clearly equips equippers, there is no evidence that scaling up to exponential growth is what motivates him. His vision is the kingdom, and we have ask the theological question: what does the kingdom look like?

Here are some questions that I think missionaries and missional churches can ask themselves on the basis of a kingdom vision: Are we sowing the kingdom with the expectation that its unimpressive beginnings may be the whole of our ministry? Are we sowing the kingdom gratuitously, despite the birds and the hard ground and the thorns? Are we sowing the kingdom faithfully and tending the good soil, even when the growth is out of our control? Are we willing to admit how much of our growth is weeds, not wheat?

Of course, there is nothing wrong with dreaming about the fruit of our labor and being motivated by that hope. And, we might ask what the huge yield of the good soil implies or what it means that the lamp is meant to light the whole room or that the yeast leavens all of the flour. But it’s unfortunate when a result that is out of our control and possibly beyond the scope our ministry becomes our evaluative standard, even if only for the purpose of our own self-assessment. Better that we should cast visions like “Faithfully calling neighbors to discipleship, even if most refuse” or “Proclaiming the kingdom contextually, creatively, and sacrificially, whatever the result.”

What do you think? Are these vision statements too pessimistic? Should we instead “expect great things”? Should we judge our participation in God’s mission by the standard of the greatness we expect of God? Should Jesus’s ministry of faithfulness with little evidence of “success” be the kind of greatness we aspire to?

Hopes for the Kingkiller Chronicle Adaptation

I haven’t read epic fantasy better written than Patrick Rothfuss’s series, The Kingkiller Chronicle. I love a lot of other stuff—cherish it, get lost in it. I’m not complaining about the quality of other great stories. But Rothfuss is doing something else. He’s working on multiple levels. He’s toying with the reader. He’s making verbal music. And he’s pulling it off with cheek and style. It’s just impressive.

One of the things I love about this story is the role music plays. I remember being shocked as an adolescent by how the musical aspects of Anne McCaffrey’s Harper Hall trilogy were just as enthralling as the predictably exciting parts of the story. Rothfuss takes this to new heights. He manages to tap my almost incomparable relationship with music to the story’s advantage. When I’m reading, I can’t wait until Kvothe plays. Rothfuss’s prose meets the massive challenge of bringing composition and performance to life vividly and emotionally.

So I’m both ecstatic and nervous about the TV and movie adaptations that are on the horizon. Can they pull it off? I think what Rothfuss lets the imagination do with music will be harder to bring to life on screen than anything attempted in epic fantasy so far. Gollum marked the coming of age of fantasy CGI, and things have only improved since. Believable balrogs and dragons are a major visual achievement, though they stumble in their attempt to convey the profound terror and overwhelming power such beings represent. It’s something like the virtual impossibility of moving from Dracula being scary on screen to communicating the basic existential threat that he is. And we still haven’t really figured out how to portray magic without it seeming like hokey flashes and splashes of lights. But the difficulty of sharing Kvothe’s music on screen seems an order of magnitude larger than these standard problems. I’m hopeful and doubtful at the same time.