My new friend, Mike sent me these ancient covers (how old are you, Mike!?) from The Wittenburg Door. It pokes fun of the term "evangelism" especially as it pertains to Southern California culture. And what this points out is how shallow and self-serving people can appear as they conduct so-called evangelism.

So, what is evangelism?

One definition says, "the preaching or promulgation of the gospel; the work of an evangelist." ... You may read that and ask, "What's promulgation?" Promulgation means, "to make known by open declaration; publish; proclaim formally or put into operation."

For many Christians, we feel quite comfortable with the St. Francis of Assissi quote: "Preach the gospel at all times. Use words if necessary." We like this, because we like the idea of our deeds mattering as much if not more than our words. And quite often, for good reason. Christians have said terrible things under the guise of evangelism. But when I read the definition above and I can't get away from the clear "use of words" in doing evangelism.

Quite frankly, I think we should take the term back from those that have tarnished it.

This isn't to dissuade us from taking up Francis' approach. Evangelism might not have such a bad rep' if more people actually backed up their words with a lifestyle that reflected Jesus' message. But at the heart of it, I think most of us are afraid. We're afraid of talking about God in the public square. We'll talk in our church buildings and in our homes, but we have no idea how to talk about Jesus in any other environment.

But maybe the public square misses the point too. In his great book, The Great Giveaway, David Fitch believes that the home, sacred space and other "third spaces" are the appropriate places of evangelism.

"They speak to an evangelism that invites one in to see the message before one hears the message in words. They speak to an evangelism that is willing to save via subtle osmosis versus immediate rational persuasion. It is an evangelism that meets [those] who do not trust individual argument, slick presentation, or scientific proofs. They want to come, see, and be confronted by the reality of Jesus Christ. The practices of postmodern evangelism therefore must converge in the living breathing spaces of the local body of Christ."

Fitch is working on a couple assumptions (in my opinion):

• That we are in Christian community and willing to invite others into that community
• That we are willing to live a life directed by Scripture
• That we are willing to be patient and engage in the conversation (and relationship) long-term

But I also think we have to 'fess up to something many feel: being a Christian feels awkward.

I once shared a meal with a young Christian leader at a cafe and as our plates came to us, he began to eat. I asked, "Can I pray for our meal?" He stopped and said, "Sure." And I did. After I was done, he explained to me how he thought it was more missional to not pray in public. His central reason was that it made us more approachable if we didn't engage in such odd behavior in public.

I honestly don't care if people pray before a meal or not. It is often an empty, thoughtless action. I often don't. But I still find his "reason" to be more an excuse for his sense of awkwardness than missional posture. Here's the deal, the whole missional work–or evangelistic endeavor–is done so with the conviction that you are different. In other words, the very definition assumes that, as a Christian, you participate in something that others don't... but should.

Maybe part of this awkwardness stems from a misunderstanding of what evangelism is. In another great book, Evangelism After Christendom, Bryan Stone argues that, for many, evangelism is simply about the end results–or what he calls, "external goods." And that feels just plain weird.

"Once an external good (such as quantitative growth, power, and influence of the church or the number of conversions one is able to produce) has come to be substituted for the internal good of the practice, and precisely to the extent that the church becomes skilled in achieving those external goods, the church ceases to have any good reason to practice evangelism well or virtuously."

In other words, once the idea of evangelism is divorced from a way of life and simply about outcomes, it becomes pointless. In a sense, evangelism is rightly understood only as the whole of how the Christian lives... which includes how we talk about why we're Christians.

So, how do we talk about the gospel in normative ways? What has changed in our culture and in what ways can/should our promulgation of the gospel change in light of our context?

Note that I'm not asking if we should or shouldn't. I'm assuming we should. I'm interested in how folks think this is to be done appropriately.

We Protestant Christians have a funny relationship with ancient texts. Our entire living and understanding of God hinges upon one ancient text, the Bible. Yet at the same time, many of us enjoy taking jabs at those who site “extra-biblical” ancient books. (Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I heard what you said about the Apocrypha.)

Tony Jones addresses one of those unfamiliar, ancient volumes, the Didache (pronounced, di-dah-kay), in his book, The Teaching of the Twelve. The Didache is one of the earliest writings we have of Christians after Pentecost. And as Jones explains, this little book was to be, “a handbook for those new to Christianity.” But what might a book written by and for Christians in the first couple of centuries be of value to Christians today?

Christianity in the West is within the throes of major shifts–amidst the Church and surrounding culture. Within the upheaval, many Christians find themselves agitated by all the hoopla that is church. Why must we do this? Why do we need that?

Simultaneously, there are those that have stripped away all that seems unnecessary, yet find themselves asking, “What now defines us and binds us? And how do we go about our life together?”

For all those unsettled and searching, Jones’ new book brings a fresh, yet age-old perspective to the conversation. As he says, we aren’t the first to find ourselves faced with such challenges:

“Of course, we’re not the first generation to quest after a raw, primitive version of the faith. At various stages over the past two millennia, Christians have questioned the traditions of “church” and “religion” in an effort to follow Jesus more authentically. ... And all along, a manual of primitive Christianity sat hidden, right in front of us.”

But the reader is not left with just the opinions of another Christian academic. As Jones writes, he walks alongside a Christian community in Minnesota (Cymbrogi) that has reflected on the Didache for some time. His commentary is paired with that of this rural house church and it’s truck-driving leader, Frank. The inclusion of a contemporary community attempting to interpret and apply this ancient book only makes Jones’ take even more approachable.

I found the Didache to be a refreshingly uncluttered yet challenging reflection. And I'm a bit dissapointed that I haven't been thoroughly exposed to the Didache until now. As Jones says in the first chapter, “The Didache is the most important book you’ve never heard of. ” This may be true for many of us. Today we live with countless options and opportunities, we are never short of information. In the midst of that, following Jesus can become quite complicated. The Teaching of the Twelve encourages us to get “back to the basics.” As Jones says in his Epilogue:

“Our brothers and sisters in the faith who lived in the Didache community call us away from the marginalia that consumes us today. They call us to simple community in which righteous living is taught and expected, sharing life is a way of life, visiting preachers are welcomed but not given any power in the community, baptism and Eucharist are practiced regularly, and Jesus’ return is expected and hoped for. Just a few activities, done well, shaped the Didache community.”

On Saturday night, I spoke with a wonderful group of people that are a part of the Brethren in Christ–a denomination with roots in Anabaptism, Pietism and Methodism. Everyone was very kind and hospitable. And my talk was well received. I spoke, in part, about the relevance of the three traditions that inform the BiC, as I mentioned in my last post.

Regarding one in particular, Methodism, I mentioned that I thought the method employed by John Wesley–who founded Methodism–had tapped into a way of organizing people for radical change which goes beyond religion. In particular, I pointed out the similarities between the organizing principles devised by community organizer and author Saul Alinsky during the 1950's and John Wesley's bands, classes and societies during the 1700's. While Wesley's work sparked a historic spiritual revival, Alinsky's sparked great social change. What both men were keenly aware of was that a method was needed in order to empower lay people in a manner that required minimal resources, 'experts' and could work within existing systems so that these people could participate in the change they wanted to see.  The bottom line is that the method works.

You can talk to just about any community organizer in an urban context and find they are informed by Alinsky's principles and you can almost bet that if they are seeing change, they are employing the principles. Yet, if you talk to most Christians, let alone many Wesleyans or Methodists, and find that they are unaware of Wesley's methods and certainly aren't using them (I can say that, because I grew up in a Methodist church). Still, you can look around the globe and find movements with a similar "DNA" to what these two men taught. For example, in his book The New Creation, Wesleyan theologian, Thomas Runyon points out the similarities between early Methodism and the base ecclesial community movement rooted in the Latin American Roman Catholic Church and Liberation Theology.

Certainly, our context is much different than either of these men. But is there something to be learned from this. Should we consider how these methods would be employed in our own time and place? Do we care?

I dig the BiC folks because they are automatically an ecumenical group, weaving together Wesleyan/Methodist, Anabaptist and Pietism/Holiness traditions into one tribe. In my mind, these traditions hold some valuable lessons to learn from: an intended social outcome (anabaptism), an holistic lifestyle intended for the individual (pietism/holiness) and a method for making it happen (Methodism/Wesleyan). What does this look in a postmodern, post-Christendom and post-colonial context?

Hopefully we can discuss that a bit tonight.

When Brooke and I moved our family into the city about 5 years ago, I never would've imagined what I saw tonight. I hadn't even met several of the people that came out tonight for the gathering. Wow! It was a bit unique, we asked folks to tell us what they thought the Collective was and/or should be. There was a diversity of opinions but consensus on some helpful things without influence from those of us that helped coordinate this. Kind of makes me feel as though we just might be doing a few things right. Thanks to TC and the AAC folks for hosting us and organizing everything. Seriously amazing job! And thanks to everyone who documented the conversation via twitter.

Jim Belcher does a fine job of bringing to light the shortcomings and strengths of both traditional and emerging models of Christianity in his book, Deep Church. Although, his attempts at posturing a balanced, unbiased approach are lost when it becomes clear that all of his solutions to the weaknesses just happen to be found within the life of his own church. Some will say that the emerging church proponents lose in this book. I'd argue that the real losers are Anabaptists, who get several cheap shots taken throughout the book. That said, this is certainly the most fair critique of both sides, simultaneously, in print right now. If you're hoping for an overview of the emerging church conversation and the concerns of their opponents within the Church, this is the book.

For a more thorough review–and one which I tend to agree with–go check out Chris Smith's at Englewood Review of Books.