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Emergents charge that in their rush to attract non-Christians to their churches, leaders in the currently regnant, conservative "seeker-sensitive" mold have been too willing to hide the faith's distinctives and sharp edges—those aspects of the church's historic testimony that may alienate outsiders. Instead, these leaders have served up punchy dramas, polished musical numbers, and short, user-friendly sermons. As a result, the church has looked less and less like a community of radical Christ-followers and more and more like a slick but empty facsimile of our entertainment-besotted mass culture.

(I'm pausing with a smile to recall one of the greatest book titles ever penned—though the book has some problems—Neil Postman's Amusing Ourselves to Death. Yes, Neil, we certainly are! And not just when we're outside our churches!)

Christian churches, say the Emergents, need to look like Christian churches—down to the crosses, candles, and even (if necessary), the stained glass; and they need to teach like Christian churches—including a hearty dose of good "vintage" doctrine.

So our Emergent friends would likely agree with both parties in this dispute: the church needs both to find new ways of translating the gospel to directly address the questions of the day (per Niebuhr), and to refuse to buckle to secular culture by knocking the sharp edges off of Jesus' radical kingdom message and pretending that "we Christians are really just like the rest of you folks!" (per Hauerwas).

So how does all that relate to this crusade of mine to convince everyone to read stacks of Christian biographies?

Let me put it this way: Some of the saints we'll meet in historical biographies will look like the Niebuhrian model of "Christ transforming culture": they felt they could best serve Christ in the mode of engaging, imitating, and adapting. Others we will recognize as fitting Hauerwas's model: they worked in the mode of separating, renouncing, and sanctifying ("setting apart" time, talent, treasure—indeed whole communities—to the Lord). Many—maybe most—will reflect a bit of both positions.

But all of the "saints" worth reading share this: they followed their Lord, offered up their gifts, and tried to discern their paths—right in the very midst of all that was good, bad, and ugly in their surrounding cultures. (Read even a little about the Old Order Amish, and you'll know this is true of even the most separatist Christians.)

Thus as we read—discerningly, of course—how these saints brought their deepest convictions into dialogue with their own ages' messes, we can gain something far more precious than the ministry techniques and methods du jour. We can gain a sense of how the Lord may be calling us, today, to incarnate the gospel in our own times and places—in the midst of our own cultures' goodness, badness, and ugliness.

Whether that calling looks more like close engagement and translation, or more like sharp opposition and testimony, we've gained something valuable either way.

Grace and peace to the Peculiar People and the Intrepid Translators (both!) always active in every corner of Christ's subversive kingdom,

Chris Armstrong

Bethel Seminary

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