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But he manages to fit in just fine. He is not an evangelical interloper. He is an evangelical insider. "They love him," explains Jim Chaffee, Miller's booking agent. "He's progressive but not pissed."

He is also neither irreverent nor bohemian—at least, not much. But for mainstream evangelicals today, Miller is a bridge to an irreverent, bohemian world. His work is framed with bohemia—a road trip, a pint of beer, an occasional curse word—but filled with explicit longing for Jesus. He never takes on basic Christian tenets or evangelical priorities such as biblical authority and spreading the gospel, but he asks just enough questions, with just enough gravity, to attract readers who have similar reservations about their faith culture. He's a sotto voce critic of evangelicalism, telling anxious audiences that it's okay to question the faith, yet keep it.

At the conference in Boston, attendees hear from a lineup of evangelical celebrity teachers: George Barna, Henry Cloud, Bill Hybels, Jack Hayford, Joni Eareckson Tada, Sheila Walsh, and more. Topics range from "Your Role in Jesus' 'Dream Church'" to "How to Lead a Person to Christ: The Simple Basics."

Miller's talks—a morning keynote address to about 4,000 people, plus the afternoon workshop—are short on how-to's and long on critique. During the keynote session, he takes the crowd through a history of paradigms for church ministry. He objects to overconfidence among evangelicals. "If your mind is not constantly being changed," he says, "you're not following Christ." Miller believes sharing the gospel should be like setting someone up on a blind date, not like explaining propositions. He takes aim at the corporatization of evangelicalism, detectable through such evangelicalisms as, "Be profitable for the kingdom of God." He lampoons teaching series with titles like "Three Keys to a Biblical Marriage."

"It seems to me there are a million keys to marriage," Miller teases, "and they change depending on what kind of mood she's in." The joke kills. All his jokes kill. Miller is embraced every bit as enthusiastically as his celebrity speaker elders. Or more so. "Yours is the only talk so far where people stood around and talked afterward," one woman tells him. "So refreshing. So real."

At the book-signing table after his keynote address, Miller is handed copy after copy of each of his four titles: Blue Like Jazz, Searching for God Knows What (2004), Through Painted Deserts (2005; a reissue of his first book, Prayer and the Art of Volkswagen Maintenance), and To Own a Dragon (2006). But mostly, he is handed copy after copy of Blue Like Jazz and offered testimonials about the book's effect:

"I've been a Christian for over 20 years, and I've never been so excited about a book."

"Your book was the only thing that got my daughter through college."

"I love Blue Like Jazz because it's, like, a Christian book, but it doesn't make you feel bad about yourself."

A 40-something woman approaches Miller with two plastic grocery bags filled with copies of his books. "I've already bought Blue Like Jazz 13 times," she gushes. "But I gotta have all these to give to people. I'm a Jesus girl, but I also like to go out and do tequila shots with my friends. This is a book I can give to those friends."

At the end of the day, Miller and I walk through the February chill to a pub and grill in Boston's South End. He tells me that comments like the ones at the signing table are par for the course when he speaks at events like these. He feels he must be meeting some great need that exists for evangelicals today. "You feel confident because you know that this is actually a refreshing message for people," he says. "They don't feel accused. They don't feel hurt or offended by what you're saying. There's a sense of, 'Hey, we have lost meaning, haven't we?' "

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June 2007, Vol. 51, No. 6