That little essay was born out of the struggle that I was going through at the time as I began to identify more with Emergent or Missional theology and ecclesiology and sought to lead the church to which I was called accordingly. At the time, the church I was serving could be defined as containing both “emerging” and “existing” traits. On Sunday mornings the existing aspect of my church met for worship, and on Sunday evenings there was an emergent worship gathering/community that regularly met in the same space. These communities could not have been any different, but they both formed and informed one another in interesting and exciting ways. It was good to reflect on my struggle as an emerging leader in an existing church, though. Because of that time of reflection I came to understand that in many ways I was embodying the very struggle in which my church had become engaged. My efforts to put my feelings into words was a part of that struggle—an effort to write a story that was far from complete. But there was something unsatisfying in that effort, to be honest. It felt like I (and to some extent my church as well) had come to the end of a chapter, but didn’t know how to finish the last sentence in a way that felt good and right. We had both come a long way, but not far enough.

In the end, neither one of us could put a period at the end of that sentence.

When I wrote that first essay, I knew that my time at my emerging/existing church was going to be cut short. The senior pastor of the church accepted another call, and I became the interim pastor/acting head of staff for over a year. All the while, I was also exploring other opportunities and trying to discern where God might be calling me to serve. I imagined and dreamed about the possibilities of serving a community of faith that was already part of the “emerging conversation,” a place where the word “missional” did not have to be unpacked. I dreamed of a place of diversity–in worship, in mission, in ministry and constituency. These dreams carried me through some fairly tough times of doubt and uncertainty, but they were my dreams, and no one else’s.

God’s dreams for the community of faith I was destined to serve were quite different from mine, as it turned out. I was called to serve an historic, traditional, established, corporate, existing congregation in a small town in Central Florida. I was called, and I knew deep in my heart that I would go as soon as I heard the invitation. When I realized that God’s dreams for me did not include any of the things I thought I wanted for myself, I grieved a little, to be honest. Further, shortly after I accepted the call to serve my historic, traditional, established church, I was contacted by three different churches who were extremely interested in calling me as their pastor. They had been the three churches who were at the top of my wish list when I was dreaming of the kind of community of faith I [selfishly] longed to serve.

As I pondered all of this and grieved a bit more over what might have been, a friend of mine told me a story from her own life. She said that her father, a Presbyterian minister, once visited the “perfect” church to determine if he was being called to serve there. Her mother loved it, she remembered. The manse was large, the church was in a beautiful mountain community in North Carolina, there were no financial worries, it was well staffed and the congregation was happy and motivated. But her father declined the church’s offer. My friend remembered him saying, “I don’t want to go somewhere that doesn’t need me, and they don’t need me.”

Then I realized that the period had just been placed at the end of that troublesome sentence.

The first pastor of my church was called 125 years ago. His name was [seriously] The Rev. Dr. James Hair Potter. You can’t make this stuff up. There is a huge Tiffany-style stained glass window in the sanctuary–a sanctuary that was dedicated in 1914. Dr. Potter’s picture is in a glass case in the parlor [complete with huge wingback chairs, coffee tables and large oil paintings depicting deer, landscapes, etc.]. He was an austere-looking fellow with a beard that reached all the way down to his waist. Potter served my church for 20 years. I think about him sometimes when I stand by myself in the sanctuary preparing for my sermon. You can’t help but think about him, really. The stained glass in his honor is huge, beautiful and stately. I like looking at it.

A friend of mine who was part of the emergent worship gathering I used to lead visited a worship service at my new church recently. As I greeted her before the service she looked at me all decked out in my robe and colorful stole, peered at the pipe organ and all of the old wooden pews, the Potter stained glass, and said to me, “I cannot picture you in a church like this.” I considered what she said as I made my way up to the somewhat high chancel [six feet above all controversy] to begin the service. She was right. I would have never pictured myself in a church “like this” either, but God did, and I am glad that God has a more active imagination than I do.

I happen to love my new church…a lot. I understand a bit more about what God has called me to do here. You see, I’ve spent a lot of time talking and thinking about what it means to be an emergent church leader. I’ve led what people have come to call “emergent” worship services [which is really a misnomer, if you ask me], and I have had long, passionate discussions and debates with colleagues on what the Church needs to do to become more missional. And God in God’s infinite wisdom and mercy has seen fit to make me put my money where my mouth is.

This thing that has come to be known as the Emergent Church has moved from idea to reality in so many ways, but still is hard for most of us, who care about these things, to define, and even more difficult to put our arms around. I recently read that some of the pioneers of the emergent movement have broken from it because it was too all-encompassing, too ecumenical, too open and affirming of different beliefs, Biblical interpretations, blah, blah, blah [indicates my impatience and frustration]. But I see things a bit differently. I feel so strongly that in order for the Church to be shaken from her sleep she must be missional and relational, embodying what it means to be the Bride of Christ and evidence of the kingdom of God on earth.

But the Church has become fearful and anxious in recent years—fueled in large part by huge declines in membership, conflicts over theology and the interpretation of Scripture and yes, even by the emergence of new ways of understanding what it means to be the Church. Fear and anxiety [as we have seen in our own country over the past 7 years] can result in irrational behavior, acts of radical self-preservation and perhaps even destruction. Edwin Friedman prophetically wrote of these kinds of things in his book, “A Failure of Nerve.” Friedman stated that when good leaders dare to rise up and take a stand for what is right and healthy, our sick and anxious society does everything that it can to sabotage them. In order to be an effective leader, according to Friedman, one must become a non-anxious, reflective presence–a voice that speaks the truth, and works to help the community, culture, society become healthy enough to fight off the diseases that plague it. A leader like this requires the kind of nerve to remain steadfast where they are called, even though it would be easier to retreat, easier to find a corner of the world where everyone tends to agree, speaks the same language… understands what it means to be missional.

Theologian Wesley Carr once wrote that the Church needs to be formed and informed by the Spirit of God that is calling to it not only from the past, but the future. For me helping my congregation truly see this is an epistemological task. I know beyond any doubt that I have been called to my historic, traditional, historic church to journey with them as they emerge from their past and move toward a new and uncertain future. I desire so fervently that my church will begin to see itself differently, will understand what it means to be the Church, the very hands and feet of Christ in the world. I pray that this desire, this call, will not be weakened by my own fear and anxiety. I pray that I will have the strength to stand and to speak the truth in love. I pray that this emerging leader will be able to carefully guide this existing church. I pray that I will be a good and loving pastor. I pray.

I recently read The Great Emergence. It is an important piece in the conversation and there’s a lot to talk about in it. I thoroughly enjoyed it. It’s an easy read, and it’s friendly for lay people. Phyllis Tickle places the emerging church in the context of gritty history, and her writing style shines when she reminisces. The way that she details the women’s movement, for instance, is charming.

Tickle has a refreshing perspective, and much different than most Episcopalians that I’ve met. As an example, she highlights John Wimber and the Vineyard Church has an important moment in church history, while I’m often hard-pressed to find a mainliner who knows what that is.

At the heart of Tickle’s analysis, there is the question of power. And in particular, she points out the threat to sola scriptura. In the Reformation, “scripture alone” (along with the five other sola’s) became the source of authority became the passionate cry for so many who wanted to critique the Roman Catholic Church.

And now, in the midst of postmodern upheaval, with the evolution of literary criticism, we are beginning to realize how one cannot rely on the words of Scripture alone. There has to be someone reading, there has to be someone interpreting. And since we are all different, with a multiplicity of passions and histories, when we sit down with the Scriptures, we cannot divorce ourselves from the process.

We bring ourselves into it. We have on that page, not only the words, but also the context of the author. And the choices of the translators. Add to that, we have our own our educational background, our personal history, our historical context, our motivations. The page gets very crowded. And so, we realize that a plain reading is not possible. When there is a text, there is disagreement. And sola scriptura breaks down.

So, where is the power now?

It is in Scripture and in the community, the conversation, the network.

I appreciate the way that Tickle broadens the conversation, explaining the upheaval not only from the conservative corner of the church (which we most often hear about), but also pointing out what is happening with Social Justice Christians (Mainline denominations like PCUSA), Liturgicals (Episcopalians, Lutherans, and Roman Catholics), Renewalists (Charismatics, Pentacostals), and Conservatives (Evangelicals).

There are a couple of places that I have some disagreement, maybe in what was left out more than what was there. Although Tickle brought up the women’s movement and much of her conversation hinged on Diana Butler Bass’ important idea of sacred re-traditioning, I was hoping that she would write more about women.

All of the amazing and fresh work that is happening in theology, where women’s voices are being heard and taught. They have been earth shattering and courageous as they have take on texts of terror and demanded that their perspective be heard in our academies, with all of their particularities. What women have been doing in our pulpits for the past fifty years, surely that has shaken the foundations of Christendom. Feminist critiques, whether they be from Julia Kristeva or Rita Nakashima Brock, have had a highly significant impact on our faith in the midst of postmodernity.

Unfortunately, The Great Emergence does not reflect the great diversity of gender or ethnicities that are causing shifts in American religion. It is an account of players who are almost exclusively white males. This is not a new critique of the emerging church, and certainly not a new one from me. I was just hoping that Tickle would bring a much-needed corrective to the conversation.

There are other points of discussion that I could bring up. For instance, we could talk about technology, crowd-sourcing, and whether is it truly egalitarian (Albert-Laszlo Barabasi’s convincing me otherwise).

There also seems to be a sense, from Tickle’s analysis of the gathering center, that there are pure emergents, and others who are more on the edges (she nods to the metaphor of rose petals).

I would tend to disagree with this. It seems to me that we are all emerging from something, but Tickle seems to be saying that those who are emerging from evangelicalism are somehow more central to what is happening in the whole Christianity.

Am I understanding this correctly? And if I am, if evangelical emergence is at the heart, then that could explain the movement’s propensity for glossing over important women’s voices.

I’ll close with a question. In the pages, Tickle says that the hyphen-mergents (presbymergents, Angli-mergents, Metho-mergents, Luther-mergents) will need to decide, “Which are we, and where do we belong?”

This aside is probably the one place where I disagree with Tickle the most. I am a postmodern Presbyterian. I may not fit into a chart very easily, I may not fit into my own denomination very easily. But I do not feel any pressure to make a decision one way or the other about who I am or where I belong.

So, what do you think?

1.@ clay: what is church for? I think a clearer way of shaping this is to consider church as a verb- those Spirit filled moments (synchronicities, to borrow Jung) when Word and Sacrament are ordered to join and anticipate God’s purposes in creation. This is more incarnational and avoids the platonic urge to pre-design an air-tight formula.

2.@ clay: can deep shifts happen in a 1/3 of the congregation? I can;t think of a time when transformation does not originate in “practices” or “postures” that catch on. In other words, a few folks begin to “do” and “act” differently and their minds are then transformed. Until a few more join them. And then a few more. So why not start with this third and invite them to include those from the other 2/3rds to reflect with them on what is happening. The “traditional” services do not need to change their style to join this more participatory way. An imaginative Traditional Worship Leader like Tony describes is a great way for this to start.

3.@ david: what is contemporary? David, most american church goers who consume pre-fabricated worship formats see contemporary as a closed genre. It is the byproduct of CCM’s successful branding in the 80s and 90s. Try introducing the word “contemporaneous” (remember this from Greek tenses- I believe it was Aorist) and asking how does the worship style or material we use in worship come from the actual everyday world around us (you can grab You-Tube videos, newspaper clippings, popular music, folks music, movie quotes, and styles/chord progressions). We can learn from the Word of God whom/which we follow into the world (C-67) as much as from a Word of God remembered.

4.@ steve: Interesting to pair up “force feeding” and “calling.” CCM and denominational(or ecumenical) top down curriculum has created a consumptive Christian way. How do we reverse this tendency and equip worshipppers to produce, to make their own testimony? Borrowing some of Tom Wright’s pneumatology, the community is sent gifts from the Spirit almost like the Israelite sampled fruit from the promised land brought by the spies. As such, the fruits of enthronement, adoration, and lamentation are gifts from the promised eschaton for worshipers to taste and enjoy. So worship is born out of calling and not out of a top down “force feeding.”

5.@ tony: You wrote, “gatherings exist for the sake of the world.” I love it! Spot on. Somehow blending our “target audience” to include God with us, the body of Christ in which we are united, and the Christ of the Emmaus way- these are how worship looks beyond our congregations. A friend of mine says it this way: the church is not the end user of the gospel. I agree, and neither are we the end users of worship.

6. @ tony: to paraphrase you said, “our worship and everything else would be better if it were subservient to the Word.” I have found folks use this to marginalize order/art/testimony to only “illustration of the preacher’s sermon or the platonic idea presented by the Bible.” I would suggest that the Word is hidden and being revealed, and that the risk of missing is unavoidable… The Word is hidden in our past (such as Jesus’ exposition of the collective memory of the Emmaus road disciples) AND the word is also being revealed ahead of us (such as the angel instructing shepherds to go and see these things, and the voice telling peter to get up and go meet…). As such worship is discovery and not “explanation” or “illustration.” We meet God as we sing and pray. Our bodies are put into play as we kneel and raise hands and kiss one another and wash feet and ‘pray double’ through song. And as such, worship that serves the Word is less of a coersive predetermined posture and more of an open receptive posture. I might be splitting hairs here, but my purpose is to suggest that we cannot avoid the risks of stylizing or crafting or “ordering” our acts of worship by being more “Word” centered. Instead worship is to enter into that risk. Perhaps we can, however, make space for the hidden Word to be revealed in our sacramental habits. And, then, to make space for faithful-yet-risky responses of conversion.

New Ways of Being Church

Conversations on renewal and transformation in mainline congregations

March 15-18, 2009

Yes, there are signs of hope for the Church in the post-modern and post-Christian era! In 2009, Louisville Seminary welcomes a celebrated trio of church leaders/scholars who are spreading the news that the Church of the 21st Century can and does re-think, re-tradition, and re-invent itself.

• Diana Butler Bass, historian and author of the popular book Christianity for the Rest of Us, brings with her inspirational presentation solid research showing that mainline congregations are thriving as communities that practice ancient Christian traditions.
• Marcus Borg, a prominent New Testament scholar, speaks for many who seek a fresh, credible, and progressive understanding of Jesus Christ for this age. His forthcoming book is simply titled Jesus.
• Brian McLaren is a pastor and author who best represents the “Emerging Church” from an evangelical perspective, but his presentations and books, including A Generous Orthodoxy and Everything Must Change, elude simple labels.
• With closing worship led by LPTS Alum Preacher Mike Pentecost (MDiv ‘98), pastor of Brentwood Presbyterian Church in Brentwood, Tenn.

For more information about this event, contact David Sawyer, Director of Lifelong Learning and Advanced Degrees, dsawyer@lpts.edu, or Leah Bradley, Director of Alum & Church Relations, lbradley@lpts.edu, 1-800/264-1839.

But we’re a small group, and off and on we wonder what the American Buddhist future will look like. What’s going to happen when our teachers — part of the generation that launched the spiritual tradition in the ’60s and ’70s — grow too old to teach and we don’t yet have a new crop ready to take their place? And while I eventually felt more comfortable with Buddhism — now, the rituals and the chanting in my practice seem necessary, not foreign — what if some people who might connect with the teachings feel too intimidated by the window dressing to walk through the door?

Ah yes…the seeker-sensitive Buddhist movement And then the Emerging Buddhists quickly follow…

Walk into many American Buddhist meditation centers, and you’ll see a majority of white, middle-aged faces. That’s not the case with a Dharma Punx gathering. On a Tuesday night meeting last fall, Korda sported a trucker’s cap, long plaid shorts, a bowling shirt and massive Buddhist tattoos. After a 20-minute guided meditation, many in the audience — arty hipster types in their 20s, 30s and early 40s — sprawled casually across the cushions while Korda and his co-teacher, Craig Swogger, gave a classic Buddhist teaching on the origin of suffering (using the word “stress” instead of “suffering,” though, and punctuating their points with a few expletives).

Wow.  They even cuss.  And did I mention they’re really into social justice, too? Anyhow, it’s a neat article, and a good reminder that we’re pretty connected as human beings in our struggles to find deeper meaning and spirituality in a post-modern, hyper-consumer age. The full text is here.

I left the Bible study with my mind already on my next task. I had to deliver a check from the ministerial alliance to another church in town. I like the pastor of the church where I made the delivery. We may be from very different traditions, but we get along really well. When I noticed aloud that he had Brian McLaren’s A Generous Orthodoxy among his books, we entered into a discussion about the Emerging Church Movement. I’m 43 and my colleague is probably only ten years older. We both expressed the same concern: we’re out of our depth when it comes to the emerging culture. We commiserated that, no matter what we do to keep up with innovations in technology and culture, we know we’re falling behind. That’s when my friend spoke the first half of the epiphany. He said, “When I went to seminary, the emphasis was on exegesis of scripture. I think that’s very important and seminaries should continue to do that. But I wish someone would have taught us how to exegete culture.” What a marvelous way to put the need in terms “classically” trained clergy can understand: Would someone please teach us how to exegete culture?

The conversation continued as we discussed what our two congregations think about the ECM. My input was brief because the ECM isn’t on the radar of most of the congregants I serve, no matter how often I raise the issue. We’re too rooted in institutional Presbyterianism to do much but grumble about “the loss of loyalty and respect for the Church.” My friend’s congregation, however, has many members deeply interested in — and concerned about — the ECM. They met with him, studied current literature (like McLaren), and discussed emerging issues. When it came down to it, they were comfortable with missional emphasis to a point, but were nervous about relativism.

After comparing notes, we confirmed that we each have a fair number of members who believe that converting to the Christian faith includes converting to the dominant culture of the congregation. That means that outsiders are required to do most, if not all, of the work, while the congregation critiques the results. “It’s their job to change, not ours.” That’s when I spoke the second half of the epiphany. I said, “It’s Paul and James all over again. Paul was willing to reach outside the tradition to include people in the gospel. James was willing to include others, as long as ‘we remain true to the faith’.” The Church has never been a monolith. I now think of the emerging movement as Paul to the conventional Church’s James. Is the Church willing to accept that the tension currently experienced between conventional and emerging perspectives has been with us since the early Church? I ask, as someone who lurks on the margins of Presbymergent, if the “loyal radicals” can and will teach people like me to exegete culture? Perhaps with proper training we could help the Church learn to recognize and balance the tension between James and Paul.

My thanks and respect go out to Carol Howard Merritt, the lone emergent author who, though not completely on board with the idea, at least engaged in the conversation. Emergent Village’s Coordinator, Tony Jones, was asked about his response to the article in an interview, and had this to say:

I’ve read that post, and there are some really good points therein. There are also some naive misconceptions about the publishing industry … In the early days, many of us were committed to publishing everything for free on the Internet. But, at this point, that is just not feasible.

Apparently, however, no one sent that feasibility memo to one of the publishing industry’s oldest and most respected names: Harper Collins. Here’s what the tech-news blog Mashable has to say about it:

HarperCollins will be offering free electronic editions of some its books on its website. In an effort to increase book sales, HarperCollins is adopting a web-based “try before you buy” approach to book promotion, both for online and on the iPhone.

If a profit-driven company can see the wisdom in doing this for good business practice, how much greater would it be for those of us in God’s Kingdom to do it for the sake of spreading the message, the ideas, and the stories that are at the heart of our mission?

And if award-winning author Neil Gaiman can let his fans vote on which of his best-selling novels to put online for free, shouldn’t Tony Jones (or Brian McLaren, or Doug Pagitt) at least be open to considering the idea, rather than dismissing it as naive and infeasible? Surely at least one of Emergent’s three different publishing partners is forward thinking and/or courageous enough to give it a shot?

I had seriously hoped that Emergent, as innovators crying out that “Everything Must Change” could have led the industry on this one and set a bold, generous, example for the secular world. Now my hope is that we can at least not be the last ones to change, as so often happens in the church.

Ah, well. At least Harper-Collins was founded by a Presbyterian. He must’ve had naive misconceptions about the publishing industry…

The author writes:

But through all the reading, listening, discussing, observing, and thinking I have done I have come to the conclusion that there is no Emerging Church. There are Emerging thoughts, and some semblance of a methodology but across the board I haven’t encountered a church that I would visit and from observing their gathering (service) I would call them emerging.

He goes on to list some values:

• Missional Mindset
• Relational
• Accepting
• Critical thinking

These are values, not a church. They “contribute to the character of the church body.”

I think he makes a great point. What do you think?

Pastor Chris
EvangelismCoach.org

What is taking place in events, until this summer, are a number of region-specific gatherings. If you’re anywhere in the South, the combination of top quality speakers (Shane Claiborne, Tim Keel, Troy Bronsink) and low registration fee ($25 online), makes A Sustainable Faith in St. Petersburg, Florida, Feb 2-3, a must-attend event.

The main series of events is Brian McLaren’s The Everything Must Change Tour, taking place in eleven cities around the USA (Charlotte NC, Boise ID, Dallas TX, St. Petersburg FL, Washington DC, San Diego CA, Chicago IL, Seattle WA, Kansas City MO, New York City NY, Goshen IN). Currently two of the tour stops, Boise and Washington DC, have presbymergents who volunteered to connect Presbyterians going to these events. To learn more about how the First Presbyterian Church in Bend, OR, is getting ready for the tour, see this post, and email Nate Bettger for connecting with them in Boise. Brian Wallace is planning a gathering in Washington DC, email Brian for more information. If you are willing to volunteer for gathering presbymergents in any of the other tour cities, please email and/or write a post for this site by registering or logging in. I will also update the events page with your contact info and any other details you provide.

Finally, there will be a very special event this April 8-10, “Emerging Church for the Existing Church” designed to bridge gaps between Emergent explorations and established Mainline churches. All of the presentations at this conference will directly relate to what it means to be a presbymergent, a convergence of existing church and emerging church. This is an opportunity for both on-ramp questions of figuring out what Emergent is about and for higher-level practitioner questions of being Emergent in Mainline contexts.

If you’re planning a presbymergent-related event, or are even considering the possibility of an event, feel free to email about getting connected with other presbymergents.

If the industrial era was acquainted with consumerism, and the modern era flirted with her, then surely post-modernism slept with her and made LOTS of babies (mostly plastic ones in a post-modern assortment of sizes, shapes, and bright neon colors).

Enter the Emerging Church, which (to its credit) takes post-modern tendencies like deconstructionism, subjectivity, and diversity right in stride without skipping a beat. But what does this conversation have to say about consumerism? Better yet, what actions back up the voices in the conversation?

I do hear lots of voices. Mostly in the form of a never-ending stream of books from emerging authors. Don’t get me wrong — I love these authors, and I consume every word on every page of just about every book I read from them, and they have been more than helpful. In fact, there probably wouldn’t be anything emerging if not for the books. But therein lies the problem: I consume what often seems like the flagship product of the Emerging Church — books.

That in itself isn’t entirely bad. Books are great. I’m an English major; I love books. The Bible is a book. But books are decidedly tangible, material, products that both cost money and generate money, not just for their authors, but for large publishing companies as well.

There are exceptions. I hugely admire Shane Claiborne, who practices what he preaches at The Simple Way, and gives away all the proceeds from his book Irresistible Revolution to a slew of noble causes and organizations.

I’m also not against authors making a living (especially because I hope to be one, and make one someday) and being compensated for their time and effort. But there seems to be something wrong with the idea that the very best in emerging ideas and resources:

• are available primarily to those with the cash to keep buying them
• are protected by strict copyright laws designed to limit the spread of information
• often generate more revenue for their publishers than for their authors
• are not freely available as shared online resources for all

This is where we could take a lesson from the Open Source community, where software is written by talented programmers, and reflects many of the qualities emergents aspire to: it’s generative, collaborative, open, transparent, free, good, and people are passionate (or “evangelical”) about it. Just ask anyone who uses Firefox, Linux, or OpenOffice.

Or consider the rapidly changing music industry, where artists are experimenting with creative ways to share their music with listeners — the band Radiohead recently released their album In Rainbows directly from their website (bypassing record labels) where listeners can pay whatever amount they feel is appropriate, including nothing. All indications thus far are that sales are strong, fans are happy, critics are happy, and the artists still receive more than they would have through traditional distribution methods.

Even closer to the literary medium is Creative Commons — an organization that allows writers (and artists and composers, etc.) to retain some rights while giving others (like the right to distribute and share) away. Cory Doctorow, a respected and award-winning science fiction writer who released his first novel both in print (through a publisher) and online (via Creative Commons license) has this to say:

However an author earns her living from her words, printed or
encoded, she has as her first and hardest task to find her
audience. There are more competitors for our attention than we
can possibly reconcile, prioritize or make sense of. Getting a
book under the right person’s nose, with the right pitch, is the
hardest and most important task any writer faces.

All forward thinking writers should read the full text of Doctorow’s article, which is deeply insightful and visionary.

I guess it all boils down to this: In the emergent conversation, are we writing the things we’re writing because we want to sell books, or are we writing the things we’re writing because we want to change the world? Do our ideas, our theologies, really belong to us or to they belong to a King and a Kingdom that transcend profit? And if it’s possible to give those ideas away, to reach more people, (while still selling books and supporting the labor of the thinkers and writers), isn’t that worth trying?

I visited the Emergent Village website today, and noticed two interesting things, side by side at the bottom of the page: A Creative Commons license for all of the web content, and a disclosure that Emergent Village is underwritten by a grant from Abingdon Press. My first instinct was to be cynical: Why is the leading voice in the conversation financed by the corporation that stands most to profit from it? But my second (and better) instinct was this: Perhaps both paradigms (traditional publishing and P2P information sharing) can co-exist, and even help each other. And if it works with a website, couldn’t it work with all these books?

So here’s my challenge to any and all Emergent Authors, both aspiring and accomplished, from an avid reader, supporter, and customer:

1. In addition to selling your books through traditional publishers, consider making them available for free online distribution as well, through Creative Commons, or another similar open source license. I doubt your sales (or livelihood) will suffer significantly, but I’m confident that your audience will expand, which will benefit not only you in the long run, but also your audience, the Emergent Conversation, and the Kingdom of God.
2. If that’s too big a leap, consider making some or all of your earlier works available for free distribution online — especially if some of them have gone out of print, or are otherwise difficult to obtain. Again, you might pick up a few new readers who will then go out and buy your latest.
3. In the process of making your words and ideas more available, less exclusive, and less profit-driven, you’ll undermine the consumeristic tendencies of our post-modern culture, live up to the words and ideals of the Emerging Conversation, and set an example of generosity and sharing that are entirely fitting companions to the gospel we proclaim.

I promise I’ll still buy your books. And attend your conferences. And tell my friends about you. And maybe, just maybe, in the midst of this hijacked consumer holiday we call Christmas, the gift of your words to a hungry and hurting world might remind us all of another gift from long ago — a gift given freely to all people, from the Author of the universe, on a star-filled night in Bethlehem.