Removing the Stain of Racism from the Southern Baptist Convention - A Review

When people get nostalgic for their childhood, they are usually remembering a time when things seemed simpler. That does not mean life was actually less complex, typically just that they were shielded from some of the twists, confusions, and injustices in the world.

My life was simpler before I knew about the powerful impact racism has had in our nation. Even in my early years in the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) I was unaware of the racism that is at the very root of our denomination’s founding. I did not recognize that the racial homogeneity of my church was not simply a function of different preferences in music, but often because my denomination had not done enough to remove the stain of racism.

I previously attend a church that is dually affiliated with the SBC and the National Baptist Convention (NBC). The SBC is the largest Protestant denomination in the U.S. and is slowly becoming more racially diverse. The NBC is the largest predominantly African-American denomination in the U.S. My church has historically been predominantly African-American, but is becoming more diverse as we reflect more closely the demographics of our surrounding community. This is, in part, because my former pastor has made significant efforts toward encouraging racial reconciliation.

Being involved in a truly multi-racial congregation has caused me to develop a new perspective on race relations and racism. Hearing some of our oldest members tell stories, I can no longer argue that the Civil Rights struggles were “a long time ago” and ignore the legacy of racism in our nation. Listening to conversations around me, I can never again claim I don’t know that systemic biases exist.

A few months ago, my pastor asked me to teach church history to the congregation on Wednesday evenings. In four sessions, I skimmed the surface of the major themes of our Christian past. I spent more time talking about African-American church history in part because of my context and in part because I needed to learn more about it. One of the most painful parts of teaching that lesson was tracing through this history of race relations within the SBC; clearly, we’ve made progress, but it is also apparent we have much more to do.

Removing the Stain of Racism from the Southern Baptist Convention is a volume that tells the story of the SBC’s past, provides a theological basis for moving beyond it, and makes practical recommendations for future progress. This is a necessary next step in a conversation that the SBC has been having, but which needs to continue in earnest.

This volume is an outstanding resource for Southern Baptists and others to learn about racial reconciliation. The volume opens with a collection of SBC resolutions about race, which show the convention has been talking about race—sometimes using the right language—but making insufficient progress toward healing longstanding division. In the first chapter, Albert Mohler recounts the historic origins of the Southern Baptist Convention, which were grounded in the misguided beliefs of slave owners that they could participate in race-based chattel slavery and still be effective missionaries for Christ.

Chapter two is an essay by Matthew Hall, which follows the ongoing participation of some Southern Baptists in racist rhetoric and sometimes political activity. As much as we might wish otherwise, there were many “good Baptists” who argued for Jim Crow laws. The third chapter, by Jarvis Williams, provides a biblical argument for racial reconciliation.

The next six chapters outline suggestions from theologians, pastors, and editors at our denominational publishing house for removing the stain of racism from the Southern Baptist Convention. The body of the book ends with a summary of the state of racial reconciliation within the SBC: we have made progress, but have a long way yet to go. Dwight McKissic and Danny Akin offer epilogues explaining further why the stain of racism remains in the SBC. In a postscript, Vaughn Walker commends readers to continue the work and offers encouragement that the stain of racism can be removed from the SBC.

Although published by the academic arm of B&H, this volume is accessible to the average reader. The writers and editors worked together to create a book that can inform a wide swath of members of SBC churches. More importantly, the contributors to this volume constructed a compelling testimony that (a) racism still exists in our society and our organizations, and (b) there is something we can do about it.

The uniting metaphor of this volume is “removing the stain.” In the preface, the editors explain what that means and their definition is important. To some advocates in racial politics, the stain of racism is like the blood stains on Lady Macbeth’s hands: invisible to living eyes, but indelible to the psyche. The only solution for some is for organizations once complicit in racism to self-destruct. This volume offers a greater hope, recognizing that just as people are redeemable through the gospel, so are organizations.

The metaphor is apt because it also reflects the significant and often time-consuming effort required to remove a stain. Many of us have invested a great deal of time in stain treatments and washing garments by hand to save something treasured from a permanently embedded stain. Rarely are significant stains eradicated in the first attempt, but must be scrubbed repeatedly as by degrees the offending pigment is removed. That is the sort of effort required to continue the work of racial reconciliation in the SBC.

The formal apology for the racist origins of the SBC, affirmed as a resolution in 1995 is important. Electing Fred Luter as the first African-American president of the SBC in 2012 is significant. The resolution opposing the flying of the Confederate battle flag in 2016 takes another step forward. These are important efforts in removing the stain of racism, but they are not enough.

Removing the Stain of Racism reminds readers, with voices from both African-Americans and whites, that though the SBC has made great progress, there is a lot of work to be done. The memory of the racism in the SBC will never be erased, but the stain of racism can be removed. The challenge for the white majority of the SBC is not to attempt to declare victory on our stain-removal efforts too soon. As many have experienced, once you throw the stained garment into the dryer, the stain is often made permanent. We still have scrubbing to do.

Racial reconciliation takes work. While we may remember a time in our denomination’s history when efforts toward removing the stain of racism were not at the forefront, those days only seemed simpler because we were unaware of the problem. Talking about race and racial reconciliation is hard, not least because of the extreme rhetoric on the right and the left of us. The gospel demands we work toward racial reconciliation—no matter how nostalgic we are for simpler days, the work before us cannot be ignored.

NOTE: This article was previously published at B&H Academic Blog, which has since been archived due to a change in communications strategy. I have moved and am no longer a member of the same church that was referenced in this article, but I have left the references from the 2017 publication date.

Recovering the Lost Art of Reading - A Review

Mortimer Adler’s How to Read a Book is a classic introduction to the art of reading. It’s a favorite among homeschoolers and careful thinkers who have wanted to learn how to wrestle with ideas critically and thoroughly. Decades after the first edition was published, there is still a lot to commend it to readers. There is still much to be commended.

But I now have a new top book to recommend for those seeking to learn how to read better and to teach others to read better.

Leland Ryken and Glenda Faye Mathes teamed up to write Recovering the Lost Art of Reading to provide both encouragement and instruction in the practice of consuming literature in various genres.

The book begins with an explanation of the problem. Fewer people are reading books and they tend to read them carelessly. It’s not that fewer people are reading, because the flood of short internet articles ensure that people are taking in information and ideas through words. At the same time, the careful perusal of literature and well-written nonfiction in longform is an artform that fewer seem to be mastering.

Anecdotally, I have met more and more teens who have never read a single book in full, and I have had adults brag they haven’t cracked open a volume in a decade. Meanwhile, total sales of books are up, but I have to wonder what part the frequent sales on ebooks and the habits of prolific readers have to do with that trend. There is evidence that reading on screens is less effective than reading actual books.

The chief problem with a reduced rate of reading good books well is that books that have stood the connect us to our shared human heritage. In many cases these volumes are being ignored because of cultural concerns or because reading them is simply hard work.

 When the culture loses touch with the artifacts of its past we lose voices that can keep us from making old mistakes again, voices that call us to a deeper sense of beauty, and voices that connect us to minds from the past. As Alan Jacobs notes in his book, Breaking Bread with the Dead, when people stop reading “classics” (for whatever reason) we could be dragged back toward the past we long to avoid.

Recovering the Lost Art of Reading helps to remedy the lack of reading by providing accessible instruction about how to read well. So, the second (and far longer) part of the volume offers something of a primer on reading. It begins with a discussion of literature, its significance, and its benefits. Next, introduction to various genres with helpful instructions for reading each type of material well. After these helpful chapters on theory, Mathes and Ryken shift gears in Part Three to a mix of practical instruction and exhortation on recovering the art of reading, where they connect reading to the true, the good, and the beautiful. The pursuit of these is foundational to a well-lived life and a Christian life that seeks to recognize God at work in the world across cultures.

One of the notable features about the book is that there is a focus on a particularly Christian approach to reading. So, their chapter on the Bible as literature describes the process of reading Scripture for its beauty, form, and creativity as something that is spiritually significant. Similarly, the persistent concern for the moral exercise of reading is not primarily about academic virtue, but about putting on the mind of Christ by encountering truth, goodness, and beauty in transcultural forms.

The self-description of the book is apt. The authors write, “[This is] a guidebook by two season and enthusiastic reading travelers, who show all readers . . . how to discover more delight in the reading journey.” This is not an academic volume, though it has academic value. It is not a prescriptive “how to” like Adler’s book. It is filled with instruction, but it is not purely didactic. It’s the sort of book that can be read piecemeal as someone tries to grow in the art of reading. It’s also the sort of book that can be used as a textbook in a high school or introductory college literature class. It would also be useful as a companion to a reading group. Most significantly, it’s a book that will help its reader grow in their love of the better things in life.

The unfortunate reality is that those that really need to read this volume—the truly reluctant readers—are unlikely to pick it up. But the casual reader can benefit and the seasoned reader can deepen their love for the practice. With so many distractions, in the form of funny internet videos and short blog articles, this book may not win as many as it should. However, the audience that it does reach will be improved and deepened in their understanding of literature, their love of reading, and their love of God.

As someone who loves reading, I found this book refreshing. Instead of providing rigid rules about book lists, types of reading, etc., we get a volume about taking delight in reading and growing through the process.

The self-description of the book is apt. The authors write, “[This is] a guidebook by two season and enthusiastic reading travelers, who show all readers . . . how to discover more delight in the reading journey.” This is not an academic volume, though it has academic value. It is not a prescriptive “how to” like Adler’s book. It is filled with instruction, but it is not purely didactic. It’s the sort of book that can be read piecemeal as someone tries to grow in the art of reading. It’s also the sort of book that can be used as a textbook in a high school or introductory college literature class. It would also be useful as a companion to a reading group. Most significantly, it’s a book that will help its reader grow in their love of the better things in life.

The unfortunate reality is that those that really need to read this volume—the truly reluctant readers—are unlikely to pick it up. But the casual reader can benefit and the seasoned reader can deepen their love for the practice. With so many distractions, in the form of funny internet videos and short blog articles, this book may not win as many as it should. However, the audience that it does reach will be improved and deepened in their understanding of literature, their love of reading, and their love of God.

As someone who loves reading, I found this book refreshing. Instead of providing rigid rules about book lists, types of reading, etc., we get a volume about taking delight in reading and growing through the process.

Recovering the Lost Art of Reading: A Quest for the True, the Good, and the Beautiful

By Ryken, Leland, Mathes, Glenda

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A Look at One Case for Population Control

In the deep, dark corners of the Southern Baptist Convention’s theological past is a sociologist who taught at a Missouri State Convention affiliated college, wrote for the Christian Life Commission (the precursor to the ERLC), and advocated for abortion, forced sterilization, and legal penalties for exceeding an approved number of children. Since that point, his college disassociated from their denomination and Chasteen went on to form a non-profit organization dedicated to affirming the equal validity of all religions. Just how Baptist or even Christian Chasteen is or ever was is up for debate. There is little in his 1971 book or his various websites that can connects him to anything like Christian orthodoxy.

The thesis of Chasteen’s book is “that unless we act now to legislate a limit of two children per family, we have little hope of solving the other problems that beset us.” (vii) That problem Chasteen describe as an insidious disease: “The cancer of runaway population growth has eaten away both heart and soul of the body politic. We are on the verge of anarchy with only our will to survive and our determination to act staying our fall.” (33)

For Chasteen, every problem was driven by overpopulation. He writes, “If, as a nation and as individuals, we can summon the intelligence and the courage to bring population growth under control, we will find ourselves still faced with problems of race relations, crime, alienation, apathy, environmental degradation, and so forth, but with one big difference. The problems will then be capable of solution, whereas now they are not.” (33)

Chasteen echoes Paul Ehrlich’s popular book, The Population Bomb, in his concern for the growing number of individuals on the planet. His book, The Case for Compulsory Birth Control, was written while the Rockefeller commission was composing their report, which was commission and subsequently rejected by Nixon. Like Chasteen, the Rockefeller commission affirmed eugenic policies, widespread birth control funded by the government, and the expansion of access to abortion. Unlike Chasteen, the Rockefeller Commission only advocated for voluntary sterilization.

The entire tenor of Chasteen’s book is anti-human. He expresses concerns that “Death rates in the industrializing nations began to drop while birth rates remained at their previously high levels.” (25) Which leads to complaints that Americans shared medical technology with developing nations with a false sense of compassion and without permission.

Argues Chasteen:

“America has shared its medicines with the world, thinking that by doing so it was saving millions of people from early death, and so it was. . . . [However,] we were operating on a foundation of mistaken morality which made keeping people alive and end in itself. We inoculated, immunized and sprayed, and we felt good about our actions. . . . Motivated by benevolent ignorance of social forces and human desires, America played unintentional havoc with the destinies of nations and peoples. . . . In some parts of the world death rates were cut in half in only a decade, and sometimes without the consent or knowledge of the governments affected.” (26–27)

There is more, but it does not get much better.

At the root of Chasteen’s ethics is an individualistic, subjectivistic presumption: “An action is moral only when prompted or hindered by what is right as defined by the individual conscience.” (187)

In light of that naked assertion, Chasteen argues, “What this means is that a new rationale for sexual responsibility and exclusiveness is needed.” (187)

Chasteen demonstrates a full-throated adoption of the sexual revolution:

“Contraceptive technology has made it possible to separate sexual intercourse from conception, making it possible (and necessary) for us to rethink the philosophy of sex worked out before contraception. A very simple formula can be stated:

coitus – contraception = procreation

coitus + contraception = expression” (184)

He celebrates the individualism and autonomy of human sexuality because sex became disassociated from procreation, so that a woman on chemical birth control “can express her sexuality as she expresses her opinion––because of the meaning it has for her as an individual.” (184) He makes a similar argument for males who have had vasectomies.

Chasteen makes clear what contraception has done for sexual ethics in contemporary society:

“Contraception makes it possible to view sex as voluntary, interpersonal behavior rather than a necessary act of survival. Sex becomes a special method of communication between male and female. Sex thus loses its exclusively biological meaning and becomes more social. Like all social relationships, sex can be made constructive or destructive, depending upon the attitude and behavior of those involved. Sex can become a dialogue between two people in which comes to understand and appreciate the other. It can be an expression of the mutual dependence to human existence. Sex can be an enriching and compassionate human encounter or simply another opportunity for exploitation, satisfying a biological urge but destroying humanity socially and spiritually. It’s up to us.” (189)

There are a lot of strands to unwind in Chasteen’s writing on the subject, but he makes explicit the arguments that are assumed in our culture regarding the purpose of sex. The autonomous self is the champion of Chasteen’s moral vision, with no reference to the Christian faith, historical or otherwise. It is the individual alone who determines what is right. (A belief that undermines Chasteen’s plea that his perspective is the correct one, but whatever.)

Several lessons can be gleaned from reading books like Chasteen’s, The Case for Compulsory Birth Control.

1.       There were good reasons for the Conservative Resurgence in the Southern Baptist Convention. Chasteen advocates for multiple anti-Christian positions that are untenable with anyone remotely committed with the content of Scripture. The convention had to rid itself of the cancer of those like Chasteen to survive as a gospel-focused entity.

2.       The population control movement, which is now growing because of concerns over climate change, has its roots in a dark movement that has to find a way to mourn the decrease in suffering due to premature death. It has not, as far as I can tell, found a way to do so, it has simply tended to skip over the assumption that it would be better if the superfluous people didn’t survive past their age of usefulness.

3.       Beware people who see one big social problem as the key to all other problems. A big idea like overpopulation, systemic racism, or climate change can be used as a way to blind listeners to the moral evil being proposed on one front for the perceived good result on another. Society is complicated. Solving climate change won’t fix poverty. Eliminating systemic racism won’t reduce our carbon footprint. Limiting population growth will not eliminate crime. It is impossible to attain a good society through persistent evil.

Dignity for Back Row America

God created humans in his own image. (Gen 1:26–27) There is a great deal of honor and dignity that comes with that blessing. We all subconsciously recognize our status as made in the image of God, which gives everyone an innate desire for dignity.

In 2019, former Wall Street trader, Chris Arnade, left his day job to photograph and interview people from what he calls “Back Row America.” This group includes individuals on the political left and right, but who have all been effectively left behind by polite society and the economy.

Arnade’s journeys took him across the United States to areas with mixed histories, ethnicities, and economic struggles. As he notes in his introduction:

“What they had in common was that all were poor and rarely considered or talked about beyond being a place of problems. All had been described as left behind, despite some, like Hunts point, being adjacent to rich and successful neighborhoods. Residents growing up in these communities faces immense structural obstacles, and some, like minority neighborhoods, had for a very long time.

Despite their differences––black, white, Hispanic, rural, urban–they were all similar to Hunts Point in one important way: despite being stigmatized, ignored, and made fun of, most of the people I met were fighting to maintain dignity.

They feel disrespected––and with good reason. My circles, the bankers, business people, and the politicians they supported had created a world where McDonald’s was often one of the only restaurant options––and we make fun of them for going there.”

And if you’re reading this, you (like me) probably fall into the category who have fallen into unfounded assumptions about people and ignorant attitudes toward them because they looked down and out, were at a McDonalds, especially if they were a bit loud or out of place in public. Very few middle class and up individuals are exempt from having experienced this in themselves.

Dignity is a raw look at the desire for respect. It’s a reminder that everyone has a story. There was a commercial that ran when I was a kid during the height of the drug wars. It reminded the audience that “no one wants to be a junkie when they grow up.” The message was clear: if you use drugs, you are a loser and the way you get there is by making bad choices.

There is some validity in that argument, but it fails to take into account social and cultural pressures. It neglects the influence that the frustrations about systems that are designed for people with resources.

Think about how it is nearly impossible to apply for a job without a home address. Or consider what it is like to fill out a background check application when you’ve bounced from apartment to shelter to relatives’ homes for the past three years. Furthermore, ponder what it must be like not to have a working smart phone, tablet, or computing device in a timeframe when apps, websites, and email are primary means of communication. There are many people who live close to the line of success and failure, where a blown-out tire, a medical problem, or a couple of mistakes between paydays can start ripples that spread into disfunction. Eventually, the comfort of a drug-induced high can seem like a blessing that takes away the pain and stress for a little while. It doesn’t make anything better, but it can make someone feel better for a little while.

Arnade reminds us that the person who has fallen into the hole of addiction may not have known anything different or may have been set on the path by a personal disaster. They are worth respect. They deserve dignity. They are made in the image of God.

There are unhealthy aspects of this book. Arnade admits that his involvement in the night life of the streets contributed to his own drug issues and problems within his family. There is also a level of voyeurism in reading the accounts of prostitutes, drag queens, dealers, unemployed, and underemployed. If voyeurism can be justified, at least Arnade’s Dignity carries out the purpose of reminding readers that the weathered, bedraggled, odd-behaving individuals we often avoid in public are people, made in the image of God who have stories, hopes, dreams, and a desire to be recognized for the goodness of being human.

Dignity should help remind readers that the unwashed “other” are not a problem to be dealt with, but people to be engaged with as worthy of respect and honor. As well, Arnade issues a warning that the same group is not a social project that exists to make the middle class feel good about their beneficence. There aren’t a lot of particular solutions in Dignity, but recognizing the inherent value of those on the edge of society is a big step toward spanning some of the fissures in our divided country.

Dignity: Seeking Respect in Back Row America

By Arnade, Chris

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The End of Our Exploring - A Review

If what I see on social media is to be believed, all the cool kids are deconstructing the faith of their childhood. It’s all the rage, but it’s not really a new thing.

For some, kissing dating goodbye was a traumatic experience, though for many of the most vocal critics, I suspect Josh Harris’s book provided a solution to a problem they only wish they had. Nevertheless, the experience turned too much for Harris’s faith, as he has recently abandoned Christianity and begun selling “deconstruction kits” along with a series of webinars for $275.

Other deconstruction workers are less entrepreneurial, but there is a steady stream of people who were once overt, professional Christians who have transitioned to making money off of deconverting and encouraging other people to do the same.

One response to the deconstruction/deconversion movement is to provide answers to the cultural defeaters of the day. Standard apologetics books like Lee Strobel’s Case for Christ or Josh McDowell’s More than a Carpenter provide helpful aids to those with general struggles regarding particular questions about Christianity. Other books like Tim Keller’s The Reason for God and Making Sense of God tend to focus on bigger picture problems and defeaters. Recently books like Alisa Childers’s Another Gospel? tell the story of starting down the path of deconstruction and ending back a Jesus. These assume that someone is either outside of Christianity looking in or already down the road of deconversion and need pulling back. It is a helpful approach for many.

But what about those that stand on the fuzzy border between faith and doubt and wonder which way to turn?

Matthew Lee Anderson’s 2013 book, The End of Our Exploring: A Book About Questioning and the Confidence of Faith, provides a helpful resource for those with questions or who want to create a space for legitimate questions within the faith community.

Anderson is a pastor’s kid who was (by his own confession) the insufferable know-it-all who was too cocksure to ask good questions or hear good answers. He has come a long way, and this book can help readers make significant progress without some of the awkward relationships.

The book begins by exploring the nature of questioning, identifying that many questions are not good questions because they presuppose an answer. They key message is that good questions can be helpful as we seek to recalibrate our faith—knocking off the pieces inconsistent with Scripture and keeping the parts that fit with an integrated biblical understanding––but most people are not well-equipped to ask good questions.

Anderson goes on to note that our information economy that values data rather than wisdom contributes to shallowness of discourse. So does the shallowness with which much of the Christian community in the West actually holds their Christian convictions. The result is that young people often either fail to ask good questions or encounter hostility when questions are asked.

Questioning is viewed as dangerous in some churches because too few people know the answers. In some churches, questioning is taboo because it leads to the uncovering of inconsistencies between faith and practice. Sometimes questioning is unwelcome because the people being questioned have the same questions, fear they are wrong, but are clinging to faith in the face of that prospect.

Some see questioning as an act of faithlessness, but Anderson shows how good questioning can be a catalyst for a deeper faith, because there are valid answers to the hardest questions that can be tossed at Christianity. The End of Our Exploring explains why that is so and also helps the reader begin to formulate better questions.

As a parent of children who “know all the answers” because we have spent a lot of time on discipleship, I find Anderson’s faithful but open approach to questioning helpful. This is a book that I will have my children read toward the end of high school. Sometimes it is frightening that my kids have the ready answers to theological questions. I worry that they have borrowed my authority, as it were, because they have seen me teach through an abbreviated systematic theology, several books of the Bible, and other topical lessons. They know that I have read the books and explored the questions, but it is important that they do some of their own exploring, too.

The way that Anderson encourages exploring is critical to the outcome achieved. The nature of this exploring is clear from the title of the book, which comes from a T. S. Eliot poem:

And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

That perspective marks the fundamental difference between faithful questioning and deconstructing. When people deconstruct they are seeking to tear down because they’ve already decided the thing is wrong. Anderson’s questioning and exploring is an attempt to know the truth better. It does not presuppose the truth, as if the conclusion is foregone and the exploration is simply a sowing of wild oats, but it does not begin from a posture of skepticism and caustic disbelief.

 The End of Our Exploring is a warm, personal book. It is thoughtful, rigorous, and challenging. Above all, it is helpful as I continue my exploring and seek to point other explorers toward a deeper understanding of truth.

The End of Our Exploring: A Book about Questioning and the Confidence of Faith

By Anderson, Matthew Lee

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Eschatological Discipleship - A Review

Trevin Wax is one of the most incisive cultural commentators in the evangelical community. He has a talent for moving past pearl clutching about trends in pop culture by asking foundational questions about the ideas that animate to moral activity in entertainment and society. His 2018 book, Eschatological Discipleship is an overt presentation of the theological analysis that is evident in the background of Wax’s popular books and blogs.

Eschatology is the oft neglected and frequently abused topic in Christian systematic theologies. As Wax notes, discussions of the end times in seminary courses tend to be stuck on the end of the course syllabus and often are the first to get axed when discussions of soteriology and ecclesiology run long at the beginning of the semester. More often, the term eschatology is understood to mean endless debate about the nature and timing of the rapture, the intrigue of the mark of the beast, and various theories on the millennium.

This book gets beyond the most common pitfalls of eschatological debate to focus on the core issue of eschatology as it is woven throughout Scripture. In particular, Wax emphasizes the idea of eschatology as a source for telos; it is the theological topic that provides the best evidence for the meaning of life. In other words, eschatology is not primarily about charts and timing, but about providing a lodestar of eternal purpose to navigate life in ever-changing times.

In Eschatological Discipleship: Leading Christians to Understand their Historical and Cultural Context, Wax does something few treatments of the topic do: he offers an analysis of the eschatologies of worldviews that compete with Christianity. His analysis of the eschatology of the Enlightenment, the Sexual Revolution, and Consumerism are unique in their revelation of the unspoken, but evident meaning encoded in those rival systems of meaning. This book provides a framework for discussing the often-obscured theologies of those movements.

Wax begins the book with a chapter defining the term eschatological discipleship. He argues, “eschatological discipleship is spiritual formation that seeks to instill wisdom regarding the contemporary setting in which Christians find themselves (in contrast to rival conceptions of time and progress) and that calls for contextualized obedience as a demonstration of the Christian belief that the biblical account of the world’s past, present, and future is true.” (p. 41) This definition makes clear Wax’s aim, which is to present a theological argument that unquestionably leads to obedience.

In three chapters, Wax presents a biblical theology of eschatological discipleship, beginning with the Old Testament, then focusing on the Gospels and Acts, and concluding with a survey of the topic in Paul’s letters. It becomes evident through this survey that all of Scripture encourages Christians to ask, “What time is it?”, so they can understand their culture and how they should live in their particular context to the glory of God.

Chapter Five presents the idea of eschatology within non-Christian thought, which leads the way into the helpful analysis of the next three chapters. In the sixth through eighth chapters of the book, Wax performs a critical analysis of the eschatology of the Enlightenment, the Sexual Revolution, and Consumerism, which all compete with Scripture to dominate the worldviews of Christians in our age. In the final chapter, Wax shows how his presentation of eschatological discipleship can enhance the practice of evangelical theology and equip every church member to better respond to the confused theologies around them.

Trevin Wax is one of the most gifted writers among evangelicals. This academic book is no exception. The prose is clear and the arguments careful. He manages to raise concern about the real problems within the dominant culture of the West without calling for withdrawal or reflexive combativeness. Eschatological Discipleship is a specimen of Christian scholarship in its most helpful form: theologically precise and readable.

Those who have read other books by Wax will likely see the connection between another of his recent books, This is Our Time: Everyday Myths in Light of the Gospel, and this volume. Eschatological Discipleship makes clear the theological framework that This is Our Time presents in a practical, popular format. The close connection between the two books offer an example for Christian scholars for how to translate scholarship for broad consumption and how to most efficiently steward their research by pitching their arguments to multiple audiences.

Eschatological Discipleship is a useful resource for pastors and scholars seeking to understand the contours of contemporary culture better. Theologically informed laity will likely find this book an accessible and informative volume, too. This is a book that will have enduring value for its analytical content and exemplary argumentation.

NOTE: This article was originally posted at the B&H Academic Blog, which has since been archived due to a change in strategy.

One Child - A Review

China’s one child policy offered promise of economic blessing, but has resulted in sociological disruption leading to economic problems, leaving trauma and tragedy in its wake. This is an example of a government trying to plan its way to prosperity.

In a 2012 book, One Child: The Story of China’s Most Radical Experiment, journalist Mei Fong explores the impacts of the technocratically-driven population policy instituted by China several decades ago.

One Child is an engaging book. Fong writes clearly, tells captivating stories, and systematically arranges the book in a way that makes it an enjoyable and informative read.

One of Fong’s main goals in writing One Child is to demonstrate that the infamous policy of Communist China is not the blessing that some have argued it to be. She writes,

“It took me a while to realize that, contrary to popular thinking, the one-child policy had very little to do with China’s double-digit economic growth of the past thirty years, and will actually be a drag for the next thirty.” (9)

Fong came to realize that people are both consumers and producers. Although she does not articulate the idea clearly in her book, it seems that she also recognizes that the economy is not a pie of a fixed size. That is, having more productive citizens does not mean that the same wealth must be distributed to more people more thinly. It means that more people will produce more wealth, which can be available to many people. The economy is not a zero-sum game.

The tragedy of the one-child policy is manifold. Fong notes that the policy has created a class of non-citizens in China who, because they were the extra child born over the limit, cannot be registered and cannot get health care, an education, or jobs. They are the hei haizi, “black children,” undocumented and ignored.

One of the more frightening aspects of the one-child policy has been the eugenic emphasis. Fong argues, “Chinese authorities were never shy about stating this aim of the one-child policy: fewer births, higher-quality births.” (28) The right people should be able to procreate to create the right sort of citizen. The result of such policies is always horrific abuse of human rights.

Fong tells the story of one factory worker pregnant with her second child. She believed she was qualified for an exemption, but the local officials disagreed. They demanded an exorbitant fine, which her family could not pay, and was subsequently forced to have an abortion. Fong writes,

“Feng, meanwhile, was made to sign an agreement she voluntarily consented to the abortion. On June 2, she was injected with a substance to kill the fetus. She later said, ‘I could feel the baby jumping around inside me all the time, but then she went still.’” (61)

Furthermore, “In some parts of the country, pregnant women without birth permits were marched off in handcuffs to undergo forced abortions.” (70) In the 1990’s, the policy expanded to punish behaviors that could be more or less linked to unsanctioned births, “Women were fined for living with a man out of wedlock; for not using contraception, even if it didn’t lead to pregnancy; or simply for not attending regular pregnancy checkups. In Jiangsu, women had to line up twice monthly for pregnancy tests and publicly pee in cups.” (73)

Contributing to this, there was “a wage incentive for birth-planning officials, which was tied to how many sterilizations and abortions they were able to achieve. . . . [According to one former official,] ‘Some girls were forced to get surgeries even though they weren’t pregnant at all.’” (75]

The enforced abortion regime is one of the most horrific aspects of the policy that Fong records. Interestingly, she herself is a proponent of abortion and considered terminating her first pregnancy, which later ended in miscarriage, which only makes the horror of her stories more apparent.

The sociological impacts of the one-child are also striking. Fong details how combining one-child policies with a culture that expects children to take care of their parents puts extreme pressure on children to get into lucrative careers so they and their spouse can support their own child plus up to four parents and, potentially, grandparents as well. The emotional burden on the child who fears failing a test and being forced into factory work is obvious.

China has also instituted minimum ages for marriage. A man cannot get married before he is 22 and a woman before 20. But if school is not complete and a career not established, then marriage will logically be delayed. Subsequently, the age of marriage goes up and the window of fertility shrinks. The result is increasing infertility, which is making it more difficult for some workers to conceive and bear even the quota of children they are allowed.

Fong’s book is a helpful exposé of the regime in China. It is a reminder that government tinkering in families and biology are often ill-fated, even when they have positive motives. It is also a reminder of the horror of abortion that underlies many zero population growth or other population control movements. These are consistently pitched as “voluntary,” but once the government steps in “volunteerism” often shifts to coercion. People should be careful what they wish for.

One Child: The Story of China's Most Radical Experiment

By Fong, Mei

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My Tech-Wise Life - A Review

It’s one thing to argue that a plan like the one Andy Crouch outlines in Tech-Wise Family would work. It’s another thing entirely to find out how the people who participated in the plan felt about it. The 2020 book, My Tech-Wise Life, which was co-authored by Amy Crouch (Andy’s daughter) and Andy Crouch provides a portal into one teenager’s thoughts on her family’s approach to technology.

Amy Crouch is a student at Cornell University. As she describes herself in this book, she is not an exceptional being in the ways that our world often describes it. She is not a social media influencer with her own cable TV show, she has not won Olympic Gold, she has not developed a new technology that will end malaria in the world. However, at the age of 19, she did complete a manuscript for this volume. This is someone who may not be extraordinary in the conventional sense, but is the sort of person that I’d like to hear from about how a method of navigating the distractions of our tech-saturated world can come through and be the sort of college freshman that can write a good book.

This is a short book, but a helpful one for this particular moment. In eight chapters, Amy explains why her family’s conscious, tech-minimal lifestyle was a good thing. Each chapter is accompanied by a letter of response from Andy Crouch, Amy’s father. In Chapter One, Amy begins by demonstrating how social media can make us feel inadequate through comparison. A casual photo highlights our imperfections, which can make our image-infatuated minds dwell on negative self-perceptions. The answer that Amy provides is not to revel in self-love and post more ugly pictures on purpose, but to recognize the limitations of technology, keep tech in check, and focus on real life relationships. In the second chapter the topic is distraction. Anyone who writes knows how easy it is to get sucked into the cycle of clicking through social media platforms, email, and anything but the task at hand. Those who get notifications will find their phones constantly buzzing, drawing them away from essential tasks. The result is a harried life of distraction and unproductivity, which if started at a young age can set up patterns that undermine a teen’s future. Amy’s answer is to take control, limit apps, take media fasts, and keep the main things the main thing. This is enabled by a family structure than supports, encourages, and, when necessary, enforces such discipline.

Chapter Three wrestles with the question of connection and isolation. She discusses strategies to use technologies to connect rather than isolate. This begins by recognizing how easy it is for our portable entertainment devices to keep us isolated and treasure the connection. Social media is a fine garnish, but our goal should be a life off-grid. The secret to getting there is recognition of which has the greater value. In the fourth chapter, the topic shifts to the problem of secrets, privacy, and the digital age. Amy’s emphasis in this chapter is the problem of porn, which is distorting self-perceptions, expectations about sex, and relationships. Additionally, she talks about how the prospect of secrecy or anonymity can enable negative behaviors. Amy recognizes the good of privacy, but also that it is a limited good, so that having parents who can help when you’ve been sucked into binge watching a fairly harmless, but not-particularly-valuable show can provide some direct feedback.

Chapter Five deals with the issue of lying online. This has been encouraged, in some cases, because of the age limits of apps like Facebook, so that 11-year-olds would claim to be 13 in order to get access. Now the realization that a million identities and faux accomplishments are only a few clicks away. The message here is that it isn’t worth it, your real friends will know the truth, so you are burning bridges by presenting a false front online. The sixth chapter tackles the topic of using technology to avoid boredom. Here Amy channels some of the wisdom of her father (the culture maker) to argue that boredom is a good thing and the source of creativity and greater community.

The topic opens in several earlier chapters, but Chapter Seven explores the issue of technologies replacing sleep time, especially among teens (who need more than most adults). The stats are inarguable. 24/7 access to phones and computers is taking away from the rest that kids (and adults) need to live healthy, cognitively balanced lives. Amy’s solution is to put boundaries on phones, keep them out of the bedroom, and practice Sabbath where minimal technology is available to distract from other activities. The final chapter is an exhortation to live in hope. Basically, we need not acquiesce to the negative influences of technology. We can, in fact, take control and have a more positive experience if we take control, set limits, and live in communities that encourage healthy limits to technology.

I commend both Andy Crouch’s book, The Tech-Wise Family, and the combined effort with his daughter, Amy, My Tech-Wise Life, to both individuals and families. My Tech-Wise Life is obviously marketed toward teens, but I found it to be refreshing and helpful in many ways. It serves to undermine the argument, which I have heard some parents make, that limiting access to technology is going to “make my kid angry for living like we’re Amish.” Amy shows that when the whole family tries to live a tech-wise life it can make for a much better experience.

This book is very important in the attention economy because it shows (rather than states) the possibility and promise of limitations to technology. Amy encourages asking why one should use a particular technology or platform, not merely how to get access to it. Though the applications will change faster and faster, the principals are the same.

If you are a parent, read The Tech-Wise Family and this book, too. If you are a youth pastor, buy copies to distribute to your students. If you are a pastor, read this book, buy copies to have on hand when you have families come in for counseling due to results of stress that a tech-harried life will cause. This book does not answer all questions or make detailed theological arguments, but it provides a way forward for one of the most pressing questions of our day.

My Tech-Wise Life: Growing Up and Making Choices in a World of Devices

By Crouch, Amy, Crouch, Andy

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NOTE: I made the decision to refer to Amy by her first name due to the fact that this was co-authored by her father, to simplify the language. Since there are distinct divisions between her work and her father’s the first name seemed the simplest way to make the differentiation.

The Story Retold - A Review

As Qoheleth warned his son, “There is no end to the making of many books, and much study wearies the body.” (Ecc 12:12b, CSB)

This may be said of publishing in our day and age, even of evangelical publishing, with more new books being pumped out than any person can possibly read. And yet, there are so many good books being published that it is difficult to let them pass by. Sadly, there are many engaging books that I never open the covers of. But the ones that I do find are often worth writing about.

One recent, good book that I’ve had opportunity to peruse is G. K. Beale’s and Benjamin Gladd’s volume, The Story Retold: A Biblical-Theological Introduction to the New Testament. The occasion of my reading this book is preparation of a New Testament survey for my daughter’s homeschool curriculum, but the benefit has extended well beyond that preparation.

In my library I have multiple whole-Bible and New Testament biblical theologies. I also have a handful of intro or survey texts for the New Testament. What need is there for yet another item in my home library on the same topic?

Need may be too strong a word here, but there is certainly benefit in owning this beautiful and rich book.

I was expecting another survey text with a little more theological thrust, but Beale and Gladd have gone well beyond that. This is a book that should be paired with a standard survey (they recommend Carson and Moo), because The Story Retold skips much of the standard authorship, dating, textual criticism information and jumps into what the text says, what it means, and how that relates to the rest of the canon of Scripture.

This book is deeper than a basic introduction, exploring the corners of significance and sometimes seeming more like a commentary than a survey text. In many cases, Gladd and Beale do a lot of work to show how a given book of the New Testament fits in with other New Testament books and especially Old Testament books. One of Beale’s major interests is temple imagery throughout the canon, so it is little surprise that shows up on a regular basis in this volume.

The Story Retold is a valuable resource in a Christian’s home library because it pushes the reader toward a deeper understanding of the whole message of Scripture. The “verse a day” mentality is demolished as the pieces are put together into a beautiful mosaic that reveals Christ as the central character of all of Scripture.

In addition to its helpful content, this volume is simply beautiful. It is printed on heavy, glossy paper with full color illustrations. The publishing team included artwork and illustrative photographs that enrich the text, not merely adorn it. The book is, itself, simply a pleasure to read and peruse.

The challenge of this volume is that it may be a hard place for beginners to start. The subtitle indicates that it is an introduction, but in some ways this is an introduction to the particular method of reading Scripture—Biblical theology—rather than to the text itself. If a new believer is looking for a place to begin to try to put the pieces of Scripture together, The Story Retold may prove heavy going without an experienced guide. However, for the saint who has some of the basics down, this is a book that will accelerate growth in biblical understanding and depth of knowledge of the whole message of the Bible.

This book has gone from a supplemental text that I was using to prepare some lectures for my daughter’s homeschool curriculum to a book that is going to be a core textbook for the course. Moreover, I would encourage Christians building their libraries to add this book. Pastors should own a copy, because I’ve referenced it in preparation for Sunday School lessons and can see its helpfulness for sermon prep. Professors teaching a NT Intro or Survey should consider this as a secondary text that will significantly enhance the students’ understanding of the Bible. Families should consider having this accessible because children may find themselves thumbing through the pictures and straying to examine the valuable content.

In short, The Story Retold is a useful book. It is a good book. It is a beautiful book. And it is a book that deserves a wide and long-term audience.

The Story Retold: A Biblical-Theological Introduction to the New Testament

By Beale, G. K., Gladd, Benjamin L.

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NOTE: I received a gratis copy of this volume from the publisher with no expectation of a positive review.

An Apologetics Book for Teens

Rebecca McLaughlin’s recent book, 10 Questions Every Teen Should Ask (and Answer) about Christianity, is the sort of volume that deserves to be put into the hands of many young Christians and soon.

McLaughlin is riffing on her first book, Confronting Christianity, which poses a slightly different set of questions for an older audience. But this new book is pitched at young people who are being flooded with more questions than answers about the historic Christian faith.

In a world that is rewarding deconstruction of the faith and rejection of Christian orthodoxy and orthopraxy, McLaughlin stands firm in her belief that Christianity has good answers to any culture’s questions and tackles some of the big-ticket challenges of the modern age. She explains that Christianity has demonstrable health benefits, that it is (contrary to popular myth) the most diverse religious movement in history. She argues that Christianity does indeed require rejecting relativism and that evangelism is demanded, but that should be recognized as a good thing. McLaughlin goes on to wrestle with morality apart from God, exploring the ways that modern conceptions of “good” are often derived from Christian ideals. Then she provides arguments for the reliability of Scripture and follows that by making the case that science has not, as commonly thought, disproved Christianity. So far these are just standard apologetic arguments. In the next two chapters, McLaughlin goes on to make the case for natural marriage and for a historic understanding of human sex. In both chapters she acknowledges the difficulty of same-sex attraction (as a same-sex attracted woman who is married to a man) and intersex individuals. This is no table-pounding denial of the complexity or emotional difficulty of the present issues, but is a compassionate wrestling with sexual ethics and the witness of Scripture. McLaughlin remains faithful to orthodox Christianity, but presents it in terms that are less repugnant than its opponents often make it. The book concludes with chapters on the problem of pain (or evil) and the defensibility of eternal judgment and reward.

There is little innovative about the content McLaughlin presents, but this little volume presents important, challenging information in a winsome way. The book is written openly and honestly without being condescending. The hard questions culture is asking are acknowledged. The fact that Christianity stands in stark contrast to the prevailing notions of the day is recognized. The goodness of the enduring truth of the gospel remains central and a deep concern for maintaining the faith once and for all delivered to the saints is revealed. McLaughlin makes the case that being true to Christianity is worth it.

The usefulness of this book is that McLaughlin has transposed important apologetic arguments from the halls of the atheist/Christian debates and put it in language and terms that are absorbable for the average teen. McLaughlin uses illustrations from Harry Potter, Lord of the Rings, and a variety of Disney animated movies. She does this as someone who has obviously watched and enjoyed them, so they don’t come across as misplaced tinsel, but actually support the content of the book. This is a book that reads well without sacrificing the quality of the arguments.

10 Questions Every Teen Should Ask (and Answer) about Christianity does not answer every question as fully as it could be, but it provides good arguments against common cultural defeaters that can help Christian teens feel confidence in their beliefs and help curious teens understand that there is more to the historic Christian faith than the cardboard cutouts that are often depicted in popular media.

Some parents might question why this book is for teens and not for those younger. Depending on the social situation and reading level of a given child, this may be an appropriate book for those at 10 and 11 years old. It’s not a difficult read, but it isn’t lightweight either. And the book wrestles with sexual topics (discreetly) that some parents may not feel appropriate, especially for younger children. Given the age that public schools are presenting their sexual content, this will certainly be mild for many children. For parents with questions, I would recommend previewing the content (an intro chapter by the author provides some insight), but this is best suited for teens.

In any case, this is a book that deserves to be distributed widely. Youth pastors should stock the volume as a resource. Parents should sneak it on their child’s shelf or backpack. Pastors should have a few copies available to help those wrestling with hard questions. This is the sort of book that would be even better when a faithful adult reads it along side a teen who is being asked and perhaps asking some of these difficult questions. It is unlikely to get easier to be a faithful Christian, but this volume at least explains why it is reasonable and worthwhile to hold fast to the faith.

10 Questions Every Teen Should Ask (and Answer) about Christianity

By McLaughlin, Rebecca