Book Review: Evolving in Monkey Town

Rachel Held Evans and I share a lot in common. We’re both 29-year-olds who were raised in evangelical homes and attended small Christian colleges from 1999 to 2003. We’ve both experienced our fair share of disillusionment with various aspects of American evangelicalism and have lived to blog about it. Topping off the similarities, her husband’s name is Dan while my wife Rebecca sometimes gets called ‘Rachel’ by mistake. So it comes as no surprise that I enjoyed reading my advance copy of Rachel’s winsome new book, Evolving in Monkey Town: How a Girl Who Knew All the Answers Learned to Ask the Questions (Zondervan).

Growing up in Dayton, Tennessee (site of the famous Scopes Monkey Trial of 1925 which debated the teaching of evolution in public schools) as the overachieving daughter of a theology professor, Rachel was a Sunday School superkid raised in a Bible Belt subculture of zealous apologetics. Though adept at defending her Christian worldview against doubters and skeptics during her high school and early college years, everything changed when she began experiencing doubts of her own. The most potent ones involved questions concerning (you guessed it) why God would allow horrific human suffering or send millions of non-Christians to eternal torment in hell. Frustrated with the simplistic answers she knew so well, Rachel questioned her dad one Friday afternoon describing the quandary this way:

It’s like God runs some kind of universal sweepstakes with humanity in which all of our names get thrown into a big hat at the beginning of time… Some of us are randomly selected for famine, war, disease, and paganism, while others end up with fifteen-thousand-square-foot houses, expensive Christian educations, and Double Stuf Oreos. It’s a cosmic lottery, luck of the draw. (p. 99)

If such irreverent theological sniping makes you uncomfortable, you might have hard time with this book- which is precisely the point. Undergoing a process to re-evaluate all your previously unshakable beliefs from scratch is no fun, especially in the foothills of Southern Appalachia. But if you’ve ever felt conflicted about similar questions, you will be refreshed by Rachel’s intellectual honesty and courage in facing her fears. Far from drowning in a sea of skepticism, her faith re-surfaces more vibrant than ever. While critics might contend that Rachel is promoting doubt to the detriment of faith, this is not the case:

I would argue that healthy doubt (questioning one's beliefs) is perhaps the best defense against unhealthy doubt (questioning God). When we know how to make a distinction between our ideas about God and God himself, our faith remains safe when one of those ideas is seriously challenged. (p. 220)

As it turns out, Rachel's quest has not really been about finding good answers to life's toughest questions after all. If answers were all she wanted, she clearly demonstrates an intellect and theological acumen capable of researching them. This is not to say there aren't any good answers worth seeking on such important matters. If anything, Rachel's writing indicates she is already more familiar with apologetics than most people in our generation. And though she could articulate the correct evangelical responses with flair, she needed something different, namely, the simple permission and empathy of hearing someone say, "You know, I'm not sure what to make of that either." (p. 190)

Evolving in Monkey Town is a thoughtfully entertaining and engaging read packed with adventurous questions from start to finish. While I didn't always agree with the way she nuanced the nature of the atonement, biblical interpretation or the ever-controversial tension between divine sovereignty and human responsibility, I have tremendous respect for Rachel's perspective, particularly on the important subjects of doubt and spiritual questioning. Based on the interactions we've shared via her excellent blog, I've been impressed by her uniquely provocative yet welcoming approach to theological dialogue. An attentive learner and genuine listener, she is one of the most gracious and authentic people I've encountered in the blogosphere. Evangelicals of all ages would be wise to give her survival story a good hard listen.

A Few Questions

A Few Questions

Why am I doing this?

What am I striving for?

Who is this about?

Where to next?

What have I gotten myself into?

Will I regret this?

Have I given it enough thought?

Am I thinking too hard?

What are my priorities?

Can I live with the trade-offs?

Am I a good husband and father?

According to who?

Am I overly ambitious?

Am I too easily satisfied?

Am I working too hard?

Am I slacking off?

Too driven?

Too lukewarm?

Aiming too high?

Settling?

Is the struggle really worth it?

What will it cost me?

Have I sacrificed too much or not enough?

Why so many questions?

Am I taking care of myself?

Am I too self-absorbed?

What am I trying to prove?

Do I understand grace?

Why are you downcast, O my soul?

Isn't my life now hidden with Christ?

Haven't I been found by the Great Shepherd?

If I know Who is God, why can't I be still?

Am I a liberal or a conservative?

In my little "about me" blurb, I describe myself as a "progressive evangelical Christian." This can be confusing since the word progressive is often taken to mean liberal, whereas evangelical is often used synonymously with conservative. Defining these terms gets tricky even before we grant that someone can be theologically liberal but politically conservative or theologically conservative but politically more liberal. So instead of opening a semantic can of worms, perhaps the following indicators will help to place me somewhere on the theological-political landscape. I report, you decide.

20 REASONS TO CALL ME A "LIBERAL"

1. The thought of living in the Bible Belt freaks me out.

2. I am not always proud to be an American.

3. I tend to vote for Democrats in state and national elections.

4. I enjoy listening to NPR on a regular basis.

5. I believe government agencies and publicly funded non-profit organizations have a significant role to play in preventing and alleviating poverty.

6. I believe human-induced climate change is not only real, but will have significant impacts if not mitigated by reducing emissions, hitting the poor the hardest.

7. I believe our nation urgently needs comprehensive reform in both health care and immigration policy.

8. I am morally opposed to preemptive war.

9. I am against the use of state-sponsored torture (including waterboarding).

10. I am opposed to capital punishment.

11. I believe there is great value in inter-religious dialogue and ecumenical collaboration for the common good.

12. When it comes to Christian political punditry, I'm more sympathetic to the Jim & Tony of the evangelical left (Wallis & Campolo) than the Jim & Tony of the evangelical right (Dobson & Perkins).

13. I believe the earth is (a lot) more than 10,000 years old.

14. I'm more likely to purchase books published by InterVarsity Press than Crossway.

15. I believe Scripture teaches that God calls and gifts women to serve at every level of church ministry leadership.

16. On the international front, I believe issues such as human trafficking, clean water/sanitation, food security, fair trade and debt cancellation deserve our attention.

17. I support the UN's Millennium Development Goals, which include halving extreme poverty and global disease by the year 2015.

18. I believe gays and lesbians should be allowed to serve openly in the U.S. military.

19. I believe gays and lesbians should be legally protected against hate crimes committed on the basis of their sexual orientation.

20. On gun control, organized labor, energy independence and tax policy, my views tend to be left of center.

20 REASONS TO CALL ME A "CONSERVATIVE"

1. The thought of sending my kids to public school freaks me out.

2. I consider it a blessing and a privilege to be an American citizen.

3. I believe it's a good idea to abstain from sex outside of marriage (teenagers and grown-ups alike).

4. I am very concerned about the effects of Hollywood, MTV and video games on children.

5. I am opposed to physician-assisted suicide.

6. I am opposed to the legalization of marijuana use.

7. I am opposed to embryonic stem-cell research.

8. Like all forms of domestic violence, I believe abortion is a tragic and immoral.

9. I believe there really is such a thing as absolute Truth with a capital 'T.'

10. I do not believe all religions are different paths to the same destination.

11. I believe Jesus of Nazareth was the Christ, God in the flesh and is the only Name by which we can be saved. Through His crucifixion, death and bodily resurrection, He has saved us by grace to reconcile us to God (which is very good news for sinners like me).

12. I believe the Bible, God's inspired Word, is authoritative and without error in all that it teaches (when interpreted correctly).

13. I believe Scripture teaches that marriage is a lifelong, monogamous covenant between a man and a woman.

14. I believe Heaven and Hell really exist.

15. I believe Satan (the Devil) really exists.

16. I believe prayer really does makes a difference.

17. I wholeheartedly believe in miraculous gifts such as divine healing, prophecy, words of knowledge, speaking in tongues and deliverance from evil spirits.

18. I affirm the often-trivialized concepts of "spiritual warfare," "attacks of the enemy," "prayer warriors" and "hedges of protection."

19. I have been known to lift my hands and act "shallow and emotional" while singing modern praise and worship choruses.

20. I'd rather spend money on a David Crowder concert than attend a free lecture by Phyllis Tickle (true story). Christian rock trumps mainline Protestant intellectualism once again.

Blogrolls and Pigeon Holes

"My momma always said you can tell a lot about a person by their shoes. Where they're going. Where they've been. I've worn lots of shoes..." - Forrest Gump

Let's be honest. What's the first thing you look for when visiting a new blog? Do you head straight for the main content by reading the latest post in its entirety? Or is it more important to 'size up' the author from his/her bio, affiliations, blogroll and other bell-whistle peripheries? If you're anything like me, the initial moments at an unfamiliar blog are focused on gathering enough data to make a theological/political diagnosis: conservative, liberal, moderate, libertarian, evangelical, mainline, ecumenical, academic, pastoral, missional, traditional, postmodern, Reformed, charismatic, emerging, egalitarian, complementarian etc.

This process of instinctive categorization smacks of superficial stereotyping, but is it really much different from scanning dust jacket bios at the bookstore or channel-surfing with a remote? Do snap judgments represent the height of consumeristic self-absorption or a practical necessity in the age of information? Who has the time to judge a book by anything besides its (back) cover? If Forrest Gump's human taxonomy theorem applies to the internet, you can tell a lot about a person these days by their Facebook profile, Amazon wishlist or bookmarked sites in their web browser. Even a seemingly innocuous blogroll can be a window into one's soul.

So if you're as interested in labeling me as I am in labeling you, here are some quick facts about the authors of my top 20 church and theology blogs:

- All of them are evangelical Protestants of one stripe or another.

- At least 13 have a graduate degree in theology or Biblical studies.
- At least 11 are egalitarians.
- At least 9 are under age 40.
- At least 7 are women or minorities.
- At least 7 released a new book in 2009.
- At least 6 are current pastors or church planters.
- At least 6 live in the Chicago area.
- At least 4 live on the West Coast.
- At least 4 have earned a Ph.d.
- At least 4 are complementarians.
- At least 4 are affiliated with Christianity Today in some way.
- At least 4 are affiliated with the Evangelical Covenant Church.
- At least 3 are Southern Baptists.
- At least 3 are TULIP Calvinists.
- At least 3 could be described as part of the emerging movement.
- As least 3 were born outside the United States.
- At least 2 are editors at book publishing houses.
- At least 2 are Presbyterians.
- At least 1 is Pentecostal.
- At least 1 is Anglican.

Have I sufficiently tipped my hand? Should I begin measuring the drapes for my pigeon hole? What does my blogroll tell you about me? What does your blogroll say about you?

Manhattan Declaration: Where are the moderates?

To paraphrase Mark Twain, reports of the Religious Right's demise have been greatly exaggerated. Energized by the backdrop of President Obama's first year in office, an ecumenical but familiar group of influential conservative Christians (including prominent Catholic, Anglican, Orthodox and Evangelical leaders) have reasserted the primacy of abortion, gay marriage and religious liberty as the three foremost political issues that matter above all others.

If you haven't yet read The Manhattan Declaration: A Call of Christian Conscience, here's the full text and list of 145+ original signatories, which includes names like Chuck Colson, James Dobson, Tony Perkins and Al Mohler. This excerpt provides the basic gist:

Because we honor justice and the common good, we will not comply with any edict that purports to compel our institutions to participate in abortions, embryo-destructive research, assisted suicide and euthanasia, or any other anti-life act; nor will we bend to any rule purporting to force us to bless immoral sexual partnerships, treat them as marriages or the equivalent, or refrain from proclaiming the truth, as we know it, about morality and immorality and marriage and the family.

I suspect where one stands on the Manhattan Declaration likely hinges on how one would answer the question: Should abortion, gay marriage and religious freedom be placed at the very top of a "hierarchy of issues" (to use drafting committee member Chuck Colson's term) when it comes to public policy concerns facing Christians?

So far, the Manhattan Declaration has received mixed reviews. Bloggers over at First Things can barely contain their enthusiasm for it, while others like Dan Gilgoff have said it "reads like a throwback to the culture wars of the 2004 election." Regent College theology professor John Stackhouse calls it "strangely useless" while Jonathan Merritt, founder of the Southern Baptist Environment and Climate Initiative, says the statement is unlikely to "sway a new generation of Christian leaders who take a broader view of cultural issues facing us today."The document's backers point to the diverse range of theological perspectives represented by its signatories, not everyone in the evangelical world who typically contributes to these types of ecumenical public policy collaboratives has endorsed the Manhattan Declaration. A handful of names like Ron Sider, Cornelius Plantinga, David Neff and Richard Mouw notwithstanding, there doesn't seem to be much support from evangelical "moderates" who were instrumental in drafting last year's Evangelical Manifesto and 2004's For the Health of the Nation: An Evangelical Call to Civic Responsibility, both of which called for a broadened platform including issues like creation care, poverty alleviation, racial reconciliation, human rights and peacemaking. Those who have endorsed both the Manhattan Declaration and the Evangelical Manifesto (Timothy George and Leith Anderson for example) appear to be the exception.

So where are all the moderates?

Noticeably absent from The Manhattan Declaration's signatories are respected scholars like David Gushee, Jim Skillen, Mark Noll, Nicholas Wolterstorff, Stephen Monsma, J.P. Moreland, Os Guinness, Dallas Willard and Darrell Bock, not to mention other influential evangelical voices like Rick Warren, Joel Hunter, Bill Hybels, Gary Haugen and Rich Stearns. This doesn't mean Manhattan isn't an amazing feat of coalition-building across Evangelical-Catholic lines (Neuhaus would be proud), but such a narrow range of policy emphases might explain why many, including yours truly, are reluctant to sign on.

It looks like the culture wars are back, folks. Man your battle stations.

High Church vs. Low Church

Andy Rowell's post over at Out of Ur describes how 'high church' and 'low church' streams of the Christians faith have much to learn from each other. Perhaps a few working definitions are in order:

High Church: Rowell describes these as "liturgical" churches who "emphasize historical and global continuity in their worship services," including Catholic, Episcopal and Lutheran churches. According to Rowell, "Liturgical clergy see their role as being a faithful steward of historic Christianity. This consists especially of serving the Lord’s Supper and preaching."

Low Church: Rowell describes these as the "free" churches who are characterized by "the relative autonomy of individual congregations," including Baptist, Pentecostal and non-denominational churches. According to Rowell, "Free church pastors tend to see their role as equipping their congregations for evangelism and social justice."

(In case you're wondering, Methodists and Presbyterians fall somewhere in between.)

Personally, my own Christian journey has been shaped by an ecumenical denominational background predominately in the "low church" evangelical world, but I'm also very much drawn to the idea of weekly Sacraments, liturgy, sacred spaces and contemplative practices found in the high-church tradition. Every time I visit a liturgical church, I'm stuck by how thoughtful and intentional everything is.

Sometimes I wonder how my faith would be different if I had been raised on creeds and catechisms instead of DC Talk and Breakaway magazine. While I would love to see more liturgy, written prayers and reverence for the Great Tradition incorporated into our local church's worship gatherings, much of it is still a second language to me.

It's as if I've become a long-distance admirer of the sport of cricket from watching it on TV, but at the end of the day my natural sport is baseball. I may be intrigued by the oval-shaped field, wickets and bowlers (instead of a diamond, home plate and pitchers), but I'm in no way qualified to teach the fundamentals of a game for which I barely understand the rules.

Perhaps my low church, pragmatic evangelical DNA is to blame for my desire to see some sort of convergence that blends the best of both worlds.

Torture, abortion, and partisan ethics

I believe that as followers of Jesus, Christians must hold to a consistent ethic of human life. Scripture teaches that all human beings have been created in God's image (Genesis 1:27) and therefore, every person, whether young or old, rich or poor, strong or weak, saint or sinner, bears the imprint of the Creator. Human rights and dignity, yours and mine, are ultimately derived from the One who loves us "with an everlasting love" (Jeremiah 31:3). Consequently, people are not cosmic accidents or disposable commodities to be bought and sold, used and discarded. If we indeed believe that life is immeasurably precious to the God who created it, we have a responsibility to be extremely careful in situations involving the choice to purposefully harm, wound or terminate another person's life.

Interestingly enough, the convoluted realm of American politics reveals a peculiar dynamic where opposing sides in the culture wars profoundly disagree on the question of which lives should be defended as sacred and which ones are more disposable. Conservatives are generally opposed to abortion, euthanasia, physician-assisted suicide and genetic engineering, but are more likely to support the use of preemptive military force, capital punishment and torture, including water-boarding (see diagram at right) and other "enhanced interrogation techniques." The liberal end of the spectrum often opposes capital punishment, war and torture, but is more likely to defend abortion, euthanasia and physician-assisted suicide as matters of human rights. Is it just me or does anyone else find both sides to be inconsistent?

Two of the most contentions issues concerning the sanctity of human life in recent years have been abortion and torture. A Pew Research poll conducted earlier this year revealed that 62% of evangelical Protestants (my own faith tradition) believe "the use of torture against suspected terrorists to gain important information" is often or sometimes justified, whereas only 16% say it's never justified. It's especially disturbing that evangelicals are more likely to support torture than any other religious group in America including Catholics, mainline Protestants and those without any religious affiliation. The poll also found that those who attend religious services at least once a week are much more likely to support torture than those who seldom or never attend religious services. This is lamentable at best and shameful at worst.

When it comes to abortion, the statistics are flip-flopped. According to a separate Pew Research poll, evangelical Protestants remain the group most adamantly opposed to abortion, with well over 60% saying the procedure should be illegal in most or all cases. It's not difficult to find conservative religious organizations lobbying against abortion or liberal groups lobbying for the end of torture on religious grounds, but it's rare to find those who believe both practices are immoral. Opponents of abortion claim that it harms a sacred life and violates the dignity of another human being, a line of reasoning also used by those who oppose torture. Those who are "pro-life" seem the most likely to defend torture, but those against torture seem the most likely to defend abortion. How can this be?

The problem with our culture war categories of right vs. left is that everyone gets divided into two flawed packages of partisan platforms from which we assume the "other" side cannot possibly be correct about anything. We've confused Christian ethics with partisan ethics, deflecting every criticism along the lines of "Well, the other side clearly has it wrong on [fill in the blank: abortion/torture] so why should we listen to what they have to say about [torture/abortion]?" Have evangelicals considered the possibility that both torture and abortion are wrong on largely the same grounds, namely, the inherent dignity of human life created in God's image? Must we choose between the human rights of pre-born children and the sanctity of a prisoner's life? Aren't they both human? When the protection of a sacred human life conflicts with other important goals (national security or women's rights for example), do the ends justify the means?

Cue responses from conservatives defending torture and liberals defending abortion...

End Times Gloom and Doom: A Historical Reality Check

I'm told that if you translate "Prince Charles of Wales" into Hebrew and calculate the symbols using an ancient Jewish number system, it adds up to 666. Sound the alarm!

One of my least favorite aspects of being an American evangelical Christian is getting lumped together with peddlers of apocalyptic speculation and escapism of the Left Behind variety. Unlike those who are convinced that a "secret rapture" will occur at any moment or that the current geopolitical landscape is God's cosmic chessboard where brutal dictators, wars, famines and genocide are part of an inevitable collision course to destruction, I'm in no rush to force-fit today's headlines though an end times filter.

So instead of wading into the deep theological waters of eschatology or the Scriptural basis for cultural renewal, I offer the following 3 morsels to chew on. You'll likely need to read them at least twice to capture their full meaning, but it's an undertaking well worth the effort. I should also mention that each selection comes from the pen of a committed evangelical Christian. Ready, partake:

• "The evangelical predilection, when faced with a world crisis, to use the Bible as a crystal ball instead of as a guide for sorting out the complex tangles of international morality was nowhere more evident than in response to the Gulf War in early 1991. Neither through the publishing of books nor through focused consideration in periodicals did evangelicals engage in significant discussions on the morality of the war, the use of the United Nations in the wake of the collapse of Communism, the significance of oil for job creation or wealth formation throughout the world, the history of Western efforts at intervention in the Middle East, or other topics fairly crying out for serious Christian analysis. Instead, evangelicals gobbled up more than half a million copies of several self-assured, populist explanations of how the Gulf crisis was fulfilling the details of obscure biblical prophecies." -Mark Noll (The Scandal of the Evangelical Mind, Eerdmans, 1994)

• "The current crisis was always identified as a sign of the end, whether it was the Russo-Japanese War, the First World War, the Second World War, the Palestine War, the Suez Crisis, the June War or the Yom Kippur War. The revival of the Roman Empire has been identified variously as Mussolini’s empire, the League of Nations, the United Nations, the European Defense Community, the Common Market and NATO. Speculation on the Antichrist has included Napoleon, Mussolini, Hitler and Henry Kissinger. The northern confederation was supposedly formed by the Treaty of Brest-Litovsk, the Rapallo Treaty, the Nazi-Soviet Pact and then the Soviet Bloc. The 'kings of the east' have been variously the Turks, the lost tribes of Israel, Japan, India and China. The supposed restoration of Israel has confused the problem of whether the Jews are to be restored before or after the coming of the Messiah. The restoration of the latter rain has been pinpointed to have begun in 1897, 1917, and 1948. The end of the 'times of the Gentiles' has been placed in 1895, 1917, 1948 and 1967. 'Gog' has been an impending threat since the Crimean War, both under the Czars and the Communists. -Dwight Wilson (Armageddon Now! The Premillenarian Response to Russia and Israel since 1917, Baker Books, 1977)

• "Revelation 21-22 makes it clear that the ultimate purpose of redemption is not to escape the material world, but to renew it. God's purpose is not only saving individuals, but also inaugurating a new world based on justice, peace, and love, not power, strife, and selfishness." -Tim Keller (Christianity Today, A New Kind of Urban Christian, May 2006)

An ITZBEEN To Remember

As anyone with multiple young children knows, parenting can often be a simple test of survival from one day to the next. From tantrums to toilet-training, diapers to drool-wiping, mid-day messes to mid-sleep disruptions, there’s always an adventure lurking just around the bend. Unlike my wife, who has gracefully mastered the art of juggling competing needs of a toddler and a newborn, I tend to lose my bearings in the fog of perpetually unfinished tasks.

The craziest time of day in our household, 5 to 8 pm every evening, can almost be reduced to a series of questions (nearly always asked by me): Where’s Vincent’s pacifier? When is his next feeding? How long was Theo’s nap? When was his diaper last changed? And so on.

Sometimes it's the simplest things that are hardest to remember.

To preserve our sanity amid the chaos, we've come to lean heavily on an innovative new gadget, the ever-trusty ITZBEEN Baby Care Timer (pictured at right), a musubi-sized portable device that keeps track of how long “it’s been” since the most recent feeding, diaper change, nap or any other fine detail involving elapsed time. In addition to its four timers that can be individually reset with the touch of a button, I’ve even used the ITZBEEN as a handy reading light that won’t disturb anyone’s precious sleep.

And while the ITZBEEN’s backlit display provides important details to help ensure our newborn’s health and well being, it's no surprise my forgetful tendencies extend beyond my role as a parent. Even as a grown adult, I forget to put myself to bed on time. I forget to say “please” and “thank you.” I forget to floss my teeth and put away my 'toys.' I probably couldn't tell you where I last saw the ITZBEEN.

Beyond the physical realm, I am spiritually forgetful to the core.

I forget to practice God’s presence. I forget to celebrate His goodness. I forget to surrender my life daily to Christ. I forget to thank Him for the Cross. I forget the great cost of His sacrifice and consequently, I forget to tell others about His matchless grace.

Which makes me wonder: If I had a spiritual ITZBEEN, what would it tell me?

When did I last pray (not including mealtimes and church services)? How long has it been since I practiced hospitality or welcomed a stranger? When did I last enjoy the beauty of God’s creation? How long has it been since I shared the gospel (whether through actions or words)? When was the last time I gave to the poor or visited a sick person? How long has it been since I reflected on the Cross or pondered the Resurrection that changed human history?

Could it be that my drool-dispensing, diaper-soiling sons have a better grasp of their daddy's care and affection than I do of God's? As much as I adore those two boys, the Everlasting Father’s love goes so much deeper.

I think I can remember that.

Should government stay in the "marriage business"?

From the pages of Time magazine to the Honolulu Star-Bulletin and everywhere in between, I've heard numerous calls for government to "get out of the marriage business." The heated national fracas over gay marriage has caused some to question whether government should have anything to do with marriage as a social institution. If I may paraphrase, the argument usually goes something like this:

Marriage is a church issue, not a state one. Since marriage is a private agreement between two individuals, it should not be subject to government interference. Just as one's personal religious beliefs should not be a matter of public debate, neither should someone's marriage. If the government doesn't regulate people's baptisms, confirmations, Bar Mitzvahs or other religious ordinances, what gives them the right to meddle with marriage? Most of the political-religious controversy surrounding same-sex marriage could be resolved if the government would simply stop issuing marriage licenses. This would allow states to maintain religious neutrality by not promoting or discouraging any form of relationship over another. People could define their relationships according to their own beliefs, religious or secular.

The appeal of this reasoning plays well in today's post-religious climate. Most people don't want the government telling them what to believe, who to love or how to behave in their private lives. Ceasing the government’s role in the recognition of marriage, so the theory goes, would be a way to validate gay partnerships in the civic square while protecting the religious freedom of churches and clergy. By simply removing the dreaded M-word from the vocabulary of government, we could all put away our bullhorns and go home happy.

Or could we?

These days, it's nearly impossible to discuss the civil-legal institution of marriage (namely, the kind of thing conferred by a marriage license) without opening a religious-political can of worms. Perhaps I'm naive to attempt such a feat, but instead of discussing the theological nature of holy matrimony (which in my Protestant tradition is a sacred, lifelong covenant uniting a husband and wife as "one flesh" in the sight of God) or adding my voice to the cacophony surrounding the politics of gay marriage (been there done that), I would like to address the following question: Is there any solid non-religious (dare I say "secular") basis for the government to issue marriage licenses?

The short answer is yes.

While some well-meaning libertarians and others see the elimination of civil marriage as a means of resolving the gay marriage controversy, this would create far more problems than it solves. It’s not that I believe government should be promoting a particular religious agenda or regulating what goes on in private between consenting adults. Nothing could be further from the truth. My concern is that political bickering over the issue of same-sex unions has caused us to lose sight of marriage's much broader sociological purpose beyond religious ceremonies and warm fuzziness shared between committed partners, gay or straight. In the public square, marriage is not merely about religion or sexual orientation. It's about the fundamental need for societies to gauge the comparative significance of human relationships.

To put it bluntly: Marriage provides a measuring stick we cannot do without. We can tweak it, re-think it, re-name it ("civil unions" or "domestic partnerships" anyone?) or re-define it however we think best, but until we decide that drinking buddies and pen pals should receive the same benefits and protections as couples who have pledged a lifetime of commitment to each other, government will always play a role in the so-called "business" of civil marriage. Even if marriage licenses were abolished and replaced with civil unions as some have suggested, I suspect most of the voices so loudly engaged in the gay marriage standoff would quickly re-direct their energies to the laws governing civil unions.

Let's say the government stopped issuing marriage licenses altogether and as an alternative to civil marriage, couples could create their own private contracts that would be enforced through contract law. Administering pensions, inheritances and custody battles would become more difficult, but not impossible. The bigger question would be how to legally distinguish between those who wanted an “old school” lifelong partnership type of arrangement (gay or straight) versus a pragmatic contract between drinking buddies who wanted to save money on health care coverage. Without the draconian categories of "single" and "married", what other simple criteria would employers and health care providers use to determine the seriousness of a relationship and consequently, who qualifies for benefits?

For example, if I signed a private civil contract with one of my friends who has a terrific health care plan or education benefit for "spouses", would his employer be willing to cover my medical expenses and pay for my grad school tuition since we signed a similar contract to the married couple next door? Would such a contract excuse me from testifying in court against my friend, as married couples are? If I were to obtain a “divorce” or terminate my contract with him, could I sign another contract with one of my international friends to secure U.S. residency for them, as married individuals can? What about those employers who actually DO want to provide certain benefits to an employee’s spouse (defined in the old-school, marriage license sort of way) instead of just a drinking buddy or casual acquaintance? If there were no civil marriage, would such an employer be guilty of discrimination for offering "special" benefits to certain types of contract signatories and not others?

As a deeply religious person who cringes at the conflation of God and country, I can understand why some people would like to throw the civil marriage baby out with the political bathwater. But just because the word “marriage” (a perfectly good and practical concept, even for non-religious folk) has become associated with culture war carnage does not mean government recognition for lifelong partners is a bad idea. Judging by the eagerness of gays and lesbians to obtain government validation and not merely sign a private contract, maybe there is something special about marriage licenses after all.

Is There a Calvinist-Complementarian Connection?

As a social worker by trade, I’m no theologian. But in my spare time between parenting, grad school, church life and employment responsibilities, I find it fascinating to observe the theological movers and shakers of the current American evangelical landscape. While the Gospel must never be defined by popular vote, the question of why assorted varieties of evangelicals believe as they do (for better or worse) is worthy of exploration. In recent years, I’ve taken an interest in the so-called “New Calvinists,” a growing movement recently described in Collin Hansen’s book, Young, Restless, Reformed, as well as a March 12 TIME magazine article calling it one of the “10 ideas changing the world.”

As an outside observer of the movement, I’ve noticed that in addition to Reformed soteriology (often summarized by the acronym TULIP), one of the key doctrinal distinctives for New Calvinists is complementarianism, the view that male leadership in the church and home is a Biblical imperative. It’s no coincidence that influential Reformed/Calvinist (I’m using these terms interchangeably here) leaders like John Piper, Al Mohler and Mark Driscoll are among evangelicalism’s most vocal opponents of women’s ordination. As a staunch egalitarian, I believe Scripture teaches that God gives the gifts of preaching, teaching and church leadership to both men and women, which puts me squarely at odds with the young, restless, Reformed camp. Complicating matters further, much of my own spiritual growth has occurred in the context of complementarian congregations, but that’s another story…

Despite our disagreements on gender roles, I share a lot in common with my New Calvinist brothers and sisters. I am very much drawn to the Reformed tradition, its covenant theology, historic confessions and doctrines of grace (TULIP included). I also adhere to a robust understanding of God’s sovereign grace, charismatic gift continuationism and the centrality of Christ’s cross. I agree that prosperity theology, self-help sermons and market-driven models of church growth are harmful to the Gospel. Like many in the movement, I enjoy expository preaching, Justin Taylor’s Between Two Worlds blog, Sam Storms’ books and the ESV Study Bible- its unyielding complementarian slant notwithstanding!

If I were capable of passing through the narrow doctrinal checkpoint affirming both TULIP and complementarian gender roles, I would find a community of New Calvinists refreshingly open to a range of positions on baptism, miraculous gifts, the Lord’s Supper and eschatology. This explains why a charismatic like C.J. Mahaney can partner with a cessasionist like John MacArthur at the distinctly Reformed Together for the Gospel (T4G) conference, not to mention fellow conveners Ligon Duncan, a paedo-baptist (one who practices infant baptism), and Mark Dever, a credo-baptist (believer’s baptism). As someone who welcomes evangelical collaboration across denominational lines, I am encouraged by these expressions of unity amid theological diversity.

In light of such ecumenism, it’s perplexing to consider why egalitarians are not also welcomed to the New Calvinist table. Complementarianism may not be at the forefront of New Calvinist identity, but it nonetheless serves as a distinct theological boundary not to be crossed. From what I gather, egalitarianism is categorically rejected by the full spectrum of interdenominational networks, ministries and conferences home to New Calvinists (including Tim Keller and Don Carson’s Gospel Coalition, Piper’s Desiring God Ministries, Driscoll’s Acts 29 Network, Mahaney’s Sovereign Grace Ministries, Dever's 9 Marks, R.C. Sproul’s Ligonier Ministries, Duncan’s Alliance of Confessing Evangelicals and MacArthur’s Shepherd’s Conference among others). I hope I’m mistaken, but the young, restless, Reformed subculture seems to have built an impenetrable wall to keep out those who are not both Calvinists and complementarians. One out of two is not enough, and thus I have failed to qualify.

Naturally, this raises a series of questions. What exactly is the relationship between Calvinism and complementarianism? Why is opposition to the ordination of women a non-negotiable for New Calvinists? Why does one’s persuasion on gender roles carry more weight than one’s view of the sacraments, spiritual gifts or church polity? Are New Calvinists willing to recognize the existence of mature and authentic Christians on both sides the debate over women in ministry, a controversy that will not reach an evangelical consensus anytime soon? Is there something about Reformed theology that is inherently complementarian or is the Calvinist-complementarian connection unique to this particular neo-Puritan stream? Put another way: Is it possible to be a young, restless, Reformed egalitarian?

If the existence of “egalitarian Calvinist” denominations such as the Christian Reformed Church (CRC) and the Evangelical Presbyterian Church (EPC) are any indication, the answer the last question must be yes. At the scholarly level, there are numerous examples of well-respected evangelical Reformed theologians who are also egalitarians: Roger Nicole (Gordon Conwell, emeritus), Nicholas Wolterstorff (Yale), John Webster (Aberdeen), Bruce McCormack (Princeton Seminary), Donald Bloesch (Dubuque Seminary, emeritus), Todd Billings (Western Seminary), Jamie Smith (Calvin College), Bill Dyrness (Fuller Seminary), Mark Husbands (Hope College) and Laura Miguelez (Wheaton College) just to name a few. My personal favorite is Fuller President Richard Mouw, whose book, Calvinism in the Las Vegas Airport, is a must-read for skeptics who have erroneously dismissed TULIP as dried out determinism for the “frozen chosen.” Mouw’s work on Christian ethics, common grace, cultural engagement and public justice embodies the convergence of rigorous Reformed thought and passionate social activism in the tradition of Abraham Kuyper.

But even once we accept that there are indeed thoughtful and sincere Reformed evangelicals who support the ordination of women, this does not fully explain why has the rigidly complementarian variety of Calvinism been making so many waves at the parachurch level in recent years. Why does there seem to be an overwhelming correlation between Calvinism and complementarianism at the street level of popular/semi-academic Christian publishing, online media, “celebrity” pastor/speaker/writers and interdenominational networks like the Gospel Coalition? Where are the egalitarian Calvinist counterparts to best-selling authors like Piper and Keller? Or popular bloggers Taylor and Tim Challies? Or burgeoning Gen X pastor/writers like Kevin DeYoung, Josh Harris and Tullian Tchividjian? Why do t-shirts declare that “Jonathan Edwards is my homeboy” and not Abraham Kuyper?

I suspect that much of New Calvinism’s magnetism is a reaction to the postmodern leanings of the emerging church movement as well as the market-driven approaches of seeker-friendly megachurches and other forms of cultural accommodation. It could also be that Reformed egalitarians at the popular level are publishing on different subjects than the T4G crowd, thus leaving the impression that egalitarianism is a topic best left to Anglicans, Wesleyans, Anabaptists and others from non-Reformed traditions. Perhaps the complementarian-Calvinist connection is not a feature of Reformed theology per se, but has more to do with Piper's contagious enthusiasm for neo-Puritan pietism.

In any case, there’s much to affirm about the New Calvinists and their passion for God’s glory. I only wish this egalitarian could be welcomed at the table. If it makes any difference, I’ll even bring my ESV Study Bible.

UPDATE: Kevin DeYoung has responded to my observations on his blog.

ALSO: Related discussions have started at Between Two Worlds, Emerging Women, Complegalitarian, New Leaven, BLOG and MABLOG, and The Wanderer.