Brian McLaren recently spoke at an event at Willow Creek church called “Shift.” He likes to talk about things shifting in the church, and being open to new ideas, and rethinking things. Rethinking is great in the Hegelian sense – using that which came before to inform the terms of that which comes next, never wasting the thoughts of the past, being aware of history – but of course, that’s not what McLaren means. He means tearing down what’s there and putting something else up – something with more square-footage.
Shift was also the name of a monkey in the final book of the Narnia Chronicles, The Last Battle, who dressed up Puzzle the donkey with a lion skin. He only ever showed Puzzle in low light, which was enough to terrify all the other animals with the mere implication that Aslan had come back. With his fake Aslan, Shift went on to manipulate the animals into doing things the real Aslan would never have asked them to do – they lost their freedom almost immediately, never realizing that the burdens being heaped upon them in Aslan’s name were never intended at all. At one point in the story, Shift is making deals with the Calormen, whose god is Tash, not Aslan, and in order to justify this in the Narnians’ minds, he makes up a new god called Tashlan, saying that they’re all the same anyway.
Lewis’ analogy – a simple story for children – is not even one remove from what McLaren is doing. I don’t think he’s a conniving manipulator like Lewis’ ape, but from what I can hear, he isn’t talking about any God that I’ve ever met. Liberal theology is disguised in the low light of vague orthodoxy. It’s not arrogant to tell the truth – it’s arrogant to deny it on the grounds that your intellect is operating on a plain that turns Christian mysteries into particularist dogma. McLaren’s generosity towards clear theology simply disguises a pitiful dressed-up donkey – the best that human rationality can come up with – that has no jaws for the wicked, no strength to protect the weak, no confidence to direct the lost, and no power to give up for the sake of mankind. Liberal theology of this kind tries to turn what we see into a portrait of God instead of believing in the God we cannot see who has the power to change it. It is no wonder that Lewis names his harmless donkey “Puzzle,” because that’s all human reasoning can give us.
This problem is not new. Pilate’s question to Jesus, “What is truth?” is the same question many now ask the void they perceive. In the early part of the twentieth century, Karl Barth and Dietrich Bonhoeffer fought boldly against those who put their confidence in human reason to “discover” God and His nature. Barth’s exceptionally clear thinking on the matter in his commentary on the epistle to the Romans chases modernity right down to the all-out skepticism in which it threatens to evaporate now, half a century later. To be very frank, I don’t believe McLaren and the emergent church movement, or most liberals for that matter, really understand what “post-modern” really means any more than their much-belied detractors. If they did, they wouldn’t view it as a quick-fix to homophobia, and they certainly would cease immediately to refer to Christianity as a “grand narrative,” if they value Christianity at all.
Post-modernity, in the terminology of Lyotard in his book The Postmodern Condition, is, by definition, the pronunciation of the end of grand narratives. McLaren’s insistence on this term follows the pattern of the fundamentalist reaction to modernity, which, in the face of scientific rejection of biblical myth, proceeded to claim that the myths were scientific, alienating anyone who claimed them to have some other status – even when that status had support in the writings of the early church. I will never understand why the church insists upon jumping on the latest ship to have a hole blown in its hull instead of remaining in the ironclad that was originally bestowed upon it.
The times are changing, but then again, the times are always changing. I take exception with the emergent church, with liberal Christianity, and with fundamentalist evangelicals because they are all cut from the same cloth: ideologies lacking self-awareness. Christianity accepts the irrational necessity of orthodoxy as easily as it accepts the paradox of human will and the omnipotence of God. I continually refer to G. K. Chesterton’s view of orthodoxy as a “thrilling romance” – the only truly subversive act in a chaotic world. McLaren’s puzzling church appears to have forfeited the power to save – I am so tired of hearing keynote speakers say of Heaven and Hell, “yes, we believe in those things, and they’re important, but…” Are they important enough to be the main point? Is Christ’s sacrifice, whose point was our salvation by the grace of God, important enough to be that in reference to which everything other doctrine, point, and sermon has its meaning? I do not want to be caught hauling wood for a donkey in a tent when the Lion returns. When we say He is Good, we don’t mean He has anything in common with us.