Here’s a piece I did a little while back on Patheos.com on who evangelicals are and where they’re headed – getting to the nub of the matter.
A little taste:
“What do this fundamental immediatism and this youth-driven quality mean for the future of evangelicalism? First, they very likely mean that whatever touches the hearts and minds of the generation rising right now – the adolescents of today – that will shape evangelical worship, ecclesiology, and doctrine for years to come.
“An optimist could point to the dynamism and renewal that emerged from past youth movements, or to the laudable and faithful concern of many young evangelicals today for justice, creation care, and other historical blind spots of the movement.
“A pessimist, however, would say that this is very bad news indeed. They could point to sociologist Christian Smith’s famous diagnosis of evangelical youth as mired in “moralistic therapeutic deism”: the theologically vapid belief in a kindly grandfather God who lavishes blessings and requires no accountability—this we might call immediatism gone, at last, to seed . . .”
Posted in Resources for Radical Living, Work with purpose
Tagged ancient-future, Bible, biblicism, Christ and culture, conversion, emotion, evangelicalism, immediatism, pop culture, popular culture, youth culture
Here, according to Huffington Post writer John Shore, is the theology (or more accurately, anthropology) of 24‘s Jack Bauer.
I’ll admit, I read this with only very partial knowledge of the series. Lo, these many years ago, during the show’s first season, I became addicted within a couple of episodes. Then I realized it keyed me up way too much and took me way too often to my “dark place,” and I quit watching.
But I think Shore may be on to something in this piece. What do you guys think?
Pop culture isn’t always Babylon. Five years ago the conjunction of a number of blockbusters offered a unique opportunity for reflection in the Christian History weekly online newsletter:
The Lord of the Rings, The Passion of the Christ, and the Highway of Holiness
Has God been “re-routing” us through popular movies, books, and cultural events?
I don’t remember a time when the realm of popular culture has seemed more alive with divine purpose.
During the past year or two, how often have we been publicly reminded—through movies, books, and events—of vital truths about who we are and who God is? Through Peter Jackson’s third Lord of the Rings movie, Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code, Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ, and other prominent cultural events, we have been pushed off of the path of complacency and back towards the “highway” depicted by Isaiah: Continue reading
Posted in Medieval Wisdom for Modern Protestants
Tagged Augustine of Hippo, Da Vinci Code, Gerard Depardieu, holiness, J R R Tolkien, literature, Mel Gibson, movies, pop culture, popular culture, The Lord of the Rings, The Passion of the Christ
After I posted the Gregory piece, a friend, Michelle Myer, chimed in with the following on my Facebook page:
“You missed the bit where the dove landed on his shoulder and taught him the basics of Gregorian chant. 😉
“I’ve also heard him credited (through his adoption of Roman forms of chant for worship) as being the very first to say ‘Why should the Devil have all the good music?’ Larry Norman said it best, but maybe Gregory said it first?”
As Michelle knows, the bit about Gregory inventing Gregorian chant–dove or no dove–doesn’t have an ounce of evidence to support it (and much evidence goes against it). But since she has brought up the topic, here’s a reflection I posted back in the Christian History online newsletter days (2003), related to the origin both of the use of tavern tunes in church music–usually Luther is credited with doing this, but did he?–and the phrase “Why should the devil have all the good music?” The facts may surprise you. And some of the links may not work–this was posted over 5 years ago:
From Oratorios to Elvis
Pop culture has been coming to a church near you for hundreds of years.
Ladies and gentlemen, Elvis has entered the (church) building.
Part II: Caveat Gyrator
Imagine a mutton-chop-whiskered, white-jump-suited Anglican priest, posed dramatically on one knee, arm raised skyward, belting out, before a cheering crowd of the pious and the curious, the Elvis hit “Where Could I Go But to the Lord.” (Yes, Elvis covered that song in 1968. His Majesty is not in the Gospel Hall of Fame for nothing—he garnered all three of his Grammies for gospel hits, not rock tunes.) Continue reading
This is part II of the story of Billy Graham and the origins of Christian youth culture, first posted on Christianity Today’s website back in 2002.
Christian youth culture has become such a prominent, pervasive fixture on the American scene-witness the multi-million-dollar Christian contemporary music industry-that it may be hard to think of it as even having an origin. Yet, as we saw in last week’s newsletter, not only is the idea of a distinct, youthful way of “doing” Christianity now over half a century old, but it owes much to the energies and advocacy of the now-venerable Billy Graham.
Last week we caught a glimpse of Billy in the mid-1940s, with pastel suit and pomaded hair, delivering the gospel in between swing-band instrumentals and girl-trio numbers to crowds of bobby-soxed and zoot-suited teens. We also saw him as one of the central personalities and energetic promoters of the influential Youth for Christ organization.
This week we follow Graham into the late 1960s as, disguised in dark glasses, old clothes, ball cap, and a false beard, he joins with demonstrating youth at City University in New York. And as he sits with his wife, Ruth, at their family home in Montreat, listening intently to a collection of rock albums. And as (again disguised) he mingles and raps with the audience at a 1969 Miami rock concert, to the strains of the Grateful Dead and Santana. And as (undisguised) he takes that same stage, by invitation of the concert promoters, to tell the partying masses how to “get high without hang-ups and hangovers” on Jesus. Continue reading