Slaves, Women & Homosexuals: Exploring the Hermeneutics of Cultural Analysis. By William J. Webb. Downers Grove: InterVarsity, 2001. 301 pp. n.p.

INTRODUCTION

Sometimes I wonder if egalitarians hope to triumph in the debate on the role of women by publishing book after book on the subject. Each work propounds a new thesis which explains why the traditional interpretation is flawed. Complementarians could easily give in from sheer exhaustation, thinking that so many books written by such a diversity of different authors could scarcely be wrong. Further, it is difficult to keep writing books promoting the complementarian view. Our view of the biblical text has not changed dramatically in the last twenty five years. Should we continue to write books that essentially promote traditional interpretations? Is the goal of publishing to write what is true or what is new?

Karl Barth & the Pietists
Eberhard Busch, translator Daniel Bloesch
Downers Grove, Illinois: InterVarsity, 2004
325 pages, paper, $27.00

Eberhard Busch, the renowned biographer of Karl Barth, introduces us to a pervasive theme in Barth's theology: his fluctuating relationship with the post-Reformation renewal movement known as Pietism. In the first edition of his Epistle to the Romans (1919), Barth shares his misgivings about Pietism, but in the second edition (1922) and in subsequent works he combines a negative critique with a positive appreciation for the enduring contribution of Pietism to the faith of the church. He sees this contribution as a recovery of the call to discipleship—the practice of the Christian faith. Yet Pietists were firm in their insistence that the Christian walk does not merit salvation; rather, it manifests a salvation already enacted in the life of the Christian.

According to the author, at the beginning of his theological pilgrimage, Barth was not enamored with Pietism. Indeed, he took open issue with this venture in renewal on the grounds of its individualism, subjectivism, and perfectionism. He also revealed a discomfort with the sectarian propensity in Pietism, which often leads to abandoning the sacramental forms of worship and liturgy. In addition, Barth accused Pietism of semi-Pelagianism, which places salvation partly in the hands of sinful mortals rather than solely in the hands of the holy and almighty God.

Yet even in his early years, Barth respected Pietism for its effort to remind the church that faith requires obedience, even though we cannot merit the reward for obedience by our own actions, however praiseworthy. Among the luminaries of Pietism to whom Barth gave favorable mention are Philip Spener, J. A. Bengel, Gerhard Tersteegen, Nikolaus Zinzendorf, Johann Christoph Blumhardt, Christoph Blumhardt, and A. G. Tholuck. Pietists or crypto-Pietists in his own time with whom he debated include Adolf Koeberle, Karl Heim, G. F. Nagel, and Adolf Schlatter.

Whereas the emphasis in Pietism was on the inner life—the life of devotion to the living Savior, Barth's emphasis was on the grace that spurs individuals to action, the grace that is based on the events of sacred history that are prior to the Christian's faith and obedience. The Pietists accused Barth of downplaying Christ in us in order to magnify Christ for us. Yet Busch makes clear that Barth was fully cognizant of the inward dimension of salvation and firmly believed that its objective side needs to be held in balance with its subjective side. This balance is not always evident, however, even when Barth allows for an experiential dimension in salvation.

The Great Passion: An Introduction to Karl Barth's Theology
Eberhard Busch
Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004
302 pages, paper, $29.00

Introduction

Karl Barth has unfortunately gotten a bad rap in some evangelical circles. As a result, he has been dismissed as a wolf in sheep's clothing, since he often sounds orthodox. Accordingly, he is considered more dangerous than liberals, since the naïve and unsuspecting may not see through this orthodox façade. This approach to Barth stems largely from the influence of Cornelius Van Til and Westminster Seminary. What Van Til does, in short, is to interpret Barth's theology on the Procrustean bed of Kantian and Hegelian philosophy and thereby dismiss Barth's claims to believe in a historical virgin birth and resurrection of Christ. This was the approach in Van Til's The New Modernism: An Appraisal of the Theology of Barth and Brunner (1946), Christianity and Barthianism (1962), and a host of books and articles, all in the same vein.¹

Fortunately, there have been other evangelicals who have been willing to read Barth on his own terms. They have not been uncritical but have appreciated Barth's creativity and the contributions he has made in breaking the back of nineteenth-century liberalism. A turning point was the publication in 1956 of the conservative Dutch Reformed theologian G. C. Berkouwer's The Triumph of Grace in the Theology of Karl Barth and the English evangelical theologian Colin Brown's Karl Barth and the Christian Message (1967). Both authors found various aspects of Barth's theology problematic, but they came to their task with an openness and sympathy quite unlike that of Van Til and his disciples. Subsequently, numerous evangelicals have written appreciatively, albeit not uncritically, of Barth's contribution to theology. Some of the more prominent evangelical theologians of this type are Geoffrey Bromiley, Dale Moody, Bernard Ramm, and Donald Bloesch, to name but a few. This more positive evaluation of Barth's theology has been fully documented by Gregory Bolich, Karl Barth and Evangelicalism (1980), and Phillip R. Thorne, Evangelicalism and Karl Barth: His Reception and Influence in North American Theology (1995). It should not be surprising that most evangelical theologians find much more to agree with in Barth than do their liberal counterparts.

Eberhard Busch and Recent Barth Expositors
In the United States there are a number of excellent Barth interpreters, but pride of place must go to Bruce McCormack, whose book Karl Barth's Realistic Dialectical Theology: Its Genesis and Development 1909–1936 (1995) was a turning point in contemporary analyses of Barth's theology, and to George Hunsinger, whose work How to Read Karl Barth: The Shape of His Theology (1991) is the best guide to Barth's theology as a whole. The more recent study by Kurt Anders Richardson, Reading Karl Barth: New Directions for North America Theology (2004), does much the same thing as Hunsinger's book, but the approach is quite different.²

Karl Barth & The Pietists: The Young Karl Barth's Critique of Pietism & Its Response
Eberhard Busch, translated by Daniel Bloesch
Downer's Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2004
325 pages

Can evangelicals learn something from Karl Barth? And why not the reverse: Can Barth(ians) learn something from evangelicals? This volume about early (and some later) engagement between Barth and various European "Pietists" by his wise interpreter and biographer, Eberhard Busch, can help answer both questions. The Pietism here described is of a piece with today's evangelicalism with regard to spiritual rebirth, rigorous and joyful sanctification, and evangelistic passion. This 1978 work was carefully translated and helpfully introduced by Daniel Bloesch (no little influenced by his cousin, the notable theologian, Donald Bloesch), the translator adding an interesting appendix with a brief history of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century German Pietism.

A Heretic's Guide to Eternity
Spencer Burke and Barry Taylor
San Francisco: Jossey-Bass (2006)
288 pages

I tried to like this book. It's the kind of book I generally enjoy reading. It is youthful, edgy, and provocative. Yet, it is riddled with problems—too many, in fact, for me to recommend it to others.

This is unfortunate, because I agree with most, if not all, of Burke's theology. I value his desire to be philosophically and culturally relevant. I consider myself postmodern. I am sympathetic to the emergent church, and I value fresh and creative expressions of the ancient faith.

However, Burke's analysis of the church and his prescription for change is hardly fresh, creative, or even postmodern. Sadly, his analysis of the church represents the ugliest side of the emergent church movement, consisting primarily of infantile complaints that reveal more about his past than about the present church in its multifaceted expression. Even worse, his prescription for change is the complete elimination of organized religion.

A Disappearing Ecclesiology
Burke, while appearing to appeal to the church, has for all practical purposes given up on the institutional church, which he seems to define as any faith-based community that possesses any degree of organization.

Burke's disappearing ecclesiology is not grounded in biblical studies, church history, or religious tradition. Instead, his conclusions seem to arise from his narrow experience of fundamentalism. The book is riddled with complaints against fundamentalism—both from his past and present experiences. Though Burke's complaints are obviously irrelevant to mainline, Anglican, Catholic, and Orthodox churches, this does not preclude him from painting all organized religion with one broad brushstroke. Burke must realize that he is preaching to the choir—to the same bunch of former fundamentalists who share his sordid past and still are scarred by it. About halfway through the book, I found myself responding to Burke's tirades with, "Just move on and get over it! Sure, your past experience in church was negative, but don't hold that against everybody. The church is bigger (and better) than your experience!"

Because of his disinterest in organized Christianity, Burke fashions himself a "heretic." He argues that every age needs heretics—"people who will push past and beyond the accepted conventional wisdom of the dominant group and pull us across sacred fences that hold us back and keep us tied to perceived orthodoxies" (xxiii). He defines a heretic as a "spiritual insurgent, one who rises up against the established order from the inside" (xxiii). Quoting business guru Art Kleiner, a "‘heretic is someone who sees a truth that contradicts the conventional wisdom of the institution—and remains loyal to both entities.' This is how I see myself as I begin this endeavor" (xxiv). He has no interest in "a new spin on old beliefs" (xxiv). He argues that "the message of Jesus needs to evolve for our times" (16). He does not advocate a makeover or a reformation. He will settle for no less than a complete transformation of the church (97). Though he claims the title, heretic, he believes that "dissent is not disloyalty" (xxiv).

Early Christian Mission
Eckhard J. Schnabel
Downers Grove, Illinois: InterVarsity Press (2004)
1928 pages (2 vols.)

In this prodigious two-volume tome, Eckhard J. Schnabel has produced a massive investigation and exposition of subject matter pertaining to the first century of Christian history, theology, and missions. He is currently professor of New Testament at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School (Deerfield, Illinois), with experience on the mission field as well as teaching stints in Germany and the Philippines. Sensing "a lack of exegetical foundation and theological sophistication" in many writings by missiologists, missionaries, and representatives of missionary societies, Schnabel has set about to present a full-scale work. This includes the historical and social conditions of life in the first century. Given the observation that the last full study of early Christian missions was Adolf von Harnack's The Mission and Expansion of Christianity in the First Three Centuries (in German 1902, and in English 1904), the author sees need for "an exhaustive study that integrates old and new insights and both historical-geographical and exegetical-theological material into a comprehensive description of the missionary movement of the first Christians" (xxiv).

Schnabel's definition of "mission" incorporates (1) communication of a new interpretation of reality; (2) a new way of life—the importance of a new ethical standard; and (3) integration of converts into their community. He is quite plain about the fact that he intends to emphasize "historical matters" along with "theological motivations and positions" (12). To acquaint the reader with the data he includes a chronological survey of the important political events of the first century (41–54).

Volume 1 is given to a detailed study of "Jesus and the Twelve"—encompassing four parts: (1) "Promise," (2) "Fulfillment," (3) "Beginnings," and (4) "Exodus." He lays the background for a study of Jesus' ministry by examining the expectations and the historical expansion of Judaism in the Old Testament and the Second Temple period. This is followed by a full segment of material on Jesus' teaching and mission, his call and training of the Twelve, then their work in, and expanding from, Jerusalem.

Volume 2 includes material on "Paul and the Early Church" in three parts: (5) "Pioneer Missionary Work," which deals with Paul's mission; (6) "Growth"; and (7) "Results." Over 550 pages are devoted to an examination of Paul's life and work as a missionary—more detailed than I have personally seen before. As in the previous volume, much attention is paid to both history and geography, along with exegetical and missiological insights. There is a helpful section in chapter 6 on the missionary theology of Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, and Peter, respectively. Chapter 7 concludes the study with a useful perusal of the self-understanding, praxis, and message of the early Christian missionaries, along with observations on missions in both the first and twentieth/twenty-first centuries.

American Gospel: God, the Founding Fathers, and the Making of the Nation
Jon Meacham
New York: Random House (2006)
416 pages

The recent departure of one thousand of its five thousand members from Woodland Hills Church, because Reverend Greg Boyd announced that his church would intentionally "steer clear of politics, give up moralizing on sexual issues, stop claiming the United States as a ‘Christian nation' and stop glorifying American military campaigns,"¹ underscores the need for clear thinking about the relationship of church and state. Is America a "Christian nation"? If not, what is the place of religion in America?

Jon Meacham's new book, American Gospel: God, the Founding Fathers, and the Making of the Nation, brings some much-needed sanity to these important (and potentially volatile) questions.

Freedom For and From Religion

Late-nineteenth-century Presbyterian minister, Isaac A. Cornelison, stated the truth most succinctly: America is "a state without a church but not without a religion" (144). Meacham writes,

The great good news about America—the American gospel, if you will—is that religion shapes the life of the nation without strangling it. Belief in God is central to the country's experience, yet for the broad center, faith is a matter of choice, not coercion. (5)

The American gospel is that liberty for all—including religious liberty—is a fundamental human right given by none other than God. But the "God" of the American gospel is not the sole possession of any established religious institution but is instead in "the public domain."

The Founding Fathers intentionally linked "the cause of liberty to the idea of God while avoiding sectarian religious imagery or associations" (75). Unlike Europe, the Fathers guaranteed that no one church would be permitted to be intimately united with the political powers of the state. This does not mean that the Founding Fathers were devout, nor does it mean they were completely godless. Instead, they refused to give any one religious institution ruling power over others. True liberty included the freedom to worship—or not to worship—according to an individual's own desires.

Barth for Armchair Theologians
John R. Franke (author of book)
Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press (2006)
183 pages

While increasingly published Reformed theologian John R. Franke (Biblical Theological Seminary, Hatfield, Pennsylvania) is known less for his expertise in Barth than for his constructive engagement with postmodernism, the present work constitutes a brief, accurate, even slightly revisionist treatment of which Barth scholars will certainly take notice. Within the scope established for the "Armchair Theologians" series, Franke meets and exceeds his objective of furnishing a highly readable introduction to, and overview of, Barth's life and thought.

In fact, Franke seamlessly weaves together (1) a biographical sketch, (2) the development of Barth's thought, and (3) a discussion of Barth's chief writings. Most of the book has the feel of historical narrative, and upon finishing it, one is surprised at just how much theological data and reflection Franke has packed into its comparatively few pages.

Franke cautions that Barth's dialectical methodology (corresponding to his dialectical understanding of revelation, explained below) assures that any superficial or fragmentary reading of his works (especially Church Dogmatics) will spawn serious misunderstanding. Since Barth perceives the theological enterprise as a human (but churchly) witness to ongoing but never specifically guaranteed revelation, the theologian—Barth included—never accesses truth directly but must circle around it, coming from divergent angles and perspectives, praying all the while that God will speak his Word in the midst of this (all too and never but) human task. This dialectical method means that Barth does not expect that useful theology—even his own—can once for all and finally be set out in simple, linear propositions. Rather, good theology continually circles around its target and, in fact, is often perceived as seemingly self-contradictory, since God's revelation itself encounters us in seeming contradictions. Conclusions drawn from a hasty or incomplete reading of Barth will, therefore, probably be erroneous, because his work requires digestion of the entire theological process of multiple and sometimes competing perspectives in order to grasp what he is trying to say.

I found five of Franke's own interpretations of Barth to be especially poignant.

Called To Be Church: The Book of Acts For A New Day
Anthony B. Robinson and Robert W. Wall
Grand Rapids: Eerdmans (2005)
286 pages

Over the years, many commentaries on the book of Acts have appeared, but I would characterize this volume as "a new look at an old book." The two writers come from different traditions and vocations: Robinson is a United Church of Christ pastor and teacher; Wall is Free Methodist and a professor of biblical studies. They make clear their agreement with Jim Wallis, who declared that the greatest need of the church today is not for "kerygma . . . diakonia . . . charisma . . . propheteia. (Rather) the greatest need for our time is koinonia, the call simply to be the church, to love one another, and to offer our lives for the sake of the world" (4). I would opine that this statement is an essential summation of the narrative of Acts.

The writers see Acts as a book for our time, without losing the historical perspective of this part of the New Testament. If it is true that the culture of our time has "drunk too deeply at the wells of reason and rationality," they perceive that Acts "offers intrigue, adventure, and the church as a place and people of mystery and magic." Like the rest of Scripture, Acts is "a postmodern book" (12). If such a citation would raise any eyebrows among the readers, let them read on in this volume, for it is both orthodox and contemporary (in the best sense of both words).

In introducing Acts to its readers, four basic queries are proposed: (1) What circumstances occasioned the writing of Acts? (2) How did the narrator compose the story? (3) What does Acts teach us about God? And (4) what role does Acts continue to perform within the New Testament? The reader will find what I believe to be substantial responses to each of these questions. Both the vertical dimension, i.e., what Acts teaches us about the relation of believers to God, and the horizontal dimension, i.e., what Acts teaches us about the importance and contributions of leaders and people, are helpfully enunciated.

Leading with a Limp: Turning Your Struggles into Strengths
Dan Allender
Colorado Springs, Colorado: Waterbrook Press (2006)
224 pages

I have a love/hate relationship with leadership.

I am a classic example of a "reluctant" leader. I possess a messy mix of confidence and insecurity. I initially pursued the pastorate out of a love for teaching and a desire to help people grow in their faith, but, along the way, I've been drafted into a position of leadership.

For years, I despised the word leader and did all in my power to deny that I had any relationship to it. But I have come to terms with the title. I am at peace with being a leader. I am one . . . whether I like it or not. God has gifted me to be in a position of leadership. It would be selfish of me not to exercise this gift, regardless of my discomfort with it.

Once, I naively assumed I could exert great influence apart from wearing the mantle of leadership. Now, I realize that one does not come without the other. Along the way I have come to the realization that it is not leadership itself that I have reacted against in the past, but a certain style of leadership. I despise authoritarian, domineering, controlling leadership. I find these qualities stifling to the life of faith, hope, and love. If leadership is defined by one's wielding of authority, then I am not—and do not wish to be—a leader. However, if leadership involves possessing a personal vision of rich blessing for the common good and developing influential strategies to bring this vision to life, then I most definitely am a leader.