And yet, there’s one thing that Paul will have no tolerance for in Corinth: their divisions. In fact, the reason he says he can’t address them as people who are living by the Spirit isn’t due to their lack of proper ethics or seeming ignorance in the Scriptures, but because “there is still jealousy and dissension among you” (3:3). Another shock. Paul will eventually call them to lives worthy of the Gospel in regards to holiness and in relating to the rest of the world and in their worship, but his first priority is their dissensions and schismatic behavior.

Schisms most often occur because of strong reactions to human leaders. In some cases, it is a matter of extreme devotion to particular leaders in the church. In others, it is because of extreme opposition to particular leaders in the church. In all of these cases, Paul is downright disapproving and, perhaps, confused. “What is Apollos, really? Or what is Paul? Servants through whom you came to believe, and each of us in the ministry the Lord gave us.” (3:5). In other words, not much. God causes the growth. “[Christian leaders] are coworkers belonging to God. You [Christians] are God’s field, God’s building.” (3:9)

And this is where we begin to see the stupidity of these dissensions: why do we moan about Apollos’ humanity or exalt Paul’s apostolic ministry as if we belong to either of them? We are God’s. He called us. He made us grow. He owns us and is building us His way. “Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit lives in you?” (3:16). Christians these days too often identify so deeply with human leaders that they are sparking an identity crisis: who are we? Who is a good Christian? Who is a bad Christian? Who needs to repent? Who needs to receive the confession? It’s when we are in the midst of those times we need to remember Paul’s challenge to us: “Are you not influenced by the flesh and behaving like unregenerate people?!” (3:3). It’s despicable when we deny the power of Christ in our lives, and deny the Spirit that lives in us, when we make our dissension about human leaders go this way, and are controlled by their jealousy. If anyone needs to repent, it is us, for behaving so divisively and acting more the like a temple of demons rather than the temple of God.

That doesn’t mean human leaders won’t be held accountable for their work. Neither do they get a free pass on what they do. That’s what Paul interrupts his own rebuke of the Corinthians’ dissension to remind them of: leaders will be held to account. But just like you, as the Church, belong to God, so do the leaders, and God will judge them on the Day of His return (3:9-15). Paul even goes more into detail later on, commanding the Corinthians, “So then, do not judge anything [about leaders] before the time. Wait until the Lord comes. He will bring to light the hidden things of darkness and reveal the motives of hearts. Then each will receive recognition from God.” (4:5). The reason for this is simple: “What do you [Christians] have that you did not receive [from these leaders]? And if you received it, why do you boast as though you did not?” (4:7).

But he returns to addressing the Corinthians here. and pronounces what is perhaps the most dreadful statement in this epistle: “If someone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy him. For God’s temple is holy, which is what you are.” (3:17). That isn’t addressed to human leaders. That is addressed to everyone. If we destroy the Church of God through our dissenting and jealousies, there will be consequences, and the evidence of such unregenerate behavior is that we indeed have unregenerate hearts, and will come under wrath.

It’s why we need Paul’s admonition: “Guard against self-deception, each of you. If someone among you thinks he is wise in this age, let him become foolish so that he can become wise.” (3:18). If we think we are wise enough to condemn the leaders of the Church, or one another. If we think we have unlocked some deep secret in Scripture about how repentance works, or how Christians are “supposed to” confess or why one method of judgment and vindication for ourselves is biblical, we better check ourselves. Because we live in an age and culture where knowing how to scandalize, shame, and bring down religious leaders (not only Christian ones)  is the epitome of worldly wisdom. We’ve become too good at it. We need to repent.

But when we become foolish – when we commend ourselves into the hands of God, knowing that He cares for His Church, Paul has a word for us: “So then, no more boasting about mere mortals! For everything belongs to you, whether Paul or Apollos or Cephas or the world or life or death or the present or the future. Everything belongs to you, and you belong to Christ, and Christ belongs to God.” (3:21-23). And we will come to it, someday, by the grace of God, when all things will be brought to light, and we shall be as He is.

Through a series of interviews, Carlson goes on a journey to understand how people in monasteries responded to 9/11 and what their context and training helped them to do and how to reflect on it. These brothers and sisters who have sworn vows of stability, obedience, and renounced pursuit of possessions for the sake of prayer and the good of their neighbors have many helpful insights and a love for God and people that is inspiring. And, yet, Carlson often misses the opportunity to see that the Gospel itself is radical enough without having to indulge some of his own less orthodox tendencies. It’s a good read, but one that requires discernment.

A cursory review of UnChristian (Kinnaman/Lyons) and Souls in Transition (Smith/Snell) provided marked statistical differences, particularly in the objects of their study. UnChristian reports on the perceptions of “outsiders” (both those born between 1984-2002 and those born 1965-1983) of contemporary American evangelicals, with some attention to Mosaic evangelicals perception of American evangelicals.

Souls in Transition, by contrast, explores the religious attitudes and spirituality of “emerging adults” (born between 1980-1991). It does not give attention to evangelicals as a Christian group, but focuses on broader sectarian divisions (Protestant, Catholic, ethnic/political differentiations, and several non-Christian religions) and denominations.

Besides the difference in groups studied (apart form the apparent overlap in age between Mosaics and emerging adults) and religious lens, Souls in Transition is much more interested in self-perception and peer-perception in religious attitudes, where UnChristian is interested in cultural perceptions of a specific religious group.

In short, the comparative qualities of these studies is incredibly limited. What may be useful, however, is looking to understand how the generational qualities and attitudes about religious life and spirituality explored in Souls in Transition undergird/feed into the negative perceptions of evangelicals as described in UnChristian. For instance, the emphasis on individual autonomy/thinking for oneself would drive a bias against evangelicals in suggesting that they are “sheltered” from the real world, where there are differences and cultures are relative. Values that insist that harming/hurting another person is self-evident would very easily lend towards a dislike or disgust of what is perceived to be (and sometimes can be) an antihomosexual culture amongst evangelicals.

So, rather than looking to compare the studies, a good use would be using Souls in Transition (and perhaps other generational resources like Generation Me, The Narcissism Epidemic, and The First Year Out) to understand why young adults feel so strongly about the things they see in evangelicalism (which certainly exist to some extent), This could also provide the proper framework for contextualizing the right response in going from “unChristian to Christian.” Resources like The Next Christians by Gabe Lyons would be appropriate resources here.

At the end of the day, studies here are helpful tools in knowing the people we’re preaching the Gospel to. 1 Chronicles 12:32 commends the men of the tribe of Issachar for being men who “understood the times” and knew what Israel had to do. As disciples of Jesus, we, too, should understand the times and respond in ways that are contextually-attentive, missionally-driven, and Christ-honoring.

Himes weaves a compelling narrative that spans the breadth of the American story, particularly honing in on the Southern and Western U.S. as the native territory of what would become Christian Fundamentalism. Delving into his own struggles with his Fundamentalist background, with the family’s rise to prominence in laying the foundations for Fundamentalism, and the wider counter-cultural revolution that was coming into being, he skillfully provides a lens for us to understand contemporary envangelicalism and its own personal demons, as well as those things that we should learn and maintain in our own practice of discipleship.

My one major criticism, aside from some editorial mishaps, would be Himes’ understanding of Calvinism. His only understanding of reformed/Calvinist thought seems to be the more extreme sort, not the moderate to strong Calvinism that typifies American Calvinism today. Otherwise, when this book is released on May 15, I would recommend anyone who is serious about being missional, or is interested in Christian history, or in the sociology of religion to buy a copy and read it.

But casting my vote for or against Bell, or his book, or the detractors or defenders, is not what I’m going to address. In a short lifetime of 22 years in the American Church, I’ve seen people follow and admire a Christian teacher or pastor for years and then with one controversial doctrinal statement (not a moral scandal, though we’ve seen our fair share of those in American churches too), they put them aside with “That’s such a shame” or “I didn’t know she/he was a false teacher.” For a spiritual culture that has not placed a high value on discernment, we sure do have a lot of anathemas that get passed around.

And that may be precisely the problem. Rather than being a priesthood of believers, we’ve become priesthoods of believers, where each of us is responsible for the protection of our own brand of doctrine and practice in Christian faith. We are all empowered to approve and condemn teachers and preachers as we wave our Bibles around to justify ourselves. Rather than being people who are in submission to discerning elders who are empowered by the Holy Spirit to lead our churches, we shepherd ourselves and very often label that which looks foreign or unfamiliar “Wolf!” It’s gotten to the point that for those outside the Church and for many others who are still in the Church, it’s all a rendition of “The Boy Who Cried Wolf” where the villagers never learn that the boy’s just fooling around. So much so that one questions whether a wolf actually exists.

That’s unfortunate…and dangerous. Scripture does tell us that there are wolves. It also tells us that elders are to be responsible under-shepherds and keep a lookout for the wolves and protect the sheep. It also tells Christians to submit to the elders that God has given to do this work. If it seems there are many wolves, it is because there are not many submissive sheep. Bad theology has existed since the father of lies has started his corruption of true creation. It’s not new, and it’s not usually very original. But what has changed is that Christians have taken to being lone rangers in their spirituality, and that has only caused rank confusion.

I’m not arguing for a strong distinction between “lay Christians” and “Christian clergy.” Elders are part of the congregations that they have been guarding. Jesus is the Chief Shepherd/Senior Pastor of the Church, so elders are also under authority. But all of us could be more faithful in submitting to the teaching and direction of the discerning elders in our midst. As disciples, we need to question whether we’re taking on all the work of elders on ourselves for ourselves, or whether we’re submitting to the fathers in Christ that God has given us out of His mercy and love for us. Are you?

Platt’s intent should be obvious from the title. It’s not an uncommon theme in evangelical circles in the United States either. Casting Crowns raised the question in a hit song “way back” in September 2003. Artists like Charlie Hall, Derek Webb, and others have prophetically challenged the church on living in comfort when so many live in poverty. Like Platt says, “We were settling for a Christianity that revolves around catering to ourselves when the central message of Christianity is actually about abandoning ourselves” (7). In the following pages, Platt challenges us as Christians to see the loss of discipleship and the loss of the Gospel as a way of life in our churches — and to see how it is killing us when we refuse to submit to His Lordship in every area of our lives.

I was convicted and brought to repentance by this book. I was disturbed. I had to seek out the counsel of friends and family because I found myself repulsed by the comfort and ease I lived in while thinking of those who lived in poverty of every kind imaginable — particularly their lack of Christ. It lit me on fire. I was ready to sell everything I had — but Gospel wisdom also should follow Gospel passion, and wise friends have urged me to a wise pursuit of a radical life. But before posting my review, I wanted to test it out. Is the radical life possible? In answer, I would fully endorse this. Read Radical. Start the Radical Challenge. Turn your life more and more to the Gospel-centered life we’ve been called to.

My hopes, unfortunately, were dashed. While she gives token attention to the history, theology, and importance of the Eucharist throughout the book, The Sacred Meal really serves more as a memoir of her lifetime of experiences with Communion. She has had a broad diversity of exposure to various Communion practices across traditions, cultures, and theologies, but has shifted the focus from the Lord Who instituted this practice to looking at everyone you’re taking it with. Instead of being the celebration of Jesus offering Himself, it becomes an emotional experience that gives you a bond with other human beings, regardless of their commitments (Muslim, Jewish, Christian, etc.). The Sacrament is important and vital to the life of any church, and looking to Gallagher for counsel on it will do nothing for the healthy practice of Communion.

Chittister sets out to describe the whole liturgical year in its seasons, symbolism, history, and best practices as experienced in the Roman Catholic tradition. She does this, but when she tries to make the connections to the Gospel and maintaining Jesus as the center of the Liturgy (because He is), the ambiguity in her mind about Who Jesus is and what He accomplished ( in other words, the very Gospel himself!) comes to the forefront. And it does much to muddle the quality of her work. There is some good material about the history and meaning of the liturgical year in this book, but rather than hearing unclear thoughts about Who the Lord of Time is, I would commend experiencing the Liturgy of a local traditional church instead.

The aim of this book is to confront the sad reality that few live their lives on purpose. “Everyone ends up somewhere. But few people end up somewhere on purpose” (6). Groeschel goes on to challenge people to recognize the chazown (Hebrew for “revelation”, “vision”, or “dream”) that they have been given by God and to pursue it. He guides the reader through their past experiences, values, and gifts to discern what that vision would be and then encourages them to have their lives ordered in such a way that they are free to pursue it as God would have them. It’s an application-filled reading that has many places to respond and take immediate action for the long-term benefit and service to the Kingdom.

Which brings me to its weakness. Groeschel is a passionate man and a very gifted communicator and there’s not much of anything in the book that I disagreed with, but what I’ve come to see about calling and developing a sense of our own role in the Kingdom is that we have a weak and unfulfilled one without seeing it in light of the Gospel. Unless we see the fallenness of the structure, its downward direction, and how Jesus died to change the direction and redeem the structure through His people’s efforts and will one day complete that work Himself, we are left with a shallow calling, a little chazown that isn’t as much about God and neighbor as it should be, despite our efforts.

It’s a great book and I would recommend it to any disciple, whether working through it alone or in a small group. But it will only benefit you as long as you do what it says: work through the journal, pray through things, discern the calling/chazown that God has given you and live in the faithfulness that the Master calls us to by the power of the Holy Spirit.

Wright’s first problem is exegetical: reading Ishmael as the great antagonist of Isaac in the story of Scripture. Ishmael and Isaac didn’t get along when they were kids, but they most certainly buried their father together. Additionally, there is a great deal of reading into the text with regards to Ishmael, Edom, and Persia that has no biblical or historical basis. His second major problem is history. Bryant assumes that the Arabs are pure Ishmaelites, when, frankly, that is untrue. Arabs have diverse ethnic roots that differ by geography. In some sense, it would be like trying to say that all Northern Europeans come from the same ancestor. There is far more diversity than that. His history and understanding of Islam is negligible at best. There’s also a problem in his sources, which provide a particularly one-sided retelling of the founding of the modern state of Israel. Wright would do well to read Blood Brothers by Fr. Elias Chacour.

His third major problem is perhaps the most disturbing: Wright concludes that the Christian perspective, and especially the Gospel, lead us to love the Jew. That is true, but he neglects to mention that the Gospel means love for the Arab. He fails to see that in Christ, there is no Jew or Arab or Gentile, but all are one. He fails to see that Christians, because of the Gospel, are to love the Israel and the Arab the same way and to proclaim to them the same redemption. He fails to see that there are far more Christian Arabs than Christian Israelis and by neglecting the Arabs, he has doomed his own family in Christ to political and social injustices perpetrated by a godless Israeli state that isn’t very Jewish at all.

Judaism is beautiful. Jews and Arabs are humans, too, for whom Christ died. And to favor one over the other is one of the least Christlike things a Christian can do. Put aside your politics and embrace those that Christ came in the flesh to save. And while you’re at it, don’t read this book.