The book is written as an extended exegesis of the Church, the culture, and the work of Jesus through the lens of the Great Commandment. Batterson writes to explore what it would mean for us to love God with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength. The fundamental problem of our slack obedience and bitter squabbling and heated conflicts is not in our methodology, tradition, or leadership but in our own failure to love God for all that He is with all that He has made us. That is our individual and corporate sin, and our response should be thorough repentance and learning to love God.

Batterson writes in a personable, casual style that allows the reader to relate and “talk it through” with him. His own experiences of loving God are insightful, often humourous and always convicting as he challenges the reader to pursue the love of God. His challenge invites us back to knowing God, loving God, and serving God in ways that exceed the norm and resonate with the radical nature of our ancient faith. I would recommend Primal with no reservations whatsoever.

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.

McKinley is a pastor out in Portland, OR, and in this text, he writes in a winsome, engaging style that will show the reader the clear teaching of Scripture, draw you into the overall narrative of God’s redemptive plan and challenge you to take your place in it. This book is the best I’ve seen that does justice to both the Kingdom and the Church, so check it out.

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.

The results of Lyons’ struggle with these questions includes The Next Christians. In this book, Lyons sets out to create a vision (with lots of good examples) for what Christians can pursue and create, not as cultural separatists or as cultural Christians, but as culture restorers empowered by the work of Jesus Christ and His mission in the world. Lyons looks at how the world has shifted and changed in the last several decades, and what kind of communities we ought to be seeking as people who love Jesus, love the Gospel, and love creation and are crave its redemption.

This book was excellent as a summary and providing a way for Christians to begin to think differently about their roles as believers and as churches, and what story God is writing in the creation and its coming restoration through Christ. As disciples, we have a responsibility to engage with the work of being restorers and agents of reconciliation in a world that was torn away from its harmony with God. The Gospel empowers us to do this, and the hope of this restoration is the unique contribution of Christianity. So let’s recover it.

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.

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.

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.