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| Kirche von Moret, by Alfred Sisley, 1893 |
John G. Stackhouse’s book Church is a wise and
winsome collection of short essays and thoughts about the church, especially as
it is manifested in the United States and Canada. As such, the book doesn’t
follow a consistent line of argumentation, but rather brings up points here and
there, in a warm and conversational manner. Therefore, this review will only
highlight certain aspects of Stackhouse’s thought that appear to be central to
his understanding of the church, while of necessity ignoring other aspects
covered in his book.
First of all, Stackhouse’s perception of the church is
profoundly relational. All of his reflections come back to solid, common-sense
wisdom on the proper ordering of relationships. One of the basic tenets of
relationship is the importance of good communication. Stackhouse comes back to
this over and over again. In chapter 5, “Are There Any Questions?” he urges
preachers to open their sermons up for questions and to actively solicit
feedback from the congregation. This theme is picked up again in chapters 10
and 11, in which he exhorts church leaders to actively poll the congregation,
to find out their concerns and solicit their advice. This is no easy task, he
tells us, since it’s always hard to stomach criticism (which inevitably comes
when you open yourself up to feedback), but it is essential—the laity are the
heart of the church, after all, and their opinions and concerns ought to be
heard.
Another basic tenet of relationship is commitment, and
Stackhouse touches on this element in chapter 18, “Are You a Member?” Here he
encourages us to commit to a local church body, bemused by the postmodern
tendency to shy away from definitive commitments. He puts it plainly (and, I
think, rightly): “Our membership in the body of Christ is always expressed in
the concrete, particular instance of membership in a particular congregation.
There are no free-floating members, committed only to a vague, ideal, universal
church.”
For Stackhouse, the essence of church is in its fellowship—a group of
believers, committed to Christ and to one another.
A second aspect of Stackhouse’s thinking is simply
that—thinking. He emphasizes the need to return to a stronger focus on
argumentation, on critical thinking, on common sense, and on reading. In
chapter 19, “We Need More Arguments,” he advocates the return of hearty debate
to North American churches—not argument in the sense of divisive conflict, but
of ordered, respectful, logical thinking. When we are able to think clearly and
to speak the pattern of that logical thought to others, we open the door for
our community to be shaped by the mutual pursuit of truth. In this sense,
Stackhouse’s emphasis on thinking returns to his emphasis on relationship.
Speaking of argument, he says, “This is teamwork. This is taking each other
seriously as thinking human beings. This is speaking the truth in love."
In chapter 12, he laments what he calls “the pastoral
brain drain.” Traditionally, the pastorate was a position of high education, of
great knowledge and wisdom. Now, cluttered as it is by all the expectations of
administration, counseling, planning, leading meetings, and so on, the best and
brightest young Christians are opting for different callings. Stackhouse also
laments what appears to be a growing trend of subtle anti-intellectualism in
the laity and urges pastors to “throw the book at them.” He writes: “Without
disciplined, regular reading of thoughtful journals and books, we will have to
defer to others who do understand and do know how to act effectively.”
Throughout his book, Stackhouse’s essays are infused with a subtle note of
lament that Christians don’t know how to think better, that we so often fall
into traps of pride and conflict when a simple dose of common sense, rightly
regarded and employed, would solve our problem.
This brings us to a third major theme of Church: the
importance of humility, which ties in with both of the previous themes. In
chapter 15, “Beams First, Motes Later,” Stackhouse accuses the church of
focusing too much on the big, shocking sins, like homosexuality, while ignoring
the subtle and pervasive poison of pride in our pulpits. This is, he claims, a
problem that is desperately in need of address by the evangelical churches. “Is
it a bad thing to ordain practicing homosexuals to church leadership? Let’s
instead answer a more immediately relevant question that cuts to the heart of
evangelical church after evangelical church across this continent. Is it a bad
thing to ordain and maintain a practicing egomaniac?”
In such intentionally provocative language, he forces us to take a hard look at
the extent to which we’ve turned a blind eye to the sin of pride.
The essence of humility is in learning to walk in
someone else’s shoes, in seeing an issue from someone else’s perspective rather
than your own. Stackhouse talks about this in chapter 21, in which he exhorts
us to remember that for every theological or social position we oppose, there
is a real person behind that position, a person whom God loves and who is
worthy, no matter what their error, of our respect. We don’t have to agree with
them, but we need to learn to disagree in a way that communicates the love of
Christ. This theme comes up again in chapter 40, a quasi-satirical piece called
“Feminism Fatigue.” The point, in short, is that the issues we view as
unimportant are important to somebody, and for that reason alone we ought to be
careful not to brush them aside. Humility is invariably linked to good
community, and so this theme ties back in with the first. Those who are humble
will be able to learn how to live in a loving community, setting the needs of
others ahead of their own. Those who are prideful, however, will carry
selfishness wherever they go, and thus they will always be a force that tears
churches apart rather than bringing them together.
The danger of a book like Stackhouse’s, though infused
with wisdom, is that it is inherently a critique of the way church is currently
being done. And, as with any critique (and especially those that favor brevity
over comprehensiveness), it can at times seem unfairly critical. For instance,
in chapter 14 he criticizes the normal routine of Christian activities and
programs as being mediocre or boring, and that the fault lies with ourselves.
This is true, but it’s not the gentlest way to say it. The fact of the matter
is that mediocrity is part of being human, and not everything we do can possibly
excel all the standards all the time.
Along a similar vein, in chapter 38 Stackhouse
criticizes the “What Would Jesus Do?” movement. Granted, it could stand some
criticism—any attempt to water down the essence of the Christian life to a
single question is inherently flawed. But the imitation of Christ is a great
and venerable tradition of spirituality, and I don’t think that most people
fall into the error of assuming that they can do Messianic miracles simply
because that’s what Jesus would do. I think Stackhouse has given the WWJD
movement the short shrift, not realizing that for most people, the answer to
“What Would Jesus Do?” comes out with some brilliant results, such as “Avoid
sin,” and “Pursue holiness.” We shouldn’t be too quick to brush aside movements
or teachings that might well have been powerfully inspiring to a great many
sincere Christians.
Critique, as Stackhouse himself points out so well
elsewhere in the book, must be united with love. Only because Stackhouse so
obviously loves the church are most of his critiques credible. In the end,
though, it comes down to this: critique isn’t necessarily valuable unless
paired with suggestions on how to become better. Usually Stackhouse provides
such suggestions, but not always.
After reading Stackhouse’s Church, I’ve come
away with a few helpful reminders to shape the way I think about the church.
First, chapter 4, “Temptation in the Glory,” was particularly helpful for me.
Fond as I am of church history and the noble characters found there, it’s far
too easy for me to become attached to the incipient Gnosticism that Stackhouse
describes—“to commune with noble and sensitive heroes who have in fact been
abstracted and idealized from church history….to flee the churches around us
for the Ideal Church.” Having seen and known so much of the church’s triumphs throughout history, it
is tempting to hold my own local congregation up against that idealized scale.
But Stackhouse reminds us that we need to learn to love the church in all its
flaws—that the church is about people, not ideas, and that people are
imperfect. The real task is to see and appreciate the beauty behind those imperfections.