(Steven James. Grand Rapids: Fleming H. Revell: 2005, 208 pages.)
Review by Kevin Miller
In a recent article[1], I criticized overzealous evangelicals for tripping over themselves to make the gospel relevant. Underlying this evangelistic fervor, I conjectured, is not so much a love of Christ as a fear that the gospel can’t stand its own. If we don’t do something to jazz it up or dumb it down, non-Christians won’t get it. Steven James’ new book Story: Recapturing the Mystery is a prime example of my hypothesis. Billed as “a postmodern retelling of the Christian story,” it is essentially a collection of brief personal essays, poetry, and black and white photographs that attempts to jazz up the gospel while at the same time dumbing it down. It’s the worst of both worlds.
It’s difficult to put my finger on exactly what rings false here. The best I can say is that James—like many other Christian authors commonly labeled as “postmodern” or “emergent”—sounds like the smart kid in class who knows the right answers but pretends he doesn’t so he’ll fit in. I’m all for making the Bible accessible to the masses. But if we’re going to do it, let’s do it honestly, and let’s do it well. Unfortunately, I think James blows his opportunity here on both counts. A good example is his opening essay on creation. Here’s a wonderful chance to hook readers with some probing questions about life’s origin and purpose, to give them a glimpse into the glory and wonder of God. Instead, James opts for passages like the following:
“God finally got tired of the cloak of darkness, so he told his first story. He spoke and light appeared.
'Let there be,' he said. And there was.
I’m not exactly sure why he did it. I don’t think anyone knows his precise motivation. Personally, I think he got sick of the darkness. I think since God is love, he couldn’t stand the thought of spending eternity alone in the dark without someone to love. He needed companionship, because love gives, shares, sacrifices, woos. It has to. Or else it isn’t love.”
Pay attention to the last paragraph. James begins by coming alongside the seeker and pretending like he has no idea why God created the universe. Then he rushes in with a trite, Sunday school level theory that burns like acid on the face of intellect. For starters, it’s obvious James has no idea what the term “eternity” (time without beginning or end) means. Otherwise he would never say that God couldn’t stand the thought of spending eternity alone in the dark, because if God truly is without beginning or end, he had just spent eternity doing just that! Furthermore, if you look at the Scriptural account of Creation, it wasn’t God who was in darkness; it was the earth (Genesis 1:2). And surely God was not in need of companionship, seeing as he exists in three persons—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit—who are the epitome of community and selfless adoration. I’m sorry, but if I were a non-Christian, I would have put the book down right there, assuming James was nothing more than a poorly educated wolf in sheep’s clothing—an old school propositional apologist who figured the way to be postmodern was to phrase every statement as a question.
Theological quibbles aside, however, what is sorely lacking in this book is the one thing that would endear it to modern and postmodern readers alike: authenticity. Please don’t confuse this term with “sincerity.” I believe James is quite sincere, but his musings in this book are far too safe and trite to be authentic. What James and others seem unable to understand is that people of a postmodern bent don’t just respond to any narrative. They respond to narratives that ring with the genuine cry of human experience that logical, propositional arguments for God do not, narratives that recognize that life is often dirty, painful, messy, disappointing, and unpredictable, that we don’t have all of the answers and that it is unlikely we ever will. But amidst the muck and grime and grief, there is always a glimmer of hope, a reason for taking that next, boot-sucking step. That light is nothing less than Christ, the Light of the world (John 8:12).
James’s impulse is correct here: In our story-based culture, Christians need to develop fresh ways of telling and re-telling their stories. But such innovations should never be motivated by fear of the gospel’s irrelevance. The gospel is relevant today, tomorrow, and forever. We can rest in that fact. We don’t need to jazz it up, and we certainly don’t need to dumb it down. All that is required is an honest, authentic expression of our experience with Christ. Offer that up to the world, and trust God to take care of the rest.
[1]“The Misguided Quest for Relevance,” Clarion: Journal of Spirituality and Justice, Easter 2005.
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