The past couple of posts I've written have dealt with books that attempt to look to the global South for the source of the next big era in Christianity. Citing explosive conversion rates and growing populations, Thomas Oden, Philip Jenkins, and Jehu Hanciles all assure us that the shifting tide of global Christianity is already pulling toward the South and that revitalization of the faith in the North and West will, most likely, come from there as well. But even the amateur student of history knows that these kinds of global shifts do not happen in isolation. While there may be chicken-egg debates among historians, theologians, anthropologists, economists, and others about which gave rise to which, there is no denying that global shifts in religion have nearly always correlated with other world-changing movements.

Even a brief, leapfrogging look at Christianity highlights a few of these synchronizations. The first century spread of Christianity throughout the Roman Empire could not have happened without the innovation of the Roman road system also being near its zenith. The Protestant Reformation and its emphasis on a return to the scrutiny of Scripture would not have been possible without the advent of the moveable type printing press. Nonconformists in England may have been quelled altogether had there not been a newly discovered land separated by a vast expanse of ocean to use as haven. Evangelicalism's roots in early American history could not have found soil more fertile than the seedbed of a country founded on an ideology which upholds individual liberty and prosperity. Therefore it is inadequate to discuss what might happen in Christianity globally without also paying some attention to what else may also be happening during the same time and on the same scale.

Rob Salkowitz's Young World Rising is a book that does just that. He looks at regions and countries where populations are trending younger and growing and seeks understand the role that information communication technology and entrepreneurship might have on these young and emerging economies. These economies will likely be, as Salkowitz puts it, part of the "knowledge economy." Instead of more traditional goods and services, "[t]he new kind of knowledge economy entrepreneurship made possible by information and communication technology holds even more potential . . . It is the creation of something--content, data, insight, entertainment--from nothing except human talent and imagination" (16). Appealing to the ubiquitous presence of cell phones, the rapidly growing reliability of wireless and satellite high speed internet, and the affordability of smart phones, Salkowitz sees us entering into an era where connectivity will launch us over the hurdle of knowledge access, enabling individuals and communities to participate in direct entrepreneurship as never before. This sounds a lot like the kind of impact that the printing press had on the dissemination of ideas 500 years ago.

Beyond access, however, Salkowitz sees emerging economies becoming players on the world stage through their contributions. "The bottom line is that the countries that have been the drivers of innovation and productivity for the past several centuries are running out of juice" (20). The countries that gave rise to the digital revolution will likely be left behind in the wake of a culture they helped to create but to which they never adapted. Lingering legacy structures will languish as decentralized, highly collaborative, rapidly adaptable networks of talent and capital reach across borders and cultures. A blurring of private, commercial, professional, social, and cultural networks into an amalgamated whole will shift focus away from carving out neat institutional ideologies and toward sector collaboration.

To this point, the book is highly congruent with the three authors mentioned above. Salkowitz is describing a massive global shift that will likely catch the West napping, unless there is some sort of wake up call. One could easily replace Salkowitz's entrepreneurship and wealth creation language with that of Christianity and missiology and the book would land quite nicely alongside Oden and Jenkins. Salkowitz goes a bit futher, however, by offering up a chapter on "Engaging the Young World" in which he outlines what he believes are key strategies and takeaways for Western enterprises to lean into this global shift and emerge on the inside looking out, rather than the other way round. This kind of perspective is sorely missing in Oden, Jenkins, and Hanciles, all three of which hint that there are practical things Christians in the West ought to do to anticipate the coming global shift, but each is reticent to get too specific about what those things are.

In short, Salkowitz urges business in the West to identify and partner with Young World emerging talent now by reshaping current structures to align more closely with the values of emerging entrepreneurs. This will result in attracting young talent into existing organizations. Once in the door, Salkowitz asserts that the job is not yet done. These young bucks must be given some deference and allowed to shape the business or organization in a way that is reflective of the emerging market desires. Business as usual cannot continue, and it does no good to put new wine in old wineskins (so to speak). Instead of a "watch and wait" approach, Salkowitz is advocating a "hire and shape" approach.

What might this look like if transferred to existing institutional structures within Christianity? How might historical denominations fare in America if they intentionally sought young, vibrant leadership from Africa or Latin America and allowed that leadership to make decisions? Hanciles dealt with this some, but his assessment was not broadly optimistic. Looking at the role that the Episcopal church plays in the the global Anglican communion, he noted that though a large number of Anglican fellowships in the global South have decried the Episcopal church's ordination of openly homosexual clergy, the broader Anglican fellowship has been reluctant to make a formal redress due to the large percentage of capital the Episcopal church generates for the worldwide fellowship.

Yet, in the spirit of entrepreneurship, there are some enterprising Anglicans in Rwanda and Nigeria who are not content to let Anglican Christianity in America become completely dominated by an increasingly theologically liberal Episcopal Church. Seeing America as fertile soil for mission, the Anglican Mission in the Americas (under the oversight of the Anglican Church of Rwanda) and Convocation of Anglicans in North America (under the oversight of the Anglican Church of Nigeria), both have ordained bishops and are actively (even aggressively) planting churches throughout North America. Their hope is to offer an end-around to the Episcopal Church, making communion with the global Anglican fellowship in a theologically traditional stream possible on the continent.

It remains to be seen what direction these newly appointed bishops and prelates will take as their numbers and influence grows. One of these, Todd Hunter, is a graduate of George Fox Evangelical Seminary (where I am doing my DMin studies) and a former leader in the Vineyard association. His movement over to Anglicanism is multi-faceted, but I wager would not have been possible if the Episcopal Church in America was his only option. What impact will he and his colleagues have on the Rwandan Church? What impact with their Archbishop have on them? That will be interesting to note as it may signal a way forward in other existing global Christian institutions such as the Catholic Church, the UMC, and the Southern Baptist Convention.

Jehu Hanclies' Beyond Christendom is an important book for anyone concerned about the future of global Christianity. Divided into three parts, Hanclies deals in turn with globalization, international migration, and the effects both of those have on the spread of Christianity. Central to his thesis is the notion that "every Christian migrant is a potential missionary" (8, 378) and that it is the steadily increasing migration from the global South to the global North that will have a radical impact on Christianity in the North in the years to come.

Hanclies does not envision a new Christendom with a Southern bent. On the contrary, he goes to great lengths to expose the lingering concept of "Christendom" as an unhelpful Western construct of secular humanism which has diverted focus toward a fantastic notion a once-and-future Christian utopia, and away from the very real post-1965 migratory spread of Christianity from Africa to destinations north (133, 383). At one point in the book, he takes Philip Jenkins' The Next Christendom (which I reviewed a few weeks ago) to task. That argument was of particular interest to me.

Hanclies praises Jenkins for his description of the "new contours" of Christianity in the global South, but is quick to temper this by observing that Jenkins' treatment is "seriously marred by an approach that makes the Western Christian experience a definitive template or roadmap" (132). While Jenkins does spend some time in his book discussing the limitations, even danger, of Western intellectual snobbery, Hanclies' assessment is that Jenkins' falls prey those very pitfalls:

[Jenkins] prognosis duplicates the quintessential secularist premonition of an otherwise bright future sabotaged by medieval-like clashes of belief, missionary armies, and rampant religious conflict. He anticipates the possibility that the massive religious upsurge in the South will implode with bloody conflicts (engendered by population growth and attitudes to religious conversion) between the Christians and Muslims. This understanding grotesquely tags "Southern Christianity" as a destructive force within the new world order; it is all the more striking, given the nature of current global conflicts (including the "war on terror"), that he makes no reference to Western nations in this prognosis. (133)

So what does Hanclies observe is coming on the horizon, if not a new kind of Christendom? He describes a decentralized, migratory spread of Christianity from South to North. Initially this movement will fly under the radar of Northern/Western countries as the influx of Southern Christianity will be largely confined to the immigrant communities. Indeed, this has already happened in most major American metropolitan areas. Hanclies' Mobile Faith project set out to study these communities and their churches. He devotes several chapters at the end of the book to an overview of what he found.

Eventually, however, these immigrant Christian communities will turn outward, evangelizing their new host countries. The Christianity that emerges from this proselytization will be unlike the remnant Christianity that is currently trying to maintain a handhold in America. It may be different enough as to be missed altogether in its early stages. What remains to be seen is how "mainstream" American Christianity will respond to a growing tide of immigrants who have it on their hearts to turn America toward Christ.

It will be tempting to try and categorize any new movements into old wineskins (conservative, liberal, modern, post-modern, institutional, organic). Much of the writing on church in the Western world bemoans the demise of Christendom, points fingers and liberalism and secularism, then attempts to respond via insulation or accommodation. It is easy to project these woes and responses on Christianity the world over. This is one of the lingering effects of Christendom and Manifest Destiny. We still think we're on the leading edge of things, even when that edge means decline.

It might just be that the leading edge has shifted South and is starting to surge North. If true, Christians in America need to prepare to eat a big helping of humble pie as it becomes more and more clear that the Spirit is moving in more clearly evident ways outside the West than inside it.  We need to open our eyes to what God might be doing through the millions of Christian immigrants who arrive in the Northern Hemisphere each year. Otherwise, we may find ourselves like the man who found himself in a quickly rising flood.

The waters rose so high that one man was forced to climb onto the roof of his house. As the waters rose higher and higher, a man in a rowboat appeared, and told him to get in. "No," replied the man on the roof. "I have faith in the Lord; the Lord will save me." So the man in the rowboat went away. The man on the roof prayed for God to save him.

The waters rose higher and higher, and suddenly a speedboat appeared. "Climb in!" shouted a man in the boat. "No," replied the man on the roof. "I have faith in the Lord; the Lord will save me." So the man in the speedboat went away. The man on the roof prayed for God to save him.

The waters continued to rise. A helicopter appeared and over the loudspeaker, the pilot announced he would lower a rope to the man on the roof. "No," replied the man on the roof. "I have faith in the Lord; the Lord will save me." So the helicopter went away. The man on the roof prayed for God to save him.

The waters rose higher and higher, and eventually they rose so high that the man on the roof was washed away, and alas, the poor man drowned.

Upon arriving in heaven, the man marched straight over to God. "Heavenly Father," he said, "I had faith in you, I prayed to you to save me, and yet you did nothing. Why?" God gave him a puzzled look, and replied "I sent you two boats and a helicopter, what more did you expect?"

In a couple of months I will travel with my doctoral cohort to Kenya and Ethiopia. I've been to North Africa before, but never sub-Saharan Africa. I'm excited for the experience. I'm also trying to prepare for the difference in cultures. I fancy myself a fairly culturally aware person. I understand to a large degree how my worldview is shaped by the culture in which I have been formed. The direction my doctoral work is taking me has me exploring how a particular facet of my culture, namely consumerism, forms families and shapes their commitments. I will argue that the formative nature of consumerism, while unseen by most, have a greater effect in shaping "Christian" families than their professed faith does. This leads to conflict between what a family says it values and the commitments they actually make. But I digress. Back to Africa.

In advance of my visit to North Africa several years ago, I read up on the culture of the largely Islamic country I was visiting so that I could come prepared with tools to help bridge the cultural divide. I learned some basic Arabic greetings, read up on marketplace etiquette, and was good to go. Only spending a couple weeks there, that was all I really needed to make my trip more comfortable for me and my host. For most one-off short trips like that, a little preparation will suffice. But what about recurring trips to the same foreign context? What about developing relationships with communities abroad? That requires more heavy lifting. The longer and deeper the relationship, the more evident the cultural gap and the more fertile the soil for miscommunication and offense.

Enter David Maranz's African Friends and Money Matters. Maranz is an anthropologist who has spent years living and working in sub-Saharan Africa. His book comes after seeing the same frustrations over and over again by Westerners experience when they live and work in Africa. Many of these frustrations have to do with the management of money and resources, both short and long term. Maranz decided to write a book and spell out the differences in the economic and social systems of the West and Africa with an eye toward unveiling the cultural inner workings which lead to much of the frustration.

The subject matter of the book is largely microeconomics, or personal and family financial affairs (p. 2). Maranz points out that there are big differences in the goals of Western and African economic systems. The latter focuses on meeting the minimum needs of the community, which sometimes means just looking after the survival of the community (4), whereas the former is focused on the private accumulation of capital and wealth (5). Both systems work to meet their aims in quite efficient manners. The confusion, and resultant frustration, often comes when one group superimposes the goals of their native economic system (often unknowingly) upon the people of a different culture with a different economic system.

Maranz spends the bulk of his book detailing 90 observations in six different categories that highlight real-world differences between Westerners and sub-Saharan Africans. This is the real meat of the book. The categories, Use of Resources, Friendship, The Role of Solidarity, Society and People of Means, Loans and Debts, and Business Matters, touch on nearly every type of interpersonal relationship. In this way, Maranz offers a road map, or sorts, to navigating relationships.

This book will prove to be quite useful in my travel to Africa later this year. While Maranz has received criticism that some of his observations do not take into account the myriad of nuanced cultural differences from region to region, I find that as a cohesive work, he has made a great contribution toward preparing the groundwork for right, harmonious relationships (that is, shalom relationships) between people cultured from the West and those cultured in Africa. Bryan Myers' Walking with the Poor spends time on the need for these kind of relationships when it comes to Christian transformational development work with African communities. I've written about Myers' work elsewhere.

As I was reading, I couldn't help but think how helpful a book like this might be in charting the differences between modern and post-modern (or, probably more aptly "most-modern," to use a phrase from Chuck Conniry's Soaring in the Spirit) Christian ecclesiological concerns. The two are often at loggerheads, missing each other altogether in their critiques and accusations. Perhaps the most recent example is the debacle that was incited by Rob Bell's Love Wins. What could be an incredible helpful contribution to the conversation is a road map written by someone who understands both the genuine concerns of the modern institutional church and those of the emerging church. Something that would explain each to the other by highlighting the basic differences in the aims of the two, similar to how Maranz spent the early chapters of his book looking at the basic differences in the goals of the two economic systems. Again, it's not that one worked and the other didn't. They both work for what they are trying to achieve. It is only when you superimpose the goal of one onto the workings of the other that things really get gummed up.

So, who will write this work? Does it already exist? If it doesn't, I nominate Chris Marshall or Jason Clark. Both of these fellows are incredibly conversant in both modern and emerging church systems. They both have a deep love for the church. They both have managed to cultivate and maintain deep, meaningful relationships with people in both camps. They are humble and generous in spirit. I am pleased to count them among my friends and colleagues. But what do you think? Would such a book be helpful? Would it be read and received? Are we too far past the point where such cooperation is possible?

Earlier this week, Campus Outreach D.C. staff person Matt Hill went missing after meeting with a college student. Within a day, family and close friends were using social media to urge people to join in the search. A Twitter account (@findmatthill) and facebook page (FindMattHill) were set up and by yesterday evening the facebook page had over 10,000 fans and the twitter account over 2,000 followers. Flyers were distributed at the Washington Nationals game with his picture and vital statistics. The FBI, local authorities, and megachurch Capitol Hill Baptist joined together hundreds of volunteers which utilized a six-foot map of the surrounding area marked off into a search grid to try and locate the missing young man. Today, friends and family reported that Hill had been found alive and well some 470 miles south of his last known location. He has said he left of his own free will. Little else is known.

Comment threads on news sites carrying the story display a mixture of sentiments. There are plenty of people who are relieved that the story had a happy (if somewhat cryptic) ending. There are others who are outraged at Hill's irresponsibility and frustrated with the amount of resources that were spent on the search for a grown man who, it seems, wanted some time away. I find myself vacillating between the two. I have a friend who alerted me to the story via email on Tuesday night. She works for Campus Outreach and heard the story before it hit the media, through her organization. Since Tuesday I've helped to spread the word, fearing the worst. What I never expected was that he would be found alive and to have left by his own volition.

Certainly he spent much of the past week dodging calls to his cell phone, SMS messages, and social media pleas. It is unlikely that he was unaware of the effort going on to secure his safe return. The praise and criticism are both warranted. He should have let someone know that he was taking off or, at the least, responded to gestures of concern before things escalated. He will have to face some uncomfortable questions in the days to come. For his critics, there will be no satisfactory answers.

One of the things that troubles some is the scale of the search effort that was launched so quickly. It seems disproportionate, considering the "vicitm." We are not discussing the disappearance of a grade school girl under auspicious circumstances. Rather, a white male in his middle-twenties, alum of a "selective, independent, private" university, professional minister, dropped off the radar for a few days. Within twelve hours the uncharacteristic behavior had been noted and acted upon. This speaks to the nature of the community that Hill is a part, and can tell us a lot about how community ought to look.

1. A Community Notices. One of the earmarks of healthy community is that it is observant and notices what is going on in the lives of its members. Whether a family, a circle of friends, a small group, or a church, a healthy community doesn't let people drop off the radar without notice. One of the reasons that things happened so quickly in this situation is because Hill's community noticed his sudden absence.

2. A Community Acts. Noticing things that are amiss isn't enough. A healthy community will go out of their way to set things right. Hill's family and friends took off work, changed their plans, and relocated to the place of his disappearance to begin searching for him. They sacrificed to find out what happened. They enlisted the help of whoever would listen via whatever means they had at their disposal.

3. A Community Persists. In seeking Hill's return, the mobilized were persistent in their search and in their appeals. They frequently updated the media, facebook, twitter, and distributed thousands of flyers over the course of the week. They would not let the story die. Hill was their mission and they were determined to see it through to the end.

4. A Community Rejoices. Though he was just found this morning, his family, friends, and those who searched for him are already rejoicing. There are still questions to be answered, but his community is celebrating his return. Healthy communities celebrate.

Hill has a lot of advantages going for him. He has access to a community for which many in the world can only pine. As a privileged, white, American male, he was born into his community. People go missing every day. Those communities that do notice don't always act. Those that do act may lack the resources to persist. Those that do persist are not often met with a conclusion that warrants celebration.

However, there is a larger community which ought to take note of what has happened with Matt Hill. The community of the followers of Christ. Evangelicals have long been big on "lost" and "found" language to describe their raison d'etre. But they didn't invent the metaphor. Christ used it to describe himself saying "The Son of Man came to seek and to save that which is lost" (Luke 19:10). Earlier in Luke's Gospel (chapter 15), Christ tells three parables about finding lost things. In response to grumblings from the religious elite about his keeping company with sinners, he tells a story of a shepherd leaving his flock to search for one lost sheep, a woman turning her house upside down to find lost money, and a father throwing a big party to welcome home a wayward son.

In the same way Christ expects his followers to seek after lost things. Evangelicals have a bad reputation for perverting this into a soul quest. Read in context of the larger Biblical narrative it is clear that we are called to seek shalom. If you read my other posts on the subject, you'll know that shalom means right, harmonious, and enjoyable relationships with God, others, and creation. Christ's death and resurrection made the way for shalom. It may start with a conversion of the soul, but it certainly doesn't end there.

A shalom community is one that notices that there are people who are not yet living with shalom. The shalom community acts because it is not enough to lament that things aren't the way they ought to be. That shalom community is persistent in its quest for justice and harmony, taking shalom wherever it is not. That community rejoices when shalom echoes in its midst. There are a lot more Matt Hills out there--literally and figuratively. The question is, are you a part of a shalom-community that will do something about it? If you call yourself a Christ-follower, then you are saying that you are. So what will you do?

I used to have a lava lamp. I loved watching the goo inside undulated from bottom to top and back down again. Whatever that stuff is inside the lamp gets lighter when it is heated and rises to the top. Then, as it cools off again, it sinks down to the bottom. This happens over and over until you get bored and walk away or turn it off.

The action of the lava lamp also works as a good illustration of the basic premise of Philip Jenkins' The Next Christendom: The Coming of Global Christianity. Using a wealth of statistical data regarding religious affiliation, conversion, and population growth, Jenkins predicts an explosive growth of Christianity in the global South, while the cooling trends of secularization continue in the North. Like a lava lamp, a once hot Christianity in the North has cooled and is coalescing and heating up in the South.

Jenkins predicts that this trend will continue at least through 2050 (many of his predictions are set using that target year), resulting in a drastic reshaping of the "typical" Christian. By that time only 1 in 5 Christians will be a Caucasian Northerner. He calls this the "browning" of Christianity and warns that if Christians in the Northern part of the world don't start paying attention now, the shift will be complete before they notice.

While those in more left-leaning Christian traditions will welcome the ethnic diversification, Jenkins warns them that they might not find the ideology of these new, diverse brethren much to their liking. These churches tend to be much more conservative on gender issues and moral issues, are more comfortable with public displays of religion, and tend toward the charismatic end of the spectrum. Our traditional mapping of "left" and "right" will simply not work with these new Southern churches (Kindle loc. 2659-63).

This is curious, especially to one like me, who embraces this diversification but tends to lean toward equality on issues related to gender and sexuality. My new brothers and sisters in the South do not agree. Jenkins goes as far to say that the idea of ordaining women is "anathema" for these believers (loc. 2695), pluralism--what we might call religious tolerance--forbidden (loc., 2707), and the quest to become relevant, "suicide" (loc. 2712). This is the real "emerging" church. That which is emerging from post-modernism in America and Europe seems small and out of sync in comparison.

Yet much of pop theology written today is coming from this vocal minority (I wonder what African Christians would think about Bell's Love Wins?), largely due to reasons of disparity discussed in Oden's How Africa Shaped the Christian Mind. If tomorrow's leaders of the Church in the North are going to be effective at all, Jenkins suggests they start to look South. So far, this hasn't happened. He notes that at the same time Christianity is exploding in Africa, Latin America, and Asia, many traditional denominations in the West have cut back funding for missions (loc. 2907). The sheer desire for Northern Christianity to survive has caused it to take an inward turn. This may be more of a death knell than we realize.

Many Western and Northern churches today are staffed by at least one full-time clergy, if not more. In America it is not uncommon for "successful" churches to have a paid staff of two dozen or more, swallowing up an astonishing 60% of their capital resources (those not tied to the cost of the facilities they maintain). When times get tough, these churches are more apt to cut missions funding to a pittance, or use it as a carrot to stimulate other giving by promising that a percentage of the newest capital campaign will go to fund their efforts abroad.

A more sustainable and long-term investment would be to simplify and downsize. Families and individuals have been discovering this en masse over the past few years and perhaps it is time for religious organizations to follow suit. Taking cues from the South, churches will find that they can operate just fine without funds allocated to the bells and whistles that they are used to. Christianity is growing between cinder block walls under corrugated tin roofs faster than it is under intelli-lights and subwoofers. What would it look like if a church inverted its budget and gave 90% to fund the growth of churches where Christianity is actually spreading and used the remaining 10% to shepherd the flock at home? A lot of pastors would be forced to become bi-vocational. But maybe that's a good thing.

At any rate, Jenkins is urging his readers to look South and keep looking South. Sheer numbers will put the future of Christianity in the hands of those in the South. We can respond by investing our time and relationships there now, in anticipation of what is to come, or we can quietly sit back until we are forced to react to a Christianity that will seem strangely unfamiliar. The choice is ours. His quote from G. K. Chesterton that opens the 10th chapter sums it up nicely,

One of the games to which [the human race] is most attached is called 'Keep tomorrow dark', and which is also named . . . 'Cheat the prophet'. The players listen very carefully and respectfully to all that clever men have to say about what is to happen in the next generation. The players then wait until all the clever men are dead, and bury them nicely. They then go do something else. That is all. For a race of simple tastes, however, it is great fun. (loc. 2880-83)