Gordon Smith’s book deals with a central piece of Pentecostal life: conversion. Thoughtfully read, it can deepen understanding and expectations of conversion, which in turn have evangelistic and pastoral implications. On the other hand, it will challenge much that is taken as unquestioned fact regarding conversion. Because of this challenge, some may bypass it altogether. But it would be better to read it and take away as much as presently possible.

The occasion of writing is Smith’s observation that nineteenth century revivalism has set our understanding and language of conversion. It is assumed that conversion is entirely a point action, that the focus of conversion is religious activity, and that the goal of conversion is life in heaven. The problem is that Bible teachers have much more to say on the subject. The concept of conversion has a history that is largely ignored, and that other streams of Christianity have been dealing with this subject for a much longer time. Beyond this, evangelicalism as a whole is undergoing changes. No longer can an Anglo-American perspective be considered the norm. Evangelicalism is a world-wide phenomenon with the majority consisting of Pentecostals and the pentecostalized.

Gordon T. Smith is the president of Ambrose University College and Seminary in Calgary, Alberta, Canada.

The language of conversion is important. Many evangelicals feel alienated from their churches when their genuine experience does not match the patterns of conversion either preached or broadly assumed. Additionally, if language about conversion does not reflect how people actually come to Christ, evangelism methods will be skewed. Though nineteenth century revivalism rightly emphasized the necessity, possibility and current invitation of conversion, it never addressed some major difficulties. Conversion and salvation are made out to be synonymous when in fact, they are not. Salvation becomes something that “happened” when a commitment was made. As true as that is, NT language of salvation “happening” and “will happen” must receive equal weight. Salvation is the work of God; conversion is the human response to God’s initiative. Again, conversion is seen as simple and without struggle. Without implying that there is a minimum threshold of difficulty, conversion counts the cost and leads one to become a “disciple,” one that actually is in the game. Revivalist inspired language leaves us with the notion that one gets converted (saved), and then we must make every effort to get him or her “discipled.” We have gone from a necessary noun to a hopeful verb. Furthermore, the place of children of believers is left ambiguous. Do they need conversion? Does a child’s conversion look like that of an adult? If a child is converted at age five, is there any place for further conversion at, say, sixteen after profound personal development? For Pentecostals especially, how is the NT connection between conversion, baptism and the gift of the Spirit fostered?

Prior to revivalism, there was the evangelicalism represented by Jonathan Edwards and John Wesley. Though of differing theological commitments, both shared an engagement with the beginning and progress of the life of God in the soul. They understood the integration of the affections, the intellect and the will in both conversion and salvation. They understood the place of both process and crisis as the grace of God was encountered. Knowing that mere talk of conversion was cheap, they looked for change in a person’s life. It was a different era. Unlike his predecessors, Edwards found a way to bring the gospel invitation into a person’s grasp. And unlike his successors, Wesley was no revivalist in the later sense of the term. This leads to Smith’s reminder, needing broad proclamation, that how conversion is understood has a long history, and that there are others who have experience with conversion, long preceding our own, from which we might learn.

Thirty years ago, I read James Michener’s novel, The Covenant. Like so many of his historical novels, it is marked by well-researched and detailed historical background. Many twists and turns of the inter-generational plot line have faded since then, but its telling of four and a half centuries of South African history remains clear. Likewise, giving background is what Witherington aims at with his readers.

Yet, the title deceived me. This is not a week’s worth of readings on Corinthian archeological findings and their cultural meaning. In fact, it does not take much to extrapolate some of Witherington’s material into a wider Greco-Roman understanding. It is not a reference book. Nor can one move through it consecutively and exactly follow along in 1 Corinthians. It is a short story, lasting one week, set in first century Corinth that can stand on its own. What makes this book unique and valuable is that Witherington has taken great pains to get the details of the historical setting correct and to explain them to us. On almost every page our list of background facts is increased either by a quick explanatory phrase or shaded pages titled, “A Closer Look.” We are introduced to things as wide-ranging as the Apostle Paul’s physical appearance to Greco-Roman home schooling. The beauty of it all is that this and much more jumps from the pages into our minds painlessly and without tedium because it is all under the cover of a short story.

The story itself uses characters found in NT epistles who are then wrapped into fictional relationships and backgrounds. The plot is plausible and at times moving as it combines tension, friendship, some divine intervention, and even a hint of romance. This book can entertain while it secretly educates, making it suitable for teen as well as adult general reading.

Several “Closer Looks” show the value of the book. “Patrons, Clients and Reciprocity Conventions” maps out the differences between contemporary and Greco-Roman social relations. Clearly, this discussion hopes to deliver us from reading into such terms as “friendship” our own understanding and experience. Before banking, there was patronage. Wealth and privilege were confined to the upper five per cent of the highly stratified Corinthian population. From the upper crust came financial patronage to suitable clients who are not to be confused in any way with modern borrowers. Clients became more like hired hands at the beck and call of the patron. This helps explain Paul’s boast of meeting his own needs by his tent making trade, not by receiving any support from Corinthian sources. He was controlled by no one and showed his pure motivation by his independence. From such a note can be gained an appreciation of the social minefield Paul the cross-cultural missionary had to navigate. For NT understanding, it is important to note that the relationship between patron and client was quite often called a friendship; yet, how different from our current understanding. It gives us pause, as the cultural setting of the NT moves from Jewish to Greco-Roman, to be aware of the different use of the word “friend.” Additionally, translating the Greek “adelphos,” literally, “brother,” is not done well in a few contemporary versions by using the word, “friend.”

From Pneuma Review Fall 2013.

Alan J. Delotavo, Back to the Original Church: The Secret Behind Church Movements (Eugene, OR: Resource Publications, 2010), 100 pages, 9781556355660.

Regular and careful Bible readers inevitably piece the Bible story together until they have a sense of the grand sweep of things. We do the same with the history of the church. Sometimes unconsciously, we jump from the Book of Acts directly to Martin Luther, then to Azusa Street, and finally to the present day. Delotavo fills in some of the blanks to draw out a valuable lesson that can only be seen from an overview.

Back to the Original Church is Delotavo’s University of Pretoria ThD thesis in popular form. This conversation about the flow and progress of church history calls us to see church movements as gifts to the wider church restoring something neglected and not stopping points or ends in themselves.

Delotavo provides examples of church movements that attempted to restore an essential part of church life or faith, but which became bogged down to the point of needing their own renewal. The Reformation era focused on the recovery of the gospel in view of accumulated abuses and theological “defects.” This gospel recovery included the teaching of “the priesthood of the believer,” that each Christian had direct access to God without the need of clergy. Delotavo points out that this set up a division between laity and Protestant clergy and also spawned a divisive spirit throughout the Reformation. Further splits occurred till today denominations around the world number into the thousands. The Lutheran church became State church (protected by law and supported by taxes) and fell into the sorry state of doctrinal correctness with experiential coldness. The Reformation had become an end in itself. To recover what was needed, Pietism arose about a century later. This was an attempt to bring vital Christian experience, including conversion, assurance and holiness back into the Lutheran state church. Once more the renewal movement, although truly helping many, lost its way. Splitting many ways, some parts impacted world missions and future movements, other parts become theologically liberal, and still other parts become radical or revolutionary.

Delotavo’s excellent point bogs down, however, in historical omissions and stretches. He jumps directly from the early church to the Reformation period. The era of the main church councils (AD 325—787) he considered a breakdown of Christianity due to political connections to the Roman Empire. The “Dark Ages” or better, the medieval church, is thought to have no value. He sees the church largely pursuing the expansion of Christian civilization at the expense of “genuine experience of salvation.” Delotavo seems to ignore that in the West, the church was living through the crushing of the Roman Empire under “barbarian” invasions; that in the East, Constantinople was rising to power as the new center of the Roman Empire; and that Islam was racing across North Africa, into Spain and southern France. He could have pulled examples of church movements from these periods that prove his point, but he did not. Does he not recognize the value of that period of the church’s life?

The way forward for Delotavo is found in American Evangelicalism. He noted that several awakenings or revivals had occurred in American history from colonial times, each a church movement in itself. By the end of the nineteenth century, modern Liberalism rapidly set in resulting in the backlash of Fundamentalism in the early twentieth century. In its original form, Fundamentalism was truly a church movement to recover much that was being lost; however, it degenerated into anti-intellectualism and a belligerent separatism. In the 1940s, a corrective movement, Evangelicalism, arose to call the church back to theological basics, to academic engagement, and to a loving spirit. Here, Delotavo believes, is the apex of church movements, breaking down all barriers, and penetrating all denominations and traditions. Here is what the church was meant to be at last! Delotavo forgets his own warning: church movements are means to an end (renewal for the entire church) not ends in themselves (the final best expression of the church). Is this the climax of church history?

Todd D. Hunter, Giving Church Another Chance: Finding New Meaning in Spiritual Practices (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Books, 2010), 167 pages, ISBN 9780830837489.

Formerly national director of the Association of Vineyard Churches, USA, Todd Hunter is now a Bishop in the Anglican Communion of North America with the responsibility of church planting. Giving Church Another Chance is a piece of Hunter’s Anglican story; however, what he says in this book stands on its own merit and is worthy of consideration.

The Table of Contents can throw the reader off-message. Each of its nine chapters deals with an element of the Anglican Liturgy (order of worship), something many Pentecostals might find needless. Do not be fooled: give attention to the book’s Preface and Introduction before moving ahead. Understanding Hunter’s foundational thinking allows the rest of the book to unfold in unexpected ways.

Hunter’s first main pillar is the inescapable connection between Jesus and the Church. To embrace Christ is also to embrace Christ’s people. Hunter does not permit the notion that the Church is a nice thing or even a useful thing; rather, the Church is a necessary thing. The migratory behavior of congregation hopping, seeking for the latest blessing, is labeled “consumerism” (what is in it for me instead of how does this honor God?). Hunter focuses on the godly relationships between flesh and blood people Jesus brings together in the congregation and on disciplines done together as primary factors in spiritual development. Hunter says that the issues that seem important to us such as worship style, type of music, etc. are usually undergirded by a prideful “we do it right, and you do not” mindset. The ultimate issue should be doing the Church’s mission regardless of the configuration of the congregation. There is no right form, only right mission.

Hunter’s second main pillar is summed up in his term repracticing. Its central thrust is Christians doing what they do as means to an end and not an end in itself. Daily scripture reading can be done for reasons that center on the many benefits to the reader, or scripture can be read to make one aware of what God is doing and how the reader can now be a part. Done this way, the practice is re-practiced. Hunter quotes Peter Senge:

Mainstream Christianity throughout the last fifteen hundred years…has been for the majority of practitioners not a practice-oriented religion but a Sunday religion of “do what you want as long as you subscribe to the right things and you show up on Sunday to keep the institution going” (33).

Pentecostals might agree, but insist they are not part of the problem. Hunter, however, says no part of the Church is innocent. Returning to scripture reading, Hunter notes that significant time is taken debating the meaning of a text and what doctrine might come from it, but extensive discussions on life-practices found in the passage such as humility and kindness are almost non-existent.

Repracticing is the operative word for the remaining chapters. Though each focuses on one part of the liturgy, it is the implications of those parts lived out that guide the discussion. For example, the singing of the “Doxology” (“Praise God from whom all blessings flow…”) leads to the practice of radiating the glory of God as part of one’s mission. There is no allowance for showing up Sunday, giving an offering, believing the minimum, and then leaving with no intention to change. Hunter wants beliefs actualized. The influence of Dallas Willard’s The Divine Conspiracy (Harper, 1998) is very evident, which influence Hunter acknowledges. Both writers focus on the necessity of vital Christian living and on the method of pursuit Jesus gave.