In Thy Kingdom Connected: What the Church Can Learn from Facebook, the Internet, and Other Networks Dwight J. Friesen explores the power of networks and the lessons the church can learn from observing and understanding how we are bound together through common relationships.

This book did possess some strengths, among them a treatment of Trinitarian theology, an invitation to dialogue and an openness to critique, and the important recognition that the Kingdom of God possesses an environmental component that supports an "ecological" approach to leadership.  On this last point, Friesen's chapter on "Network Ecology" was quite good.  Likening the church to a natural ecosystem, Friesen explores how the openness of such systems, the need for diversity, and the necessity of death in such systems lead to overall flourishing.  One of the most powerful metaphors I've found for "Kingdom" among emerging leaders has been this very example.  Once a leader sees oneself as an ecologist or an environmentalist, it changes how one relates and navigates various relationships, casts vision, and clears ground for growth.  Of all the contributions in this book, I think this chapter is the most valuable.

Most of the reviewers I have read have been positive, and because of this I'll offer a couple of words of critique.  Here are two of my points of contention.

First, is Friesen's account of networks and their applicability to the church based on a gospel dynamic?  Within the first few sentences in his introduction, Friesen states "Many are wondering why so many churches and denominations are in decline when they are proclaiming the gospel," a statement which, prima facie is easily debatable and, indeed, on this very topic much ink has been spilled (with the rise of computing, when will this idiom change?).  After making such a bold assertion at the outset, I was hoping to hear more about what this gospel might be that is failing to gain a hearing despite its proclamation.  Unfortunately, I was disappointed.  Friesen's articulation of the gospel is undergirded by the claim that in Jesus the fullness of life is found, and that the same fullness that is seen in Jesus can be realized in us.  Friesen states, "This is God's mission: that human beings like you and me would live as fully alive, fully networked human beings."

That sounds nice.  But it needs more fullness.  More robustness.  And, it needs to be accompanied by the avenue through which such a life can re realized.  In other words, I need to know how to get plugged in to the with-God life.  I need a theology of cross and resurrection, a more detailed account of justification and sanctification.  I need something beyond a definition of life as "the relationship between chaos and order," something like "shalom," an ultimate vision of what a life of peace and reconciliation between human beings and between God might look like at the end of the ages.

To give him the benefit of the doubt, I would think that Friesen's presentation presupposes that the reconciliation found in Christ brings about the creation of a community wherein humanity can flourish through connection.  As we come to know one another, love one another, serve one another, submit to one another, and live according to a collective vision of what constitutes new creation, the "good news" is imaged forth.  While I find such imagery compelling, as I've already stated, I find presentations like Friesen's as insufficient.  I appreciate that Friesen's "connected community" represents an embodied realization of the gospel.  But I think any such community which embodies the gospel must undergird those claims with a discourse, or a language, that goes beyond practices.  Proclamation and practice go hand in hand.  In that sense, I am "And'ing" two concepts that have often been featured as part of the division between traditional and emerging leaders.  At this point, I suspect Friesen would agree with my sentiment that proclamation or discourse is important, but I think I've made clear that I found his presentation leaning more in the other direction, and if his argument is to be strengthened a clearer and more robust articulation of the gospel is required.

Secondly, I found that the overall idea--that networks define our life and are pivotal for the realization of the Kingdom--was not supported by consistently strong biblical and anecdotal support.  Concerning the former, like many emerging leaders Friesen relies on narratives from the Bible to illuminate his argument.  Most of these examples seemed supplemental, however, and not foundational for Friesen's account, and this is the root of my concern.  Concerning the latter, Friesen does relay a number of stories about his family, about his experiences as a church planter, and his experiences as a professor at a seminary, and his stories do relate to his central thesis, but do not add much to his argument.  

Friesen's work here is interesting, though I wouldn't enthusiastically recommend it to friends and fellow church leaders.  I picked up a few tidbits here and there (to cite one example, I enjoyed his insights from Martin Buber's I And Thou), but finished unsatisfied for the reasons given above.  I would've liked to see more theological robustness, a clearer articulation of the gospel, and more practical and concrete examples of how his theory has been embodied by church leaders.  Philosophically, the account was fine, engaging, and compelling.  But to really draw me in, I need to see the theological import and warrant, and how these ideas move beyond our current reality to the transcendent.  I think Friesen's goal is to help us see the Kingdom as an eschatological community of connectedness, but he has to take us from here to there, and in order to do so his account must evidence more from the story of Scripture and historical theology.

The good news, of course, is that Friesen can do so.  And if he doesn't take up the task, perhaps someone else will.  If so, in the end the church will be better off for it, maybe even more connected.

A reversal has occurred in our time.  The faithful have in fact outlived the collapse of the foundations of secular society.  Familiar dominant patterns of thought have lost their immune system for recuperation.  The modern outlook is disintegrating.  But communities of traditional faith flourish more than ever.

It is a fact: evangelical, Orthodox, and Catholic spirituality, scholarship, pastoral care, and institutional life have against all odds already weathered the waning winter of this modern decline.  So has traditional Jewish life.

We are witnessing an emerging resolve in worldwide Christianity and Judaism to reclaim the familiar classic spiritual disciplines: close study of scripture, daily prayer, regular observance in a worshipping community, doctrinal integrity, and moral accountability.  Even though my voice is Protestant, the arguments and evidences equally apply to Catholic, Orthodox, and Jewish life.

Turning from the illusions of modern life, the faithful are now quietly returning to the spiritual disciplines that have profoundly shaped their history, and in fact have enabled their survival.  This is the rebirth of orthodoxy.

-Thomas Oden, The Rebirth of Orthodoxy: Signs of New Life in Christianity

As I read these opening lines of Thomas Oden's Rebirth, one question came to mind: "Can this be true?"  In the margins, my wife Molly had written, "really?"  Surely such a broad sweeping statement is overreaching.  Surely this cannot be the case.  Surely.

Surely? 

If I had not also recently completed Mark Noll's The New Shape of World Christianity, I might not think so.  I also might not be willing to consider Oden's thesis if his book was not so compellingly written.  At the very least, it has given me hope that classical, orthodox Christianity is emerging anew, possessing a deep commitment to the historic disciplines of the faith, and willing both to teach and embody those doctrines so that the church itself is strengthened in her witness in this generation and in the future.  To the degree which such a rebirth might be taking place, I do not know.  But at the very least, I know this: Oden's project, which is much larger than him, is one in which I can very easily see myself participating in and advocating for.

Oden's book is worth reading, for the argument needs engagement.  I'm hoping he is right.  There are others who may believe that he is very wrong.  But he cannot be dismissed--his logic must be considered.  Oden chronicles his perception of "the rise of orthodoxy" that has given birth to a new ecumenicism that is rooted in the historic doctrines of the Christian faith, particularly as they are captured in the creeds.  Such an ecumenicism, in his view, differs from older forms, which depended more on political alliances and bureaucratic structures in order to operate.

Oden's tale parallels his own life story.  Having been a participant in the old ecumenicism (as typified, in his argument, by the NCC and WCC) and formed by it's institutions, Oden has found himself rejecting many of the presuppositions of that segment of Christianity and embracing Christian faith as he has found it constant across time.  As he has discovered ancient orthodoxy, he has found others who have embraced it in our time, and he believes this same discovery is being made by others from all segments of the faith.  At the heart of his argument he presents evidence for the rebirth of orthodoxy, marked by: (1) personal transformation, (2) faithful scriptural interpretation, (3) ancient ecumenical multiculturalism, (4) well-established boundaries, (5) ecumenical roots reclaimed, and (6) consensual ecumenical discernment.  He makes the case that each of these is now taking place.

One thing is for certain: reading Oden's work ignited a passion in me to read the Church Fathers.  I also gained a deepening appreciation for the historic creeds--the Apostles', Nicene, and Athanasian formulas, and their role in shaping and guiding Christianity throughout her history.  I was inspired to study these more deeply in order to better help the church remember.  I was moved as Oden described the Vincentian rule, in Latin, "Quod ubique, quod semper, quod ab omnibus creditum est"--meaning that the church is to hold fast to what has been believed everywhere, always, and by all--knowing that in order to abide by this rule takes work.

Oden's book makes it clear that the Holy Spirit has a history, and the church, at her best, has a long memory. Perhaps what I'm most struck by, as I read Oden's argument, was not just the idea that an old orthodoxy might be emerging anew, but by the resonances which such an idea brought forth in my own heart.  I am longing for something very old, as well as friends who will help remember and maintain that tradition alongside me as part of a community.  It is not that I only want the church to be her best as an outside observer, it is that I want to be part of such a church as an internal participant.  And I cannot do so apart from friendship.  I need friends daring enough to be orthodox, as well as daring enough to help me remember, as well as embody, those teachings of the church held fast everywhere, always, and by all.