Once in awhile I review a book for Mike Morrell and Speakeasy. I haven’t reviewed one in awhile, but when Mark Van Steenwyk’s book came available, it looked like something I’d like to dig into. The Unkingdom of God is, essentially, a reflection of the practice of Christian anarchy shared through Van Steenwyk’s experience as a practitioner as a Mennonite pastor in Minnesota.
Unfortunately, I was not captivated by Van Steenwyk’s prose and skimmed through some portions I found to be somewhat repetitive even though I enjoyed the general thrust of The Unkingdom. Throughout the book, I found myself unsettled by some of the author’s claims, though I usually realized that I was more put off by the fact that these are things I need to hear more than any issue I had with his message in particular.
A few years ago I went to a lecture by Irish, post-modern philosopher (and consummate critic of Western evangelicalism), Peter Rollins, and I distinctly remember him acknowledging his place at the periphery of the church. He said something to the effect of, “I stand at the edge of the church beckoning her onward, beyond her complacency and inspiring her imagination. I don’t expect everyone to stand alongside me.” I’m sure he even acknowledged that it isn’t a safe place to be. In the same way, at the Streaming Conference at Rochester College, back in October, the prolific blogger Richard Beck mentioned how he had really resonated with Rollins’ work on doubt and uncertainty. However, once he began working with a prison ministry, he began to lose his resonance with Rollins.
I say all of that, because I think Van Steenwyk’s work is similar (though not in content), to Rollins. Van Steenwyk stands at the edges of the church and beckons the entire church to consider the implications of its complicity with the powers of the world. In the tradition of the Israelite prophets, he asks the church, “Can’t you see who you’ve become? Don’t you see what’s become of the mission of God?” Interweaving his personal story of calling and transformation, Van Steenwyk does salvage conversations of Christian anarchism from the world of esoterism where so much of that conversation often remains, and asks the all-important question, “What if we actually tried that?”
He’s kind of like one of those annoying friends who just won’t let something go. The kind of friend you need to keep you honest, and make you reflect – even when you don’t want to. As David Fitch says in the Introduction, I don’t always agree with him, and even in my own anti-institutional leanings, I can still see an upside and the contributions of systems more than Van Steenwyk ever acknowledges. In emphasizing their fallen nature, the author seems to forget that, as Walter Wink himself emphasizes, the powers and principalities are inherently good. However, like that annoying friend who just won’t let it go without a concession, throughout his book, Van Steenwyk continued to nag me relentlessly to acknowledge the injustices I so often ignore. He emphatically calls the reader to a radical notion of community that we long for deep down, but see unable to allow ourselves to try.
While I haven’t read extensively in the area of Christian anarchy, what I have read often is so far removed from actual practice that it often leaves the reader inspired, but with no practical suggestions to turn toward in order to begin. Mark Van Steenwyk does succeed in that, I believe – in remaining stringently practical throughout. I found myself, throughout his book, reflecting on my current practices of “being a Christian” and he pushes me forward to break down more barriers, to overcome more insecurities, and, ultimately, to trust in God. I think this book is a great offering for someone who maybe completely new to this radical notion of the kingdom, and who needs a kindred spirit to empower them to ask challenging questions. For others who are better read in Wink, Stringfellow, and Yoder, this may be better set aside in favor of some other options.