Yesterday, a pal from the social networking world, Ekupatra Tupamahu, hipped me to a chapel lecture delivered by James K. A. ("Jamie") Smith at Calvin College not too long ago. His talk was a promotion of his new book Desiring the Kingdom and it was very thought-provoking. I'd like to explore some of Smith's thoughts in conjunction with a lingering thought or two from Greg Boyd's Seeing is Believing. But before I dive right into a reflection on Smith's thoughts, I thought I'd confess my thoughts on Smith himself.

To be honest, my thoughts on Smith are conflicted. On the one hand, the insights he shared in the Calvin chapel (which correspond to his book) are inspiring and I deeply resonate with them. Additionally, I'm fascinated to know more about how he integrates Pentecostalism with Reformed theology. I'll admit I don't think they are compatible at all, so in the least, I expect his reasoning to be interesting. However, it is precisely because he is a proud Reformed philosopher that I am skeptical of him. I find Reformed theology citically flawed and destructive to biblical faith. At the same time, the mental and hermeneutical acrobatics I've witnessed individual Calvinists perform, to "nuance" their Reformed theology to the point where it can be stomached, never ceases to amaze me. Perhaps Smith has found a new and creative way to live with the disgusting implication of Calvinist theodicy. I should add, I was also aware of the fact that Smith recently wrote Thinking in Tongues and was interested in reading it prior to hearing the aforementioned Calvin chapel lecture.

The Practices that Lead to Life

Smith posits that American Evangelicals (as well as other Christian streams that draw heavily upon Modernist sensibilities) have inordinately privileged the mind in Christian worship. He axiomatically explains, "every pedagogy assumes an anthropology." Since many modern American Christian traditions assume the parishioners in their pews are primarily "thinking" beings, they formulate Christian worship to fit the audience the expect them to be by aiming Christian worship at their minds. Those in these traditions prioritize doctrine, "beliefs" and "orthodoxy." Smith suggests we aren't ultimately moved by these things. As an example, he states that to really get to know someone, rather than ask, "What do you think?" or even "What do you believe?" he'd ask, "What do you want?" It is this gut-level desire, Smith contends, that truly steers us—even defines us.

Furthermore, Smith argues that we even mistakenly imagine ourselves to be "thinking machines" and therefore seek to alter our lives by the addition of new ideas or information. Instead, he contends that we are shaped by the practices we perform to the point of unconscious habit. This precognizant "know how" is much more basic to our constitution than even our conscious thoughts. To demonstrate this point, Smith asks us to tell him where is the letter "F" on the keyboard. To reconstruct a keyboard layout in one's mind to formulate an answer, one must consult the muscle memory of the fingers that bypasses conscious thought. Another example is the difficulty with which we give directions to a visitor in our home town. We don't need a map to navigate the streets we've walked, ridden, or driven thousands of times. So often the street names and position on a map are only unconsciously perceived.

Smith's insight into the practices that serve to form us also includes a warning against ignoring what he calls the "secular liturgies" in which we are immersed often unconsciously. The rituals of shopping at our local mall, or attending a sporting event at the local stadium, or even the rituals that shape "college life" leave deep imprints on our psyche.

Smith's thesis is not an entirely new idea for those of the Reformed stripe. Traditional Presbyterians, for example, are very aware of the power of ritual to shape parishioners. Though my background is Pentecostal, I also spent a season in the Presbyterian church and it was the appreciation of liturgy to form worshipers that most impressed me. (Maybe this is a similarity Smith and I share.) In fact, the words of a Presbyterian mentor still haunt me, "Sometimes we need to act our way into a new way of thinking."

Smith's aim with this thesis is to challenge the church traditions that have largely abandoned liturgical practice to re-imagine and re-embrace their genius for shaping and molding Christians into disciples. Their genius, Smith notes, is their ability to inculcate the story of God in our precognizant selves through practice. This story we enact week after week becomes a part of our story. And our participation in God's story shapes our vision of God, and our vision of God produces love for God in our hearts.

The Vision that Leads to Love

Smith's discourse on the practices that shape our faith reminds me of another author who has recently challenged the American church to reconsider our neglect of practices that share our worship—Greg Boyd. In his book, Seeing is Believing, Boyd suggests that perhaps we find that our faith is often weak or that we have a difficult time sensing God's presence because we do not engage our imaginations often enough in prayer and worship. Boyd recommends the ancient practice of Cataphatic Prayer that is a type of imaginative meditation. In this way our "picture" of God is precisely that: a mental image of God. In this way Boyd teaches that our imaginations are God-given and powerfully influence us. Utilizing them in prayer and worship shapes our vision of God—the object of our worship.

Transformation Takes Practice

In light of these thoughts I was reminded of Paul's exhortion to the Roman believers (12.1-2), and by extension to us, to no longer be conformed to the pattern (or system) of this world (cosmos), governed by fallen powers who seek to destroy us, but rather to be transformed by the renewing of our minds. This transformation is predicated upon our submission of our physical bodies to reprogramming. How is one's mind renewed? Easy answers seem to be "prayer" and "study of Scripture" etc. I have not often connected this exhortation to the practices of Christian worship. But this idea seems to fit well with Paul's thinking. In Christian worship, we humble obey the worship leader and perform the ritual in which we become actors in the story of God. As we live out this story we cannot help but be molded by it—to be transformed. The old is gone, behold God has created us anew.

Our actions—our true faith—then, are a product, not entirely or even perhaps mostly, of our theology, as we're tempted to believe, but of the practice that has shaped us. Our worship practices produce a vision of the God we love and that love compels us to act in accordance with the mercy we've received. Action —> Vision —> Love —> Action