I finally got around to reading George Barna’s “Revolution,” a controversial little tome. Our bishop sent a copy to all UB pastors, and it upset some of them. Which I can understand. The book upset me. Barna, in a passive-aggressive way, basically cheers for the demise of the local church. He predicts that in the next 20 years, today’s churches will lose a huge percentage of their people, as those parishioners seek spiritual fulfillment outside of the church. This is his “Revolution,” a fundamental change in the American religious landscape. In this new world, Barna seems to contend, the truly spiritual warriors will be the people who abandon the church. What a delightful theory.

This is not a new idea to me. In 1993 I read William Hendricks wonderful book “Exit Interviews: Revealing Stories of Why People are Leaving Church.” The book told the stories of a number of actual people with real names (something Barna doesn’t do), helping us understand their spiritual journey and why they left the church, and how they keep the flame alive. It greatly broadened my view of how God sometimes chooses to work.

[Warning: This is a long post. Excrutiatingly long. Full of half-baked opinions flavored with heaping tablespoons of ignorance, subjectivity, and general immaturity. You’re advised to stop. Right now. Seriously.]

We’ve all met nonChristians who say, “I’m not interesting in becoming a Christian, because I’ve known so many Christians who are hypocrites.” And we say, “Don’t give up on Christianity because of Christians.”

Barna basically affirms the thought, “I’m not interesting in being part of a local church, because too many local churches are ineffective.” To which I say, “Find a good church. They exist everywhere.”

But Barna will insist churches still fall short. That it may be better to just go out on your own, apart from the local church, and craft a “do it yourself” Christianity (which I stole from Kevin Miller’s review in Christianity Today). Barna says the spiritual life of many people is now fueled by “mini movements” beyond local churches–worship gatherings, parachurch groups, ministries to the poor, etc. These people may still be involved in local churches, but that’s not what gives their faith life and vigor. Rather, it’s the patchwork of other things. We all, basically, pick and choose to create our own personalized “church.”

Again, this is nothing new. For decades, people have looked beyond the church to supplement their spiritual growth. Early in the 1900s people flocked to see barnstorming evangelists (including Billy Graham), supported independent mission movements, and participated in Christian Endeavor (which the church embraced)–all working outside of the local church, though perhaps in tandem with it. Then came Campus Crusade and Campus Life. Christian radio stations and church schools sprouted everywhere. In my own spiritual journey, I remember in 1972 the inter-denominational Bible study at Julie Ray’s house in Lake Havasu City, Ariz., where 50 teens might crowd into her living room, practically stacked atop each other. I attended religious rallies of different types. As a young adult, I listened to Christian radio, read Christian books, joined a rental “teaching tape” club. Promise Keepers has been important to me, and now I learn much from other people’s blogs on the internet. All of these are resources beyond my local church, and I don’t see them as fundamentally different from Barna’s mini-movements. He describes them as something new to the Christian landscape. They’re not. We just have different ones arising.

Barna says a new generation of Christians is seeking spiritual vitality apart from the church. These “Revolutionaries” are transforming American Christianity as they seek something real and alive and fulfilling. Again–is this supposed to be something new? He could be talking about 1960s Jesus People. He could be talking about people in the 1980s who left traditional churches to become part of the megachurch world‚Äîsomething alive, growing, dynamic, making a difference. The desire for something fresh and alive and meaningful led to the megachurch boom, led to the demise of the traditional Sunday night service and its replacement with intimate small groups, led to the birth of contemporary worship with bands and drama and multimedia.

For that matter, Barna could be talking about people in the late 1700s who became part of Martin Boehm and William Otterbein’s movement which eventually took the name “United Brethren in Christ.” There is nothing new about a generation wanting genuine, vigorous spirituality. Every generation wants this. Every generation injects freshness and new emphases and new structures into church life.

The churches my parents attended as children bore little resemblance to the churches they chose to attend as young parents. My own generation was influenced greatly by the Jesus People “revolution” (sorry, George, you didn’t invent that name), and we gave birth to the megachurch explosion, which transformed‚Äîand invigorated‚Äîthe evangelical landscape in the USA. Megachurches will continue thriving for many years to come.

But even now, many baby boomers (like me), and certainly the younger generations, question some values and practices of megachurches, and are looking for something different. The megachurches tend to be affluent, powerful, highly visible, with a huge emphasis on quality, professional staffing, corporate organizational structures, and, of course, buildings. Never have enough building space. Is all of that really necessary? And so, with the new millennium comes an alternative, the emergent church, characterized by smaller groups which emphasize intimacy. I applaude the emergent church (even as I continue trying to understand it). All of these evolutionary changes in the church are good.

Initially, I thought Barna was talking primarily about the emergent church. But on page 66 he dismisses the emergent church as “not new models, but simply minor refinements of the reigning model.” What he’s really enamored with is the people who totally separate from what could even remotely resemble a local church, and pursue the faith in different ways. Sure, he continually states that his revolutionaries are often involved in local churches, even highly involved. And he says there will always be a valuable place for a healthy church. But it’s clear that his real interest lies outside of the church. The book drips with that sentiment.

Barna doesn’t identify leaders of his Revolution; perhaps, the cynic in me muses, he hopes to save that spot for himself. He doesn’t name any “mini movements,” and in fact hardly identifies anything in this Revolution. He just says it exists and describes it in general terms. It feels like he’s making it all up, since there are so few real-world hooks. He makes statements which he says are based on research, but usually doesn’t explain anything about the research.

Gary Gilley, an Illinois pastor, wrote a fabulous review of the book. In one paragraph he notes, “Barna is long on hype and hyperbole and pitifully short on details. Not a single quote from a participant in the Revolution is given. Not a footnote. Not the name of one individual or organization. Not one verifiable stance on doctrine or philosophy of ministry. Rather we are inundated with generalities from unknown sources about nebulous beliefs and practices. Still, we are to believe Barna because his ‘research’ supposedly backs his claims. If this is any indication of the kind of research the Barna Group does, it should give us real pause before we accept its reports at face value.”

That’s exactly right. Barna doesn’t talk about a real movement with real people, real groups, real leaders, real events and meetings. Everything is shadowed in generalities (but based on his research–just trust him on that).

Barna became the bearded guru of Seeker Sensitivity with such books as The Habits of Highly Effective Churches, The Power of Vision (back when nearly every Christian book seemed to have either “power” or “vision” in the title), User-Friendly Churches, and A Step by Step Guide to Church Marketing, none of which would be emergent textbooks. He made his name with the megachurch. Now he is totally enamored with this new trend, and he evidently wants to become their guru. He even developed seven core passions which he says the Revolutionaries follow (which may surprise some of them). I wonder: in another 15-20 years, will Barna write about how people are returning to the church because they discovered how difficult it is to be a disciple apart from a community of believers? Will he criticize churchless Christianity for ignoring (as he does in “Revolution”) all of the material in Paul’s epistles about church life, the fact that Paul wrote not to individuals but to churches, and that God addresses individual churches in Revelation? Why did Barna ignore all of that Scripture?

Well, I’m rambling. Just spouting off. I’m very sympathetic to the emergent church, intrigued and challenged by it. But Barna’s book, and his overall attitude, really soured my stomach. I don’t pretend to thoroughly understand what Barna’s getting at. I’m just a jerk with a blog. But as much as I think the emergent church is onto some great things, and that it can greatly affect the Christian landscape for the better, I think Barna’s playing fast and loose with the church of Jesus Christ.