Product Description

I never liked jazz music because jazz music doesn't resolve. . . . I used to not like God because God didn't resolve. But that was before any of this happened. In Donald Miller's early years, he was vaguely familiar with a distant God. But when he came to know Jesus Christ, he pursued the Christian life with great zeal. Within a few years he had a successful ministry that ultimately left him feeling empty, burned out, and, once again, far away from God. In this intimate, soul-searching account, Miller describes his remarkable journey back to a culturally relevant, infinitely loving God.

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Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #1514 in Books
• Published on: 2003-07-17
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 256 pages

Features

• ISBN13: 9780785263708
• Condition: NEW
• Notes: Brand New from Publisher. No Remainder Mark.
• Click here to view our Condition Guide and Shipping Prices

From Publishers Weekly
Miller (Prayer and the Art of Volkswagen Maintenance) is a young writer, speaker and campus ministry leader. An earnest evangelical who nearly lost his faith, he went on a spiritual journey, found some progressive politics and most importantly, discovered Jesus' relevance for everyday life. This book, in its own elliptical way, tells the tale of that journey. But the narrative is episodic rather than linear, Miller's style evocative rather than rational and his analysis personally revealing rather than profoundly insightful. As such, it offers a postmodern riff on the classic evangelical presentation of the Gospel, complete with a concluding call to commitment. Written as a series of short essays on vaguely theological topics (faith, grace, belief, confession, church), and disguised theological topics (magic, romance, shifts, money), it is at times plodding or simplistic (how to go to church and not get angry? "pray... and go to the church God shows you"), and sometimes falls into merely self-indulgent musing. But more often Miller is enjoyably clever, and his story is telling and beautiful, even poignant. (The story of the reverse confession booth is worth the price of the book.) The title is meant to be evocative, and the subtitle-"Non-Religious" thoughts about "Christian Spirituality"-indicates Miller's distrust of the institutional church and his desire to appeal to those experimenting with other flavors of spirituality.
Copyright 2003 Reed Business Information, Inc.

About the Author
Donald Miller is a writer, campus ministry leader, and speaker. He is the author of Prayer and the Art of Volkswagen Maintenance, a road-trip narrative about a spiritual quest. His writing has appeared in periodicals such as New Man Magazine, Youthwalk, Believe Magazine, and Faith M.D. Miller is active in a small, but resilient and growing campus ministry at Reed College, which has the distinction of being ranked one of the most intellectual colleges and one of the most godless colleges in the country.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter Eleven
Confession
Coming Out of the Closet

When I was in Sunday school as a kid, my teacher put a big poster on the wall that was shaped in a circle like a target. She had us write names of people we knew who weren't Christians on little pieces of paper, and she pinned the names to the outer circle of the target. She said our goal, by the end of the year, was to move those names from the outer ring of the circle, which represented their distance from knowing Jesus, to the inner ring, which represented them having come into a relationship with Jesus. I thought the strategy was beautiful because it gave us a goal, a visual.

I didn't know any people who weren't Christians, but I was a child with a fertile imagination so I made up some names; Thad Thatcher was one and William Wonka was another. My teacher didn't believe me which I took as an insult, but nonetheless, the class was excited the very next week when both Thad and William had become Christians in a dramatic conversion experience that included the dismantling of a large satanic cult and underground drug ring. There was also levitation involved.

Even though they didn't exist, Thad and William were the only people to become Christians all year. Nobody else I knew became a Christian for a very long time, mostly because I didn't tell anybody about Jesus except when I was drunk at a party, and that was only because so many of my reservations were down, and even then nobody understood me because I was either crying or slurring my words.

o o o

When I moved downtown to attend Imago-Dei, the church Rick started, he was pretty serious about loving people regardless of whether they considered Jesus the Son of God or not, and Rick wanted to love them because they were either hungry, thirsty, or lonely. The human struggle bothered Rick, as if something was broken in the world and we were supposed to hold our palms against the wound. He didn't really see evangelism, or whatever you want to call it, as a target on a wall in which the goal is to get people to agree with us about the meaning of life. He saw evangelism as reaching a felt need. I thought this was beautiful and frightening. I thought it was beautiful because I had this same need; I mean, I really knew I needed Jesus like I need water or food, and yet it was frightening because Christianity is so stupid to so much of our culture, and I absolutely hate bothering people about this stuff.

So much of me believes strongly in letting everybody live their own lives, and when I share my faith, I feel like a network marketing guy trying to build my down line.

Some of my friends who aren't Christians think that Christians are insistent and demanding and intruding, but that isn't the case. Those folks are the squeaky wheel. Most Christians have enormous respect for the space and freedom of others; it is only that they have found a joy in Jesus they want to share. There is the tension.

In a recent radio interview I was sternly asked by the host, who did not consider himself a Christian, to defend Christianity. I told him that I couldn't do it, and moreover, that I didn't want to defend the term. He asked me if I was a Christian, and I told him yes. "Then why don't you want to defend Christianity?" he asked, confused. I told him I no longer knew what the term meant. Of the hundreds of thousands of people listening to his show that day, some of them had terrible experiences with Christianity; they may have been yelled at by a teacher in a Christian school, abused by a minister, or browbeaten by a Christian parent. To them, the term Christianity meant something that no Christian I know would defend. By fortifying the term, I am only making them more and more angry. I won't do it. Stop ten people on the street and ask them what they think of when they hear the word Christianity, and they will give you ten different answers. How can I defend a term that means ten different things to ten different people? I told the radio show host that I would rather talk about Jesus and how I came to believe that Jesus exists and that he likes me. The host looked back at me with tears in his eyes. When we were done, he asked me if we could go get lunch together. He told me how much he didn't like Christianity but how he had always wanted to believe Jesus was the Son of God.

o o o

For me, the beginning of sharing my faith with people began by throwing out Christianity and embracing Christian spirituality, a nonpolitical mysterious system that can be experienced but not explained. Christianity, unlike Christian spirituality, was not a term that excited me. And I could not in good conscious tell a friend about a faith that didn't excite me. I couldn't share something I wasn't experiencing. And I wasn't experiencing Christianity. It didn't do anything for me at all. It felt like math, like a system of rights and wrongs and political beliefs, but it wasn't mysterious; it wasn't God reaching out of heaven to do wonderful things in my life. And if I would have shared Christianity with somebody, it would have felt mostly like I was trying to get somebody to agree with me rather than meet God. I could no longer share anything about Christianity, but I loved talking about Jesus and the spirituality that goes along with a relationship with Him.

Tony the Beat Poet says the church is like a wounded animal these days. He says we used to have power and influence, but now we don't, and so many of our leaders are upset about this and acting like spoiled children, mad because they can't have their way.

They disguise their actions to look as though they are standing on principle, but it isn't that, Tony says, it's bitterness. They want to take their ball and go home because they have to sit the bench. Tony and I agreed that what God wants us to do is sit the bench in humility and turn the other cheek like Gandhi, like Jesus. We decided that the correct place to share our faith was from a place of humility and love, not from a desire for power.

o o o

Each year at Reed they have a festival called Ren Fayre. They shut down the campus so students can party. Security keeps the authorities away, and everybody gets pretty drunk and high, and some people get naked. Friday night is mostly about getting drunk, and Saturday night is about getting high. The school brings in White Bird, a medical unit that specializes in treating bad drug trips. The students create special lounges with black lights and television screens to enhance kids' mushroom trips.

Some of the Christian students in our little group decided this was a pretty good place to come out of the closet, letting everybody know there were a few Christians on campus. Tony the Beat Poet and I were sitting around in my room one afternoon talking about what to do, how to explain who we were to a group of students who, in the past, had expressed hostility toward Christians. Like our friends, we felt like Ren Fayre was the time to do this. I said we should build a confession booth in the middle of campus and paint a sign on it that said "Confess your sins." I said this because I knew a lot of people would be sinning, and Christian spirituality begins by confessing our sins and repenting. I also said it as a joke. But Tony thought it was brilliant. He sat there on my couch with his mind in the clouds, and he was scaring the crap out of me because, for a second, then for a minute, I actually believed he wanted to do it.

"Tony," I said very gently.

"What?" he said, with a blank stare at the opposite wall.

"We are not going to do this," I told him. He moved his gaze down the wall and directly into my eyes. A smile came across his face.

"Oh, we are, Don. We certainly are. We are going to build a confession booth!"

We met in Commons-Penny, Nadine, Mitch, Iven, Tony, and I. Tony said I had an idea. They looked at me. I told them that Tony was lying and I didn't have an idea at all. They looked at Tony. Tony gave me a dirty look and told me to tell them the idea. I told them I had a stupid idea that we couldn't do without getting attacked. They leaned in. I told them that we should build a confession booth in the middle of campus and paint a sign on it that said "Confess your sins." Penny put her hands over her mouth. Nadine smiled. Iven laughed. Mitch started drawing the designs for the booth on a napkin. Tony nodded his head. I wet my pants.

"They may very well burn it down," Nadine said.

"I will build a trapdoor," Mitch said with his finger in the air.

"I like it, Don." Iven patted me on the back.

"I don't want anything to do with it," Penny said.

"Neither do I," I told her.

"Okay, you guys." Tony gathered everybody's attention. "Here's the catch." He leaned in a little and collected his thoughts. "We are not actually going to accept confessions." We all looked at him in confusion. He continued, "We are going to confess to them. We are going to confess that, as followers of Jesus, we have not been very loving; we have been bitter, and for that we are sorry. We will apologize for the Crusades, we will apologize for televangelists, we will apologize for neglecting the poor and the lonely, we will ask them to forgive us, and we will tell them that in our selfishness, we have misrepresented Jesus on this campus. We will tell people who come into the booth that Jesus loves them."

All of us sat there in silence because it was obvious that something beautiful and true had hit the table with a thud. We all thought it was a great idea, and we could see it in each other's eyes. It would feel so good to apologize, to apologize for the Crusades, for Columbus and the genocide he committed in the Bahamas in the name of God, apologize for the missionaries who landed in Mexico and came up through the West slaughtering Indians in the name of Christ. I wanted so desperately to say that none of this was Jesus, and I wanted so desperately to apologize for the many ways I had misrepresented the Lord. I...

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Customer Reviews

Blue Like Jazz
I've been hearing much of late about a Christian author with a rather plain-sounding name: Don Miller. With my curiosity being sufficiently piqued, I set out to purchase and read a couple of Miller's books over the Christmas holidays, one of which was _Blue Like Jazz_.

I have to say right at the start that I like the format of the book. _Blue Like Jazz_ is an essay-style work, each chapter more or less standing on its own. Yet they all tie into the central theme of "nonreligious thoughts on Christian spirituality," as the subtitle suggests. For these reasons, the book reminds me (ever so slightly) of some of C.S. Lewis' books (e.g. _The Weight of Glory_), which carry a similar format and also deal with Christian spirituality at a grass roots level, sans copious amounts of theological jargon.

I enjoy the way Miller writes. Not only is he readable, Miller often finds the perfect image when describing an event. As one example, he says, "Cusswords are pure ecstasy when you are twelve, buzzing in the mouth like a battery on the tongue." (p. 5) Doesn't that capture the experience perfectly?! And listen to this one: "I am something of a recluse by nature. I am that cordless screwdriver that has to charge for twenty hours to earn ten minutes use." (p. 152) I love it!

For me, Miller is someone with whom I resonate. Being a single guy and living with roommates, I can relate to many of the issues Miller raises (often laced with humor), which are associated with this particular lifestyle. Many times I find myself saying, "I've been there."

Overall, I find _Blue Like Jazz_ to be a fun read, with thought-provoking turns along the way. Miller's self-deprecating manner is effective at these junctures. As the reader, I don't feel like he is sitting in judgment on me for my failures or pointing the finger.

All that said, keep in mind that I'm writing from the perspective of an evangelical Christian. There are a few problems I have encountered with _Blue Like Jazz_, which I want to point out. If you dislike negativity, please skip the rest of this review.

First of all, from the subtitle, the book is about Christian spirituality. Yet Miller never bothers to define the term in a clear way. The closest thing to a definition is found first on page 57. Miller says, "And I love this about Christian spirituality. It cannot be explained, and yet it is beautiful and true. It is something you feel, and it comes from the soul." At the end of the book, Miller says, "I think Christian spirituality is like jazz music. I think loving Jesus is something you feel. I think it is something very difficult to get on paper." (p. 239) Not only is Miller's understanding of Christian spirituality nebulous, as an evangelical Christian I think it's incorrect. Here's what I believe Christian spirituality is: "Spirituality in the New Testament sense is a means to the end of righteousness. Being spiritual means that we are exercising the spiritual graces given by God to mold us after the image of His Son. That is, the discipline of prayer, Bible study, church fellowship, witnessing and the like are not ends in themselves, but are designed to assist us in living righteously." (R.C. Sproul Sr., _God's Will and the Christian_, 1984, Tyndale, p. 20)

Secondly, Miller makes a few theological statements along the way that are cause for concern. Check out these statements: "Love, for example, is a true emotion, but it is not rational." (p. 54) "I don't believe I will ever walk away from God for intellectual reasons. Who knows anything anyway? If I walk away from Him, and please pray that I never do, I will walk away for social reasons, identity reasons, deep emotional reasons, the same reasons that any of us do anything." (p. 103) "...Christianity spirituality, a nonpolitical mysterious system that can be experienced but not explained." (p. 115) "There are many ideas within Christian spirituality that contradict the facts of reality as I understand them." (p. 201) "...Jesus didn't just love me out of principle; He didn't just love me because it was the right thing to do. Rather, there was something inside me that caused Him to love me." (p. 238)

I know what the standard response is: "Miller isn't a theologian. He's an author." That's fair enough. Notwithstanding, lacking expertise in an area doesn't grant one immunity from criticism when (s)he ventures into that area. Though Miller is not a professional theologian, he certainly makes theological statements from time to time. When he does, he should be held to the theologian's standard. If I were to write a book in which I made statements about health and fitness, I would expect to be held to the standard of those experts in the health and fitness field.

Thirdly, for someone who claims that Christian spirituality is nonpolitical (see quote above from p. 115), Miller manages to make some political statements. At one point, he says, "Can you imagine what Americans would do if they understood over half the world was living in poverty? Do you think they would change the way they live, the products they purchase, and the politicians they elect? If we believed the right things, the true things, there wouldn't be very many problems on earth?" (pp. 106-7) Ignoring the issue of whether Miller is naïve at this point, the statement clearly carries an underlying socio-political assumption.

Please note that I'm not being negative for the purpose of bashing Miller. I'm simply pointing out some concerns that I have as an evangelical Christian. Perhaps others of a similar persuasion will find these caveats helpful.

The diary of a "born again" Woody Allen
I really enjoyed this book. It is written in a conversational tone throughout, and the author is a genuinely likable guy. This book is autobiographical in that it depicts his journey through a phase of life, and his gradual awakening and acceptance of his faith within the larger context of the society he lives in, and the people with whom he interacts.

There are several high points. The first is the level of honesty. This book does not pull punches. If Donald is struggling with something, he just lays it out there. There seems to be little attempt at positioning himself in a more positive light. That is refreshing and makes for a very engaging read.

For example, he states that "every person who is awake to the functioning principles within his reality, has a moment where he stops blaming the problems in the world on group think, on humanity and authority, and starts to face himself" (Page 20). He depicts how his own world is turned upside down when he realizes that despite his moral views about helping others, he is doing next to nothing for anyone else.

He also depicts his own journey into a sort of fundamentalist control freak, and starts focusing solely on external actions. He basically becomes a complete hypocrite because he doesn't follow his own resolutions. (Page 80). He kind of lost me here though as he seems to find fault with the intent and takes a rather judgmental view on anyone who is more disciplined than he is. Which is about everyone, it would seem.

In a sense the book allows the reader to see Donald Miller in a clearer light than he sees himself. He acknowledges that many of his rather liberal friends have no substance behind what they feel; it is all just for show and to fit in with others. He describes his anti-Bush friend as "She decided what to believe based on whether other people who believed were a particular fashion that appealed to her". The irony here is that this is the same approach that Donald himself takes on nearly every decision he makes. He time and again relies on his perceived value to others and on what others around him reflect to decide who he is and what he should do. He seems to genuinely value fitting in more than his faith.

The book has some really great moments of clarity though. I was at times inspired by his willingness to be honest, and truly put himself out there selflessly for others. In the end he is the walking definition of how God uses imperfect people for good in the world. Overall, I recommend the book as you too will enjoy the journey, if you are at all introspective. While Donald hardly puts out a model life to aspire to, he is at least honest about it.

Postmodern Take on Christianity
I can't deny that was a little apprehensive about this book before I began it, even though I had not read any detailed reviews and had little idea of the content. Just a few days before I began reading I had seem an interview with the author, Donald Miller, in "The Door Magazine" in which he had been terribly sarcastic and quite crude (judging by the number of words that had to be "blanked" out). It left me with an impression of the author that was not altogether favorable.

Despite my misgivings, I found that I enjoyed this book more than I thought I might. That is not to say it is without its problems, and without some serious problems at that. But I enjoyed the rambling, conversational tone of the book, even if it is a little difficult to follow at times. In fact, there are times where it is downright irritating as the author launches into tirades about Republicans or traditional Christianity. He subtly applauds Bill Clinton while denigrating George Bush. He sneers at traditional churches, but affirms his enjoyment of the Catholic Mass and the Greek Orthodox Church. And all the while he makes self-deprecating comments and expresses himself in words that are generally considered inappropriate for a Christian book ("kick in the butt," "pissed-off," "crap," etc).

So what did I like about the book? Blue Like Jazz is built around a sound premise - that the Christian faith continues to be relevant even in a postmodern culture. Miller writes, "I don't think any church has ever been relevant to culture, to the human struggle, unless it believed in Jesus and the power of His gospel" (page 111). I agree entirely that the church can only be relevant to the culture if it maintains the centrality of the gospel and remains unashamed of that simple message. Unfortunately that gospel message becomes somewhat blurred in this book. "[The central message of Christ] is that man sinned against God and God gave the world over to man, and that if somebody wanted to be rescued out of that, if somebody for instance finds it all very empty, that Christ will rescue them if they want..." (page 124). The Bible, however, teaches that no person wants to be rescued. God needs to begin a prior work in order to draw people to Himself. Miller, on the other hand, teaches that there is something within us that draws God to us. "I realized, after reading those Gospels, that Jesus didn't just love me out of principle; He didn't just love me because it was the right thing to do. Rather, there was something inside me that caused Him to love me" (page 238). When we acknowledge that there is something inside of us that draws God to us, we deny that it is His grace alone that saves us, for grace is, by definition, unmerited favor. There is nothing in us that makes us worthy of God. He loves us because of something inside of Himself, not inside of us.

I also enjoyed other aspects of the book. The reverse confession booth makes for great reading, as do many of Miller's other stories. Despite some poor theology, he gave me a lot to think about, especially in regards to taking theology beyond the doors of the church and really turning it into practice.

I believe, though, that the great failing of this book is the author's belief that Christianity is a feeling, and is not something that can be rationally explained or understood. Early in the book, on page 54, Miller writes that God does not make any sense. Just a few pages later he writes that Christian Spirituality is something that cannot be explained, but is something that can only be felt. "It cannot be explained, and yet it is beautiful and true. It is something you feel, and it comes from the soul" (page 57). Later he writes, "At the end of the day, when I am lying in bed and I know the chances of any of our theology being exactly right are a million to one, I need to know that God has things figured out, that if my math is wrong we are still going to be okay. And wonder is that feeling we get when we let go of our silly answers, our mapped out rules that we want God to follow. I don't think there is any better worship than wonder" (page 206).

This irrational, feelings-based approach to Christianity is consistent with postmodern thought, where experience rather than an objective standard is the arbiter of truth. Miller rarely returns to the Scripture, and instead opts to explain his beliefs through the lens of his own experience. He seems to trust in experience instead of having a rational faith in a rational God who is truly sovereign. In fact, I do not recall any specific references from the Scripture - an oddity considering that the book claims to be thoughts on Christian Spirituality. But perhaps "nonreligious" thoughts preclude the use of Scripture proof-texting.

It is strange, that having come to the end of this review I am far less enthusiastic about the book than I was in reading it and in reflecting on it afterwards. While I can say that I did receive some benefit from reading it, I would be hesitant to recommend it to others. There is some value to be found, but one has to dig deep beneath layers of rambling untruth and poor theology to find them. There are many other books that contain far more treasure than this.