Well I have finally decided, pretty much, to move to San Francisco and possibly switch to an MA instead of an MDiv. Most of this is contingent with my aspirations to go to GTU (Berkeley) and pursue my PhD, specializing in Christian Spirituality. I realize that I am going to get a lot of strange looks and advice, but that's really ok. I'm not out to please anyone but God and I'm not looking for job security. It really doesn't make a difference if I am working at Starbucks with a Phd or teaching at Harvard, because I need to go where I can learn the most and make a contribution to the study of an area that God has called me into. I am wholly convinced at this point that spirituality (read: doctrine put into practice) is the core of Christianity, it's what makes a Christian and Christian, and it is sorely neglected in the academic community. So that's the what and the why.
I have been thinking a lot about the whole "emerging church" thing of late. My feelings are quite mixed -- although I really think the church is on the verge of another reformation and this movement may be the foreshocks. It could easily be termed just another trend, and I'll tell you why from my own POV. Having been raised in a mainline Protestant church and recommitted in a contemporary evangelical church, I have seen both sides of the coin. It seems that people keep attempting to remain relevant, or to "really reach" all of those "lost people" who could care less about the church. But at the same time, the one thing I noticed prevalently in mainline churches is the structure, particularly when it comes to doctrine and practice. Yes, postmodern friends, I realize this quickly becomes a shackle and even a prison that chokes the life out of spirituality. But I believe that spirituality needs a foundation, a set of universal truths, or at least universal truths as our limited minds can comprehend them. How long will the EC be able to remain a nebulous idea without parameters? I don't think it can remain that way indefinately. Social psychology simply proves otherwise. After groups form, they begin to establish their mores. Even if they are not writing creeds or catechisms, the unwritten laws then come into play. If the EC refuses to define any type of paradigm then the cohesion will soon fade. I don't think definitions necessarily have to be a bad thing; they don't have to be prescriptive. I look back at the early church and things like the Chalcedonian definition. While this is the defining statement for early Christology, it really doesn't prescribe anything -- it merely states what Christian's don't believe. Maybe this is the way we need to look at doctrinal issues: defining the parameters, the playing field. Of course all the deconstructionists out there will be calling me a heretic, but that's ok -- I think we've seen that deconstruction as a paradigm is a bit self-effacing anyway.
So in keeping with the title of this post, I can truly say that I don't "hate" the institutional church. Obviously our task is to remain vigilant, and as the EC start to resemble an institution, to keep checks on how it is developing. I agree with Karl Barth that the task of the theologian is to work from within the church, constantly scrutinizing the cultural situation and the proper way to respond. Barth didn't think he was closing the canon when he wrote his dogmatics, no matter what his critics say. We will continue to work out our salvation with fear and trembling -- but remembering that it is God that works in us.

Purity of Heart by Soren Kierkegaard is the expression of a tortured soul that longs to do the will of God. It is an attack on institutionalized spirituality that has lost its life force, and an exhortation to consider the eternal implications of every action. Kierkegaard challenges the reader to self-examination and asks the question: “Do you really will one thing?” His challenge is a powerful one, and his work is a sobering treatise on the need for a serious spiritual life.
Kierkegaard begins Purity of Heart by comparing the temporal and the eternal. Quoting from Ecclesiastes, he notes that the notion of eternity is written on the hearts of men, but they are in denial of this fact. Human life is generally comprised of an attempt to divert attention from this fact, until death comes and it is far too late. Kierkegaard states that we only have two faculties, gifts of God’s grace, that enable us to see our lives in light of the eternal: repentance and remorse. Unfortunately, remorse only comes at the “eleventh hour,” or the hour of desperation when all human means have failed. Kierkegaard invites his reader to embrace a life of repentance and remorse before that fateful day. He claims that this can be done only by purity of heart, accomplished only by willing one thing. For Kierkegaard, this one thing is “the Good in truth.”
However, our lives are filled with obstacles to willing the Good in truth. Sometimes we do not truly will the Good at all. We merely chase after pleasant experiences that make us feel fulfilled. For Kierkegaard, this is foolish and double-minded, for the rewards of the temporal are generally inversely proportional to the rewards of eternity. Others will the Good only to gain those rewards, while still others will the Good out of fear of punishment. Kierkegaard points out that these are inauthentic ways of living, for we often do not understand that punishment can be a part of a greater cure. Only the one who wills the Good without any consideration for self-preservation can truly be called pure of heart.
Kierkegaard also points out more insidious forms of double-mindedness. One may will the Good egocentrically. In other words, he may want to take the credit for what the good accomplishes. This leads to an unhealthy desire for success beyond God’s intention. One may also will the Good only in part. This is a common symptom of today’s Christian, who is often so absorbed with the busyness of life that they fail to see the eternally significant things in their lives. Kierkegaard exhorts us to cut out the useless vines from our lives in pursuit of willing one thing.
To truly will one thing, one must be willing to do all or suffer all. It does not matter how much one accomplishes. The one who suffers alone for life with true devotion to God accomplishes more in eternity than the double-minded one who makes great strides in the world. Finally, Kierkegaard challenges the group orientation of the institutions of this world. In eternity, one will stand alone before God. Therefore in this life, we must learn to be individuals and take responsibility for the eternal implications of our actions. Kierkegaard recognizes that few of us are up to this monumental task. His suggestions in Purity of Heart are intended to make us aware of our inability as well as our responsibility. He suggests the office of Confession as a means to examine ourselves and come before God with our failures. By learning the eternal significance of all we do, we can truly be said to will one thing.

Reading a wide variety of devotional materials makes for an interesting experience. Due to the class I am taking I have read everything from Augustine to Wesley, from Pascal to Kierkegaard. I am noticing some consistant themes in all of this material, and I feel that maybe I should get these thoughts out.
First of all, the notion of spirituality. Is it all about experience? Within Christianity there seems to be a divided camp. One side sees experience as overly subjective and prone to massive human error. Within the confines of doctrine, they say, we can find security. The other side scoffs at this assertion, saying that doctrine is a finite limitation of an incomprehensible God. Of course both sides seem to agree that the center is Christ, and that God's revelation is only understandable to us in the form of the incarnation. But what are the implications?
Eastern Christianity and even Catholicism seem to focus on the mystical aspect. True experience of God comes only from practicing the art of contemplation. This is a very foreign idea to a Westerner. We want to understand things from a rational perspective. Is this a good or a bad thing? Well, I think it works differently for different people.
Not that I am trying to endorse an undue amount of subjectivity. I think that neo-orthodoxy had a lot of good points - relying entirely on doctrine tends to put the cart before the horse. But after all, faith needs an object. It is in this sense that I find Pascal especially helpful. He does not deconstruct reason to the point of rendering it useless, but he does not elevate it above all. The strengths and the limitations of reason lead to a reliance upon grace, but this is far from blind faith.
I realize that I may be mixing two separate arguments here, as these questions apply both to things such as worship styles on one hand, and a personal devotional life on the other. But one of the things that seems most glaring to me is that neither doctrine nor experience exist in a vacuum. Exodus 14:31 sums it up for me: the Israelites believed because they feared(respected) God. But they feared God because God acted. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, but the experience of God is the end of wisdom. This can be seen most clearly in Job and Ecclesiastes, and in the ultimate deconstructionist:Christ.
So perhaps I will conclude that we cannot throw out either Proverbs or Ecclesiastes, but we need each one to balance out the other, lest we put the proverbial cart before the horse! Hopefully I can come up with some concrete manifestations of this idea as time goes on.