Our disobedience is not that we are so irreligious, but that we are so very glad to be religious . . . very relieved when some government proclaims the Christian worldview . . . so that the more pious we are, the less we let ourselves be told that God is dangerous, that God will not be mocked.
—Dietrich Bonhoeffer

The chapters that follow, some previously published, are directed toward lay readers. None of these chapters were published in anything other than Christian magazines emphasizing the life of the local church. I have found gratification in the publication through other venues, such as refereed journals and books, though primarily in the sense of contributing to the academy with hope it will trickle down into our faith communities. Such is the politics of finding (and keeping) a job in the academy. Publishing in magazines written by the church for the church, however, has brought me the most satisfaction as my call is, primarily, to the church.

For the most part, there is a common theme among these articles. Each chapter, save for two or three, attempts to think about life as a Christian under the post-Christian, yet exceptionally religious, empire that is the United States of America. I have found that such religiosity, as practiced in the U.S., often renders faithful Christian discernment difficult, as being a Christian becomes almost synonymous with being an “American.” (I use that term loosely as I am only referring, in this case, to U.S. citizenship.) At times, it is quite complicated to separate who is doing the narrating: Is the church narrating what it means to be an American, or is America narrating what it means to be the church? It is not always easy to know.

Although I’m not so audacious as to think I can answer these questions, I hope these chapters shed light on how difficult it is to always know who is doing the naming. This is of paramount importance, as such naming shapes how we think about a host of issues. For example, in the following pages I attempt to speak about issues ranging from race to war, from belief to animals, in a way that reveals a commitment to the body-politic predicated on the resurrection of Jesus. Too often, I worry, our way of discussing such issues is more in line with that of common opinion (which can vary from side to side) than from any honest appraisal of believing that a first-century Jewish man was really the incarnation of God.

Ultimately, these chapters merely strive to be both faithful and provocative in terms of where Christianity has been and who Christians are called to be. In terms of faithfulness, I require a body of believers willing to hold me accountable to those things that I hold to be true. That means I must be open to their correction—hence the publishing of these thoughts.

By wishing to be provocative, I mean two things: First, discipleship, and I hope this does not come as a surprise, should not be boring! Whatever form discipleship takes, it will be at odds with a world that wants to plug us in to its way of doing things. Second, the fact that we follow a crucified God, a criminal executed in accordance with the law, suggests that discourse about this God will be provocative—perhaps even scandalous. Thus if any of this book seems outrageous or offensive, I hope the reader will be patient with me. My writing does demand correction, even as it may just possibly be corrective. Tradition is, after all, an ongoing argument, and I hope we Christians can remain faithful with regard to the kind of arguments that end up constituting us as a people.

—Tripp York