December 12, 2005 - Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality

Send To Printer
Blue Like Jazz: Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality
Donald Miller. Thomas Nelson, 2004. 142 pp.
Reviewed by Alison Andrews
December 12, 2005

There are two groups of people who read Donald Miller’s work. The first group devours his books and finds themselves delighted by Miller’s original perspective on life, love, and salvation. They feel that Miller has been saying something they have always felt, but have never been able to articulate.

The second group feels threatened by the way Miller challenges “traditional” Christianity, and they immediately start combing through their Bibles to prove him wrong. Many of them feel that Miller has denied the faith and shouldn’t even be allowed to call himself a Christian anymore. In fact, some suspect he may even be, if not the Antichrist himself, at least a fairly close relative, like a second cousin (not to put too fine a point on it).

In the interest of fairness, you should know that I belong to the first group.

Even if you don’t love Blue Like Jazz, however, you should still read it because it will challenge you to rethink what you mean when you utter the words, “I am a Christian.”

God (Not) the Father
Blue Like Jazz is a collection of essays that trace various Christian themes, from redemption to community. Using personal anecdotes, Miller relates his own spiritual journey in the hopes that his story will prove helpful to those who are asking the same questions.

Like many people, Miller had trouble even relating to God. His father left when he was young, so the concept of God as a father was more frightening than comforting: “We were a poor family who attended a wealthy church, so I imagined God as a man who had a lot of money and drove a big car. At church they told us we were children of God, but I knew God’s family was better than mine, that he had a daughter who was a cheerleader and a son who played football.” As a child, he believed in a “slot-machine God.” One who gave you prizes if you got down on your knees and pulled the lever enough times. Unfortunately, plenty of believers approach God in the same way without realizing it. They have turned Christianity into a series of actions that must be performed in order to receive the results they want—not the results God wants. What God wants, Miller reiterates, is a relationship with us. You can’t have a relationship with a slot machine.

Blue Like Jazz is not a theological treatise. It is a plea for a return to relationship with God. On one level, it’s specifically designed to appeal to non-believers under 30. The book’s subtitle is Nonreligious Thoughts on Christian Spirituality, but it could have been “How to Be a Christian Even Though So Many People Hate Organized Religion.” One of my favorite chapters is titled, “Church: How I Go Without Getting Angry.”

Wacko Republicans, Wacko Christians
Miller writes in an ironic, deadpan style that he takes a little too far by giving his friends descriptors like “Andrew the Protestor” and “Tony the Beat Poet.” There are also cartoons. Those who like their spiritual reading convoluted and “deep” may not love this book. Yet there is plenty to think about, and, yes, to disagree with, including Miller’s struggles to accept the “wacko Republican fundamentalists,” some of whom ended up reading the book.

Perhaps the overwhelming impression left by Blue Like Jazz is its author’s honesty. Some believers may scorn a man who admits that he sometimes thinks, “God. Who believes in God? It all seems so silly.” But for those who wrestle with doubt, Miller’s honesty will make them trust him more, not less. One of the most powerful sections in the book is the story of the reverse confession booth. Miller and his friends had a campus ministry at Reed College, “a godless place” with no rules and almost no Christians. Every year Reed hosts a festival called Ren Fayre, when the campus is shut down so the students can party. Miller and his friends decided to build a reverse confession booth. Students who came in would not be asked to confess their own sins; instead, the Christians would apologize for the ways in which they had been getting in the way of Jesus. Whatever the effect on the nonbelievers, the experience changed Miller’s life: “I went in with doubts and came out believing in Jesus so strongly I was ready to die and be with Him.”

If more Christians could learn to be as radically honest as Miller has been here, we would introduce more people to Jesus. And isn’t that what we are supposed to be doing?

ninetyandnine.com

---------

Alison Andrews lives near Fort Worth, Texas, with her husband and daughter. She and her husband lead the small group ministry for their church. At any given moment, she's either reading a classic novel or singing "The Itsy Bitsy Spider" over and over...and over.