Not The Religious Type

Welcome to Messy Faith

After my digression yesterday on faith and fun (I was watching Ernst Lubitsch's To Be or Not to Be and reading Neil Simon's vibrant Laughter on the 23rd Floor--what do you want from me; they're delightful and they got me thinking...), back to our earlier theme of the week. 

It seems ironic that one lesson learned from all the heady theories and frameworks we discussed at the Center City Summit would be that we're advised to pursue a faith that's experiential and messy, as Jeff commented on Tuesday, and as many of you emphasized in different words in response to Monday's post.  But I think he's very much onto something.

One formative experience that led to Grace and I moving to Boston to help start the community of faith that's so shaped us was God seeming to speak profoundly to me, Grace, and a small but persistent cast of others that Grace and I were on the verge of moving to Los Angeles because I was about to win a prestigious screenwriting fellowship with Columbia.  I was not at all comfortable with the flow of "God's telling me you're going to win this" comments our friends were passing onto us, but it was hard to ignore them after awhile.  Folks who knew nothing about the prospective fellowship were sharing dreams with me and saying, "I think God is telling me you're going to be moving soon for a new opportunity," and so on.  When the rejection letter came, I took it hard.  If I was building so much of my faith on the understanding that God spoke, what did it mean when so many of us could be so wrong about something that had such consequences?

I didn't get great answers from God in the immediate aftermath, but it did spur me to interview some friends--who, to my mind, had great conversational relationships with God--about whether something like this had ever happened to them.  Indeed it had, in each case.  What did they learn from the experience?  Had they decided that listening to what they perceived to be God's voice was a crazy way to live one's life?  Not at all, they each said.  Rather they learned that what they were banking on was God, not their ability to hear God perfectly.  The messiness that this way of life periodically got them into turned out to be something God was more than prepared to use for good.

Several weeks after talking with them, Grace and I got the invitation to move to Cambridge, MA, to start a new church.  We loved San Francisco and wouldn't have been open to an invitation like that...except we'd emotionally detached from San Francisco in preparation for our planned-for move to Los Angeles.  So when this offer came in, we were very receptive.  And it changed our lives in a completely different way than a screenwriting fellowship in L.A. would have.

I'm hearing the spirit of that story in many of your comments from the beginning of the week.  CS Lewis's description of his Jesus-stand-in lion, Aslan as "not safe, but good" comes to mind in this conversation.  God seems, in my life, to take a lot of interest in me not being able to find safety in an intellectual, non-experiential faith. 

I appreciate Jeff's qualifier that we're by no means hoping for any more mess than is necessary.  But it seems like, if we're serious about connecting with God as we're talking about, some (sometimes profound) mess is irreducible with this not-safe-but-good God.

Is Faith Fun?

Here was a downside I experienced when I ventured into faith.  I met great people, found purpose in life, yada yada yada.  But I also found myself in many, many settings that, just to say, didn't seem like a lot of laughs.  Earnestness was in; cheerfulness was out.

My background was in comedy--I wrote comedies for the secular theater world in San Francisco (several years into my life of faith by this point).  But I often found that "fun" in the religious world was presented to me on an entirely different set of terms.  The megachurch pastor might confidently tell me before he began his sermon, "We're going to have some fun this morning," but the fun he delivered usually consisted in strongly-stated views that slammed his spiritual enemies.  The settings that focused on the Holy Spirit might also deliver a certain sort of "fun," but it would be the "fun" of abandoned ecstasy towards God, twirling, prostrating oneself, beatific dancing. 

I'm thinking a lot these days about 1930s comedies--Kaufman and Hart, Ernst Lubitsch, Noel Coward, et cetera--and their 60s heritage in Woody Allen and Neil Simon.  (I've tried to do some novel-writing--mostly unsuccessfully--since my playwriting days, and I'm looking this direction as I think about a prospective new novel.)  These folks are just flat fun--at their best--and it's a kind of fun that sometimes seems innocent and sometimes seems worldly, but seems like nothing we experience in faith settings.

Does anyone else but me wonder if these things are exclusive?  And, if so, how do you account for it?

Another Word about Lakeland

So the astounding Lakeland Revival, I'm sorry to report, seems to ending not with a bang but with a whimper.

Amidst a sea of criticism from sources that we might think would be sympathetic (many charismatic--by which I mean "Holy Spirit focused"--leaders have been surprisingly critical from very early on in the Lakeland phenomenon, feeling that it's openness to esoteric experiences [an angel played a major role in the early days of the revival, among other out-of-the-box teachings and practices] brings anyone who wants to experience the Holy Spirit under suspicion of being cult-like), Todd Bentley, the leader of the revival, has been, for the moment, removed from ministry by his board.

They've released a statement that Bentley and his wife have separated, and there have been discussions about what might have been the circumstances that led to that. 

So, I don't know about you, but far from feeling any sort of gloating "I told you so" about these events, I feel sad.  I'm rooting for anything that helps people experience God in fresh ways. 

I'm sure there are lessons to be learned about wisdom in such events.  Perhaps there's something to be said about the dangers of hype or something to be said about the underrated strengths of a balanced life filled with meaningful word, time with family and friends, genuine connection with God that that happens in the day-to-day and not just in the extraordinary meeting.  But may God bless whatever good did come out of those meetings, and--perhaps?--whatever good might yet come.

Do We Need to Actually Experience God?

Here's a surprising controversy that, on occasion, comes up in these types of conversations.

While a common enticement to faith focused on Jesus is that we're offered a "relationship with God," is that mostly semantics or actually descriptive?  I've found myself in many, many conversation with devout evangelicals who make the--to me--surprising argument that talking too much about the benefits (nay, perhaps the necessity) of relating to God in a give and take way is a dangerous thing.  Far more important is to focus on changed behaviors--going to church, behaving oneself sexually, reading the Bible, praying (whether or not in a give and take way), even voting "according to biblical principles." 

I can feel a bit befuddled at these moments (as I so often feel in pretty much any and all circumstances, I'm sure).  Is it important, then, to you--I find myself asking--to caution people against relating to God, as if this is a dangerous temptation away from the really important stuff of changing one's behaviors or opinions?

No one ever quite signs off on that--they can recognize a trap.  But then they bring up the dangers of a subjective religious experience, dangers that I fully concur with.  (The main three ways, I've found, that relating to a living God works well and healthily for the long term are to (1) be avid Bible-readers and well aware when the things we hear from God do or don't cohere with the teachings we find there, (2) to be a faithful member of a Jesus-focused small group, and to be open with folks there about how God is speaking to us, and to be eager to hear their feedback, and (3) to wholeheartedly be doing one's best to obey everything we see in the Bible and that God seems to speak to us as we pray (knowing that God only wants what's truly good for us, so we'd be fools to choose another path).  Those three commitments, I've found, bring quite a bit of safety to what could otherwise, certainly, be untethered mysticism.)

So you can sense where I'm headed.  The most central way to know God is to...know God in the same way we know any other close friend.  There are certainly dangers in this and in any actual spiritual experience, dangers that I'm hoping my three qualifiers above address.  But the absence of actual, ongoing give and take with God leaves us, to my mind, with only "religion" in the sense that the Bible largely opposes. 

But that's often a sale I don't make.  What's your take?

Opening Reflections on the Center City Summit

It's been a relatively low blog week for me, because the first three days of it were spent at this inaugural event that focused on the issues discussed here.  We called it the Center City Summit.  (I suspect there's still a button to register for it on this site.  Someday soon we'll get that down.)

We had a diverse and hardy crew—perhaps 130 people from—I'm sure I'm leaving some state out in my count—at least thirteen states, representing the west (California, Arizona), the Midwest (Colorado, Wisconsin, Illinois, Iowa, Minnesota, Ohio), and the east (New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, Pennsylvania, Massachusetts).  So, at the very least, most of us made some new friends around these passions, from all over the country.

It was—as promised (or threatened) on our first day together—a content-heavy experience.  Lots of sessions, each—in intention at least—chock-full of new things to think about, which led some of us towards sympathy with the classic Far Side strip...

There were occasional moments of controversy, as some folks had to wrestle with whether this point of view cohered with their understanding of faith.

But by and large what I heard was an experience of feeling buzzed, deeply excited about the prospects for pursuing a fresh experience of faith alongside such dynamic and inspiring people as we were meeting around the lunch table. 

And what was at least mildly surprising to me was something that I feel abashed to be surprised at all about.  I was struck by how meaningful our collective prayer experiences were for me.  I shouldn't have been surprised: in theory the faith we're talking about is "mystical" to at least some degree, and that, of course, needs to focus on an actual connection with an actual, living God.  You'd think this would involve at least some prayer. 

But my inherent introversion often helps me make those connections best when I'm by myself.  Group prayer or worship, as needed and helpful as those experiences can be for me, are rarely as meaningful for me.  And yet somehow this experience got past all those defenses for me and very much impacted me, each time. 

It brought back to me this insight that should have been obvious: For all the heady theories and powerfully-argued points, we are, after all, talking about connecting with God here.  And when that happens, it's a really, really good thing.

More soon, I'm sure.

Will God Tell Us Who to Vote For?

Yesterday's post might have seemed odd and secular from someone who, as I do, forcefully argues that God is eager to speak to us, that this is the underpinnings of everything.

Evidently one subject is excluded from this promise, and it's a doozy.  Evidently God won't tell us who should be perhaps the most important world leader.

Maybe this goes back to how mystics (a pompous word I'm using as a shortcut for "people who do their best to consistently listen to God) function.  Mystics of this sort rely on quantity in their relationship with God, understanding that this relationship can't withstand the pressure of too much "thus sayeth the Lord."  These mystics recognize that, of course their own biases color how God speaks to them, even as they're not troubled by that understanding.  They realize that things tend to work out as we look to listen to God a lot.  And they recognize that being wrong about something they assumed God was saying to them isn't the end of the world, that God is known even to bring good things even out of that. 

I have a rooting interest in this election, as I always do.  I've prayed a ton about that choice, and I'm satisfied with--even passionate about--where I've landed.  Yet all my passion about praying that God will make sure my choice is elected, in the end, doesn't seem quite as worthy as my prayers that God will bring good from this election, however it goes.  Because, as important as it is to me to relate consistently and deeply with God, my opinion about God's preference in this next presidential election could be, God forbid...wrong.

Does Politics Matter?

Leading up to the last two presidential elections, I was invited to join in with massive prayer efforts for "the most important election of our lifetimes"...which, at least the second time, provoked a smidgen of skepticism from me.  How had they so quickly devalued the last most-important-election-of-our-lifetime? 

I didn't argue with the call to prayer.  Whoever God wants to be president, I'm all for.  What seems more challenging is our confidence that we know who that is.  (The folks calling me to prayer clearly felt God wanted one of the two candidates to win.  In hindsight, they seem, if I may say, like anti-prophets.)

My presidential voting history now seems mostly embarrassing.  You're reading words from a man who voted for Ross Perot, his first go-round.  I've voted for the second term of a president I opposed in his first term.  The first term turned out not half bad; the second was a super-colossal meltdown. 

So perhaps I'm a good anti-prophet myself--figure out who I'm for, go the other way, and all will be well. 

If only in defensive detachment, I'm tempted towards two linchpins of a political philosophy.  (1) We overvalue politics.  The best politicians are competent managers, rather than visionaries (who tend to do active harm).  (2) We undervalue our own callings to be, as Jesus put it, workers in God's harvest, which is something that will certainly make a difference.

But then, after taking a breath, at least the first of those points seems modestly overstated.  Much as I despair of my own--or perhaps anyone's--ability to know the impact of their vote, it seems clear to me that politics does in fact matter--at least some--if only in the occasional wise and visionary choice that does even more good than intended (our current president seems to have done an astounding amount of good in Africa--while, like a parody of a master magician, he was directing our attention to another part of the world where things, perhaps, weren't going nearly so well).

So there you have it.  Does politics matter?  Some.  But I remain a bit skeptical of our certainty before the fact.  Which tells me that perhaps my lobbying friends in the previous two elections were more right than they knew.

Is the Lakeland Revival Stage 4?

Before launching into today's topic, let me mention a few links.  Bob Estes is a physicist and former atheist, now a person of faith.  He's a super-thoughtful blogger on the subject who, along with this post--which explains his journey into and out of atheism--presents an engaging exchange of posts with bloggers on the "friendly atheist" site.  Fun reading, if that's your interest.

Also I had probably my most enjoyable radio interview yet with Debbie Chavez, who has an internet show.  She's cheerful and chatty and seemed to have read the book enough that she could engage in some fun give and take.  Her archives, where you'll find my interview, also have conversations with folks like John Eldredge. 

I should probably keep a permanent posting here on these stages of faith that M. Scott Peck proposed in Further Along the Road Less Traveled and that I talk about in my book.  I suspect they'll be a recurring theme here.  In brief, the theory is that in an ideal world we'd all progress concurrently through certain emotional and spiritual stages.  But most of us get stuck along the way.  Stage 1 he defines as criminal and would correspond to being a toddler.  Folks here end up in jail or in power.  Stage 2 he defines as rules-based, and would correspond to being perhaps 6 or 7 when you want to please mom and dad.  Peck argues most churches fit here, helpfully explaining the rules of life, of being a good or bad person.  Stage 3 he defines as rebellious, which corresponds to being a teenager.  Here you question why the rules you've been taught are actually the rules of life.  University cultures might typify stage 3, along with secular culture.  Stage 4 he calls mystical.  Here you recognize that what you were taught in Stage 2 might well be true, but in a much different, less-certain, more open-ended way that throws you back on a living, guiding God.

The posts at notreligious have bandied about whether the Lakeland Revival fits into Stage 4.  On the one hand, if it' s not mystical, what is?  Clearly we're dealing with a communicative, active God here.  On the other hand, by and large the preaching fits into conventional, conservative Pentecostal culture, which would seem a neat fit into Stage 2.  On the other other hand, many Stage 2 Christian leaders have criticized Todd Bentley and others there for what some might regard as their out-of-the-box thinking.

Perhaps we shouldn't care.  People are getting healed and encouraged to find more fervor in God, so what's the possible beef with that, whatever alleged "stage" the meetings might fit?  And fair enough.

I have more-detailed conjectures on how Todd Bentley might fit into this paradigm...but somehow writing them down seemed priggish and pointless.  Maybe the bigger point is that Stage 2 and Stage 4 can coexist nicely in settings where God's spirit is encouraged.  It seems to me we never want to do anything other than celebrate when the power and presence of God is evident.  And we also don't want to let what some might regard as defiantly Stage 2 trappings rob us of this experience of God.  If both stages are at work, it seems in our interest to find what's Stage 4 and receive it and celebrate it.

A final note from Marlster, commenting at notreligious.org:

Interesting to link Lakeland to Scott-Peck-stages. Seems like the criteria for stage 2 is outside (getting someone to follow beliefs) and stage 4 on inside (living values from the inside).  ...So where does Lakeland fall? Hard to say but I get the same comments from folks who watch it every night: we want more of that intensity in our life (good) but we need all of you other church folks to comply (social reinforcement needed) otherwise we get frustrated and keep going to conferences to get our fix. 

That Popular Gloomy Quote

A few posts back, I asked for your response to this "provocative but gloomy quote" from the Barna Group. 

"The vast majority of (secularists) don't need to hear the Good News. They have been exposed to Christianity in an astonishing number of ways, and that's exactly why they're rejecting it. They react negatively to our 'swagger', how we go about things, and the sense of self-importance we project." They quote one outsider as saying: "Most people I meet assume that Christian means very conservative, entrenched in their thinking, antigay, antichoice, angry, violent, illogical, empire builders; they want to convert everyone, and they generally cannot live peacefully with anyone who doesn't believe what they believe."

Lots of you had lots to say.  A few highlights:

From Kathleen:

I think I'm saddened/irritated anew by that quote, having been rubbed the wrong way by people judging me based on finding out I am a person of faith before they know me at all. I have a long standing good friendship with a gal who claims to be an atheist and going back 10 years, admitted that she was trying to refuse my friendship based on the simple fact that she heard I was a Christian.

From Matt:

This quote is a bummer. I remember a sermon once that said "Jesus--good. Religion--bad." I wonder if this is one of those classic cases where religion trumps Jesus in the eyes of secular culture.

Then again on the flip side, I was a Christian-hating superior atheist myself before coming to faith, and I discovered much to my surprise that my (mis)-perceptions were largely rooted in my own resistance to God and running from his truth.

From  Bill:

One simple way to combat this (accurately stated) perception of us is to make sure that we are living better than we are speaking.

From Krissy:

This quote DOES make me sad, even as I totally relate to it... that is the exact assessment of Christians I used to have. I'm so grateful that I have had the chance to meet Christians who don't fit that description at all. However,now that I live in the Bible belt, I DO meet a lot of Christians who are very conservative, anti-gay, anti-Democrat, pro-gun, pro-war, etc. Some (but not all) of them ARE very afraid and angry about the so-called "agendas" of "the gays" and "the liberals." And yet, when I scratch the surface, these people are not quite the monsters I expected them to be.

From Paul:

I talked with an elderly lady this week who said that she's recently met two people that she recognizes as 'intelligent' which she believes actually follow Jesus and it gives her hope for relationship with a living God. She has had a hard life and has pursued spirituality through many different traditions, including denominational Christianity, Yogi, Buddhism, and perhaps others. I got the sense from talking with her the Christians she met early in her life were similar to those mentioned in the survey.

From Evan:

The tension I feel is, how do I throw religion under the bus and still love the whole church? I really love the church, even the people in the congregations I could never attend; but religious form makes me sort of sick and angry.

From Jason:

The current cultural climate tempts us to engage in polemics and failing that resort to caricaturing the other side. The Barna Group are doing exactly this. The pharisee which lives in all of us would have us do the same.

And, finally, a book plug from Richard (I checked out this book and, based on Richard's sterling recommendation, ordered it, even though IT'S ALMOST 900 PAGES LONG AND WRITTEN BY A PHILOSOPHER--I'm clearly working out some sort of issue here, so I'll give you Richard's plug):

Have you read Charles Taylor's A Secular Age yet? It shows the depth of the challenge in much greater depth than unChristian.

I give you snippets from so many people only to illustrate that this feeling of being robustly judged by outsiders does provoke responses in us--great and thoughtful ones, as above, but responses. My take, for what it's worth, is to take the perception seriously.  For all the judgment we could take in from such a quote (and given that we all roundly judge each other, maybe it's not a surprise that such judgment exists), I find myself leaning more towards feeling like the quote is a helpful reminder not to, in fact, be the negative things listed there.

Thanks so much for your great comments.  Keep 'em coming!

Lakeland!

I'm assuming readers of this blog are folks who'd be hip to what's happening in Lakeland, FL.

But, lest you feel like the one un-hip reader, there's a healing revival happening there that, thanks to the power of the internet, has gone bigger than perhaps comparable healing revivals in recent years in Pensacola and Toronto.  Many thousand people a night, from all over the world, are congregating in a big tent and being preached to and prayed for by, among others, Todd Bentley. 

Todd is one fascinating guy.  He's young (32 now, if my math holds), converted at 18 from a colorful and by his own admission criminal past, and he quickly became an in-demand revival preacher.  We had him at our church several years back and, while I very much appreciated the faith and perhaps healing power at the gathering, he alienated quite a few people with what I've learned are his characteristic mannerisms--loud shouts as he prays for sick people (a characteristic shout: "BAM!") and expressive laying on of hands (he's not against pushing people over).

A good friend who visited Lakeland, who's had horrible health problems, smiled as he saw me and asked if I noticed anything different about him.  I did--his hearing aids were gone.  At Lakeland, the speaker had encouraged people just to receive whatever healing they were looking for right at their seats.  My friend put his fingers in his ears and asked God to heal them.  He hasn't worn his hearing aids since.  His hearing still isn't perfect...but he tells me it's as good without the hearing aids as it previously was with them.  My friend with Stage 4 colon cancer is there as I write this.  I'll keep you posted on what happens with him.

Lots has been controversial about Lakeland.  Nightline did a less-than-flattering look at it.  Todd Bentley does alienate some folks.  It's loud and Pentecostal.  One pastor compellingly talked with me about the ill effect Lakeland has had on many churches he knows. Their parishioners either go to Lakeland or watch its services on this internet TV station, GodTV.  And then they go to their pastors and say, "That's the real church right there.  Why aren't we like that?" And when the church won't or can't become like that (as of course it can't--churches have a much broader mandate than we see at Lakeland), the parishioners leave in a huff or foment revolt against the pastor.  My friend says the pastors he talks to hate Lakeland.

So...some texture.  That said, it's done no harm I can figure out at least on our end.  And my friend has jettisoned his hearing aids, and that makes me pretty happy.  And my friend with cancer is inspired to go there, and that makes me happy at the very least for the promise of healing of something so serious.

Last week I got acquainted with Mike Morrell and his blog on zoecarnate.com, which I've enjoyed, not least for this thoughtful blog on Lakeland, complete with a trove of links for more information.   One of Mike's commenters then pointed to Seth Barnes' very impressive set of links about Lakeland. Or you can take a gander at what Wikipedia says about Lakeland or Todd Bentley. 

What's your take on Lakeland?

Are You in Touch with Many De-Converts?

Here's a response from Jeff from Missouri to the post a few days back about Joan Ball's blog and her conversation with the gang at de-conversion.com.

I checked out Joan's blog and WHOA! what a conversation! I have some friends in Houston that I visited (the first time in 10 years) with a couple of weeks ago. We originally met in a ministry and they were our "leaders" at the time. They have really begun to question their faith and what they believe is right. I found them slipping in comments that originated from the book "The Secret". I know they still "believe", but, they are struggling with even the idea of Jesus being the Son of God. This whole conversation has raised real questions that need real answers.

I do get in a fair amount of conversations with folks who have left faith behind--although the folks who talk with me are often open to trying to find a way back.  I often find myself in conversations about familiar topics on this blog of religion (bad) versus God (good) or other such things, and that often does help move the conversation forward.  How about you?  Does this sound familiar?  And, if so, how have your conversations gone?

How Important to You is It that a Church be Multiracial?

Yesterday CNN ran an article about how few churches are multiracial—about 5% of American churches reach their very modest threshold.

Most people I know would say this would be a very important part of any church they'd attend. And yet, nonetheless, almost everyone who does in fact attend a church attends one that is monoethnic (defined in this research as having more than 80% from one race).

The article talked about the many problems faced by congregations—and pastors—who attempt multiethnicity. One notable researcher in this field had been a pastor of a multiracial church, but left it because the job became so unpleasant. The writers talk about parents often leaving such churches when their kids joined the youth group (meaning that now interracial dating was possible). And we get perspectives like these from two different racial groups:

DeYoung says he encountered many blacks who said they wanted a racial timeout on Sunday.

"They would say, 'I need a place of refuge,'" he says. "They said, 'I need to come to a place on Sunday morning where I don't experience racism.' "

Whites also complained of their own version of racial fatigue, other scholars say.

Theodore Brelsford, co-author of "We Are the Church Together,'' another book that looks at interracial churches, says whites often say that church should transcend race.

"They'd say, 'Can't we just get along without talking about race all the time? Can't we just be Christians?'"

So what do you think? Would you put up with whatever it took to be a part of a congregation that was multiethnic? Or would you be more interested in a "racial timeout on Sunday?"

De-Conversion is a Growth Industry

Here's an email I got from a new friend through this blog, Joan Ball.

Hi Dave: I didn't want to plug my blog in public on yours, but there is a very interesting dialog happening there as a result of a piece I posted yesterday called "Atheism Sells." I've gotten more than 200 visits in less than 24 hours in response to the piece, mostly from people who claim to be former Christians who have or are in the process of "de-converting." This dovetails with your post about UnChristian. Here's a link if you want to check it out.

Flirting With Faith

Don't worry about plugging your blog, Joan.  I'LL plug your blog for you.

You should follow the link to her blog, read some of her comments, and then pop over to de-conversion.com and poke around.  I have a theory, which we'll be exploring in some depth at this Center City Summit that's coming up, that what we've called Stage 3 is sweeping away Stage 2 in America.  (Sorry for the insider language.  It gets lots of attention in Not the Religious Type.)  If that's true, we should be seeing an avalanche of de-converts.  And so we are.  Joan and de-conversion.com give us an interesting window into the world of, as they say at the website, de-cons.

Check it out and give us your observations!

Greg Boyd and Eckhart Tolle

I'm fixated on Eckhart Tolle.  I can't drop the subject, by all evidence.

Perhaps it's because, again, he's been the most-promoted spiritual teacher in recent months.  And, reading him, perhaps it's because I--like many others--feel so torn between his obviously helpful and insightful comments on the ego and what to me feels like a totalizing worldview he presents (despite his ineffectual protestations that he's not promoting any religion) and his tic of quoting Jesus out of context, arguing that Jesus was a Buddhist, never meant to be worshiped as God, and that the gnostics were right--all without any corroborating evidence, just presenting this ex cathedra.

A friend passed on a review of A New Earth by the former theology professor, now Baptist megachurch pastor Greg Boyd.  Boyd must get sick of always being the smartest person in the room, but he's never anything if not smart and thoughtful, and this review fits that mold. 

He makes lots of interesting points--all while very much giving Tolle his due--but the one that seems most provocative to me is his fundamental disagreement with Tolle on the nature of the universe and the human quest.  Is the goal (as Eastern religions and Tolle claim) to realize our fundamental oneness with the universe and to let go of things that separate us from that oneness?  Or is it to love God and others?  Tolle rejects the idea that "God is love," because love implies separation--to love someone, to have relationships at all, means we have to realize that they are not us, they're separate from us.  Boyd agrees with Tolle on the necessity of living in the present moment and, as the Buddha argued, of "becoming awake", but he differs on the means to get there.

His pitch for a spiritual master to get us to those goals: Brother Lawrence and The Practice of the Presence of God.  Same goal.  Very different means.