On the Emergent Village blog a few days ago came the question, "Is the term ‘emerging church' helpful to you or a hindrance?" The ensuing discussion (here) kicked around the distinctions between emerging and emergent, bandied about definitions, and aired yet again the fixations of this subculture. It offers a snapshot of how emergents think about their identity, their faith, and their words.

The man who originally posted the question on his own blog, Andrew Jones, also posted his answer. "i [sic] was doing this stuff 20 years ago and i was doing this stuff 10 years ago (when the ‘emerging' label came into play) and i hope i will still be following Jesus in this way over the next decade and beyond." Whatever this stuff is, it apparently involves key-stroke reduction or readings in e. e. cummings. Jones' non-capitalization thing is an early hint of this group's mania for signal-sending.

Just take the comments posted on the Emergent Village site.

The issue of brand identity was bound to come up. Shawn Coons writes, "Emergent feels more like a brand to me while emerging feels less pinned down." Another participant writes, "emergent is a brand name. i'm a fan of what's going on here - but there is no such thing as an emergent church ... unless emergent were to start/license its own gathering ... or we're talking in the past tense ;-)." This group resists being categorized, even by a label that is self-inflicted.

Coons' distinction between emergent feeling like a brand and emerging feeling "less pinned down" is only the beginning of the nuances participants find in this discussion. Coons continues, "Emergent feels prescriptive while emerging feels descriptive." Mike Young notes that emerging is a verb, while emergent is a noun. He says the verbs help him; the nouns don't. (This is more sophisticated than it sounds, I guess. Young is turning verbs into a symbol of missional thinking and nouns into a symbol of institutional thinking. Not that he's against nouns, you understand.)

The nuances leave me wondering what exactly these people are talking about - words, or their own feelings. Integrity in usage doesn't seem to be a priority.

Megan says, "I like the word ‘emerging' - it expresses how I feel about my faith in some ways, as it is always moving, and coming into view." Jemila adds, "I hope we are always emerging. Emerging connotes a process rather than a belief system, and isn't that what a transforming relationship with God is all about?" David Adams writes, "I have no real problems with any word you want to choose, but I don't think that words can really describe what goes on in our hearts."

Would he have any "real problems" if I chose the word cliché?

There was one flash of irony amongst the comments. Jonathan Scruggs referred to emergent and the leaf that serves as the Village's logo: "whatever we change [the name] to, we're going to have to figure out how to make the first letter a leaf ...  or else we're totally screwed."

I think Scruggs is onto the real game. In this discussion, words do not signify actual things. Words serve as symbols on which someone can project himself. Words are logos. Words are brands. Their significance depends on whether they flatter a person's narcissism.

A discussion like this one is a symptom of people not knowing who they are, of having to invent themselves every day. That is both a doctrinal and a human problem.

Mike Clawson opened a window for the participants and let in some fresh air. "I'm sorry, but this whole question is just way too predictable and really seems rather beside the point. Who cares what we call [the emerging church]? It is what it is. Let's not be so commitment-phobic that we have to keep changing the words we use to describe it every few years. It just gets confusing and frankly makes us seem as wishy-washy as our critics want to claim we are."