by Reed Bernick

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I am excited about all God has done and is doing through the Ascent Network. Not only am I encouraged by its bravery and astonished at its productivity thus far, but I believe the evangelical charism it stewards is vital for the future health of the gospel’s witness in North America.

At this point, the upheavals around us are well documented. All of us know the story. We have witnessed the dangerous rise of populist ideology and the death of established institutions. We have read about the impending collapse of denominational life in the church and struggled against the partisan manipulation of the evangelical movement. We have cared for our people as our collective capacity to get along—or even speak the same language—grows weaker and weaker. And there seems to be very little relief to be found. Everywhere we look, we are confronted with this bleak, sometimes exaggerated prognosis.

So like many others I assume, imagining my future in such a world—either as a Christian or as a vocational minister—now requires a bit more creativity than it once did. The old wineskins no longer seem to hold. The more I consider the situation, the more convinced I become that the opportunities facing us demand fundamentally new methods and organizing principles.

That is exactly why, in my own ministry, Ascent is becoming so essential. It feels boldly and joyfully responsive. Its ambitions feel grand: nothing less than the restructuring of the orthodox-evangelical world. And its efforts to regroup along confessional standards and across denominational lines seem uniquely capable of doing just that. The resulting cross section of the church feels better positioned than other coalitions to recognize Jesus’ lordship over all the unrest and change I mentioned earlier. Personally, the friendships I have formed already with Ascent ministers from other ecclesial traditions have been proof of that effectiveness for me.

I know that for many, “ecumenism” can only mean compromise, but in my limited experience, engaging with other members of the Christian household actually only requires us to become more articulate about our distinctives. In reality, perhaps we avoid ecumenical spaces not because we fear doctrinal concessions, but because as Christians generally and Baptists in particular, we find that kind of reflection deeply uncomfortable.

Going back to the wineskins: I am struck by Luke’s account of Jesus’ words. He is poked by the Pharisees who see John’s disciples fasting while his own go on “eating and drinking.” In response, he points out a kind of basic incompatibility between old and new. Then in Luke’s version alone—absent in Matthew and Mark—Jesus adds: “And no one drinking old wine wants the new, for they say, ‘The old is better’” (Luke 5:39). These are strange words—probably ironic, and perhaps a warning. In any case, as I prepare to situate myself for ministry over the next few decades, I hope I can preserve the “new wine” I see Jesus providing for the church in my lifetime. I pray I will not be wed to the old things that are giving way nor succumb to the fear and hopelessness I see around me. And to do that, I plan to surround myself with a community like Ascent who feels the same way.

Reed Bernick is pastor for adult discipleship at First Baptist Church of Alexandria, VA.

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