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Fall 2021 · Vol. 50 No. 2 · pp. 189–200 

Who Are We? Navigating Mennonite Brethren Identity in the Sea of Culture

John Hau

I am honored to share my perspective on the sociological questions raised in Delbert Wiens’s article, “The Questions We Face” in the inaugural issue of Direction. 1 These questions, summarized as follows, are as relevant and, possibly, as urgent today as ever:

  • Who are we as Mennonite Brethren?

  • Should we preserve our family identity?

  • How do we relate to the world?

I believe Anabaptists’ long history of lived theology will find an audience today.

I would like to offer an indirect response in two parts. First, I will share an analogy that illustrates my perspective in an attempt to reach common ground on terms. Second, from that perspective, I will offer three areas where I believe Anabaptist theology has a unique place to offer corrections, hope, and perspective today.


I’d like to begin with a story from ancient Greece told by the philosopher Plutarch, a contemporary of Jesus. He relates a puzzle known as “The Ship of Theseus.” During a voyage of a ship whose captain was a hero {190} named Theseus, its boards began to rot and needed to be replaced. The rotting and board replacing continued until eventually Theseus’s ship contained none of its original parts. Plutarch asks: Is the ship of Theseus the same boat that left the harbor? To what degree can a boat which holds none of the original pieces lay claim to the boat’s identity?

The Ship of Theseus speaks to the question of changing identity over time. The question is not unique to the Mennonite Brethren. All people groups, especially immigrants, must ask and answer this question. Let me identify several assumptions that will inform this article.

First, I believe it’s safe to assume that two people who call themselves Mennonite Brethren have even less in common today than when Wiens penned his article fifty years ago. This is the natural outcome of assimilating into the host culture over time for any immigrant group.

Let me use my context as an example, with full awareness that I have a limited perspective. I am a new pastor of a small MB church in Vancouver called, Reality Vancouver. Our founding pastor, Kris Martens, is a Mennonite, deeply networked in family and relationships from nearby Abbotsford, which has a large Mennonite community. While Kris gained much from the Mennonite tradition and the BCMB, our church was primarily planted in the flavor of Acts 29, a neo-Reformed movement out of Mars Hill Church in Seattle, Washington. Reality’s theology, vision, communication style, language, and primary relationships were most akin to the culture, theology, and ideology of the “Young, Restless and Reformed” movement. 2 Through support, encouragement, and celebration of those in the BC Conference of Mennonite Brethren Churches (BCMB), we have been shown that this kind of church has a place aboard the MB ship.

I have recently become the pastor of that church but have a different background and history. I am ethnically half German, but I grew up without any Mennonite community and context. I desire to retain the positive features of our church, including aspects of Reformed theology, but I also want to lean into our Anabaptist heritage for reasons I will elucidate at the end of this article. Through the conversations and encouragement I have received from some within the BCMB family, I have been led to believe that the kind of church we are becoming also has a place aboard the MB ship.

To put the contrast in stark terms, our founding pastor shared the family, ethnicity, culture, relationships, history, and color of Delbert Wiens but was influenced by the Gospel Coalition and Acts 29 theologically. I am the pastor of the same church, and share little of the family, ethnic culture, relationships, stories, and color of Delbert Wiens. But I am seeking to lead our church toward a theology and system of values that {191} align more closely with Anabaptist theology and values. We pastor the same church, in the same location, within the MB family, within three years of each other.

Please note, I share this for illustrative purposes only, with no guile or desire to express disapproval. I love my Reformed brothers and sisters and also am grateful for those guiding me on the Anabaptist path. However, I use my ministry context to point out that, from my vantage point as a relative outsider to the MB family, there is little consensus about “who we are,” much less any defining features which must be true of an MB. Are we those who have Mennonite names? Those who have a connection to an MB church? Those who practice and teach Anabaptist theology? Any or all of the above?

It also begs a further question: Who gets to define who we are? Those who know the history and carry the stories? Those who practice the Anabaptist way? Those who have experienced the glory of faspa? Those who are insiders in the MB world? The pastors of the largest MB churches? All of the above? My assumption is that, if you take issue with my definitions in this initial section, you have implicitly already answered this question for yourself. My desire is not to prove you incorrect but to point out that, as one coming in from the outside, it is definitely not clear.

The second underpinning assumption is that in the voyage since Wiens wrote his 1972 Direction article, MBs in Canada have replaced many of the theological boards on the boat with boards cut from the trees of the Western evangelical churches. Stated differently, the boat may be called Mennonite Brethren, but it is now largely built on evangelical (in some cases, more liberal) assumptions, ideologies, stories, and practices. Of course, this process was already occurring in 1972; it was well underway twenty years later when Wiens wrote “Mennonite Brethren: Neither Liberal nor Evangelical.” 3

Data from a recent survey in the MB Herald called “Mapping the MB Identity” only confirms that the process continues. Fifty-seven percent of respondents agreed that to be MB is to be “evangelical,” a term fraught with the same opacity as “Mennonite Brethren.” 4 This survey aligns with J. B. Toews’s prognosis in 1993: “There will be numerical church growth in some regions. . . . These churches will tend to be more mainstream evangelical rather than Anabaptist-Mennonite Brethren.” 5 John A. Toews similarly writes, “Our present identity crisis . . . is perhaps not so much one of exposure to various theological views, as our indiscriminate acceptance of them.” 6

This aligns with my own experience as a campus pastor, church leader, and now pastor. As a generalization, there is little difference between the faith journeys of Mennonite young adults and those of {192} Baptist, Anglican, or Pentecostal young adults. They are more likely to be culturally Mennonite (they’re great at the Mennonite “name game”) but, they are no less peacemakers, less Jesus-centered, less prone to walk away from their faith, less drawn to romance, money, and power.

Therefore, I would like to define a few terms at the outset. I will use the term Mennonite or MB as they would be used in everyday vernacular in my ministry context to describe the loose affiliation of a broad swath of people and institutions who identify with the term “Mennonite” or “MB” for theological, ethnic, cultural, or familial reasons. This is the reality of my lived world. I too, in some scenarios, identify as a Mennonite and MB.

I will reserve the term Anabaptist to refer to the theological tradition that has several facets I find compelling and desire to lean into. For me, Anabaptist forms a triple Venn diagram with Mennonite and MB, where there may be overlap for some (for example, an MB person who also identifies as Anabaptist), but to assume any type of relationship would be unwarranted (for example, to assume a person who identifies as MB is an Anabaptist). 7

I fully recognize that there are likely well-worn definitions for these terms within the readership of Direction, or the larger academic MB community, that may disagree with the distinctions or lack of distinctions in my terminology. However, I have been asked to share from my perspective, possibly because of my perspective, which is less the view of an MB academic and more the boots-on-the-ground view of an MB pastor within the greater Vancouver area.

All of this leads to my thesis: I believe there are important core convictions within Anabaptist thought and theology that are desperately needed as a corrective and voice within the larger Western church today. To be explicit, as per my points above, I think they are also corrective and integral in my context as an MB pastor. My goal in delineating terms is to enable us to come to these convictions with fresh eyes, without assuming that because we identify with the terms MB or Mennonite that these convictions are true of us and our church families. With fresh eyes, we may see anew the gifts offered to us through the Anabaptist tradition.


In A Secular Age, Charles Taylor convincingly argues that we can no longer assume a baseline of Christian story, belief, or practice amongst Western people. Taylor importantly adds that the West is also post-Christian, meaning our secularity is a rejection of Christian faith or, importantly for us, Christendom.

Christendom refers to the assumptions, practices, and attitudes that result from the implicit or explicit belief that the kingdom of Jesus {193} should come about through the means of empire, taking and wielding power, and being “at the center.” Modernity’s rejection of Christianity is at base a rejection of Christendom and its legacy (therefore moderns are also post-Christian).

Some respond to this new post-Christendom reality with mourning, which may be appropriate. Even Stuart Murray, an advocate for the end of Christendom, says in The Naked Anabaptist that post-Christendom offers “real losses as well as gains.” 8 However, North American evangelicals respond not just with mourning but with nostalgia for an imagined golden age and a determination to turn back the clock to reconstruct Christendom. 9 The assumption that Christendom is the successful outcome of Christianity lives on in the unconscious worldview or Wittgensteinian “picture” level for most Western Christians. Thus, the loss of Christendom feels like the bedrock of Christian faith has been destroyed. We simply cannot imagine a Christianity without Christendom.

Although an explicit rejection of Christendom is a key feature of Mennonite history with many arriving in Canada as persecuted emigrants, I suggest we MBs today may be blinded to how we have also benefited from Christendom. Early Mennonites came to Canada escaping persecution and longing for peace, but they also profited from Christendom policies like the Doctrine of Discovery and the notion of terra nullius. Like many other immigrant groups Mennonites have amassed wealth and influence. While the term “Mennonite millionaire” may have been a bizarre idea to Menno Simons, it is not an uncommon reality today: every person in my church family who owns a home in Vancouver is a de facto millionaire. This is also true corporately, with MBs being the owners of many of the largest churches in my area. They have access to donors with deep pockets, and who therefore have significant political and economic power. The CCMBC Legacy fund holds over a quarter billion dollars in assets on behalf of many of us reading this. 10 Baldly stated, Christendom was good to us and now we have much to lose. The boards of the boat have been swapped out, and our hearts, stories, and assumptions have been swapped out along with them.

My generation of Mennonites grew up in Canada and not only began life with opportunities greater than their immigrant parents and also with more distance from the stories of the past. While we may know of historical Mennonite persecution, our own biographies do not extend into a time of persecution. The past represents a time when being a Christian was lauded, a Christendom benefit. For us, persecution is not a thing of the past but a threat looming in the future, where Christians are marginalized, scorned, and mocked. {194}

Into this milieu, Taylor provides a key insight: whether we celebrate or bemoan the fact that we live in a secular age, there is no way back to Christendom. The toothpaste is out of the tube, and it will not go back in.

Taylor also makes a further claim:

[M]ore profoundly, doesn’t every dispensation have its own favoured forms of deviation? If ours tends to multiply somewhat shallow and undemanding spiritual options, we shouldn’t forget the spiritual costs of various kinds of forced conformity: hypocrisy, spiritual stultification, inner revolt against the Gospel, the confusion of faith and power, and even worse. Even if we had a choice, I’m not sure we wouldn’t be wiser to stick with the present dispensation [than return to a previous one]. 11

While we as Christians formed largely by Western evangelicalism may be busy defending the church, longing for yesteryear, and trying to rebuff the “attacks” of a post-Christian culture, a critique of Christendom is built into the very foundation of Anabaptism. The Anabaptist tradition is home to many voices both past and present who have called out the hypocrisies and distortions of Christendom, from Menno Simons to Kierkegaard to Stanley Hauerwas to J. D. Hunter to David Fitch. 12 Through this tradition we can learn to cry out against the historical atrocities of the Christendom church, the humility to repent and ask for forgiveness, and the theology of suffering which will allow us to carry the name of Jesus into a post-Christendom world.

But Anabaptist theology can offer more than a critique of Christendom. It shares a new vision for a church of post-Christendom, faithful from the margins rather than grasping for the center. A vision of a community of disciples who don’t work through coercion, money, or power, but through sacrifice, service, and humility. An invitation to hear afresh the invitation of Jesus to live as sojourners and strangers in the world (1 Pet 2:11).

As an aside, I wonder if a critique of Christendom and a renewed vision for faithfulness in post-Christendom is not a key to Wiens’s question regarding the passing of faith on to the next generation. In Canada, there are many who want to hang onto faith in Jesus but are also weighed down by the embarrassment of the Christendom legacy. Without a different vision of what it means to be the people of God, it makes sense that many would choose to downshift their faith into a small private area of their lives or leave it as part of their rural, family history rather than carry it with them into the future. This is not to say that post-Christendom will be easy or will fit our expectations. Like many of you who lead in this post-Christendom era, I have spent much of my time bemoaning how difficult it is to lead in this moment. I find myself drawn to models of {195} church, discipleship, and evangelism that will allow for quick, sustainable, measurable growth, which fits the stories that have shaped my ideas of being successful.

At the same time, I sense a deeper draw when I listen to Anabaptist voices. I feel a great hope when I train myself to see that there is also a great opportunity to reclaim a vibrant faith free from nationalism, power grabs, and coercion. There are “real losses” now that Christendom is over, but there is also something to be celebrated and a new adventure ahead for those of us open to it.


If the Christian imagination is stuck in a Christendom frame, then it would follow that the Jesus that fits in that frame has been distorted. Listed as “Core Conviction 1” in The Naked Anabaptist, Stuart Murray writes, “Jesus is our example, teacher, friend, redeemer, and Lord. He is the source of our life, the central reference point for our faith and lifestyle, for our understanding of church, and our engagement with society.” 13 How might this radical focus on Jesus offer a corrective to the Christendom framing we have taken on in our voyage at sea?

First, a focusing on Jesus and his kingdom is needed. The Anabaptist tradition has emphasized not only the death and resurrection of Jesus, but the life and teaching of Jesus as well. The popularity of Dallas Willard’s book, The Divine Conspiracy, 14 which shares a critique of Western evangelicalism and is itself an extended homily on the Sermon on the Mount, is one of the many examples of the hunger for a different formation of Jesus and his kingdom vision.

Similarly, there remains a pastiche caricature of God lingering from Christendom and our culture’s reactions to it. An Anabaptist focus on Jesus as the “image of the invisible God” (Col 1:15) can help us recapture the relationality and divinity of who God is and invites us into the mystery of relationship with a God who became human to serve and save. Indeed, this may be a solution to Charles Taylor’s earlier point: we needn’t run backwards into the previous dispensation of Christendom, nor accept the “shallow and undemanding spirituality” offered in our cultural moment. Instead, we can look to Jesus for a new formation of who God is and hear afresh his invitation to deny ourselves, take up our cross and follow him.

A refocus on Jesus also calls us to recalibrate our understanding of where we are in the world and how we live in the world through his teaching of the Kingdom of God. Rather than returning to Old Testament passages which advocate a nationalistic theocracy, we can see in Jesus the borderless invitation to a king and his kingdom that is “not of this world” (John 18:36). Rather than blindly accepting facets of the dominant {196} economic paradigms in Canada of socialism or capitalism, we can learn from Jesus about how we ought to organize and use money in his kingdom. Rather than hunkering down in our individualistic or cultural silos, we allow ourselves to be disturbed by Jesus’s call to give ourselves away and move beyond our preferences.

Second, Anabaptist theology focuses on putting Jesus at the center. Lutheran theologian Andy Root notes that in Christendom a way to distinguish your commitment to God was through denominational or theological affiliation—“I’m not just a Christian, I’m MB.” 15 However, if we are in a post-Christendom context, the game has changed. With fewer practicing Christians, the time has come to reverse the field and place more emphasis on what we have in common, rather than on what distinguishes us from one another. Again, with an emphasis on being Jesus-centered, Anabaptist theology may have a unique ecumenical role in the church as we embrace the missional task in post-Christendom.

Third, I believe Anabaptist theology can offer the gift of a Jesus-centered-set to a post-Christendom world. Anabaptist anthropologist Paul Hiebert borrows the terms “bounded set” and “centered set” from mathematics to illustrate how we distinguish between those who are following Jesus and those who are not. 16 A “bounded-set community” focuses on drawing clear lines between the doctrinal beliefs that distinguish those in the in-group and those in the out-group. The goal is to get people to agree and move from outside the boundary to the inside: to “believe.” On the other hand, a “centered-set community” denotes those who are in or out by the direction they are headed rather than their distance from the center; it focuses on the direction of discipleship to the Lordship of Jesus rather than on achieving group homogeneity in belief or practice.

Although Hiebert was an Anabaptist, MBs have engaged in unhealthy bounded-set thinking in several ways. There is the traditional pulling away from culture, but currently (in my limited experience) MBs tend to do this more through an implicit set of boundaries around family—who you know, how you are connected, your relationship with others in the MB family—than a holding to the Anabaptist tradition.

If we are to thrive in the post-Christendom West, however, I believe we must adopt a Jesus-centered-set perspective first, before a bounded-set perspective, especially in discipleship. If Charles Taylor is correct and everyone in the modern West is “cross-pressured” or “fragilized,” it means that our deepest beliefs will often be contested. As Jamie Smith quips, “We’re all Thomas now.” 17 Our discipleship, then, must go beyond reinforcing bounded sets we have established in order to notice the direction of the questions, pushbacks, and doubts brought to us, especially by the next generation of Jesus followers. This is not to say that our bounded sets are unimportant, since in a sense I have spent a large part {197} of this article advocating for perspectives and activities that characterize Anabaptists, and I do believe in a simple bounded set that corresponds to the continual call to follow Jesus. Rather, to be a Jesus-centered-set is to change our ordering of importance, to notice how God may be working in an individual at a specific moment, to learn how I may have placed the boundaries in the wrong place, and to hear the voice of the Holy Spirit once again inviting me to practice faith over fear.


Finally, I believe that Anabaptists can offer the gift of a lived theology. This point, possibly more than any of the others, is a desire shared by most Christians, at least as a stated goal. The Anabaptist tradition, however, has a unique emphasis and history of lived theology. The final line from “Core Conviction 1” in The Naked Anabaptist concludes, “We are committed to following Jesus as well as worshipping him.” 18

An emphasis on lived theology is needed to restore integrity and credibility to Jesus followers in a post-Christendom context. In their book, UnChristian, David Kinnamen and Gabe Lyons note that hypocrisy is one on of the top ten characteristics associated with Christians by American emerging adults. 19 This hypocrisy has very public anecdotal evidence in discrepancy between espoused beliefs and personal character shown by prominent leaders such as Ted Haggard, Mark Driscoll, and Ravi Zacharias, to name just a few recent examples.

Taylor notes that part of what has given rise to the post-Christian West was the over-reliance on human reason as the sole tool of adjudication. 20 Out of a good desire to make God known in the present, Christians have also fallen prey to over-reliance on reason, putting their hopes in the tools of analytic philosophy, systems of theology, and doctrinal statements as the essential tools of following Jesus in today’s context. While there is merit to these activities, over-reliance on them has not produced the intended outcome. This failure, the assumption that right thinking automatically leads to correct action, has echoes in the failure of Christendom, the assumption that having Christians in the right places (read: power) will lead to kingdom blessing and shalom. As pointed out by James K. A. Smith, a partial blessing of a failed Christendom and Enlightenment is that we are able to see more clearly the modern idols we have succumbed to. 21

A Christendom mentality also bred stories of following Jesus based on larger cultural ideals of success and heroic achievement, where victory was guaranteed by the final act: enemies were vanquished, and churches of thousands popped up overnight. In a post-Christendom era, we will need new stories or we will continually breed faithful followers who feel like failures, wondering why their faithfulness is not netting out in {198} Christendom fruitfulness, and building resentment against those who have achieved Christendom success. In this void, the stories of the lives of faithful Jesus followers in the Anabaptist tradition find a new audience. During Christendom, stories like those of the martyrs are twisted into awkward examples of extremism, failure, or the necessary first chapters to Christendom success. (“Sure they died, but then the whole village came to Christ!”) However, we can find new strength in their witness in post-Christendom times.

During the pandemic I have found great encouragement in the lived theology of martyrs. As a new pastor, I often felt like a failure as I didn’t know how to help my church grow and thrive; our trajectory looked flat or even downward rather than up and to the right. But reading the stories of those who lived out their theology to their demise, like the women and men in the Martyrs Mirror, did three things: it held up a mirror to my own life (my faith and my problems paled in comparison); it helped me imagine new vistas for following Jesus outside of Christendom expectations; and it drew me to the suffering Jesus of Philippians 2 in new ways.

As I’ve shared these stories, I’ve found an audience hungry for them. It is rare that people are unmoved when they hear the story of Dirk Willems rescuing his captors only to receive his sad reward. Many are tired and increasingly wary of Christendom stories that seem to follow a Hollywood plot from the ’90s. The attraction of biographies and writings by authors such as Henri Nouwen or Eugene Peterson speak of a desire to reach beyond the veneer into a posture of humility and faithfulness that makes sense in post-Christendom. I believe Anabaptists’ long history of lived theology will find an audience today and offer the theological resources to birth new stories of lived theology as a witness within our skeptical world.

In conclusion, my answer to the question, “Who are we?” would be, “That depends, but we are not who we were.” Whatever the boards may be that make up our current MB ship, I believe that the three core principles I’ve identified from the Anabaptist tradition—a post-Christendom mentality, a Jesus-centered-set theology, and an insistence on lived theology—can both unite us and serve as gifts to the Western church in this cultural moment.


  1. Delbert Wiens, “The Questions We Face,” Direction 1, no. 1 (January 1972): 2–7.
  2. The label was popularized by Collin Hansen’s book, Young, Restless, Reformed: A Journalist’s Journey with the New Calvinists (Wheaton, IL: Crossway Books, 2008). {199}
  3. Delbert Wiens, “Mennonite Brethren: Neither Liberal nor Evangelical,” Direction 20, no. 1 (Spring 1991): 38–63.
  4. MB Herald Digest, October 2021, 5,
  5. J. B. Toews, A Pilgrimage of Faith: The Mennonite Brethren Church in Russia and North America 1960-1990 (Winnipeg, MB; Hillsboro, KS: Kindred Press, 1993), 214.
  6. J. A. Toews, “In Search of Identity,” MB Herald, 3 March 1972, 3.
  7. While I am a relative newbie to these distinctions, I have noted that others have found themselves equally perplexed, like C. Norman Kraus, “Anabaptist or Mennonite? Interpreting the Bible,” The Conrad Grebel Review 22, no. 3 (Fall 2004): 73-92.
  8. Murray, The Naked Anabaptist: The Bare Essentials of a Radical Faith (Scottdale, PA: Herald Press, 2010), 77.
  9. While there is blame to be laid at the feet of Christendom, Taylor would look also to the work of what he calls “reform,” the desire to lessen the distance between the ideal and the real (to use Platonic categories).
  10. CCMBC, Financial Statements,
  11. Charles Taylor, A Secular Age (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press;), 512-13.
  12. Menno, Kierkegaard, and Hauerwas will be familiar to most readers. David E. Fitch is the author of several books, among them The End of Evangelicalism? Discerning a New Faithfulness for Mission, Theopolitical Visions 9 (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2011). James Davison Hunter is the author of To Change the World: The Irony, Tragedy, and Possibility of Christianity in the Late Modern World (New York: Oxford University Press, 2010) and most recently, with Paul Nedelisky, Science and the Good: The Tragic Quest for the Foundations of Morality (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 2020). It is clear to me that not everyone on this list would call themselves an Anabaptist. However, they all share a critical attitude towards Christendom. Taylor himself would fall into this camp: “In identifying a Christian life with a life lived in conformity with the norms of our civilization, we lose sight of the future, greater transformation which Christian faith holds out.” Taylor, Secular Age, 737.
  13. Murray, Naked Anabaptist, 78.
  14. Dallas Willard, The Divine Conspiracy: Rediscovering Our Hidden Life in God (San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1998).
  15. Building on the work of Charles Taylor, Andy Root has released a trilogy of books through Baker Publishing Group called Ministry in a Secular Age. The volumes are Faith Formation in a Secular Age, The Congregation in a Secular Age, and The Pastor in a Secular Age.
  16. Paul Hiebert, “Conversion, Culture, and Cognitive Categories: How Much Must Papayya ‘Know’ about the Gospel to Be Converted,” Gospel in Context 1, no. 4 (October 1978): 24-28.
  17. James K. A. Smith, How (Not) to Be Secular: Reading Charles Taylor (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2014), 4. {200}
  18. Murray, Naked Anabaptist, 177.
  19. David Kinnamen and Gabe Lyons, Unchristian: What a New Generation Really Thinks About Christianity . . . and Why It Matters (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 2007).
  20. “Modern science, along with the many other facets described—the buffered identity, with its disciplines, modern individualism, with its reliance on instrumental reason and action in secular time—make up the immanent frame.” Taylor, Secular Age, 566.
  21. One of many quotes as an example, “Our Christian faith—and correlatively, our account of apologetics—is tainted by modernism when we fail to appreciate the effects of sin on reason. When this is ignored, we adopt an Enlightenment optimism about the role of a supposedly neutral reason in the recognition of truth. (We also end up committed to ‘Constantinian’ strategies that, under the banner of natural law, seek to build a ‘Christian America.’)” James K. A. Smith, Who’s Afraid of Postmodernism? Taking Derrida, Lyotard, and Foucault to Church (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Academic, 2006), loc. 27, Kindle. See also, Bruce Ellis Benson, Graven Ideologies: Nietzsche, Derrida and Marion on Modern Idolatry (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2002), loc. 44, Kindle.
John Hau holds an MBA from Trinity Western University. He served for many years in the student ministry of Power to Change and is currently the pastor at Reality Church in Vancouver, BC.

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