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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

New voice


Vanguard Christian writer Donald Miller says his appeal has to do with a quiet rebellion brewing in megachurch land. 
 (Associated Press / The Spokesman-Review)
Associated Press

PORTLAND – With his tousled, alarm-clock-just-rang hair, big baby face and penchant for goofy self-deprecation, Donald Miller makes an unlikely superstar.

And given that his books are full of beer-fueled philosophizing, meandering Volkswagen van trips and liberal politics – and populated by his hometown’s many flakes, seekers and weirdos – Miller makes an even stranger evangelical Christian superstar.

But there you have it: Within the parallel pop culture galaxy that revolves around the born-again church, Miller is big and getting bigger, part of a small movement of like-minded Christian writers.

His first-person memoirs – beatnik-esque musings on faith, doubt and hanging out in coffee shops – rack up six-figure sales. His signature hit, 2003’s “Blue Like Jazz,” is the kind of book people buy a dozen copies of and hand out to friends, relatives and strangers with airport-Krishna zeal.

Miller’s sales figures don’t quite put him at the top of the God-lit field. The fast-growing Christian publishing sector remains the domain of pulp Apocalypse thrillers and self-help books written by toothy megachurch pastors.

But with a brand-new book – the hippie-ish travelogue “Through Painted Deserts” – on shelves, another due early next year and a series of appearances with mega-popular Christian rockers Jars of Clay on the docket this fall, this 34-year-old Houston native is on a roll.

Miller says his appeal has a lot to do with a quiet rebellion stirring in megachurch land.

“I think the evangelical church is not a place where you can let yourself be known,” says. Miller, who adds that people are judged if they don’t have their lives together.

“Not all churches, but a lot of them. And I had basically been rejected by that establishment. So I think a lot of people read ‘Blue Like Jazz’ and feel a kind of freedom to escape.”

Miller’s writing is freewheeling to a near-Kerouacian degree, all rambling stories, mind-blowing sunsets and quirky personalities. Portland, one of the least churchgoing cities in the nation, comes across in Miller’s work as a lazy bohemia of espresso bars and cozy pubs.

Much of his work’s abundant humor revolves around how weird it feels to be a Christian in such a secular town. “Blue Like Jazz” recounts Miller’s work with a campus ministry at Reed College, a notoriously liberal and kooky Portland private school. The group’s name: Oh, For Christ’s Sake.

But there’s another, meatier side to Miller. He’s not afraid to criticize the conservative evangelical establishment or parse Biblical teachings for their social-justice implications.

And he is obviously in love with the literary and emotional beauties of the Bible. He can go on for pages about how awe-inspiring Eden must have been.

“I think people are looking for honesty and vulnerability,” Miller says. “Churches are beginning to respond to that, but it’s like watching a fat man dance. It just looks funny.

“But there is a trend – a good trend – toward real spirituality, the real thing.”

Overall, Christianity as presented by Miller looks more like a mysterious, idiosyncratic Eastern religion than a TV-sermon faith.

“It freaks some people out,” says Paul Louis Metzger, a professor at Portland’s Multnomah Bible Seminary. “They think the ship is a very good ship, and we’re on our way to Paradise Island, so who wouldn’t want to get on board?

“What Donald is saying in many cases is, hey, the ship crashed, and now we’re all in a lifeboat.”

Miller’s iconoclastic success and unconventional message landed him his latest gig, a round of tour dates with Jars of Clay, a band some have called the Fab Four of Christian rock.

“Having Don along allows us to create an evening that’s full of art,” says Jars of Clay guitarist Stephen Mason. “This lets us provoke people, take them out of their comfort zones. We’ve become a politically correct society, and that’s snuck into the church, too.”

No matter how many books Miller sells, he doesn’t really expect to fit in.

“I am a Christian, and I will probably always be a Christian, so I have to write out of my story,” he says.

“My future books will offend the Christian community, because they will be about humans acting human. You have to be who you are and pray there are enough people out there who like you to establish a small readership.”