An Interview with Jordan Green
Featured — By Stephen Simpson on September 18, 2009 at 12:10 amIn 2005, I Googled Don Miller’s name after reading Blue Like Jazz. This led me to BWC. Ten minutes later, I knew I’d found a home. Big names like Donald Miller, Lauren Winner, and Derek Webb drew me in, but I stayed because of Jordan Green.
When I suggested this interview to Jordan, he said he was afraid that it would come across as “tickling [his] ego.” I told him his ego deserved a little tickling. Jordan isn’t just the guy who works hardest at BWC 1; he’s the one who provides its flavor. From his answers to my questions, it’s easy to see that BWC gets a lot of its personality from Jordan Green.
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I’m sure you’ve told the story of how the Burnside Writers Collective began a hundred times. Tell me where it’s going.
That changes on a weekly basis, it seems. I think we’re at the point where many of our writers have been doing this for a while, and we have a good throng of frequent contributors who are constantly improving. Before, we were probably just happy to have anyone writing. It’s like we’ve been collecting all this iron, and now it’s time to start sharpening it. After that, we’ll wipe out entire villages with our sharpened iron. Like Norseman.
How has BWC changed since its initial inception? Is the vision different now?
Oh, yeah. It’s changed from its vision last year. Initially, Don Miller started it to encompass a few Christian thinkers who thought similarly. The “Collective” was originally Don, Rick McKinley, Derek Webb, Lauren Winner, Chris Seay and the Robbie Seay Band. Only, I don’t think many of those people knew what it was, either. I remember I was in Nashville traveling with Don early on, and we got to meet Derek Webb, and he says, “So, what’s this Burnside Writers Collective thing? I guess I’m in it, which is cool. But what should I tell people?”
After that, it became more of a magazine that I edited, and it’s progressed from there. It’s still a magazine, but it’s also a tight-knit community of writers.
I read another interview in which you mentioned your military service, which might surprise people (until they discover one of your bellicose pieces on sports or beer). You said military service changed your worldview a bit. How so? How did it affect your writing?
I didn’t write too much before that. I think for many writers and other artists there is a draw toward more masculine pursuits like the military, because writers are typically introspective and artsy, and maybe there’s an insecurity there, or a desire to experience something difficult.
As for my worldview, I think that’s partly due to having a contrarian nature. Growing up in a more liberal atmosphere in the Portland Public School system, it appealed to me to stand out and be outspokenly conservative. Being in the military caused me to embrace my more abstract leanings, and maybe move toward more dovish thought.
It’s not entirely reactionary, but there were aspects of being in the Army and thinking, “Okay, are my fellow soldiers the people I want as diplomatic emissaries?” When you’re conservative, you have to sort of idealize servicemen and the job they do. When you’re in, you see the problems inherent with military life. I’m not saying the military is bad by any means, but I’m not built for it.
It’s also about seeing other cultures, from other Americans to other nationalities. I was in Bosnia right after 9/11, and seeing what nationalism does made me pause and question patriotism as a whole. I love living in the US, but it’s so easy to turn love of country into something very, very dangerous.
Others might have conceived BWC, but you’re in the driver’s seat now. Though I can personally attest to your inclusive, democratic leadership style, an editor’s personality has at least some impact on the tone of a magazine. How might be BWC be different if you weren’t the editor?
It would probably be more focused and organized.
I’m somewhat averse to mission statements, because I feel like any vision I have for Burnside is constantly shifting. As we were thinking about what the new site would look like, we had this huge, long, wordy mission statement.
Then, after talking to people like John Blase and John Pattison, I thought, “really, we just want to post articles that are entertaining.” I feel like that gets lost sometimes with Christians. Everything has to have a purpose, and fit along spiritual lines, or have a message. Sometimes the message is just reading something interesting, so that’s our goal going forward.
A lot of people will categorize Burnside as emergent or liberal. How do you react to such labels? Do you think they fit?
I don’t feel liberal, but we certainly have writers who lean that way, and I wouldn’t call myself a conservative.
As far as “emergent”, I just take that term to mean “young, Christian, and wary of American Baby Boomer Christianity”. There are different definitions, but that’s how I see it.
Mark Driscoll actually goes through in detail the different definitions of “emergent” is in his new book, and it’s as scattered as being referred to as “evangelical”. It doesn’t bother me, but it does bother me when people assume all “emergents” have the same theology.
Who is BWC for? Who’s going to love it and who’s going to hate it?
I’d say BWC is for Christians. Early on, I wanted us to be a magazine that had thoughtful articles non-Christians would want to read. I mean, that’s still true, but there’s a certain delusion that happens when you believe you’re relevant to the non-Christian world. Most of the time, we’re just talking to ourselves and pretending we have some missional impact on a readership that doesn’t exist.
It was probably last year or so, and I was talking to a guy who started a magazine I really respect, and he was giving me advice on the site. He told me if I wanted non-Christians to read the site, I had to remove all overt references to Christianity. He was completely right, but I kept telling him I wasn’t interested in that. Rather than making Christianity more appealing to the non-Christian world, I’d rather have a magazine for Christians who aren’t satisfied with the writing, music, and thought American Christianity currently offers.
I attended a conference in Portland this past spring. I never realized how much Burnside has a sense of place until spending time in Portland. Though Burnside now has writers and readers from around the globe, what remains of Portland?
The primary Portland influence, to my mind, is being Christian in a place where that is not the default. It’s not that faith is any different than anywhere else, but your beliefs are frequently confronted. That’s part of the mentality, of constantly asking ourselves what we believe.
It seems like most Christian media is located in these Christian cultural centers like Colorado Springs, Orlando, Grand Rapids, and Nashville. I like that we’re outsiders in our community. I mean, the I-5 corridor from the Bay Area up into British Columbia is known as the most Godless region in North America.
It spawns a very unique mindset, which is why I think a few of the early “emergent” churches came out of Seattle, Portland and Santa Cruz. There’s a self-awareness about how the church is viewed, and how the outside world looks. You can’t wall yourself off in Christian bubbles here. You can, but it won’t last long.
We do have writers from all over, though, but even our contributors in places like Alabama and Texas tend to be living outside mainstream Christian culture.
How will your move to Phoenix impact BWC’s flavor? Are we going to become The Sun Devil Collective?
I’m not sure if it’s changed at all, but I can see that being possible. Being around constant sun is certainly different.
A while back there was chatter about Burnside Convention. I can imagine that as a welcome alternative to many of the Christian seminars and conferences currently available. What would you want to see from BWC live event? How would it need to be different?
That chatter wasn’t coming from me, but it sounded nice enough. I have no idea what it would be like…a bunch of readings? Donald Miller and Susan Isaacs are touring around in a bus this month doing readings…maybe that’s the closest we’ll ever get.
It would be nice to meet everyone some day. I love the Festival of Faith and Writing at Calvin College in Grand Rapids…maybe we could do something like that, or just all meet up there one year.
Have you taken to any of the Phoenix sports’ organizations, professional or college?
Maybe a bit with the Cardinals, since I’d never been in an NFL city before, but everyone down here was jumping on board, so I felt self-conscious outwardly rooting for them.
I’ve been asked this question a few times now, and it’s always a bit surprising. I mean, if I didn’t like sports, I could see going with whatever was closest, but I can’t imagine ever rooting against U of O or the Trailblazers just because I moved. I’m opposed to nationalism, but I admit a high level of pride when it comes to the State of Oregon.
Why are you unable to taste beer unless it’s acrid enough to make a Billy Goat puke? Birth defect?
Practice.
- Ed. Note: This is patently untrue. Both Penny Carothers and John Pattison work harder than me. With that, I’ll refrain from commenting on an interview with myself any longer. ↩




