Douglas Sweeney speaks for the authors of Confessing History when he writes, “During the mid-twentieth century, Christian scholars had to work hard to earn the respect of secular colleagues. We devoted a great deal of energy to impressing them with our work. We sought to acquire places of honor at the academic banquet. But now that we have done this, a different agenda may be in order” (308). Contributors to this volume articulate such an agenda for the field of history.

Their predecessors answered the question “What does it mean to be a Christian historian?” by focusing on historical research. Scholars in this cohort—notably George Marsden, Ronald Wells, and Mark Noll—often hailed from Reformed backgrounds and brought a Reformed intellectual agenda to bear on their work: they wrestled with the role of a Christian worldview in informing scholarship. The “Marsden settlement,” referred to throughout the volume, concluded that Christian historians’ “background faith commitments” should shape their understanding of the past, but that humility demands they eschew claims to pinpoint God's specific interventions or purposes in history. Rather, historians should limit their explanations to “observable cultural forces” (3–4). This consensus had the effect of making Christian historical scholarship acceptable within the academy; it thus advanced the church's mission to the world by bringing Christian perspectives and concerns into dialogue with those of secular historians.

The new, emerging consensus represented by the contributors to Confessing History sees the mission of the Christian historian as more expansive. Many authors build on the “Marsden settlement” and a few critique it, but all articulate fresh ways that a historian's faith can inform her work. In large part they do this by replacing the organizing principle of “worldview” with that of “vocation,” an emphasis of the Lilly Foundation, whose funds partially underwrote this volume. Conceiving of the historian's work as a vocation, or “calling,” leads the authors to ask not only how a historian's faith should interact with his scholarship, but also how it ought to inform a much wider range of concerns (xi–xiii). Among these are teaching, relationships with colleagues, and work outside the academy such as service to the local church and involvement in public history.

Approximately half the essays in the volume explore these expanded locations for the intersection of faith and the practice of history. Essays by Lendol Calder, Robert Tracy McKenzie, Jay Green, and Douglas Sweeney spin out the implications that the Christian imperative to love holds for the historian. They conclude that it takes intentional, thoughtful effort to translate historical knowledge into effective service to students, colleagues, the local church, and the general public, and that each of these groups ought to have a claim on the historian's heart. Calder, John Fea, Tal Howard, and Christopher Shannon consider in particular detail the teaching aspect of the historian's vocation. Shannon, the most radical voice, declares that “the proper site for the return of God to history is the classroom, not the publishing house” (180). He, Fea, and Howard argue that Christian history professors must not stop at recounting the events of the past for students, or even at helping students understand sympathetically a culture foreign to theirs. They must also actively encourage careful ethical reflection on the situations presented throughout the historical narrative.

The remainder of the volume consists of diverse reflections on the role of faith in the traditional locus of the discussion, historical scholarship. Mark Schwehn and Beth Barton Schweiger explore the possibilities of historical scholarship as spiritual discipline: learning to respect, listen to, and learn from the dead rather than merely co-opting them for one's own purposes. William Katerberg and Michael Kugler argue for recovering an explicitly ethical dimension of history writing. Katerberg elaborates that historians should follow the lead of their colleagues in the sciences by engaging in “applied research” in service to their communities. In tension with this approach is James LaGrand, who cautions that research in the service of a predetermined moral point may distort the narrative and even deprive us of the subtler morals that lie therein. Una Cadegan details how her identity as a Christian situated within the Catholic tradition has contributed to a unique and fruitful intellectual agenda. In a complementary perspective, Bradley Gundlach reminds Christian historians that they not only have something to offer the larger academy, but something to receive; the moral insights of secular historians are a providential gift from God. Wilfred McClay concludes the volume with a nuanced exploration of how Christian historians can help clarify the concept of “progress” in history.

My main critique of this otherwise excellent range of essays can perhaps point toward the next direction in which the practice of Christian history might profitably develop. Of the sixteen contributors to this volume, all are white, and all but two are male. I fear this balance is closer to a fair representation of the range of confessing historians than one might think, at least among those who are mid-career or beyond. My informal observations at a recent meeting of the Conference on Faith and History—the location of many of the discussions that gave rise to this book—seem to indicate that it might be. Much of the fresh perspective of this volume derives from the range of Christian traditions represented within it—no longer so heavily Reformed, but now also Lutheran, Catholic, Anabaptist, Episcopalian, and broadly evangelical. Most of the contributors hail from institutions affiliated with these various streams of Christianity, institutions that foster sustained reflection on the integration of faith and scholarly practice. When each of these traditions encourages the development of women and minority scholars, and when Christian colleges and universities create environments more conducive to their participation, then an even fuller picture of a truly Christian practice of history will emerge—one that more nearly reflects the whole Body of Christ. The diverse, thoughtful perspectives already present within Confessing History certainly move historical practice closer to this goal.