The Oblique Approach to Church Mission
The Lifeboat & the City on a Hill
The obvious is often only obvious because we have been culturally conditioned to think so
During the 2012 London Olympics, the GB Cycling team did better than expected in both the medal tables and in achieving world records.
The head coach, Dave Brailsford, was asked by a French newspaper to explain the secret of their success. Attempting to make a joke, he suggested that his team's wheels were rounder than those on the other team's cycles. The humour didn't translate and the next day the French press contained headlines expressing their dismay at such an imbalance.
The BBC followed up the story by asking Brailsford to offer the real reason for their success. He explained it by stating that they had originally identified the areas that the team complained about most of the time. These included the fact that they had to train, that cycling at such a level was painful, and that other people were trying to stop them winning. These he suggested were things that would always exist; they would still be complaining about them in the following years.
Once they had acknowledged these areas, they put them to one side so that they could look at issues that were often overlooked. He called these marginal gains. These were things that did not seem so obvious and would probably not make a great deal of difference on their own. The aggregate of all of these small areas could together turn them into a gold medal winning team. He put it like this:
'The whole principle came from the idea that if you broke down everything you could think of that goes into riding a bike, then improved it by 1%, you will get a significant increase when you put them all together'
He indicated that there were many marginal gains identified but it might help to mention two here:
First, they instructed the athletes to take their own pillow with them to every hotel they stayed in, as they travelled the world. I am sure you can imagine the cynicism that would be present as they announced this new policy to the team. It seems somewhat counter-intuitive. What they found was that as the cyclists travelled the world they consistently slept well and had fewer back problems; probably because their own pillows encouraged them to sleep in the same posture as they did at home.
Second, they brought in an expert to teach all team members how to wash their hands correctly. Again, this on its own is not enough to win a medal, but it adds to the cumulative effect of the marginal gains by limiting the risk of the transfer of infection.
Both of these meant that on average team members were more consistent in attending training sessions.
Obliquity
As mentioned earlier, Professor John Kay of Warwick University has written a book on similar principles to the idea of marginal gains. He shows how the principle of obliquity can be more effective in reaching our objectives than a more obvious or direct route.
Citing the example of the Panama Canal he shows how the obvious objective of heading in a westerly direction from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific is longer than travelling south east along the Panama Canal.
He continues in his thesis to explain that the most successful companies, in terms of profits, are not those that make profit their main goal. He also suggests that the happiest people are not those who seek to be happy as their main objective.
In summary, the oblique route usually produces the best results.
Single Stories
Perhaps I am growing cynical in my middle age but somehow I cannot watch the television news without wondering to myself whether we are being presented with the whole story. The journalists seem to take a subject then present the most ludicrous extremes of the argument as if there are no other alternatives.
The general treatment of religion on TV is mixed at best. There are programmes that offer what seems to be depth but I often can’t help feeling that the drive to make the show work is greater than the need for accuracy.
It is probably most graphically seen when considering the Christmas story; the church has often called for the ‘Christ’ to be returned to ‘Christmas’. I am not sure, however, in this instance whether the media is entirely to blame.
It occurs to me that the same thought often came to mind when I used to watch our daughters performing as angels in the school version of the tale; this is not the whole story.
If you were to remove from the tableau the various bits of tradition that have been added over the years, plus the copious amounts of tinsel, silver paper, runny noses, and tea towels, what would we be left with? Perhaps it would be a tale of enemy occupation, corrupt government, ethnic cleansing, and asylum seekers. All too familiar stories that seem to be repeated on our news screens.
I understand that primary school teachers would be hounded out of their classrooms if they were to invest time in such subjects at what has become the season to party and enjoy the customary excesses.
I feel sure, however, that we miss some of the subtlety of the scene. The promise that we are not left alone in our helplessness. The hope that one a day a child would be born who would bring about a different way of seeing the world. The reality that those in power don’t like such grass roots ideas. Even perhaps the possibility that there is some purpose in this corner of the universe!
One thing is for certain in the tale that we have come to know as the nativity; it is not the whole story. The main characters all seem to be the wrong type of people for such a seemingly important event. They had ancestors who were murderers and prostitutes. They were from the wrong part of the country; without any connections that would make them seem powerful. Perhaps there is hope for us all.
One wonders how such a story would be covered by today’s television media. Would they interview the wise men about possible delays in travelling across borders during the holiday season? Or perhaps run a documentary series on the corruption in corridors of local government.
They would probably try to find a quirky angle from which to view the whole thing. Perhaps it would be the various uses of camel dung or the problems of finding hotel accommodation at the time of a census. One thing is for sure; it would not be the whole story.
Thank goodness we have discovered the true meaning of Christmas today; Nigella Lawson’s recipe for goose-fat roasted potatoes, the infamous cola advert, the office party, and the vast amounts of money spent on presents.
And, of course, enough alcohol to cover up any thoughts of ethnic cleansing or a supposed visit from a deity in the form of a baby. Perhaps the newscasters have understood us well; after all we don’t really like the whole story. But we do like a single story. A story that is little more than a caricature of reality.
The Nigerian author Chimamanda Adichie (34) speaks about the danger of the single story in her TED talk. Highlighting the way we limit people’s lives to the headlines, she explains why we need to take time to hear the true stories about history. For example, one could tell the story of America by beginning with the declaration of independence without any mention of the Pilgrim fathers, the early pioneers, or even the native people groups of that ancient land.
Having lived through the relatively tumultuous storm of 'Hellgate' (35) during which the Mars Hill Bible Church pastor Rob Bell asked some very awkward questions, I am mindful of the importance of starting our stories from the right place. It seemed that Rob had used his influence to open up the idea that more people might end up finding salvation than evangelicals had previously believed.
The more vocal wing of the evangelical church in the USA and the UK responded with the sort of outrage usually reserved for ‘lefty liberals’ rather than one of their own.
In what seemed to resemble a Monty Python scene, the Calvinistic big guns exclaimed ‘He’s not an evangelical; he’s a very naughty boy!’
The speed and manner with which they disowned him suggested that they were already waiting for a moment to issue divorce papers.
What saddened me most about the whole issue is that it became almost impossible to have a sensible conversation about the nature of eternal security without the feeling that you too were being both labelled and dismissed in the process. In a world that loves labels it is quite difficult to continue a dialogue without looking for suitable terms to describe the position you occupy.
Whether you use Evangelical, Calvinist, Arminian, Liberal, Emergent, or any other it must be seen that belief exists as more of a spectrum than distinct grouping.
People like Brian Mclaren, Doug Pagitt, and Rob Bell have attempted to provide a vocabulary for those who are exploring what is perceived as a more progressive theology. Other voices have worked hard to limit the effect of what appeared to be a growing movement away from the centre of a traditional evangelical position. Of course, even this is more of a spectrum than a definitive ecclesiological standpoint.
There have been others, in particular Jim Belcher (36) in his book Deep Church, who have tried to navigate a middle ground in the hope of presenting a third way.
I enjoyed Jim’s book but again felt that another title didn’t fully reflect the spectrum of belief described. I am of course in danger of a similar fate myself by using the terms Evangelical Morphodoxy and Rooted-Openness.
I understand that we do need titles and descriptions in order to locate various beliefs in a framework that allows us to address the issues concerned in a meaningful and productive way. What should be a shorthand method aimed at helping our discussion, however, becomes a label by which we expel others.
A further problem encountered when trying to navigate these waters is that the UK scene is significantly different to the US. In this regard some of the language and reference points offered need to interpreted for a different context.
Having studied this subject for some time (even before I heard the phrase emergent) I want to offer some thoughts on my own way of navigation. As I described earlier, I have chosen the two motifs of Rootedness and Openness to best describe our approach. I have long felt that the best way of finding location on the theological and ecclesiological landscape is to occupy a place of tension between two ideas. In doing so, one is free from the fear of both stagnation and excess.
Jim Belcher offers something of this but probably falls victim to an urge to affirm a prescribed tradition. I don’t mean this in a negative way but just as an observation. In saying this I recognise the potential of my own pretension and the possibility of merely relabelling what has already been written.
Nonetheless, my suggestion of rooted-openness is an attempt to offer both an acknowledgement of the need for defined reference points and the understanding that there will always be a spectrum of belief.
Perhaps the main difficulty evangelicals have when reading Rob Bell is that he refuses to go via the direct route. His obliqueness makes certain sections of the church feel uncomfortable.
I have seen the fallout and pain caused by the directness of the evangelical movement and concluded that it is not the best way of discovering or communicating truth. For me, and others in the emergent part of evangelicalism, Bell, Mclaren, Pagett and others have been a breath of fresh air in the stale confines of the modernity of our churches.
Looking for a middle way is often just another way of sitting on the fence
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