Sea & Islands Post 26

A High View of Scripture

We have a special place at home that we call the ‘plastic cupboard’. It is so named because this is where we keep all the tubs and containers that we have yet failed to throw away. I am not sure what it is about plastic but it seems to have a life of its own. The knives and forks are obedient as they sit waiting in the cutlery drawer. The plates and dishes follow all the rules and stay where they are put. The plastic items seem to wait for any opportunity to make a dash for freedom as soon as the door is opened.

Every once in a while we attempt to tidy this cupboard and find all manner of things that we had forgotten were in our possession. The same could be said of the drawer containing old phone chargers and other associated electrical items.

I often feel like this with some of the theological and ecclesiological baggage that we have collected over the years. We develop views on things like hell, the second coming, worship, and salvation that we feel sure will be useful to us, but they get pushed to the back of our minds with a variety of questions that it seems we are not allowed to ask.

If we dared to ask whether it might be safe to throw out some of these views we would risk being called a non-evangelical or worse still, a liberal. In fact, it seems that some evangelicals try to deflect from an honest debate by throwing the ‘L’ word at anyone, who raises one of these awkward questions that most of us have but rarely feel safe enough to pose.

It seems that it is all too easy to fall into the liberal camp without even noticing: I am not talking about necessarily doubting issues such as the Trinity or the resurrection here. I am talking about genuine questions about how we interpret and use scripture. It seems that to offer even an alternative interpretation of certain key scriptures is to risk being placed in a group known as the heretics. We have to face the reality that some of the things in our theological store cupboard need to be questioned.

My old friend, Dave Gilpin (54), senior leader of Hope City group of churches, did this in a sermon he gave following Rob Bell's questions about whether more people might actually be saved than we had once thought. (55)

I listened to Dave with interest as he offered alternative views on how those who had never had an opportunity to hear the gospel might stand before God. I couldn't help think at the end that Dave wasn't that far from Rob Bell's ultimate conclusion. Now he either hadn't read 'Love Wins', which I find hard to believe, or he hadn't realised that much of Bell's angst was in reaction to the influence that Calvinism has upon the church in the USA.

Dave is a gifted communicator and I always welcome hearing his views, but he is not alone in his dismay at people like Bell and the questions they raise. He is also not alone in being part of the number of Arminians who find it easy quote Calvinist writers in defending the gospel. The problem here is that speakers like John Piper and Mark Driscoll would not recognise the gospel that Dave and others are defending; at least not in the fullest sense.

Francis Chan (56) released his antidote to the Bell’s controversy and offered a similar response of not really answering Bell's questions whilst appearing to do so. It seems that some were drawn in by the humble and conciliatory style of his promotional video. In my opinion, his tone is a fine example of sophistry.

He employs the sophist's skills of presenting an argument that is hard to disagree with only to deliver a conclusion that is not really connected with his original thrust.

Before you feel I am being harsh let me quote a few Calvinist commentators on what the belief system really means.

"It’s not true to say that God loves everyone. Certainly not in the same way that He loves His children. And this is perhaps the best way to get at the question and why it’s striking to us. Does God always work for the joy and the happiness and the good of His children? Yes. Does He want to see all of His children come to believe in faith in Him? Yes. Will God in the end see that all of His children believe in Him, rejoice in Him, belong with Him forever? Yes. Are all people God’s children? No." Kevin DeYoung (57)

"Although, it was not necessary that God save any people at all, in his love he chose to save some." Wayne Grudem & Elliot Grudem (58)

“You have been told that God is a loving, gracious, merciful, kind, compassionate, wonderful, and good sky fairy who runs a day care in the sky and has a bucket of suckers for everyone because we're all good people. That is a lie... God looks down and says ‘I hate you, you are my enemy, and I will crush you,’ and we say that is deserved, right and just, and then God says ‘Because of Jesus I will love you and forgive you.’ This is a miracle.” Mark Driscoll (59)

Even someone like Rick Warren (60), who skirts around the edge of both camps, uses the usual evangelical selective use of scripture when he tweeted:

'God WONT ask "Were you a Calvinist? Arminian? Pentecostal? Catholic? Orthodox? Evangelical? He’ll ask “What’d you do with Jesus?'

I reckon if we looked hard enough we might find that the actual words of Jesus suggest that God would probably ask "How did you treat the poor, hungry, thirsty, naked, and imprisoned?" (61)

This brings me to the main part of the problem as I see it. Those who want to exclude people like McLaren, Pagitt, and Bell often accuse them of not taking scripture seriously. This is not an accurate description of where they stand and it does a disservice to them and to issues at hand.

I would suggest that it is possible both to honour scripture and take it seriously whilst coming to different opinions about its meaning. If I were to quote the following scriptures to you and suggest that God is more inclusive than some evangelicals seem to feel comfortable with how would you respond?

'For Christ also suffered for sins once for all, the righteous for the unrighteous, in order to bring you to God. He was put to death in the flesh, but made alive in the spirit, in which also he went and made a proclamation to the spirits in prison....' 1 Peter 3:18-19

'All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us.....' 2 Cor 5:18-19

'For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross.' Col 1:19-20

Now if I see in these verses (and many others) a sense in which God is not limited in the salvation he offers, you have the right to challenge my understanding. You will no doubt have to contextualise in order to do so because you can't apply a literal reading; the verses literally say 'once for all', 'reconciling the world', and 'reconcile to himself all things'.

Please note here that as I have written earlier these verses do not convince me that universalism is the only possible answer. In addition, I suspect that Bell, having based much of his writing upon the work of NT Wright, is not convinced either.

They do make me want to suggest that the gospel is perhaps so much bigger than most evangelicals have allowed themselves to believe; certainly much bigger than Calvinists have taught.

The point here is that I may be wrong in my understanding of these verses. In response, you may well want to argue a different viewpoint. What I don't believe is accurate, is to suggest that I am not respecting scripture: this really won't do if we are going to have an honest discussion.

We all need to start by acknowledging the magnolia paint effect upon our thinking and then approach the text and each other in a more open way.

I noticed this on occasions when trying to raise the thorny issue of women in ministry. I offered a few views of the heavy verses that form the small amount of teaching on the matter; in doing so, I mentioned the word ‘contextualisation’. By the response I received you would have thought I had questioned John Calvin’s intelligence.

Here is my initial problem with such a response. It belies the fact that everyone contextualises.

My challenge is to compare the, admittedly selective, choice of quotes from Calvinist speakers and the few verses I have used, to suggest that the gospel might be more inclusive. You don't have agree with me, but I would ask you to recognise that all sides contextualise and that saying that I, and those that think like me, do not believe in the Bible is not an effective way of dealing with the issues raised.

Lesslie Newbigin puts it like this:

‘If the gospel is to challenge the public life of our society, if Christians are to occupy the “high ground” which they vacated in the noon time of “modernity,” it will not be by forming a Christian political party, or by aggressive propaganda campaigns. Once again it has to be said that there can be no going back to the “Constantinian” era. It will only be by movements that begin with the local congregation in which the reality of the new creation is present, known, and experienced, and from which women and men will go into every sector of public life to claim it for Christ, to unmask the illusions which have remained hidden and to expose all areas of public life to the illumination of the gospel. But that will only happen as and when local congregations renounce an introverted concern for their own life, and recognize that they exist for the sake of those who are not members, as sign, instrument, and foretaste of God’s redeeming grace for the whole life of society.’ (62)

Bishop Newbigin was one of my favourite pastoral theologians. He had a pastor’s heart and a theologian’s thought process. In this short section he shows how understanding the gospel is not about protecting the high ground. This is the political stance that I highlighted earlier. I am sure that there are many Christians, including leaders, who have wanted to raise the type of questions that Bell has done, but have feared the fallout from their constituency - the evangelical church.

It is perhaps worth noting that Newbigin said that to understand the gospel correctly, we need to remember that 'Jesus didn’t write a book. He invested in people!' This investment in people is an excellent picture of how God operates in a non-tribal way. Human nature tends towards tribalism with the result that it is far easier to silence dissenting voices by excluding people who do not fit within our own view.

During a management training session a delegate told me an interesting story in response to our discussion about tribalism in the workplace. He had  been to London to watch his Yorkshire rugby team, Huddersfield, play against Lancashire rivals Wigan.

After the match his group of fans went to a nearby pub to celebrate. A short while later a group of Huddersfield fans came in and both sets of fans enjoyed the kind of humorous banter that rugby is know for.

On the same day Liverpool had been playing Chelsea at football, and it wasn't long before a group of Liverpool fans came in for a drink. Immediately the rugby fans of both Wigan and Huddersfield joined forces in barracking the soccer fans about not supporting a 'proper' sport.

The Wigan tribe had joined together with the Huddersfield one to produce a new rugby tribe when they encountered the Liverpool football fans. Then, as if choreographed to prove a point, they were joined by some Chelsea supporters wishing to make merry. At this point the fans of Wigan, Huddersfield, and Liverpool, all being from the north formed a new tribe in their commitment to singing against the southern supporters of Chelsea.

Tribes are not a rigid framework. They can change depending upon the context in which we find ourselves. I think that this is an excellent picture of what happens within Christianity in general and evangelicalism in particular.

Arminians and Calvinists will remain divided upon the things that they believe to be essential. They will, however, join forces in responding to those in the emergent church as if they are united in a common belief.

The point here is that tribalism, however understandable, is not a useful position from which to have meaningful discussions.

The biblical narrative may well describe the journey of some distinct tribes of people, but its trajectory is always heading towards revealing a God who is reconciling all things

Sèa & Islands Post 25

Community or Constituency

Now all human communities contain an element of politics. We may describe this without a capital ‘P’ but it exists, whether we like it or not. All of us, whether in leadership or not, have a constituency and this very fact means we will be drawn to speak and live in ways that affirm our position within what are perceived to be acceptable boundaries.

We may well, from time to time, develop thoughts and ideas that would be seen as being at odds with the demands of our community but we will be drawn to establishing political patterns of behaviour and modes of speaking that seek to confirm our place within the status quo.

Through a Glass Darkly

During my fifty plus years of life, most of which has been as part of a church community, I have grown somewhat tired of hearing emphatic statements in church.

Don’t get me wrong; I haven’t stopped believing. I just feel concerned about the way we present God and the expectations that we place on people’s lives. Once secure in the knowledge of our certainties, we begin to defend our new territory with the kind of fervour that the world find objectionable.

I am mindful that the Apostle Paul, arguably one of the most definite writers in the New Testament, accepted that his views were limited.

After nailing the context for Christian love in 1 Corinthians 13, he seemingly groans and offers his confession that we see these things, indeed all things, through a darkened glass.

This seems in stark contrast with the stand of certainty some Christians often take when discussing many of the subjects that our dear to us. Such a stance leaves little room for dialogue with other church people, let alone other religions or indeed agnostics and atheists.

It is my conviction that these positions of certainty produce a limited view of God, his creation, and his purposes. Here is the main point of my argument. It is the very limitation of our understanding on which the whole thing rests; or at least our acknowledgement of this limitation.

It is quite another to have such limitations and yet know that you see in part. It is one thing to have a limited view, yet believe that you see fully.

The latter can lead to a halting of dialogue, as individuals and churches defend their view as complete and absolute. The former can lead the pilgrim to hold their belief as a signpost pointing to a greater truth.

It is impossible for us, for example, to understand love fully. We engage with it in a context; in a time and space. When we attempt to describe God’s love, we are immediately confronted with the inadequacy of our words.

I read the gospels and find the Lord Jesus grappling with the problem of explaining eternal truths in an earthly context and I wonder why we believe that certainty is the goal.

Jesus seems to present one parable about the kingdom of God suggesting that it is like a tiny mustard seed that grows into the tallest of plants (51). Then, almost as if to deconstruct his own example, he offers his listeners another parable about a woman working yeast into dough (52). Following this, he offers many other parabolic examples pointing to the kingdom.

It’s as if Jesus is presenting his followers with one glimpse of what the kingdom of God is like and before they can build ‘The first Church of the Mustard Seed’ he indicates that this picture is not enough to explain it.

In light of this we must be wary of thinking that doctrinal expression can ever be enough to express how amazing is the love of God.

Indeed, as we hit some of the more perplexing parts of what it is to trust in the providence of a loving God, we are tempted to run in two seemingly opposite directions. At times the insecurity that we face makes us rush towards things that have the marks of certainty. We need solid ground; we crave a place that gives us hope in something more definite than the sum of our fears.

There are other periods when the questions break us out into new pastures; into ideas, thoughts and hopes that seem to rest on things less certain. Here we feel comfort from the freedom found in asking questions that we feel sure cannot be answered.

It seems odd at times to think that both directions, both responses, have Bible verses that support our newfound place of rest. It is at this point that perhaps we look to those on the other side of this divide and judge them by our own selection of verses.

We need to recognise that all of us view such things from a vantage point constructed by our experience and the theology expressed by our tribe. In this respect, we are being political and engaging with our own constituency.

I hope that it is not too much of a caricature to suggest that a Calvinist Evangelical might stand upon the idea of justice to view and interpret a theology of the love of God. Similarly I would prefer to stand upon the idea of the love of God in order to view and interpret justice. It is the acknowledgement that we occupy a particular viewing point, that makes questioning such an attractive and useful exercise.

For what it’s worth, I have found hope in the place of questions for which there are no answers this side of eternity. I find comfort in this from the way that the Bible leaves room for the providence of God to work outside of the construct that I and my tradition have made; the Centurion with greater faith than the religious, and the Samaritan woman becoming the first evangelist to her own tribe.

Certainty provides the comfort of believing that we can know definitive answers to deep and meaningful questions. Mystery says that the answers themselves are, as N.T. Wright (53) states, only 'signposts into a mist'.

As mentioned earlier, I was taught in my theological training that the Bible offered a systematic understanding of the world. I soon came to realise that the Bible is not written this way. When we take disconnected verses, out of their context, in order to make a systematic theology we often fail to hear the eternal echo of the true message.

This lack of system can seem strange to those who are looking for certainty but I believe it brings a freedom that often is not found in religious life. It means we read scripture to find the story or narrative that is being presented. We try to read it in context with a healthy respect for the writing style and the author's intent. In this endeavour I hope to find others on a similar path with whom I can travel.

God promised us an anchor for the soul, not certainty for the mind

Sea & Islands Post 24

Island 4

The Queen Thinks the World Smells of Magnolia Paint

The Literal Words & the Contextualised Truth

We tend to think that those we disagree with are the unbiblical ones

Some years ago I was working on an RAF base in Norfolk close to the town in which we lived. I happened to be there about a week before the visit of the Queen. As part of her tour around the base she was due to inspect one of the married quarters situated close to the main entrance.

My contact invited me to take a look at the house that had been prepared for this VIP visitor. It seemed that the RAF were keen to show Her Majesty how this section of her loyal servants lived.

The room, of course, had been given something of a makeover in order to create a good impression; new carpets, freshly laid lawn (borrowed from a local cricket pitch), and a chandelier in the lounge. In addition the toilet had been soundproofed just in case Her Majesty needed to spend a royal penny.

It goes without saying that whole house had been repainted: mostly with magnolia paint. This kind of unreality is what the Queen experiences everywhere she goes.

Each of the various hospital wards, charity buildings, factories, and other assorted venues will have been freshly painted just prior to her visit. Hence the phrase 'The Queen thinks the whole world smells of paint'. I added the word magnolia after my visit to the RAF base and the fact that magnolia seems to be the standard cover-all colour of choice for builders and decorators up and down the United Kingdom.

It is not directly the Queen's fault of course; the Palace doesn't demand cricket pitch standard lawns and soundproofed toilets. In addition, she cannot truly know what she doesn't know.

There is an emotional truth to this for all of us: people will "paint" the world, negatively or positively, in response to our presence. In this regard each of us 'smells' (or views) the world in our own unique way and we don't completely know how other people perceive things. So it is with issues of race, gender, and sexuality; we can do our best to empathise but we can only know in part.

This is additionally complicated by the fact that some of us occupy positions of privilege. As a white, western, heterosexual, male, I walk around a world that has been freshly painted to my advantage, compared to the world experienced by those who do not fit into these often privileged categories.

I recall speaking to a man in the centre of Bradford as we waited for our wives to complete their clothes shopping. He had come to Britain from Iraq during the war in that region. Apparently he had helped the British and his life had been threatened.

As we spoke he stopped me and said that, other than in the context of work, I was one of only five white people who had spoken to him in twelve years. I can know nothing of what it is to be invisible in the country in which I live. I have the advantage of being white and western; my voice is heard.

Now, in one sense, there is understandably nothing I can do about being white; without wanting to turn this into a musical 'I am what I am'. It does, however, present me with both a challenge and a responsibility.

First, the challenge is for me to acknowledge the privilege that is delivered to me often without my knowledge; to acknowledge the presence of the "magnolia paint" and to recognise that this is not the reality for the many others who are not offered such a privilege.

Second, I have a responsibility to listen to those who do not have my own kind of privilege and to become part of movement for change. When I come to engage with issues of race I must first acknowledge my position of privilege; I live in a society weighted in the favour of white people.

The popular press would like to present a different picture when dealing with issues such as immigration, but I know that my path is eased by the colour of my skin. Similarly, when tackling gender inequality, I can never fully know how it feels for a woman to deal with systemic gender bias: I have never been refused employment because of being in my 'childbearing years'.

Likewise when addressing issues of sexuality I am also privileged in that my heterosexuality is never brought up as a description of who I am.

Challenging the place of privilege, even in ourselves, is turning the system upside down so that inequality is shown for the problem that it is.

Challenging the place of privilege is declaring that in God's kingdom the first shall be last and the last shall be first, even if it costs us to do so; perhaps even if it makes us look so Christ-like that it costs us our lives.

So here I am a white, western, heterosexual, male and I admit that the world smells of fresh magnolia paint in a way that is not true for others and I am committed to becoming part of the answer.

Now when I engage in debate with a fellow Christian over some theological issue or other I need to be aware of my worldview. I am often saddened that some tend to speak as if they are coming to the text of scripture without any cultural influences. The suggestion is that we need to understand what the Bible 'actually says' and that this is possible without first acknowledging the cultural glasses we wear when we read its pages.

Please note that because I have begun a journey of trying to smell the magnolia paint in my own world, I am not saying here that my position is correct. I am saying, however, that we all, without exception, are influenced in such a way; whether we wish to acknowledge it or not.

Nobody, and I feel confident in saying this, takes the Bible literally, even if they insist that they do. We all contextualise in order to find a way of appropriating the story to our own situation.

So when the more conservative end of the church accuse me of being a slave to 'popular' culture I can remind them that this is no different to being a slave to 'unpopular' culture. Just because your influences are rooted in modernity and mine have flavours of post-modernity, does not mean that you are reading the Bible in a plain or literal way. All of us are under an influence. We all bring magnolia paint to the text: the problem is that some will not admit this.

When God became human he allowed himself to be part of a particular disadvantaged group

Sea & Islands Post 23

What if Reconciliation is Bigger than we Think?

Much of this proposes that we challenge the usual markers and descriptors of church; and here I do mean challenge rather than automatically remove them.

Evangelicalism handed to me a view of two distinct tribes that were separated by either an acknowledgement of, or an ascribing of, redemption. Some were 'saved', and by implication 'in' the church (for some groups read 'in our church') and some were not saved and therefore not 'in' the church. There was some small allowance for the journey of discovery towards redemption, but the picture was that of two groups.

In this environment there was a tendency to approach the Bible systematically; verses were assigned their place in the theological compendium that affirmed our doctrine. Whole groups of disparate verses were lumped together to form what appeared to be a definitive belief system that was not easily challenged.

In actuality, the Bible was not written in this way, but the certainty with which doctrine was preached in my own particular church background did not allow for further enquiry without the possibility of being labelled as a heretic.

Take for example, the use of Hebrews 9:20 to say that there is no such thing as post-mortem salvation:

'And just as it is appointed for mortals to die once, and after that the judgment.'

Evangelicals have consistently used this to suggest that the moment of salvation can only take place in this lifetime. The verse does not specifically say this. The context of the surrounding verses are not directed at this issue. The only way that this can be categorically used as a proof text is when offered in conjunction with other verses in the Bible. Here is an excellent example of a systematic approach delivering a doctrinal position in a way that makes it seem that there is not another possible way of viewing this subject.

Now evangelicals may well be correct in asserting that salvation is only available in this lifetime and after death no further choices will be offered to human beings. As it happens I don't share that view, but my point here is that the systematic approach does not generally allow for further discussion. Infact, I would suggest that it ties belief up in such a way as to exclude doubt about basic doctrine.

This takes me to the nature of reconciliation. I have heard this preached on many times, but it is striking to me that the breadth of the reconciliation being worked out in Christ is seldom covered.

Read 2 Corinthians 5:14-21:

'For the love of Christ urges us on, because we are convinced that one has died for all; therefore all have died. And he died for all, so that those who live might live no longer for themselves, but for him who died and was raised for them. From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way. So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God. For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.'

Now, if you will, read it again and let the words wash over you.

I am not going to suggest that I completely understand what is taking place here. The context seems to be Paul commending himself and his theology to the local group in order that his words might be accepted. In verse 10 below, we see a much ignored verse where Paul talks as if judgement is more than whether we have put our faith in Christ, although of course, this is significant too.

'For all of us must appear before the judgment seat of Christ, so that each may receive recompense for what has been done in the body, whether good or evil.'

It seems there will be a day of reckoning and our actions are significant factors. Be this as it may, Paul goes on to suggest that there are two groups involved:

1) Those who have been 'given....the ministry of reconciliation', and

2) Those who 'in Christ God was reconciling ....... to himself, not counting their trespasses against them'

I feel that this is somewhat mind-blowing! In the evangelicalism I was handed, the two distinct groups of people were those who were 'saved' and those who were 'not saved'. However, in 2 Corinthians the two groups are actually those who are being 'reconciled' and, seemingly a subset of the first group, those who have been 'entrusted with the ministry of reconciliation'.

This gives the gospel such a greater sense of Good News. If you are from an evangelical background be honest with yourself and consider whether this has ever been truly explained to you.

Now we start to see how our theology dictates whether we develop church as a lifeboat or as a city on a hill. When some are saved and some are lost the church sees its role as being collectors of drowning souls or as Brian McLaren (50) puts it, the church has got involved in an 'evacuation plan for the next world' rather than looking for God's will to be done here as it is in heaven.

When we get gripped by the message of 2 Corinthians 5 we start to see that the difference is more likely to be that we in the church have found out that reconciliation has taken place whereas others have either never heard or are indifferent to the idea.

Now I don't say this to suggest that I am necessarily a universalist but to say that the work of God in Christ is bigger than most evangelicals have perhaps considered. In this economy it must surely still be possible to refuse the reconciliation offered but whether this offer is limited to this lifetime or not is surely open to question.

What if, when its all been said and done, God surprises us like he did to Jonah and has mercy upon all of his creation.

Whatever conclusion one might come to, it seems clear that the role of the church must be different from the one we have been handed. In this construct rather than being the confrontational defender of a belief system, we are the announcers and enactors of reconciliation.

Reconciliation has already been made effective; our job is to live it out for others to see

Sea & Islands Post 22

An Oblique Approach to the Vision

I have suggested above the danger of churches and their leaders being too heavily focussed upon a distinct vision. It is not that a vision is of no importance but that the weight placed upon its achievement can become all consuming.'

When a leader thinks about the success of church they will look to measure it numerically as the most obvious marker. As John Kay (48) suggests I think it would be healthier, and more productive, to look for a more oblique model; perhaps trying to identify some marginal gains along the way.

As highlighted above a heavy focus upon numerical growth means that it is all too easy to judge and value people against the mark of their usefulness to the vision. It is highly likely that growth in numbers, if achieved, will have an interesting subtext. A church could grow to five hundred people over a period of time. At a surface level the statistic looks good. If, however, further investigation reveals that in order to do that the church has had to attract one thousand people to become members this would mean that fifty percent of those who become attendees will have left.

Of course, people will undoubtedly leave during the lifetime of a church, however, it is important to consider whether the commoditisation of people in the process of achieving the vision has contributed to them leaving.

As a comparison, if one were to take the same church, and change the focus to be more holistic, would that produce a church that was smaller but that does not have the same fall out of people hurt by the vision?

Obliquity, or Marginal Gains, suggest that concentration upon the less obvious aspects leads to a better outcome.

If profit is a key performance indicator in industry, then numerical growth might be an equivalent in a church context. If John Kay is correct to suggest that the most successful companies are those in which 'the' main driver is not profit then perhaps numerical growth as a goal is equally dysfunctional in a church.

Kay suggests that when greed becomes the goal many companies are ruined by the very culture that is produced: essentially staff come to believe that greed is a positive attribute.

Could it be that when the church culture honours the vision of the leadership above the stories of the individual's, staff and volunteers find it easier to treat others in the group as commodities? If a company can make good profits by focusing primarily on making good quality equipment, or offering first class service, then could a church see growth as being the result of making people feel valuable within the community of faith?

However, this is only the starting point. Taking Kay's idea as a useful tool I believe that the church should always go further than the best standard. This is perhaps a good marker of what it means to be prophetic: offering a reminder of what it might look like if the God who values human beings so highly were present in the worshipping community.

Perhaps this is what 'leaving the ninety-nine' (49) might truly mean: even when we find a useful model like that of obliquity or marginal gains we are always willing to leave all in order to find the one who is lost.

Leaders are not called to build big churches; they are called to die to themselves

Sea & Islands Post 21

Private Evangelicalism

In my experience of life as part of an evangelical community I have noticed something of a disconnection between the stated beliefs of the church and the actions of individuals. As we have seen above this is not a static phenomenon; changes take place as people travel through different seasons of their life.

If we were to take a survey of the beliefs and actions of most evangelical Christians, I am confident we would find that the name 'evangelical' does not readily translate to a drive for adherents to either engage in evangelism or invite their friends to church.

I am not sure that in sociological terms the church is that different from other community groups in this regard. When one is a member of a group, there are all kinds of things that you personally will make allowances for; the odd behaviour of certain individuals, rules that you don't feel completely confident in vocalising, etc. You, as an individual member, put up with such things but you don't feel completely confident enough to invite others to witness such things.

This is a generalisation and I haven't had the opportunity of running a survey but I would suggest that what we have is a private evangelicalism, which itself is an oxymoron. I would suggest that most of our congregation members are comfortable to belong to the church, but would be horrified if some of the things that we believe were known by their wider friends and family.

I don't say this to apportion blame; I am in also a private evangelical many ways. It is all part of the compartmentalisation that takes place in post-modern life. Modernity offered communities of people whose lives were intertwined at many places; work, home, social gatherings, sports, church, pubs, clubs, local shops. Post-modern life means that most of us in the UK have very few social connections with our neighbours.

In this environment it means that we are likely to have several unconnected social groups, one of which is the church. This is what I mean by private evangelicalism; church is one compartment of our busy lives.

The usual methods used to evangelise one's friends often results in a loss of friendship

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Where do we go from here?

I believe this to be a highly personal journey that is best done in community, through the influence biblical narrative, the teachings of the church and the witness of the Holy Spirit.

Some of my findings may well cause others to cry, ‘He’s not an evangelical, he’s a very naughty boy!’ but that is a risk I am willing to take. I am tempted to say that if some of what I offer does not raise questions, then I probably haven’t explained it well enough.

I will endeavour to discover what it means to be rooted in the historic Christian faith whilst being open to the enormity of God’s salvation story for all of his creation.

Three Phases of Church Engagement



'Without a vision the people perish' so goes the oft quoted biblical proverb. In our church experience it has been used by leaders to suggest that 'the' vision of the church leader(s), and therefore the church, is worth fighting for; it is possibly even more important than the hopes, dreams, and lives of the individual church members.

Paul Scanlon (44) , who for many years headed up the Abundant Life Church in Bradford, England, wrote in his book 'Crossing Over' about his vision of moving from their existing building to a larger complex built on their campus site. He spoke in a sermon about those who left the church during this period and used the phrase 'we lost them in the car park'.

Paul isn't alone in finding it preferable to overlook the stories of those who seem resistant to change. There are countless times that my wife and I have been at leaders' meetings and felt the surge of power invested in the delegates to return to their pulpits and join Isaiah in setting their faces 'like flint' (45) to ignore the dissenting voices in our congregations in order to fulfil our destiny: the metaphors and narratives might change but the meanings don't.

Over time we became increasingly weary of such teaching as we realised that it didn't really resonate with the picture we see in Jesus who would not only 'lay down his life' for his sheep but would also willingly leave the ninety-nine, to find the individual who had become lost.

On considering our own experiences and the stories told to us by others, we have begun to see several patterns emerge in many of the scenarios where the vision has been held up as the highest reference point for success.

Church engagement is not a single entity; it is certainly not an upward journey of increased adherence. This is, of course, true of all human organisations; I use the same model when I train business leaders, but it has particular resonance for our church context.

I would like to suggest that there exists an organisational entropy when it comes to a person's engagement to a group, community, or vision. Most of the models that I have seen explaining how to secure human engagement tend to paint a picture of an onward and upward journey towards increased adherence. I am not sure that this is either possible, or even perhaps desirable. (Fig 2. Three Phases)

I suggest that there is a three phased journey experienced within a community; as set out below.

1) Enthusiastic
2) Realistic
3) Apathetic

Each of these phases have particular narratives, drivers, and feelings associated with them.

1) Enthusiastic

In this phase the church members tend to believe in the vision expressed by the leaders. They are immune to, or choose to ignore, many of the ways in which the leaders act that cause disengagement in the other phases.

When leaders speak in hyperbole, they choose to nod in agreement and repeat the messages to new people. When they are asked 'What's not to like about this?' they cannot think of anything but a positive response.

In churches that have a tendency to be highly driven by vision there is often little room for doubt to be expressed. Sermons often contain conversation halting statements like 'You cannot out give God'. In this context any questions raised about the church tithing policy are painted as representing a lack of faith.

In addition membership, or commitment to the church vision, is conflated with faithfulness to God and so it is not rare to hear statements like 'If you are not in church you are not in the will of God'. Again this stops honesty and further discussion by placing a heavy weight on disagreement. Now you are not just disagreeing with the church, you are disagreeing with God. (See Dr. Robert J. Lifton's Criteria for Thought Reform (46) for more on this). I will mention more on this later.

There are several possible reasons why those in phase 1 find it easy to ignore what seems obvious to others. Sometimes it is because of the promise of perceived benefits to be found within churches that adopt an aspirational model. It will likely be suggested that adherence to the vision will result in the possibility of the individual's personal vision or goal being fulfilled; leading a team, speaking from a platform, playing in the worship band, or the like. The model often fails because it tends to adopt the same numbers game model used by TV talent shows. That is promise enough people personal fulfilment and a few will have the talent or gifts to make the dream a reality. These then become the trophies of success that encourage others to believe in the process.

In addition to this are other motivational factors such as the need to belong or the desire to be part of something successful. It is hard to resist the comparison with pyramid selling schemes at this point.

Whilst the individual's journey is progressing towards the aspirational goal it will be relatively easy to ignore what those in other phases have difficulty with.

Enthusiasm and adherence are fuelled, because leaders will encourage those who appear to be in phase 1 by including them in conversations, valuing their input, and involving them in what appears to be an inner circle; at least at a superficial level.

2) Realistic

I would suggest that it is almost impossible to remain in phase 1 for an extended period of time. In fact, most leaders do not reside in the enthusiastic phase even if they appear to do so.

Pete Rollins (47) speaks of this when he highlights the presence of twin, competing narratives within organisations. The headline narrative of a church, he says, might be 'God heals' but the unspoken, or hidden narrative, that most people, including the leaders, really live by is 'God heals, but if you are really sick go to the hospital'.

In the realistic stage there is a greater influence placed upon the individual from this unspoken narrative than the headline narrative. The dissonance between the message from the platform and what people see in practice becomes harder to ignore. The outward behaviour of people in this phase may at times still look like that of the inhabitants of Phase 1 but internally questions are being raised and the process of disengagement has begun.

Even so, people in this stage will still likely stay in the church. This is driven by a variety of factors. It might be that fear of rejection might hold them to the group. This in turn is fuelled by the leadership's well-defined descriptions of what is 'in' and what is 'out'. Added to this are the often pejorative descriptions of what the 'other' looks like. The implication is that other churches are not where the real blessing is to be found.

Sometimes people stay because of the possible effects upon other family members or because they may well be on church staff and so are tied financially to the vision.

Leaders, if they perceive this is happening, will tend to treat this group differently from those in the previous phase. Rather than people feeling included, they will have a sense of being 'used' to fulfil the vision. Their value is therefore linked with their usefulness to the ultimate goal.

Any signs of dissension will be tolerated because it is likely to be hinted at rather than overtly stated. Behaviour that does not fit with the standard set as the norm will be challenged from the platform.

We were in a large church a while ago and the senior leader announced from the platform that 161 people had arrived at least 2 minutes late for church that morning. The congregation were then 'encouraged' to give their full commitment to God; in essence conflating church attendance with obedience to God.

3) Apathetic

With an increasing sense of awareness of the narrative dissonance described above it is almost certain that people will find the need to disconnect emotionally from the central vision of the church.

People will have a greater awareness of feeling like a commodity in the process of moving towards the vision. Seeing others being 'lost in the car park' tends to make those who remain feel used too: How you treat those who leave has a direct effect upon those who stay.

Leaders will often ignore or even demonise those who are in Phase 3 in an attempt to create a narrative that undermines any complaints that they might raise. Once someone is painted in a bad light it is easier to ignore their voice.

Eventually, if employed, they will be dismissed. If they are a lay member, they will be discouraged from having a voice, thus making it almost impossible for them to stay. In a sense this is like the ecclesiological version of constructive dismissal in the business world. The only two choices for these people is to remain silent, but internally disconnected or to leave the church altogether.

I am not suggesting that the motives of the leaders are always in question. My wife and I have been both hurt by the construct and been part of the group doing the building. I think the wider culture of theological training, denominational fervour, and leadership teaching encourages the behaviour described.

Whether fair motives or foul, however, the result is that individuals and families are sometimes sacrificed on the altar of achieving the vision, even if we just call it 'losing them in the car park'.

Commitment to a church vision is not necessarily the same as faithfulness to God

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Openness

It seems all too easy for us to close our minds too quickly to conflicting voices. I feel this happened in response to Rob Bell (37) and his book ‘Love Wins’. I am not sure that on every point I fully agree with Rob but I do eagerly welcome his input. He has provided a vocabulary for many within the church who have struggled with certain presumptions made of scripture.

It is my assessment that all Rob really said was that it is possible to both uphold the Bible and see things in a different way to that traditionally delivered by modern evangelicalism.

He gives room for ideas often ignored by much of the evangelical church. He has often been accused of being vague on some issues but that is the point; some of the ideas we have counted as definitive are up for discussion. Why are we so frightened of such dialogue?

I would like to suggest that we develop an openness to the possibility of a bigger story. Brian Mclaren (38) suggests such when he offers the idea that God could have been communicating with the native American Indians long before Europeans brought the stories of Jesus.

What perhaps saddens me most is that many of those who offer a criticism of the likes of McLaren, Bell, and Pagitt fail to deliver a satisfying view on such things, preferring to speak against the very idea of raising questions about perceived evangelical belief. From my perspective, it appears that they are offended when someone suggests that God could be more inclusive than they had thought.

Further more, such critics often fail to address the questions raised, preferring to simply accuse others of questioning God, when they are in fact questioning theology. Whatever theological position we hold we must always agree that our beliefs will never fully explain God; otherwise our beliefs themselves would become an idol.

In this regard it is perhaps not the question or questioner who should be exposed, but our inability to conceive that others might hold valid opposing views, when seeking to find an explanation for God, life, and the universe.

Openness leaves room for an understanding of God in ways outside of both our experience and theological construct. Holding this in tension with a Rootedness in an irreducible core centred on the person of Jesus Christ brings a check to how far my openness might take me.

You may well see the above as an attempt to decry existing theological and ecclesiological labels only to replace them with alternatives. This is a constant danger in such an exercise as this.

I believe, however, that introducing the idea of a spectrum of belief held in tension between two seemingly opposite locations allows for a broader discussion than the mere acceptance of single labels. Hopefully, this understanding of spectrum might act as an antidote to much of the tribal theological turf wars we continue to see.

Following Steve Chalke's (39) much misunderstood comments about biblical inerrancy, Bible college lecturer and church leader Dr John Andrews (40) tweeted 'Steve who?' echoing the sentiments of John Piper's (41) earlier 'Farewell Rob Bell'. The church leader and social media commentator Adrian Warnock (42) continued with this train of thought by asking 'isn't it time we just accepted that Steve Chalke is no longer an Evangelical?'

Whilst such statements may comfort the authors and their constituents, they serve only to attempt to silence dissenting voices and thereby excuse themselves from asking the questions being raised.

In truth, I believe that behind all labels is the kind of spectrum of which I write. Evangelicalism is not one fixed point in the theological landscape as shown by Adrian Warnock's dismay at his group of churches being excluded by John MacArthur (43). It does seem odd that whilst Adrian feels comfortable vocalising his need to exclude Chalke, he is upset that his 'own tribe' has been given similar treatment by others. I asked Adrian to comment on this point at the time but he didn't seem to recognise the picture that I paint. Having said this my goal is not to be deliberately awkward, but to encourage us to develop a new conversation so that we might admit this type of contradiction exists.

If we enquire of the term 'evangelical' for example, we will soon discover that there is a possibility of a variety of spectrums behind this seemingly definitive label.

As we can see, one can be an evangelical charismatic or an evangelical calvinist for example. In actuality these may or may not be mutually exclusive, but the fact of their existence reveals the probability of a spectrum of belief.

Being open to consider new ideas is one of the first signs that fundamentalism has lost its power

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Rootedness

I have attempted to describe the oblique journey as having an irreducible core of belief that is rooted in both the biblical narratives and the testimony of the historic church. In one sense, because this is a highly personal process it has to be contextualised. Even churches that suggest that they take the Bible literally, employ convenient contextualisation when it suits them.

In practice however, and because our faith is intended to be of a corporate nature, we will always need to offer explanation, so that others can learn from our journey and, in return, we can learn from them.

The central component of this irreducible core is the person, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. I would locate this centrality in a Trinitarian understanding of the story.

There are, of course, other elements to this core but this is not important for what I am attempting to describe here at this moment. What matters here most is that we begin a journey to discover our own irreducible core in which we might become rooted.

It seems to me that churches, that develop too wide a core at this point, risk including ideas that limit the possibility of discussion within the group and with other churches; for example ideas about eschatology and ecclesiology are often held with an unhealthy reverence. This core should be focused upon both orthodoxy and orthopraxy because our faith is dead without works.

I mentioned earlier that I started my church journey in a denomination that had expressed their core as twenty-four doctrinal statements known as Fundamental Truths. To be fair, they weren’t much fun and they were usually decided by men!

In practice, judgements of orthodoxy at an individual level were more a question of behaviour than belief. Unless someone openly questioned these beliefs, they could remain in the church so long as it looked as if they were living within the perceived norms.

Over time the list was reduced and renamed as a Statement of Faith because the senior leaders realised that the original list was potentially a block to unity with others.

The need to describe a central set of beliefs and practices is both understandable and necessary. We just need to do so with care.

I would encourage you to discover an irreducible core within which you can find your rootedness.

The revelation of God in Christ means that some Bible texts cannot be reliably interpreted in ways that show God as a monster

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Island 3

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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Mystery

Perhaps this is the hardest test for Evangelicalism. We have been birthed through the reasonable argument of Biblical certainty in the midst of an environment of Liberalism. We have revelation in which we place our utmost confidence. We claim to be able to know the truth. We are comforted by such certainties.

There is much in this heritage for which we should be thankful. Yet perhaps we have been so focussed on certainty that we have given little room for mystery. Our communion services depict symbolism rather than sacraments. Our gospel sermons declare decision rather than pilgrimage. Yet we continue to be faced with the fact that there is more that we don’t understand than what we do.

It seems to me that the gospel is more an anchor for the soul than certainty for the mind. In many ways the story is unreasonable. In fact, it has to be said that it is outrageous. Some groups suggest that the scandal is that we have been offered salvation at all, but I would suggest that this places more emphasis upon sin, than it does upon the fullness of the grace of God. Perhaps we experience a prodigal (wasteful) God in the representation of the father in the story. I wonder whether it could be said that God's love is so great that he outweighs our wastefulness with his own willingness to waste, or lavish, his grace upon us.

Our ability to reason might help us when the circumstances of our lives seem fair and palatable. Our emotional response of happiness to the idea of forgiveness might help us in worship when everything is calm. But as we journey through the life that we have been given we are faced with some offensive images. The death of a loved one cannot be easily covered over by a smile and a Bible verse. Persecution cannot be earned by adopting a cheery disposition and discussing abstract theology.

Ultimately both our minds and our emotions are ravaged and we hold on to the still small voice that reminds us that whatever else happens, it will be ‘well with my soul’.

At those times it is only the mysterious movement of the Holy Spirit as he breathes on the words of Scripture and into the hearts of women and men (who come to our aid). This wind, who blows wherever he pleases, and who cannot be contained nor understood, comes to comfort and reassure.

I am persuaded that there is truth that can be relied upon. Yet without our willingness to both embrace the truth and celebrate the mystery we will never fully rely upon the work of the Holy Spirit.

The incarnation is a mystery. Those who wish to reason with it will enjoy a long discussion. Those who choose to add to that discussion a recognition of the mystery will perhaps find an anchor for the soul.

So how do we express this in a way that will become useful to us in a practice?

Amiel Osmaston (27) offers to us three images of church models: 'fuzzy', 'centred', and 'bounded'. Each of these models reflects something of the way in which local churches operate. She draws our attention to the relationship of the church to communities, showing us that gathered churches tend to have clearly defined walls between themselves and those outside. Parish churches tend to have less clearly defined boundaries.

From her work I have produced two clear examples that compare the usual evangelical model (Single Access) with a more incarnational model (Open Access). (Fig 1. Single, Open)

The 'Single Access' model shows how evangelical churches see the route towards belonging as having only a single access point; essentially a definite acknowledgement of faith in Christ, as understood by the group. In actuality each group is likely to describe this in different ways by attaching to this single theme a number of other components, including service, giving, baptism, personal devotion, theology, moral choices.

Even when churches adopt a more missional approach the presence of different access points in terms of church programmes, will still be ultimately secondary to the main goal of a confession of faith, as described above.

The 'Open Access' model shows that the routes to belonging are allowed to develop in a more organic way. Emphasis is placed upon the individual journey and room is given for people to find engagement with the group in a variety of ways. Pressure is taken off the need to 'seal the deal' as if we are selling salvation. The reliance is upon the work of the Holy Spirit to guide people, even if others do not always see this happen.

The Grubb Institute’s report ‘The Parish Church’ (28), in its discussion about the nature of the church highlights the strengths and weaknesses of the 'associational' and 'communal' forms of church. In doing so, it seems to indicate that neither model will suffice in meeting the needs of the calling of the church.

The problem seems to be that we find it too easy to look for choices between various models of ecclesiology. These models reflect the theology and hope of the movement from which they were born.

It is my belief, however, that we need to place each church, willingly, into the position of tension that we see in the New Testament. As we do this, although, or more accurately because, the New Testament does not give us an exact model we will recognise that no single model will bring us the required framework for our operation. The church, mystical as it is, is far too complex for that to be the case. No model, or group of models will ever be enough; for without the life of the presence of God and the underpinning of love that is detailed in 1 Corinthians 13, we will never offer relevant meaning to a watching world. We need to develop models that are organically based, rather than structurally ordered.

David Clark (29) indicates this when he says: ‘unless the church can end its own captivity to closed structures, and demonstrate in practice the reality of Christian community, the Good News will fall on deaf ears’.

Although our search should continue, I have taken two distinct models to explore how we can live in the tension between them. The two main themes that concern me about our existence are holiness and mission. As previously stated they need to be held in tension. Jesus met both requirements as he walked in holiness yet met with the marginalized. He showed us the possibility of being connected yet distinct at the same time. We need to find that place for our churches to exist. The 'gathered' model, often adopted by congregational style churches (Pentecostal, Baptist etc), offers to us an environment for expressing aspects of our separatedness. It offers what Martyn Percy (30) calls a ‘sacred canopy’ under which people can gather.

It draws people towards certain distinctives and calls them to make a definitive choice to cross over into the purposes of God. As Jesus called his followers he presented them with clear choices and the New Testament shows us that we have moved from one kingdom to another. The idea of pilgrimage shows us that we have a clear destination and that steps need to be taken in order to progress in our journey. Yet the gathered church is faced with a problem: what does it do with its contact with the world in terms of mission.

Newbigin (31) speaks of a ‘hermeneutical circle’ as a model for church communities where ‘Scripture and tradition, tradition and Scripture are in a constantly developing reciprocal relationship.’ In charismatic and pentecostal terms this could be more appropriately stated as Scripture and experience, experience and Scripture: even though, as stated earlier, experience is perhaps another word for tradition. Either way, Newbigin rightly goes on to point out that it is not completely possible to use this model: ‘what happens at the boundary between this community of faith and the world that lives without this faith?’.

So we, who have tended to embrace the gathered idea of church, need to look for another expression towards our communities.

The parish model presents to us with more of an idea of connectedness. Whereas association churches, by nature of the model, give clear parameters in which connections are found to be acceptable, the communal model speaks of connections without walls. Here is our model for mission. Living with the people sharing their tears and laughter. Being so close to the boundaries of people's lives that when crisis comes, they might move their thoughts to include the church and its message.

Perhaps it is the parish model’s ability to be salt and the gathered model's ability to be light that makes these two models useful to each other. Perhaps only when we have the two in tension can we reach something of our full potential. Again, I would want to transfer these meanings to the twin motifs of rootedness and openness.

We see our communities as being in a parish in which everyone has the same value and to whom we bring the salt of the gospel; binding wounds, fighting injustice, sharing life.

We see our churches as having something distinct to offer as we gather around the cross; shining a light of holiness and truth.

Perhaps a good starting point in this discussion is to see the two models as a fusion of the passion to ‘be’ and the power to ‘do’.

Berkouwer (32) notes that it is possible to find an ideal place between these two themes ‘if the church is truly the church, the problem of two kinds of ecclesiology, in which stress is laid either on the church’s being or her functionality in the world, dissolves.’

Although it is somewhat idealistic to hope for a time when there is no tension between being and doing, it does show that both factors are of equal importance. Only when equal weight is given to both models will we be pulled into the most effective place and then perhaps Berkouwer is right in suggesting that the sight of two models ‘dissolves’ and one model becomes apparent.

In a sense I am suggesting that the acceptance of several available models of church creates the necessary tension that drives us to asking question that would not be apparent if we simply embraced a single model. We will. of course, be drawn in a particular direct but we are opening ourselves up to a broader influence.

Either way the models chosen are potentially ineffective for differing reasons.
The Parish has the potential of losing its definition and the Gathered tends to move further towards exclusivity. Yet both have massive potential. The parish removes the fear of contamination so that we can actually touch the mess of the world, whilst the gathered draws people towards an eschatological vision of the hope of Jesus. Perhaps the parish model also allows us to become more open about our own mess.

Moltmann (33) notes ‘The Church is ‘at the same time’ the object of faith and the object of empiricism…………..for the Church eschatology and history come together.’

Whether Moltmann is correct or not, the idea of the church being two things, or occupying two spaces, is important because it challenges us not to settle.

Pentecostal certainty, and the evangelical foundation it is built on, leaves little room for the idea of conflicting thoughts drawing us toward a correct footing. Yet the Bible is full of ideas that challenge us in such a way. Only when we experience both models in tension can we hope to fulfil what Newbigin calls ‘the congregation as hermeneutic for the gospel’

There is probably no more powerful communication of the Gospel than people living in community expressing the love of Christ.

So we see two competing themes at play: the idea of a definitive landing place in our theology and experience and the picture of a pilgrimage as an expression of our journey with God.

An incarnational motif frees us from the need to find a level of certainty expressed as the goal of evangelicalism and releases us to explore the mystery contained in the story of salvation that comes through a God who would become man.

Ecclesiological effectiveness is not the result of certainty; it is the fruit of faithfulness

Sea & Islands Post 16a

The Context of Incarnation

The providence of God determined that the Word should become flesh in a particular context: the self-confinement of God into a particular place and a particular time.

The historical context of first century Palestine has its own significance yet, in terms of transferable ideas, the New Testament context is useful for us.

I would suggest that three of the marks of the Incarnational event can be seen as the mess, the movement and the mystery. We find a glimpse of our destination as well as a definition of our transportation, whilst at the same time being given the assurance that only mystery can bring: the assurance that ultimately our future is out of our control and firmly placed in the hands of God.

Mess

The birth of Jesus was far from a sanitised affair. No Entonox for this expectant mother. No baby shower to offer comfortable surroundings for the first few hours of life. From his birth to his death mess surrounded him. We see the words on the crisp clean page and we imagine a neat, white, western scene. Yet consider the threat of death from birth, the accusations of uncleanly eating with sinners and the shame and nakedness of his death with all the blood and sweat pouring from his beaten body.

As I have already stated, what is true for the unique incarnation should be true for the incarnational church.

We can grow to be so comfortable with order and cultural cleanliness that we become less effective. We would much rather know where we stand, than reside in the vulnerability of the unknown. Often the Church is far more concerned with remaining safe and free from contamination than risk being associated with a messy world, full of broken and hurting people. Jesus was not frightened by the mess or intimidated by the opinions of the religious.

When David Matthews (26) said ‘It is better to love the mess of life rather than the order of a funeral’ I think he expressed a vital truth. Order for the sake of our security produces a lifeless body. Everything seems to be in the right place but there is no purpose for its continued existence. We can battle to bring order to our churches so that we are virtually separate from much of the mess of our communities but two facts are obvious: First, mess will remain and continue to enter the church. Second, even if we were successful, we would not be fulfilling our purpose in God.

We have families in our churches who do not have the type of ordered lives that gave rise to our church structures so many years ago. For example, some families, because of multiple relationship breakdowns, can have many grandparents all touching the same family unit.

Even at what seems to be a superficial level, we can be so concerned with order that we stifle life. I remember seeing an old black and white film many years ago. It was set during the Second World War, and The Nazis were searching for a Jewish mother and her child. As the mother hid from view, the baby started to cry and so she pressed it to her breast in order to keep them both safe. Sadly, because of her fear, she held the baby for so long that it stopped breathing and died. How that reminds me of the church at times. We are so fearful of what might go wrong, we stifle the life out of our children, spiritual or otherwise.

When I was a teenager the local youth word for good was ‘magic’. A school friend of mine became a Christian and was asked to give his testimony one Sunday evening. In his excitement at this new life he used the phrase ‘Jesus is magic’. It was interesting to observe the church Elder trying to rugby tackle this piece of northern youth heresy. He spoke for a lot longer than the original testimony trying to convince us all that Jesus was not magic, but divine. Of course he was right in his theology but it was sad that there was such a fear of heresy that the local language of this teenage Mancunian tribe could not speak for itself.

Perhaps one of the greatest pictures of the gospel story is of a Saviour who is willing to enter our human environment whilst being fully aware of its condition. This was not a surprise location for Christ. The church often ends up in situations without any foreknowledge of its destination. Jesus was not defined by the condition of his place of destination. Neither should the church be. We should be fully aware and yet fully willing.

If the Word, as the second person of the trinity, had a cultural context it could be said to be the glory of heaven at the right hand of the Father, with the Holy Spirit. This, we are told, he was willing to leave in order to fulfil his mission. This is an incredible concept. Whilst maintaining his grip firmly on his righteousness and his mission he let go of his context; in the world but not of it.

The mission has to be the same for the church as we continue this Incarnational story. We must discover those things that must be firmly grasped, whilst understanding what can be legitimately left behind for the sake of the gospel. This forms the basis of my thoughts on being both rooted and open.

No longer must we bring our cultural prejudices to the market and call them holy. No longer must we inflict onto the world a legalism that binds. As with Christ, our context is not limiting, our vehicle is service, and our mission is simple, yet at the same time profound. It is our willingness to ‘become’ that will define our success.

Sea & Islands Post 15

Vision, Worship, and Liturgies

The second area of concern, with regard to vision, is in regard to what actually constitutes as corporate worship. Charismatic churches have a great propensity to move in what might be termed a fashion seeking way: from one worship style to another. Although this willingness to change is often seen as creativity it is all usually done within a very narrow set of parameters.

I had, on one occasion, been told by a church leader, ‘We have moved on from that particular worship stable to another.’ In my view this denies the creativity of God in suggesting that acceptable worship is little more than a fashionable style choice.

On another occasion we had someone in one of our churches objecting to a particular worship session because the leader used a candle as a symbol. They found it very difficult to worship because it did not fit with the Pentecostal tradition.

It seems to me that, in the infinite wisdom of God, corporate worship is so much broader than we have allowed ourselves to believe.

If, for example, the breadth of Christian worship is a mile wide, then my own church background has probably only connected with about a one hundred foot span. We tend to see this particular span as being anointed and we exclude anything that is different, on the grounds that something else cannot be equally as anointed.

The talk in Pentecostalism of having liturgy free worship is at best nonsense and at worst delusional. It would not take many visits to a church before one could predict much of what was about to take place.

I don't believe having a liturgy is not a problem. A ministerial colleague of mine is very passionate about reminding me that order is a good thing. In fact most large Pentecostal churches would struggle to operate without an unwritten liturgy to provide safety for any spontaneity that might take place. Any experienced musician will tell you that the continued practice of scales allows you the freedom to improvise.

We need to face the fact that our worship experience is usually found within very narrow parameters that are often linked to cultural expectations rather than to any spiritual high ground.

The other problem is that when we do decide to move our worship scope we seem to simply replace one 'hundred foot range' with another. We very rarely increase our range. We need to be prepared for a journey of discovery. We need to be thankful for what we have and hungry for more of the possibilities that worship has for us.

Ultimately, of course, worship is a way of life and cannot be merely seen as the liturgical practices of our corporate meetings. When we do consider our services of worship, we need to be ready to learn from the wider body of Christ.

Fashion seeking rarely produces lasting benefit. Things move so quickly that no seed has time to germinate and grow in a way that brings to us the full richness of its fruit.

Sea & Islands Post 14

In the Incarnation God Changes his Vantage Point

I think it is fair to suggest that we often fail to see the breadth of God’s design for the church. We must at times stand back from the work and take stock. Another mark of the incarnation is the change of perspective taken by the Word.

As we have seen, in the kenosis of Christ we see the willingness of the Word to become vulnerable to the pain of the human story. There is little given to us about the nature and form of this emptying but we see glimpses of its effects in the journey of Jesus. It is my belief that his willingness to comply had to be complete in order for it to be fully effective. Perhaps the greatest test was for the Word, who created all things, to no longer have the vantage point of heaven from which to view all things. We see in the gospels how Jesus learned and grew as he came to the place of complete obedience to the Father.

He had to journey from a heavenly perspective, through his human birth and on towards the cross and resurrection, then ultimately back to heaven. As a human Jesus had to see past the immediacy of local needs, further than the pain of personal anguish, beyond the confines of the ignorance of the people. He had to see the bigger picture.

What we see here is that God forgives from both a position of advantage and of disadvantage. Before the incarnation God is forgiving by nature. This position is not based upon experience but is a benevolent act by the Almighty. On the cross, however, Christ proclaims forgiveness over those who are crucifying him. There is something powerful about a victim offering forgiveness to their persecutors.

Pentecostal history gives us stories of women and men of vision who could see past the confinements of their own circumstances and towards a church that could make a difference.

This vision, however, often seems to be associated with distance rather than scope. I have been in situations where leaders have had great vision about where they would like to be and yet have managed to filter out anything that others might see as important. I have likened it to a tank driver. The tank seems a good analogy in two ways: first, it is a very powerful vehicle, as is leadership; second, it has a very limited vision area. It is easy for a leader to have a great deal of power in going forward and yet have very little time for anything that is out of their immediate view. This can affect the leader's value of church members. People are counted as valuable if they serve the vision to take the group, or the leader, towards the stated goal. Anyone, or any idea that is outside this narrow field of view is expendable.

Sea & Islands Post 13a

The Incarnation is the Message

So we look at the ministry of Christ, which is after all the ministry of the church, and see a manifold sense of how God wants to impact communities with the Good News. Jesus was not confined to a particular approach. He met people where they were and touched every aspect of their lives. He brought healing, he spoke forgiveness, he touched the ordinariness of their weddings, he taught them, he chastised them, and he blessed their children. Every aspect of human life was touched. Every need of the human condition was met. What breadth, what creativity, what brilliance in the mind of God to conceive of such a ministry.

The gospel of John records the story of Jesus at the wedding at Cana (24). Here, apparently at his mother’s request, Jesus turns water into wine. It is all too easy to try to spiritualise such a story and give it hidden meaning. It speaks to me, however, of the sheer love of Christ for his mother and his community. The story depicts a scene where possibly the equivalent of over eight hundred bottles are produced from the water. We have to face the fact that some expressions of our ministry are intended to be more to do with loving our community than showing theological significance or making worldview statements.

None of us would intentionally try to decry any part of Christ’s ministry at the expense of another. Yet how easy we find it do so with the ministry of the church. Only when we give equal weight to every aspect of how a church impacts its community can we start to understand the breadth of the conception of God that resulted in the church of Jesus Christ.

Many of the stories of the ministry of Christ do not give details of how many people decided to follow him as a result of his ministry; there are no statistics but the word multitudes is used. There were also times when people left him. We would be mistaken in making a judgment that only those moments that result in 'real' faith encounters were of value in his ministry. Yet, rather sadly, we find it easy to do so with the ministry of the church. How easy it is, when reviewing a church ministry such as parents and toddler group, to make a value judgment based upon how many people have been added to the church through it.

The incarnation is of itself the message: the very presence of God in the human story is more than a study in the methods of Jesus, the Messiah.

In this respect some church activities may well be right to do, regardless of the seen benefits, because they are either done in obedience to God or they fit with the spirit of the ministry of Christ. No business practice or marketing techniques can overshadow simple obedience. I would suggest that simple obedience is more linked with the continued presence of the church in a community rather, than its ability to perform in various ways that fit with the latest views on the best way to attract people to attend. I am not suggesting that how we do church is not to be reviewed and questioned but that such a review is secondary to the presence of a loving community living out discipleship.

We need to ask the right questions; How does our church reflect the whole ministry of Christ? How do we honour and support all of these expressions of ministry? Are we multi-focused or single-focused? The marks of the ministry of Christ are broad and not narrow, they are manifold and not singular.

On speaking about his own imminent death, the Gospel of John (25) records Jesus saying that he was about to be glorified and then showed us the method of that glorification. Only by dying, or being buried like a seed, can he produce the fruit that the Father had intended for the world. Only by his self-sacrifice could Jesus, who had limited himself in time and space, affect the whole world towards eternity.

In the same way these marks need to be seen in the church. It is probably the greatest indication of an apostolic church that it can see further than the immediate and produce fruit that has its effect into eternity.

This sacrifice is not some puritanical willingness to go without the comforts of the modern day. It is far more radical than that. It is that you and I, together as the hands and feet of Jesus, might die to ourselves in areas that are often unseen by those around us.

Dying to oneself is not about giving up a few luxuries but the willingness to use our own seat of power for the sake of others and not for ourselves

Sea & Islands Post 12

Leadership and the Danger of Single Focus

It could be said that each of us incaranate the message of the gospel whether we intend to or not. Our thoughts and actions become a hermeneutic for our understanding of the work of God in Christ. This is particularly true for those in leadership; we bring to our teaching and leadership a worldview that shaped by our beliefs.

The problem is that this relationship, between the incarnation and our worldview, is also affected by other factors that might not seem obvious. Such things as often revealed in the culture wars that take place when our way of life seems threatened. What we are then presented with is a message that has all of the outward appearance of being connected with the gospel but is more a push back against the pace of change.

For example, in his book 'Why Men Hate Going to Church', David Murrow (23) sets out a view that has gained popularity in many aspirational churches. He uses statistics and stories to suggest that the over feminisation of the church has meant that men are not interested in attending. He lands the ultimate blow in his thesis with the phrase, “The religion that wins men, wins”.

There are so many things that I could say about the damage that this book, and others like it, have done, but I will focus on a few aspects that I think are useful to us here.

Firstly, I object to the idea that is created by such books that men are defined as male by 'not' being women; or at least by not displaying characteristics typically associated with being female. This places women in the position of the 'other', that men are to not be. There is a tendency in both the media, and by implication the church, to over genderise issues of personhood. This is the 'Men Are from Mars, Women Are from Venus' effect that I see so often in the management training sessions I run. The concepts that women can multitask and men can't; women love detail and men don't; and women are emotional and men are not, all present ideas about the differences in the gender that are open to question.

Even if we sometimes see representations of such things, it is highly likely that they are culturally conditioned and not an ontological predisposition. I challenge you, as I do in the training sessions, to consider you own group of friends and you will likely find men who cry and love detail, and women who are more stoical and straight to the point. The gender stereotypes might offer a bit of amusement among family members, but they are not something on which to build a belief system.

Men are not more male if they show fewer seemingly female characteristics: the cultural loading here is almost palpable but Murrow, and those who have used his material, are falling into the trap of not seeing the 'wood for the trees' when it comes to understanding humanity. I would suggest that human beings, both women and men, share a very high proportion of common characteristics.

Gender differences do exist, but that we should not allow popular culture to be the loudest voice in influencing our view; thus leading us towards an over simplified position. We certainly should not stoop to producing our own version of the call for people to 'man up' as if maleness was a call to some kind of bravado or aggression.

Second, as stated earlier, ideas that are based on revisionist views of history simply will not do. There has not been a time when, en masse, men have been so distinctly excited about church attendance. Murrow's idea only works if such a time had existed. Only in this context can he assign the cause of the downfall to the over feminisation of the church. Of more importance, particularly given the vastly out weighted statistics of male leadership compared with female leadership within the church, is Murrow's over simplification of what it means to be a man.

I heard a keynote speaker referencing Murrow's work at a men's conference a few years ago, I was staggered that intelligent people allowed such ideas to go unchallenged, let alone that such conferences have testosterone invoking names such as: Brotherhood, Brave, Xcel, Mighty Men, Courageous Men, Iron Sharpens Iron, Call to Arms, and Act Like Men.

I am just waiting for someone like Mark Driscoll to bring out the 'Grow a Pair' men's conference and I think we will have had all the various shades of culturally laden names available. It is worth noting that in popular culture males are encouraged to become more 'manly' with phrases like 'grow a pair', 'man up', and 'don't be such a girl'. The fact that some parts of the church not only do not see these are offensive but mimic popular culture by using them is more than worrying.

During the above mentioned conference, the one in which Murrow's book was lauded, I looked down the row at the group of men with whom I had attended and saw in that small picture why such teaching is wrong. None of us fitted the stereotype. I don't even think the speaker fitted the stereotype. I didn't fit it either. I am a six foot, eighteen stone, ex rugby playing Northerner, who likes meat from a barbecue: yes, I would fit the stereotype here. But I also cry at sad films, like art and poetry, hate fighting, and don't like Harley Davidson motorcycles. I probably need to grow a pair.

As I said, the rest of the men on my row failed to fit the brief. They were a fine collection of what it means to be men; complex and different. They may have laughed at the funny stories of how men like to shoot, ride, fight, eat road kill, and give firm handshakes (never hugs) but the truth is that the oversimplification was not our experience. As a mark of our male solidarity we had a group hug at the end and went off to a salad bar, it seemed only right.

Our understanding of gender is important when considering the incarnation as a model for the church. God did not come primarily to be a man but to be a human being. Churches, and authors, that present well defined parameters for what it means to be female or male, without acknowledging the cultural conditioning that our views are laden with, will have a tendency to create an incarnation in their own image.

Add to this, if you will, the idea that evangelical churches have typically followed a one ‘man’ ministry model of church leadership. In addition we might say that larger churches have tended to adopt the 'senior person as the CEO' model, we can see how Murrow's words become both dangerous and misleading. If the 'religion that wins men, wins' is in any way true, it is probably because the conditions that allow men to be in positions of power over women have not been sufficiently challenged.

So we have a high proportion of male leaders heading up congregations that generally contain more female members. At the same time the world is changing and male leadership as the norm is being questioned. It's no wonder that we have a tendency to highlight the male stereotypes; even if Murrow and conference leaders think the opposite.

Again the incarnation is not about God becoming male; it is about God becoming human. Once we have cleared this in our minds we can consider what the model might mean for us. Now before you think that this overemphasising of maleness only affects men it is worth noting that many women, in business, church, and politics, feel they have to demonstrate characteristics associated with being male in order to succeed.

It also places in the minds of our congregations ideas that suggest that maleness is more associated with God than attributes traditionally associated with being female.

Our goal in Christ is to become fully human; not to look for ways to display our masculinity or femininity