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 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

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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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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

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 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

Sea & Islands Post 8

Creatively Uncreative

During the lifetime of Jesus, the majority of people on the planet were unaware of either his existence or his teaching. Even within his own culture the significance of his presence was not fully understood.

In stark contrast to this are the usual markers of church success in a charismatic and Pentecostal context. The goal seems to be distinction, size, excellence, and popular fashion. Churches are counted as successful if they are growing numerically and produce presentational excellence; with large screens, P.A. systems, and lights. Added to this is the regular challenge for individuals to be distinct from the world around them.
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This may not be true of all, or even most of the charismatic and Pentecostal churches in the UK, but when one considers the influence that the larger churches have upon the rest, we would do well to recognise the aspirational nature of this context. The language, markers, models, processes, and visions of the larger churches are presented as the gold standard in many quarters. One might conclude that mega churches tend to be a kind of 'anti-Antioch church' in the sense that they are receivers of gifted people rather than senders of them. In terms of a business model it is not one that can be reproduced by smaller local churches. The through-put of talent in some larger churches is generated by conferences, internships, and academies. Smaller churches do not have this talent pool available to them.

The pressure on many church leaders is to produce an alternative to the culture within which they work; rather than an antidote to it. Church youth clubs are funded rather than supporting existing local community ventures. Departments and programmes become feeder routes leading toward the centre; the church congregation.

In contrast to this, I would like to suggest that the incarnation is more about immersion within the community rather than separation from it. Perhaps building bridges rather than walls represents the way of Christ.

The gospel message in the usual context sounds like an invitation for those ‘outside’ to come ‘inside’ and become like us. An incarnational message is more about a journey taken by the church towards the community.

There are other models that leaders might prefer by which to run and measure their churches: army, family, tribe, nation, city. All of them have their place, but I would suggest that we would do well to see our starting point as being the incarnation.

If our model of church relies upon the gifts and talents of people from other congregations it cannot be seen as easily replicable

Sea & Islands Post 7

The Ends can Never Justify the Means

Having been involved in church leadership for the best part of three decades my wife and I have seen our fair share of debate and controversy. Not too long ago such discussions took place in colleges, conferences, and the letters section of journals, but now we have a greater level of access to the various opinions on offer through the internet.

Even with these changes there is an aspect of debate that seems ever so familiar: when the discussion is in full flow it seems that some people are all too ready to suggest that the good that is done by a particular church, preacher, or ministry should somehow protect them from criticism; it seems that, for some, the ends justifies the means. This can take many forms but most recently Beverley and I came across it when debating on the internet the relative merits of a particular mega church pastor's teaching and the possible negative effect upon the lives of many people.

"But just look how big his church is!" we were offered, followed by "But what about all of the people who have been saved through his ministry?"

For most well meaning Christians it almost seems churlish to argue with such reasoning; as if the call for peace reflects some well quoted passage from Corinthians. Perhaps such an idea, however, requires further scrutiny.

How much good needs to be done by the preacher for them to reach the point of being free from criticism? Is there a formula we can use to deduce that the correct level of positive outcome has been achieved, thus rendering any damage done as no longer significant? If so, what would such an equation look like? If more people are helped than hindered should we just remain silent?

Perhaps I could suggest this to be an accurate assessment of the way we often view such things:

(Number of people helped) divided by (Number of people hurt) multiplied by (the number of the preacher's books we own)

(Note - I wonder whether our investment in product makes it more difficult to be critical for fear of being wrong.)

Unfortunately, I haven't found anyone to offer such help when questioned further on the idea of the ends justifying the means. It seems that if good can be found, however anecdotally it is offered, then the rest of us should just remain silent for fear of rocking the boat.

Professor John Kay (11) of Warwick University said 'The pursuit of our goals is inextricable from the mechanism by which we achieve them.'

His comments were aimed at the business world in order to suggest that the pursuit of profit at all cost is not always productive. He goes on to suggest that it is more often the oblique approach that produces the best results.

What does this mean for the church in regard to the way we both understand success and offer a critique of bad practice and theology?

The evangelical church has had a long history of being crucicentric, with the cross being emphasised almost to the exclusion of other parts of the gospel story. We have therefore had to import ideas about the incarnation from other traditions in order to flesh out our understanding. Perhaps this narrowness of view has led us towards the idea that the cross is more important than any other part of the work of Christ; as if everything else is incidental. In this regard we could be forgiven for thinking that the incarnation is little more than a convenient means to a soteriological end.

Surely this cannot be the case. We see how purposeful God was, in Christ, in announcing and bringing in the kingdom. We must conclude that every encounter that Jesus made was more than an incidental subplot to the main narrative of the cross and the resurrection. The teaching of Jesus confirms this idea when he speaks of leaving the ninety-nine (12) in order to find the one. This imperative to search for the 'one' offers a radical questioning of both the cultural values of first century Palestine and of our own highly corporatised world.

In this teaching Jesus shows his followers that not only is the 'one' highly esteemed, but that any value the ninety-nine might claim for themselves is only of significance in relation to the 'one' who remains lost. In a sense the 'lostness' is transferred to them by the actions of the shepherd.

Now compare this to a notion that suggests we should not critique the shepherds (church leaders) when they have taken care of their own constituency (a metaphorical ninety-nine) rather than looking out for the 'one' who is in need. It just doesn't hold together.

In the kingdom of God, where the cross sits like a jewel immovable from its setting in the incarnation, the ends can never justify the means. Having said the above I realise that even when we are forced into extreme measures in order to offer hope to the downtrodden, we can never allow the result to free us from the need for self-reflection and to analyse whether we may have crossed the line from defender to attacker.

Indeed, given a different set of circumstances and another context, the preacher we choose to critique may so easily be the one that we need to aid.

This does not mean that our voices should be silent when we see those who have the responsibility to look after the 'one' who is lost choose the safety of the applause given by the ninety-nine.

It is worth noting that in the teaching of Christ it seems the direction of his challenge is of vital importance. Towards those already downtrodden and vulnerable he offers grace and hope; to those who occupy the seats of power he reveals both their advantage and their responsibility to care for those who are lost.

After several decades in leadership I find this call to inhabit the place of tension between leading the crowd and leaving them to be an awesome challenge. If we don't take seriously the call to offer a critique on behalf of those who are most hurt by the church, we are possibly in danger of:

(i) Allowing leaders to raise funds without any need to declare how the money is spent.

(ii) Letting churches and leaders cover up abuse in the name of church unity.

(iii) Leaving vulnerable people to the mercy of leaders who extract personal stories only to use them against those in most need.

(iv) Making church members believe that leaving an unhealthy church is the same as disobeying God.

(v) Supporting, by our silence, theology that dehumanises those who are already treated as second class in society.

If you care to look, you will soon realise that all of these things exist; sometimes in even the most successful looking churches and movements. We can chose to remain silent in the hope that the good done will outweigh any harm, but we need to be aware that in the kingdom of God the ends can never justify the means.

The God who humbled himself is not glorified by leaders who promote themselves

Sea & Islands Post 6

Island 2

The Ends Can Never Justify The Means

The Risk Taking God & the Safety Seeking Church

Incarnation is an example of the level of risk that God is calling the church to adopt

At the beginning of my time in ministry I was called upon to officiate at the funeral of a seventeen year old young man who had tragically died suddenly, leaving his family shocked and deeply saddened.

I had received a small amount of training on how to prepare and deliver a service for a family at such a difficult time. In truth I was in a mild panic at the thought of possibly making a mess of things. I contacted our local Methodist minister, Arthur Windridge. He was a good man who had delivered many funerals and was very eager to help me in my time of need. He kindly went over the basics for me and gave me some invaluable advice that has stuck with me ever since.

'Feel their pain' he said 'but make sure that you remain useful to them'. Not an easy balance to find. He added that in his experience the line between laughter and tears is very thin at these times as the family tell stories one moment and then feel the pain of the loss in the next.

Arthur encouraged me to empathise with this family; to be fully human. Then to trust that God would meet with them. At the time I am not sure if I was fully aware of the depth of his words, but I knew instinctively that he had a level of wisdom that I needed.

The American Psychologist, Brené Brown (9), speaks about empathy in her Tedtalk describing the difference to be found between this and a sympathetic response. In Brené's view being empathic does not start with the words 'Well, at least'.

To a parent whose son is struggling at school it won't do to say 'Well, at least your daughter is doing well'. Saying to wishful parents who have just experienced the pain of a miscarriage 'well at least you know you can conceive', is not showing empathy. Empathy does not seek to fix the problem as much as it looks to feel the pain; sometimes in silence.

In the years since my early lesson with Arthur I have tried to grow in understanding his wise words. I will always be grateful to his kindness towards me; I suspect he was helpful because he empathised with a new minister.

In addition to ministry I have the privilege of delivering training sessions for managers in industry, education, and the health service. Most requests for training are driven by a functional need within an individual or organisation. In essence sessions are often booked because companies want me to show them 'how to' be more successful, efficient, or time effective. In my experience the 'functional' need is very rarely the problem. It is more likely to be that staff need support with softer skills or that there may be an issue with the organisation's culture.

Most delegates benefit from being challenged to think in broader terms and to expand their emotional intelligence. This doesn't always sell as well as the more functionally sounding sessions because business leaders don't see it as essentially practical. The development, however, of a team's ability to empathise with others is an extremely effective, and indeed practical, tool in delivering some of the functional aims that organisations have.

This often seems counter-intuitive; similar to the idea of producing a forest garden in a culture that prides itself on Victorian influenced horticulture.

In the context of church I would suggest that the development of a forest garden needs to be seen as the kind of emotional intelligence that allows us to see things that we just haven't noticed before.

As we begin our journey as gardeners, I think it is worth noting the post-resurrection scene in the garden of Gethsemane as recorded in the gospel of John. Through tears, a grieving Mary mistakenly identifies the risen Jesus as a gardener (10).

In and of itself this may seem an incidental event that does not need much further thought. In addition to the counter-cultural inclusion of a woman in this part of the narrative, I cannot help but see a reflection of the idea of hiddenness repeated time and again the in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus.

Indeed if he had wanted to be known to the majority of the inhabitants of the earth it would have been more fruitful to have staged the incarnation in today's world of social media. Someone would probably have taken a selfie at the sermon on the mount and it would have become viral with hours.

Notwithstanding the fame of Christ in the centuries that followed, it is true to say that in many respects Jesus was just another child born in obscurity; just another carpenter’s son; just another carpenter; just another rabbi; and just another troublemaker on a cross.

In historical terms God chose the anonymity of a hidden place at a hidden time to reveal his glory

Sea & Island Post 2

There is no Good Place to Stand

Having four daughters has an effect on both how you see the world and how you live your life. I have probably spent more than my fair share of time on shopping expeditions for clothes and other daughter related products. The majority of these consumerist exploits have been spent outside the changing rooms of various department stores.

I have developed a theory about such things that I feel is worthy of sharing at the beginning of this book. It centres on the idea that on these occasions there is no good place to stand. If you position yourself too near the changing rooms you tend to look a little odd. If, however, you stand too far away, you will not hear your wife calling from behind the curtains for you to exchange one of her items for a different size. Either way, there is no good place to stand.

It often seems like this when considering the key themes involved in leading church. Wherever you stand, there will be those who will criticise your choice; this can mean that sometimes it becomes easier to make no decision at all, rather than risk making the wrong one. We are left with a set of unspoken issues that remain unchallenged, for fear of standing in the wrong place; we are left with a kind of theological dissonance.

A little too close in one direction and you may well be dismissed as unorthodox; move too far the other way and you may well be seen as irrelevant to the community in which you serve. I have decided that it is best not to let the fear of being labelled ‘unorthodox’ stop me from wrestling with some very important questions.

Finding a good place to stand can only be a temporary exercise for anyone called to be a pilgrim