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 17

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 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 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 & 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