Sea & Islands Post 26

A High View of Scripture

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lesslie Newbigin puts it like this:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sèa & Islands Post 25

Community or Constituency

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

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

Through a Glass Darkly

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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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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Where do we go from here?

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

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

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

Three Phases of Church Engagement



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1) Enthusiastic
2) Realistic
3) Apathetic

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

1) Enthusiastic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2) Realistic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

3) Apathetic

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Openness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Rootedness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sea & Islands Post 16a

The Context of Incarnation

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

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

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

Mess

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sea & Islands Post 15

Vision, Worship, and Liturgies

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sea & Islands Post 14

In the Incarnation God Changes his Vantage Point

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sea & Islands Post 13b

I remember, at the time of the September Eleventh tragedy in New York, looking for something to bring to our church meeting that very night. I wanted to share something that spoke of how we should react to the horror.

My mind went back to a time when I was attacked in my car during a trip to Manchester. In relating this to the Twin towers tragedy I know that my example of hurt, in terms of scale, does not compare with the events on that fateful day, but the principle of dealing with hidden inclinations within us is in keeping with the teaching of Jesus.

I had one of my young daughters in the back of the car and a gang of, what are often wrongly called, footballer supporters ran at the car. They were drunk and angry and violent. I had stopped at a junction and could move forward nor back. They attempted to turn the car over, rocking it violently from side to side. One of them, the biggest of the bunch, opened my door and started to kick and punch me.

My daughter was screaming in the rear of the car and I knew that I had to make a decision. I jumped out of the car with the intention of hitting the biggest one as hard as I could. I thought, just maybe if I frighten him the others might stop. This was of course highly unlikely. I threw a couple of emergency prayers up to heaven. I got out of the car and started to fight. Just as I did, amazingly enough, a vehicle full of bus conductors arrived and came to our rescue. They had to physically stop me hitting my assailant and they chased a number of others away. We were safe.

When I arrived at work on the following Monday I told my work colleagues what had happened. They were unanimous in their view that I had done the right thing in defending my daughter and myself. My friends at church agreed and so it seemed that all was well. I knew deep down, however, that I had crossed an almost invisible line within my heart. My initial response was based on fear and protection but I know that I ended up just wanting to hurt this enemy. I wanted to make him suffer. I am not a fighter and I love peace. I work wherever I can in the name of peace, but peace was not what I wanted at that split second. I wanted revenge.

To everybody else I had done the right thing but I knew inside that I had to repent of wanting to hurt another human being; effectively continuing the cycle of violence. It seems to me that we must not cross the line that we all have inside between a meaningful response and a search for revenge.

Repentance, sacrifice and change are part of our pilgrimage in following Christ as we die to ourselves and live to the fruit that God will produce in us.

Many of these sacrifices are unseen to most of those around us, and that is the way it should be. It is the sum total of our pilgrimage experiences that the world will see not the outward glare of self-important religious gestures. They will notice a radiance and peace that reflects Christ, often in a quiet and unassuming way so that when we do speak they are might be more willing to listen.

We would not normally associate glorification with death and sacrifice yet here marks an important difference between the ways of God and the ways of humanity.

Contained within all people is the purpose for which God has created them and, unless we are willing to deny our own misconceptions, we can never completely fulfil that purpose. This is as true for the church as it is for any individual. As with the life of Christ a choice has to be made as to which path we are going to take. In choosing to die to all that we could attain with our own ideas and strength, we are opening up to the possibility of new things being produced from our lives.

It goes further than giving up those things that hinder our journey. It is not merely a spiritual keep fit program. It is about recognising the freedom that we have gained in Christ and then being willing to sacrifice that same freedom for the sake of the mission to which we are called.

In Acts chapter fifteen we read that a discussion took place about the practice of circumcision. Whilst in Antioch Paul, along with Barnabas, were in a disagreement with some men from Judea. The argument was such that a number of the church travelled to Jerusalem to consult the apostles and elders. After a speech by Peter, James brought his verdict that the Gentile believers were free from the stipulation to be circumcised.

In Chapter sixteen we read that Paul, on taking Timothy on his missionary journey, decided to circumcise him. It was obviously not essential in terms of his acceptance into the church, yet for the sake of the Gospel he made such a sacrifice.

It was for freedom that we have been set free by Christ yet we are to choose to become servants and share in his sufferings.

There is an ontological truth about the nature of creation, God, humanity, and salvation that it seems worth holding to tightly. Yet we see time and time again in scripture a contextualizing of this revelation in the reality of the mess of life. We are saved into the ontological freedom of resurrection life, but our freedom is to be planted into the context of our communities.

Sacrifice, for the Christian, is not the needless denial of the pleasures that the world can offer, it is the letting go of any claim to know what is best for our lives outside of God’s providence.

The story doesn't end there, because as we take up our cross and share in the sufferings of Christ, the promise is that we will also share in the power of his resurrection. Every church needs resurrection life to shine out of its very being. I am drawn to the idea of power but quite often the symbols of power shown in our churches do not present the best picture. When we think of power encounters our focus is often on the pre-cross encounters of Christ. I am happy with this in many ways and I am anxious, as previously stated, to see every part of the ministry of Christ in operation in our churches. We, however, are post-resurrection and this gives a whole new meaning to these encounters.

I find it difficult to read the book of Acts without being made aware of the supernatural nature of the Gospel message. Yet the real beauty, for me, is that these events are set in the normality of ordinary lives. Perhaps the idea of the coming of the Spirit is understood in a correct context when it is in fact seen in this ordinariness.

Acts Chapter one, verse eight gives us a clue:

‘….you will receive power when the Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses……….’

The coming of the Spirit brings this power, this dunamis. Its purpose: so that we might be witnesses for Christ. Its origin: the authority of God.

Because the inauguration of the mission is the coming of the Spirit of God and because the medium is women and men reflecting the glory of gospel, it must mean that this power has more to do with ‘being’ than with merely ‘doing’. The promise is that we will ‘be’ his witnesses: as opposed to you will ‘do’ my witnessing.

Therefore, the supernatural in the context of the missionary life of the church cannot be seen as just a distinct move of the Spirit of God, outside of the ordinary life of the people of God. It is not merely an event; an encounter as sometimes presented by Pentecostal churches. Incarnation, and the power it brings, is about presence within a community.

It has to do with people finding out how to ‘be’ what they are called to ‘be’ in the context where we are called to ‘be’. This 'being' is represented by resurrection power is about heaven (the rule of God) invading the ordinariness of our lives so that others might want it too. In the midst of this there is room for healing and deliverance, but not as merely isolated events. In these incarnational themes lie the foundation of the church's involvement in the plan of God.

Charismatic gifts are not a collection of isolated events but an ongoing encounter with the grace of God

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 11

The Marks of Incarnation

If the incarnation story continues in the church then surely it follows that there will be indicators that can be seen within the life of the church.

Snyder (19) proposes ‘While the Incarnation is a mystery, it provides the essential model for the believer and especially for the church’s corporate life and mission in the world.’

I have never particularly enjoyed looking at my own reflection in the mirror. I like it even less now because the passage of time brings me greater distress. The recurring thought that springs to my mind is that I look like my father more than my father’s son. I am not saying there is anything wrong with this, should he read these words; it continually reminds me that I am connected to my parents. I recall one day waking up from one of those mid-day naps that seem to be the comfort of middle age, looking down at my hand in that half asleep half-awake state and thinking that my dad was in the room.

In a similar way, if we care to look, the whole of creation bears the impression of the thumbprint of God: every galaxy, star, planet, flower, animal and sunset, every human being reflecting God. Both in terms of physiology and history all created matter and therefore human life images our creator.

In the incarnation the logos or the Word, the second person of the Trinity, embraced the physicality and emotionality of this ‘creative’ fingerprint personally and thus reflected the creative act in both physique and purpose.

As we look at the life of Christ we can see the mind of a purposeful God. Every aspect of the life of Christ has the thumbprint of God upon it: from conception, through death, to resurrection. At conception we see the will of God unfold in a manner that although spoken of by the ‘prophets of old’ was, in many ways, unimaginable to the human mind.

His birth, so ordained to fulfil the prophetic utterances of the people of Israel, brought together divinity and humanity. His growth as a child: expressing his willingness to be self-confined within the human condition. His ministry: breaking into the mundane of human frailty, yet always with a mind upon the ultimate goal of the cross. The passion of the self-sacrifice of the creator God as a seed falling to the ground in order to produce much fruit. The stunning glory of the resurrection: with all its mystery and wonder. These are things that surely no human mind could have conceived. God, the author and finisher, has been at work.

As I have already stated, what can be said of Christ, the Head, should be said of his body, the church. The incarnation continues and thus, the marks of incarnation, the very thumbprint of God, should be visible in the church. Locally we should touch our communities with these marks. Globally, we should shape and guide our world towards the creator.

Having said this, I do believe that we have so misrepresented our mission by the use of symbols of notoriety that we are in danger of misunderstanding the role of the incarnation in shaping the church.

It seems to me that the context of the incarnation has significance. In Hebrews chapter 13, verse 8 we see Jesus describe as being the same ‘yesterday, today and forever’. At first glance it seems that change is out of the question. Yet we also know that change took place. The Word ‘became’ flesh.

The unchanging nature of Jesus is to be seen in his essential character. His goodness, his truth and his faithfulness are all undiminished by the passage of time. In fact, he is completely unaffected by the constraints of time other than in his own choice to be self-limited. The kenosis, or emptying of himself, is the expression of this absolute commitment to his mission. The act of ‘becoming’ is the important factor for us here. We are being shown in graphic and eternal terms how we, the church, are to ‘become’. The eternal, creative Word has become flesh in order to fulfil the will of God. We, the church, are to follow a similar path.

Compare this with the picture we often find of a church fixed in its position fighting against the tide of change. Churches with a more conservative history, and I would include my own group here, have a tendency towards becoming entrenched in positions that they believe are essential parts of the gospel or mission, only to reassess these in later years to find that some of the things that they considered fundamental are culturally invested rather than theologically absolute.

It is easy to see how groups become revisionist in their view of history; often creating fantasies of a former time when people where more holy, more aware of God, and perhaps more Christian. Of course this doesn't just happen in church. An older generation's mythological idea that 'when I was a lad you could leave your doors open and no one would steal from you' falls apart when you consider the size of the black market in England during World War Two and the fact that very few people owned things that were worth stealing.

These over sentimentalised views very rarely stand up to scrutiny. It might be true that fewer people attend church today than in previous generations, but there has not been a golden era when full communities were church goers. Even where you find pockets of almost full attendance you don't always find behaviour that is fully in keeping with the basic tenets of Christianity (20).

Still, groups that feel under siege tend to demonise the other and create safe enclaves, metaphorically if not physically, for the practice of their religion. Even the more dynamic movements that have a headline narrative declaring that they will 'take this land for Jesus' still have a subtext that suggest taking the land is somehow the same as Christianising parts of culture that have seemed off limits to previous generations. This, of course, has all the appearance of development; it looks to all intents and purposes like the church is changing. Yet the creating of enclaves is still happening. The demonising of the other still takes place; in fact it is far easier to keep people attending church if you paint the other in a more negative light. Statements like 'not in church, not in the will of God. Simple!' by the Pentecostal church leader Derek Smith (21) add to the idea that the church, and your place in it, are synonymous with being in the will of God.

In light of this what does change mean for the church if it is to use the incarnation as a model? I really don't have all the answers to that question: I just know that we need to be willing to change.

In the gospels Jesus is shown to learn, grow, hunger, cry and feel fatigue: it seems he was acquainted with the full range of human experience. This means that the incarnation was not merely some singular event but a pilgrimage.

Evangelicals in general tend towards a gospel that calls for people to move from being 'lost' to becoming 'found'. I do recognise that this is the experience of many within evangelicalism. I have often explained my own journey in similar terms.

This over statement about there being definitive states that one might move 'from' and 'to', however, continues to suggest that the main role of the church is to offer a safe alternative place to the 'other' but only when the 'other' becomes like 'us'.

I will cover more of this later but I want to point out that I am not suggesting that regeneration is not important or that people are unable to know that they have been 'saved' in the way that we suggest in our churches. Here I am suggesting that the model of church that makes such moments the primary goal, is not reflecting the fuller sense of what the incarnation brings to us.

At this point I simply want to affirm that, in the incarnational model, pilgrimage is essential. We expect it of our natural children when we encourage them to explore ideas and learn about themselves and the world around them. Parents and teachers consider the appropriate lessons that need to be considered at each stage of the growing process. So it is with those of us who come to faith and begin a journey within the community of the church.

Richter and Francis (22) speak of the importance of journey in their writings dealing with those who leave the church. ‘The church that is best at retaining its members is one that presupposes that individuals grow in faith, in their own time and in their own way.’ This is often a difficulty for evangelically minded churches. As with other revival movements a great deal of emphasis is laid upon the crisis of conversion. Even where there is talk and consideration given to discipleship it is often done in very narrow terms with the emphasis placed heavily upon conformity of belief. People find acceptance when they jump through a series of evangelical hoops and so even where doubt exists, there is a pressure to conform.

Pilgrimage, however, is a life giving experience. It is possible to both hold to the idea of a cross encounter whilst encouraging an Emmaus road journey.

Our pilgrimage is mainly set on the Emmaus road with occasional moments on the road to Damascus

Sea & Islands Post 10

The Marks of Incarnation

If the incarnation story continues in the church then surely it follows that there will be indicators that can be seen within the life of the church.

Snyder (19) proposes ‘While the Incarnation is a mystery, it provides the essential model for the believer and especially for the church’s corporate life and mission in the world.’

I have never particularly enjoyed looking at my own reflection in the mirror. I like it even less now because the passage of time brings me greater distress. The recurring thought that springs to my mind is that I look like my father more than my father’s son. I am not saying there is anything wrong with this, should he read these words; it continually reminds me that I am connected to my parents. I recall one day waking up from one of those mid-day naps that seem to be the comfort of middle age, looking down at my hand in that half asleep half-awake state and thinking that my dad was in the room.

In a similar way, if we care to look, the whole of creation bears the impression of the thumbprint of God: every galaxy, star, planet, flower, animal and sunset, every human being reflecting God. Both in terms of physiology and history all created matter and therefore human life images our creator.

In the incarnation the logos or the Word, the second person of the Trinity, embraced the physicality and emotionality of this ‘creative’ fingerprint personally and thus reflected the creative act in both physique and purpose.

As we look at the life of Christ we can see the mind of a purposeful God. Every aspect of the life of Christ has the thumbprint of God upon it: from conception, through death, to resurrection. At conception we see the will of God unfold in a manner that although spoken of by the ‘prophets of old’ was, in many ways, unimaginable to the human mind.

His birth, so ordained to fulfil the prophetic utterances of the people of Israel, brought together divinity and humanity. His growth as a child: expressing his willingness to be self-confined within the human condition. His ministry: breaking into the mundane of human frailty, yet always with a mind upon the ultimate goal of the cross. The passion of the self-sacrifice of the creator God as a seed falling to the ground in order to produce much fruit. The stunning glory of the resurrection: with all its mystery and wonder. These are things that surely no human mind could have conceived. God, the author and finisher, has been at work.

As I have already stated, what can be said of Christ, the Head, should be said of his body, the church. The incarnation continues and thus, the marks of incarnation, the very thumbprint of God, should be visible in the church. Locally we should touch our communities with these marks. Globally, we should shape and guide our world towards the creator.

Having said this, I do believe that we have so misrepresented our mission by the use of symbols of notoriety that we are in danger of misunderstanding the role of the incarnation in shaping the church.

It seems to me that the context of the incarnation has significance. In Hebrews chapter 13, verse 8 we see Jesus describe as being the same ‘yesterday, today and forever’. At first glance it seems that change is out of the question. Yet we also know that change took place. The Word ‘became’ flesh.

The unchanging nature of Jesus is to be seen in his essential character. His goodness, his truth and his faithfulness are all undiminished by the passage of time. In fact, he is completely unaffected by the constraints of time other than in his own choice to be self-limited. The kenosis, or emptying of himself, is the expression of this absolute commitment to his mission. The act of ‘becoming’ is the important factor for us here. We are being shown in graphic and eternal terms how we, the church, are to ‘become’. The eternal, creative Word has become flesh in order to fulfil the will of God. We, the church, are to follow a similar path.

Compare this with the picture we often find of a church fixed in its position fighting against the tide of change. Churches with a more conservative history, and I would include my own group here, have a tendency towards becoming entrenched in positions that they believe are essential parts of the gospel or mission, only to reassess these in later years to find that some of the things that they considered fundamental are culturally invested rather than theologically absolute.

It is easy to see how groups become revisionist in their view of history; often creating fantasies of a former time when people where more holy, more aware of God, and perhaps more Christian. Of course this doesn't just happen in church. An older generation's mythological idea that 'when I was a lad you could leave your doors open and no one would steal from you' falls apart when you consider the size of the black market in England during World War Two and the fact that very few people owned things that were worth stealing.

These over sentimentalised views very rarely stand up to scrutiny. It might be true that fewer people attend church today than in previous generations, but there has not been a golden era when full communities were church goers. Even where you find pockets of almost full attendance you don't always find behaviour that is fully in keeping with the basic tenets of Christianity (20).

Still, groups that feel under siege tend to demonise the other and create safe enclaves, metaphorically if not physically, for the practice of their religion. Even the more dynamic movements that have a headline narrative declaring that they will 'take this land for Jesus' still have a subtext that suggest taking the land is somehow the same as Christianising parts of culture that have seemed off limits to previous generations. This, of course, has all the appearance of development; it looks to all intents and purposes like the church is changing. Yet the creating of enclaves is still happening. The demonising of the other still takes place; in fact it is far easier to keep people attending church if you paint the other in a more negative light. Statements like 'not in church, not in the will of God. Simple!' by the Pentecostal church leader Derek Smith (21) add to the idea that the church, and your place in it, are synonymous with being in the will of God.

In light of this what does change mean for the church if it is to use the incarnation as a model? I really don't have all the answers to that question: I just know that we need to be willing to change.

In the gospels Jesus is shown to learn, grow, hunger, cry and feel fatigue: it seems he was acquainted with the full range of human experience. This means that the incarnation was not merely some singular event but a pilgrimage.

Evangelicals in general tend towards a gospel that calls for people to move from being 'lost' to becoming 'found'. I do recognise that this is the experience of many within evangelicalism. I have often explained my own journey in similar terms.

This over statement about there being definitive states that one might move 'from' and 'to', however, continues to suggest that the main role of the church is to offer a safe alternative place to the 'other' but only when the 'other' becomes like 'us'.

I will cover more of this later but I want to point out that I am not suggesting that regeneration is not important or that people are unable to know that they have been 'saved' in the way that we suggest in our churches. Here I am suggesting that the model of church that makes such moments the primary goal, is not reflecting the fuller sense of what the incarnation brings to us.

At this point I simply want to affirm that, in the incarnational model, pilgrimage is essential. We expect it of our natural children when we encourage them to explore ideas and learn about themselves and the world around them. Parents and teachers consider the appropriate lessons that need to be considered at each stage of the growing process. So it is with those of us who come to faith and begin a journey within the community of the church.

Richter and Francis (22) speak of the importance of journey in their writings dealing with those who leave the church. ‘The church that is best at retaining its members is one that presupposes that individuals grow in faith, in their own time and in their own way.’ This is often a difficulty for evangelically minded churches. As with other revival movements a great deal of emphasis is laid upon the crisis of conversion. Even where there is talk and consideration given to discipleship it is often done in very narrow terms with the emphasis placed heavily upon conformity of belief. People find acceptance when they jump through a series of evangelical hoops and so even where doubt exists, there is a pressure to conform.

Pilgrimage, however, is a life giving experience. It is possible to both hold to the idea of a cross encounter whilst encouraging an Emmaus road journey.

Our pilgrimage is mainly set on the Emmaus road with occasional moments on the road to Damascus

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.
S
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