New challenges in 2014

The year that is now drawing to a close has been, for me, one of completing several longstanding projects. 2014 will bring some different challenges. 

  

From 1 January, I will reduce my paid hours as co-leader of Church from Scratch by 50%. 

We are together exploring the  ‘re-imagining’ of church for its next ten years, which is an exciting process. One thing is clear already – we need to halt the process of centralizing (ideas/decisions/power) on stipended ministers and take greater steps to encourage, equip and draw upon the skills of all.  That is hard to achieve unless leaders reduce their paid hours. Our church also needs to reduce its spending and ministers' stipends are the largest budget item.

Although my paid hours are reducing, CFS remains my spiritual home and Southend the community in which I will stay rooted. I will continue to co-lead the church with Peter Dominey and others.

So what about those other 3 days each week?  Well for a few days each month in 2013, Church from Scratch ‘loaned’ me to work with Ten Spires community interest company.  Ten Spires assists Christian churches and charities to make better use of their buildings for mission and to benefit and bless the communities they serve. This creative team supports urban churches as they choose new ways to share the good news of Christ, as well as managing major development programmes for clients, usually without significant financial cost to them.  I am delighted now to be joining the Ten Spires team for 2 days a week from 1 January, working directly with 4-5 urban Anglican parishes in London that want to refocus on relevant mission. 

I also expect to be leading more church weekends and leaders’ awaydays and am involved in creating The Big Ambition project (more of this later in 2014!)

I thank God for these opportunities. It will take us all (me + family + church + clients) a while to get used to sharing my time between church in Southend and church-work elsewhere.

Your prayers, questions and encouragements in 2014 would all be very welcome!  

Not the God we were expecting

John 1: 15-36 and Matthew 11: 1-19

It is hard to know quite what to make of John the Baptist.  In the four Gospels there are many tens of references to him and a further handful in the Acts of the Apostles. But what do we end up understanding about this man?

One thing you can’t miss is that everything about John shows him to be doing something symbolic. For example, Luke tells us that he ‘was in the wilderness until the day he was revealed to Israel.' That is a great image of someone who fulfilled the Old Testament prophecy of ‘one crying in the wilderness, prepare the way of the Lord.’  His base is the river Jordan where, symbolically, the children of Israel had become a new people. Just look at the way he dresses in a camel hair shirt! And then there’s the food: even to those of us on a pre-Christmas diet, John’s food of locusts and wild honey is pretty weird. 

What is he doing in the river?  Washing people. Dunking them. A once-in-a-lifetime washing away of the trash that builds up in everyone’s life. In a society where women were often the possessions of men, John's baptism was open to both women and men. Those who came to John were normally shunned by respectable, religious people: sex workers, collaborators and people on the edges of society.  The religious people of his day came to gawk at what John was doing. Too proud to get washed by him, they came to point their fingers in criticism as religious people so often do. After baptism, the followers of John returned home, to live their baptized lives as housewives or carpenters or bakers or driven by necessity back into the sex trade, I guess, but this time with a hope of change.  

For a warm-up man to the gospel stories, John had a large following from a wide area. The claims of large numbers were supported by Josephus, the Jewish historian (no friend of Christianity). Years later, Paul was surprised when as far away as Ephesus in modern-day Turkey, he met people who only knew of John's baptism (Acts 19:3).

All the Gospels tell that Jesus went with the crowds to the Jordan to be baptised by John.  It was John who saw the spirit of God descend like a dove and fall upon Jesus. Someone once said that that is when the Old Testament finished and the New Testament began. The last Old Testament prophet makes way for the long-promised messiah and a new ‘deal’ offered by God to all people.  Then, when Jesus got started, some of John’s disciples left him to follow Jesus.  John’s followers resented this but John was clear on the topic: ‘He must increase and I must decrease’.  

Jesus considered John to be the greatest of the prophets and a man of integrity who had taken to the limits what was possible under the Law of the Old Testament. And the best was never going to be good enough. So Jesus then shares his good news based on grace, where those who trust him cross a pass-mark of acceptance in God’s eyes that no mere religious living could ever do.

John died the death of an Old Testament prophet, having made himself enemies.  John died a brutal and political death, which also symbolized how Jesus Himself was to be treated.

One incident stands out for me, in part because we so rarely read it.  Matthew 11 records that John was in prison, well into Jesus’s active teaching, and he sent two of his students to Jesus to ask who he was: ‘Are you the One we were expecting or is there another?’

A moment’s thought reveals how strange that question is. Now that he is in prison, John begins to doubt. Can it all really be true?  It is not turning out as John may have imagined it would.  Perhaps Jesus has not lived up to his expectations of a hero.  Here I sit, he may have thought, with no way out and facing a sticky end.  The Roman oppressors control our land still.  Perhaps I have misunderstood. Perhaps I got it all wrong. This isn’t the God I was expecting.

As ordinary men and women, our tendency is always to make a god for ourselves, especially when we have lost hope in the image of God we had before. 

For us too, the simple fact of living in this world means that so often we find that God does not wear a red cape and fly through the air faster than a speeding bullet. He doesn’t leap tall buildings at one bound or stop runaway trains. He never said he would. When our hopes lie broken at our feet, we may build up a limescale of unbelief.  We love the stories and we go through the actions but having first moulded Jesus into a model we can cope with. We may ask: whatever happened to the God we were expecting? But he never promised to make himself in our chosen image.

He won’t fit into the moulds we make for him.  We need to take the time to fit into his pattern, not the other way around.  Our call is to seek Jesus for who He is.  Not to settle for what is comfortable, nor to tie Him down as something we can manage and control. He is bigger than we can understand. We are not called to follow the Jesus that we have made or the Jesus of the church down the road.  We must seek him ourselves, first-hand. The Advent message is that, as we do so – with honesty and trust – we will find that he is Emmanuel: God with us. That he is with us even as we seek him. He just may not be what we have made him to be or what we expected. 

A heart-warming tale of physics and sweet-cure bacon

Much water has flowed under the bridge, Mr Robinson, since you contributed your appraisal of my grasp of Physics to that 1974 school report – the one that would help steer my O level choices (this being in the monochrome, pre-Bay City Rollers, pre-GCSE world).  How long, I wonder, did your pen hover over the virgin page before you committed your wisdom to posterity by writing the word “Poor”?

Admittedly it would take a barrister at the top of her game to quibble with your assessment, given that I achieved but 15% in the qualifying exam, coming 92^nd out of 93 in the year.  My lack of ability was compounded by the fact that it was a multiple choice exam, offering five possible answers to each question, so that a random selection of answers should, as a matter of probability, have yielded a slightly less disgraceful 20%. (Could never get my head round 32 feet per-second, per-second. Still can’t.)  No, there is no disguising how ‘spot-on’ was your judgment on my performance.  It was poor.  Well done, then, to the Son and Heir (bless ‘Im) who has just graduated with a BSc, so removing the unscientific stain on our family’s honour.

Nowadays, of course, teachers would never be permitted to comment honestly on my performance. They are compelled to use weasel words and wibble, such as “Ivan has been making progress this year towards a level 3 in physics, exploring such concepts as….”, which of course tell you nothing at some length.  No.  “Poor” was honest, accurate and brief.

Well, it’s never too late in this life to change direction and apply yourself.  The last forty years have been spent trying to find a topic at which I can excel, to expunge Robbo’s well-justified sneer and to give Mrs King senior something to drop nonchalantly into conversation at the historical society.  I’d like to think that my attempts at home brewing might be up there above the 50% mark.  True, owing to time pressures I’m back to using kits right now but, in the past and maybe again fairly soon, I’ve mastered brewing bitter from scratch using nothing but malted barley, water, hops and yeast.  Seasoned beer drinkers, experts all in real ale tapped from the wood, have sampled my brews and, through puckered lips, declared them to be “drinkable.”   If I have brewed better than some, it is because I have knelt on the shoulders of giants – so thank you, Dad and uncle Norman.

Or it might be preaching.  I have to ration this nowadays to avoid causing despondency among colleagues less gifted in oratory. When I intoned the call to worship as guest speaker in a local church earlier this year, one lady had an epileptic fit and another had palpitations.  (I say it again: I had warned them several times about the air-horn).

But this morning I had that ‘Eureka’ moment:  here, at last, was an achievement on the strength of which I could look Robbo once again in the eye.  Four years ago I went to study the curing of meats under Ray Smith, master butcher at River Cottage of Channel  4 fame. Since then I have been curing joints of meat with varying degrees of success.  Yes, the flavour is there but all too often they have simply been too salty.  And during those years, ministerial colleagues have occasionally called in for breakfast and have eaten the bacon – often asking for seconds.  Now I need to pause at this point and pay tribute to these colleagues:  stout-hearted, square-jawed, clean-limbed chaps all of ‘em.*  If I was facing a scrap with an ugly crew put up by the local pagans I’d want these guys as my wingmen, watching my back. Are they daunted by saltiness? No sir. 'Never complain' is their watchword. If one or two lay claim to a problem with cholesterol as a polite way of excusing themselves from a third or fourth rasher, who am I to mind?  

But now they need fear excess saltiness no longer.  For, along with Mrs King (junior), I tasted this morning a rasher of home-cure that was Demerara–sweet and not a trace of saltiness. Ray: I returned to your recipe and your years of Master Butchery have been proved again.

Given the lapse of time it is entirely possible, Mr Robinson, that you have already been gathered up by the angels in blatant defiance of gravity. Achieved escape velocity, in fact. And it is unlikely that you would remember me for I was then one of the quiet boys. But, if called upon one final time to exercise your incisive judgement, I am hopeful that though my grasp of physics has continued to pursue its inevitable course towards randomness, you might grudgingly award my home-cure 51% and a “Satisfactory”.

*Sadly, it's been some time since a female colleague dropped by for breakfast.

Unapologetic

Around a year ago, having read a review in one of the weekend newspapers, I bought a copy of Francis Spufford’s Unapologetic:  Why, despite everything, Christianity can still make surprising emotional sense, (London: Faber & Faber, 2012).  There are two surprising things about this.  Firstly, it’s surprising in this age of new atheism to find a ‘religious’ book warmly received in the press. And even more surprising for me to buy a new book (in hardback!) on spec.  I’ve just re-read it and I am very glad that I did.

For any readers who, like me, love books and reading but dont carry a roll of twenties with them at all times, here’s a neat trick. Walk around a bookshop  – as I did today at Foyle’s in Westfield Stratford – and find something that you think you’d like to read. Pause. Check no sales assistant is looking in your direction. Then take a discreet pic of the front cover with your smartphone. When you get home, reserve the book online from the library. In Essex reservations are free.  I guess it also helps if you have a family member who works in the library, so that when you drive her to or from work you can also collect and return your books.  Buy a book from the bookshop occasionally to keep the pot boiling – don’t want them closing, do we?

Anyways, back to Spufford.  He is an acclaimed author of fiction who found he could no longer stomach the thin anti-Christian arguments of Richard Dawkins or the blunderbuss polemic of Christopher Hitchens. As he said in a recent interview: 

“They treat Christianity either as a bunch of mock-scientific propositions about the universe which you can disprove, or as a social phenomenon which you can treat as entirely malign if you squint at it and wave your arms a lot. In both cases they operate a million naïve miles away from the actual experience of belief.  However they did also piss me off (as we like to say in the Church of England). I certainly wanted to write something back that had equal polemical snap, crackle and pop, just in case anyone felt like buying the lazy assumption that the atheist side of the quarrel was the clever one.”

In this quote you find why Spufford’s book is so enjoyable and challenging to read. It is not a well-reasoned academic argument about the existence of God. It is a passionate, emotional tirade.  The opening chapter leaves one breathless: an outpouring of anger; a contemptuous rant at the way in which people who hold a religious faith are commonly assumed to be intellectually deficient or worse.  He offers us “a defence of Christian emotions – their intelligibility and grown-up dignity”.

He moves on to describe one of the key recurring themes of the book, the so-called Human Propensity To F*** Things Up (or HPtFtU as he shortens it throughout).  Maiden aunts attending evensong may reach for their smelling salts at his occasional use of the F word but, as a working definition of sin, I find this one rather appealing. It is thoroughly Biblical in concept. It is my personal experience.  

Spufford isn't someone who finds faith easy.  He struggles with belief, recording that God often appears to be absent.  He notes, rightly, that the contentions of Dawkins and Hitchens all depend as much upon faith as any believer – presumably why the Dawkins-inspired bus campaign “There probably is no God, so stop worrying and enjoy yourself” includes the ‘probably’ – Dawkins & Co have intellectual integrity enough to acknowledge that they simply don’t know if God exists or not.  Spufford is incensed by the idea that, if only the god-nonsense stopped then we could all stop worrying and enjoy ourselves, since the human condition is far broader than ‘enjoyment’. Would a convincing demolition of the concept of God bring enjoyment to countless millions who live in misery? No.

To his credit, Spufford does not duck the problem of pain: God is good and all-loving; God is all powerful; yet there is untold suffering in the world – discuss.  Remember, this is not an academic debate but an emotional diatribe. So he berates God for his absences but finds he cannot escape the Other that hints at His existence through emotions and situations.  He touches on the arguments about freewill but simply settles on the Person of Jesus as God’s response to suffering. I find his emotional response powerful and persuasive, accepting that he doesn't pretend to offer ‘The Answer’.  Along the way he tilts playfully at some flimsy arguments of atheists. His utter contempt for the risible John Lennon song, Imagine, is a delicious piece of prose…

Who might benefit from reading this book?

• Non-believers who have been suckered into thinking that science is the only lens we have to examine truth
• Believers who are fed up with their faith being attacked
• Believers whose faith rests solely on a set of propositions about God or Sunday-by-Sunday ‘experiences’ and who lack the integrity, toolkit or balls (maiden aunt has now fallen off her pew) to confront some of the harder questions of faith and the not-knowing, preferring instead to stick their fingers in their ears and loudly sing worship songs (so anointed…) to block out the inconvenient issues of pain, suffering or an apparently indifferent or impotent God.

So, well done Mr Spufford.  And I see from Amazon that the sole remaining hardback copy is priced at £1,007, so as well as feeding my soul I might also make a tidy profit by selling my copy. Good stuff !

Never mind the poor - it's rich people we need in this church!

Smile, Gordon, God loves you too...

One of the most pleasurable aspects of my role is when I visit churches that contribute to the Baptist Home Mission Fund, to thank them for supporting churches like mine through their giving. 

Without the financial support of our big Baptist family, Church from Scratch would not have been able to afford its current budget.  We celebrated our 11^th birthday as a church this weekend and the fact that we have grown and developed as we have owes much to our annual Home Mission grant. 

I would also want to acknowledge that we receive a double grant – one of very few churches to do so – for which I am deeply grateful.

These annual grants are made towards up to 50% of the costs of a minister’s basic stipend. However, they do not contribute to:

•             housing costs (pioneering churches are unlikely to have manses)
•             employer’s National Insurance
• employer’s pension contributions (the Baptist Union strongly encourages its ministers to belong to the Baptist Ministers’ Pension scheme or to make alternative arrangements)
•              the costs of ministry (e.g. travel: my church ‘parish’ covers an area of around 48 square miles)

The amount of our grant for 2014 has just been announced.  It is reducing to 40% of the basic stipend.  In real terms this amounts to just 24% of the full ministry costs to be carried by the church.

The taper (a reduction year on year) is presumably intended to encourage churches to grow and to take greater responsibility for their own financial needs, so that the HMF can be redeployed to assist other, perhaps new, churches.

  

I suspect, however, that the underlying assumption is that churches like this one should bring in enough higher earners to balance the bias we have towards sharing the gospel with people on lower-incomes or who live on benefits.

So I face a personal dilemma (I speak for myself only, not for CFS on this topic).

Should we focus on building relationships with accountants, architects, GPs, lawyers and stockbrokers – all of whom God loves and all of whom are welcome here – at the cost of time spent with people who have fewer opportunities and choices?

And if we abandon them to search for richer members, who will take up our work?

Or do we continue to reach out to those who will never be able to give enough money from their hand-to-mouth incomes to make this church financially self-supporting?

And has anyone really thought through the Gospel implications of this policy?

[Note: as well as the comments below, there is quite a debate on the issues raised here on my Facebook page here. Scroll down to the item headed "New Baptist strategy for evangelism"]

Rich ginger cake

The Lemon Posset recipe posted back in April seems to have been  well received, so here’s another sweet favourite. Is it calorie rich? Does it cost a bit to make?  Yes and yes but this is the best ginger cake I’ve tasted.  Stays moist for ages but you will have eaten it all well before then...

450g (1lb) self-raising flour

5ml (1 level teaspoon) salt

2.5cms (1 inch) length of rough grated root ginger (add more to make it fiery if you like)

15ml (1 level tablespoon) powdered ginger

15ml (1 level tablespoon) baking powder

5ml (1 level teaspoon) bicarbonate of soda

225g (8oz) Demerara sugar

175g (6oz) cooking margarine

175g (6oz) black treacle

175g (6oz) golden syrup

300ml (1/2 pint) milk

1 egg

Sift together the flour, salt, powdered ginger, baking powder and bicarb. Warm the margarine, sugar, treacle and golden syrup in a saucepan but do not allow to get hot. Combine the melted, warm ingredients with the powdered ones in a bowl, adding the grated root ginger at the end.  Warm the milk and beat in the egg then add to the batter, mixing very thoroughly until it is smooth.  Pour into a greased, lined 20cm (8 inch) tin and bake in the oven at 180°C (350°F) for about 45 minutes then use a metal skewer to check in the centre if the cake is cooked through (if the skewer emerges clean, then it is).  If not then continue cooking and checking every 15 minutes.  If the top starts to brown, cover with foil. When cooked, allow to cool in the tin before turning out.

Enjoy.  If you need a second opinion about your efforts, call me for a taste.

On friendship

In the last few days, my thoughts have been drawn again and again to friendship.

Yesterday was the funeral of Correne, a friend from my church. Despite being at the crematorium, which can be impersonal and cold, it was a moving service and a privilege to be there and to have a part to play.  Correne spoke the truth as she saw it, with a no-nonsense boldness.  When I’d been part of the church just a little while, over lunch at a group one day people got round to talking about vicars, priests and ministers. Not everything people said was very complimentary!  As several voices listed the faults of church leaders and clergy I thought I should remind people that I was one of them. “Oh not you’re not,” said Correne, in a voice that wasn’t accepting any disagreement, “You’re one of us.”  Nothing said to me by any church, before or since, has had quite such an impact on me.

The day before the funeral, a friend phoned from halfway across the world to ask me to listen for a few minutes as he talked about his marriage, work and life.  Though separated by many miles and by different cultures, faith and circumstances, our friendship was strong, real and there when we needed it.

Three weeks ago N and I met friends from student days who we hadn’t seen in many years.  We shared some of the old jokes and memories. Realising then how stupid it is to let good friendships wither, we are determined now not to leave it so long before we spend time together again.

Oh and I watched The Big Chill again (the film, not the festival).  Someone - actually it’s Kevin Costner though you never see his face! - has died and his friends gather for his funeral…  It’s of its time but still a good film about friendship. And the music is superb.

There are too few good friends in this life for us to let friendship die of neglect.

What does a minister do?

  

A short while ago graphics like this one were all the rage in social networking sites.

Of course we all know that ministers wear their collars back to front and lead church services.  Except that my church doesn’t have any services. We don’t have any mid-week Bible studies or half-nights of prayer. We no longer have a youth club. We don’t have a Mother’s Union.  We don’t have a building. And I’ve never worn a clerical collar in public (that’s got you thinking, hasn’t it?)

So, it’s not easy to see the pegs on which Joe or Joanne Public would hang their ideas about the regular content of my diary.

The fact is that most people do not know what ministers/pastors/priests do with their time.  My friend Les tells everyone that I’m on holiday every week (thanks, Les).  

A while back, in a rash moment, I promised to offer my church a kind of “Week in the life of….” glimpse into my diary.  Every time I have attempted to do this, I have ended up asking questions about what is a typical week - and when was the last time I had a typical week?
  

So here’s what I did in a recent week.  Is it a typical week?  No. This is just a week. Next one will be different.  I:

• accepted one and turned down two preaching invitations for the autumn.
• blogged
• checked Facebook (wouldn’t know what was happening in church without)
• countersigned a passport application
• dealt with (who knows how many?) emails, telephone calls, text messages, post – three-quarters of it unimportant
• drove twice to the edge of London for work-related meetings
• gave apologies that I couldn’t be with either of our Monday night groups for a while owing to other appointments
• held the hand of my dying friend
• home-cured some bacon for colleagues coming to breakfast next month
• listened to my son’s advice and enjoyed his company before he went back North.
• made ‘to do’ lists and tried to make progress in ticking off completed tasks
• organised, encouraged, schmoozed and ranted to get some people to do things 
• parted the waters of the Thames Estuary*
• played Warcraft: Orcs and Humans (it’s a good vs. evil thing)
• prayed
• read a couple of books
• read from the Bible
• reminded a few people in the church why we do what we do
• reviewed a theology book for an online magazine
• shared Communion
• spent time sharing life with the cell community that meets in my home
• spent time with colleagues in other local churches: listening, talking, planning and problem-solving
• spent time with our Life & Faith group, sharing lunch, talking and praying
• spent time with people who were grieving.  Didn’t say too much; just shared their company and their pain
• started to write some small-group teaching resources for the autumn
• started, with others, to dream some dreams about what next for our church – nothing ruled in or out.
• tackled bits of administration that arise from managing a charity
• took a family member to hospital for her oncology and audiology appointments
• took a friend to a half-day cardiology appointment
• took part in a team meeting
• tried to do some thinking
• visited hospital several times, to be with others who were caring for our dying friend.
• telephoned my friend H in her long-term hospital
• visited some people from church – nothing heavy, just tea and catching up with life
• walked five Rhodesian Ridgeback dogs
• went to the pub for an hour
• worked with my close colleague on managing current pressures in the church
• worked with people from 3 other churches, exploring what God might be saying about their next steps together
• wrote two detailed papers aiming to release a substantial amount of money for mission among a group of churches in Essex

Now you might be thinking – not all of that is work is it?  Some of that isn’t 'sacred', it’s everyday. Which is why ministers are paid a stipend as ‘holders of an office’, not a salary – an allowance to enable us live a way of life which isn’t 9-6.  Most weeks it’s a 50+ hour week, some of which will look like work and other parts not. One reason is that people don’t have their spiritual encounters or crises by appointment or during office hours alone.

I wrote this list because people asked me what I do, not to make myself look good or to seek approbation.  I chose this way of life. There are times when it's the best way of life in the world and others when it doesn't feel like that...

*This only happened in my head

A feather on the breath of God

My reality ‘rests like a feather on the breath of God‘.  It is because God speaks, because God loves and for no other reason.  And if we want to know what it is to say that I am, the only answer is that ‘I am because of the love of God’. And when I seek to justify, defend or systematize what I am, I become ‘serious’.  I cease to be a feather on the breath of God and gravity draws me down into darkness.   

Rowan Williams, 2008, Not being serious

Inclusion and discipleship

Twice this week I’ve been challenged by friends about whether the church of which I am a part maintains a right balance between being ‘inclusive’ and living a life focused upon being followers of Christ. The following are my initial (and personal) thoughts; they are open to comment and challenge. They are not official church policy nor the last word.  If you think I have got it wrong, please set me right (but understand that I enjoy the rough-and-tumble of debate!).

Church from Scratch holds a very strong set of Christ-centred values at its core but has very low barriers to entry, meaning that all are welcomed and encouraged to journey further-in towards the Person at the centre. In this approach, people who might find it difficult to engage with more usual forms of church can find a spiritual home. 

We prize this openness. No one is excluded on random grounds of gender, race, marital status, sexual orientation, disability and so forth (nor should they be).  We often have people of no faith among us and sometimes people whose beliefs conflict with ours. Their welcome is in no doubt but they know of our determination to follow Christ.

We are inclusive because God loves all people and the good news of Jesus Christ is offered to all, no matter who or what.  The only basis for encouraging anyone to move on from this church is if their persistent behaviour undermines other people’s inclusion or their desire to be disciples of Christ. We are not interested in community for its own sake but in sharing our lives among those who desire Christ at the centre.

Yet the open and inclusive welcome extended to us all is actually an invitation that daily requires us to choose Christ’s way of life or our own: 

• His values, attitudes and choices (or ours). 
• His decisions about money and spending (or ours). 
• His values about who we have sex with (or ours). 
• His decisions about how to spend the time available (or ours).  
• His choices about what newspapers to read or opinions to hold (or ours)
• His choices about who we like (or ours)
• Ultimately, it’s his life (or ours)

Theologian Dietrich Bonhoeffer summed it up by saying that “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.”  We find that quote in his book The Cost of Discipleship -  an apt title since the cost of keeping his focus on Christ was to die at the hands of the Nazis. 

His words simply reflect the words of Jesus:  “If anyone wants to follow me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.” (Luke 9:23). Each day we are confronted with a range of choices and, if we are his followers, we take those that he would take.  Inclusiveness and welcome are not an invitation to see how Christ can be bolted-on to our existing ideas, attitudes or behaviours.  They need to be killed off so that our only ideas, attitudes and behaviours are what we believe are from him, always accepting that we understand in part and make mistakes.

As the Apostle Paul says “I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I now live in this body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” (Galatians 2:20). 

  

I want our church to be committed to being inclusive because the Christ I try to serve welcomes everyone. 

I want to challenge social injustice because each instance is a denial of the true value of human beings created by God and for whom Christ gave his life. Yet the same Christ calls all those whom he welcomes to overturn the direction of their lives and follow him.

It’s good to be inclusive. Yet Jesus' desire to please God drove people away from him as much as it drew people to him. Maybe it still does...

Moby, The Maltese Falcon and Schindler's List

Like many others I enjoy reading novels, listening to music and watching films. These are all popular forms of our culture yet it would be hard to say that they always sit easily with being a follower of Christ.

For example, I enjoy the rather gory detective novels of Val McDermid – which we also see on the television as Wire in the blood - looking at life through the eyes of psychopaths.

I love films.  I like spy and detective stories, especially the films noirs of the 30s and 40s, like The Big Sleep or The Maltese Falcon.  I like heartwarming, moral (some might say syrupy) tales like It’s a wonderful life or Mr Smith goes to Washington or fun films like (wait for it!) The Wizard of Oz. 

And I have also watched Schindler’s List, and The Passion of the Christ and Shadowlands, though I probably wouldn’t want to see them again.  Films affect people differently.  I saw The Passion at the cinema with a guest, a young Muslim man, who spent the film weeping profusely at what he saw, while in the row in front of us four girls laughed and munched their way through bags of crisps while making and receiving mobile phone calls throughout.

I also like a wide variety of music, including some that more traditional Christians might find strange or even distasteful.  While there are many Christians who think that ‘real’ music finished in 1950 or even 1850, I am interested in the way that modern music – garage, trance and ambient - can speak to the emotions and the mind, even if I find the message it contains requires careful filtering.

I remember as a teenager that the prevailing attitude within the church was that modern culture was something largely to be avoided or shunned.  Christians didn’t listen to rock music.  They didn’t dance or smoke or drink.  We were the people who “came out from among them and were separate”. We removed ourselves from society, finding alternative community and culture behind the walls of our local church. 

But now I am sure that it’s right that the followers of Jesus should engage with culture.  After all, the Jesus that we worship and honour not only created this world; he ordained that we are made in God’s likeness and therefore we should be sub-creators in it. Like us, Jesus was born into a defined culture and worldview; a locatedness in time, space and outlook.  Jesus could not escape or ignore his culture; neither can we stand aloof from ours. 

Which is why I was glad to spend time recently, at his request, sharing an experience with a Christian friend in his 20s. He wanted to explore the spiritual content of the music of Moby, in the style of contemporary music known as ambient electronic.  Moby is a professing Christian whose music and lyrics, though not apparently explicitly Christian, are now used very extensively in modern entertainments and in films.  You may not have heard his name but if you heard just some of his music you would probably recognise it as he is still, I think, among the most licenced of artists for use in films and adverts. My friend asked if it would be possible to explore a sample of Moby’s work and see what conclusions we came to, having experienced this material together.  It was an interesting and challenging project.

Paul’s Letter to the Philippian church can speak into situations where we look our culture hard in the face. Written in his prison cell, Paul is confronted by the realities of living in the first century Roman Empire.  He believes he is in the closing days not only of his ministry but also his life. It is hard to imagine a situation more disturbing to the mind or soul.  But Paul doesn’t focus on his current discomfort or his imminent death.  Instead, he writes to offer encouragement to one of his churches. And at the heart of his message is the belief that Christians may know peace amid the pain and trouble of the world as they focus on the beauty that lies on the other side of what presents as reality in our culture.

“Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” Philippians 4:8

We too live in a culture that has a dark side. The pain of the world is brought nightly into our living rooms.  Our newspapers’ circulations are sustained by tawdriness.  TV news bulletins lead on disasters.  Bad news is sent by text updates to our phones.  This continuing bombardment of darkness can lead us down a path towards despondency or even despair.

The way of Christ, as taught by Paul, stands in stark contrast to society’s fixation on the negative and narcissistic aspects of modern culture.  If we are to find the peace of God, we need to look beyond our culture to a firmer reality. In place of despondency we are called to celebrate and enjoy all that is good and uplifting.  In our society, this is profoundly countercultural.

As someone once said, whatever else popular culture is it is not trivial, because it is an expression of faith and worship.  If the people among whom we live (and often we ourselves!) are immersed in the culture of our times, in its outlook and its ‘worship’, then clearly we must seek to understand that culture if we are to speak the good news of Christ in relevant ways. 

What Paul is suggesting here is that Christians must guard themselves against simply soaking up the prevailing culture, so that we lose any distinctiveness. So what practical steps for daily life can we draw from this?

Well, firstly, we look for opportunities where we can experience popular culture in the company of friends and family (both Christian and non-Christian) in ways that lead to discussion both of the merit of the work and the values that underpin it. Encourage yourself and others to be discerning of the signs of the times, as reflected in the culture you enjoy together.

Then, remember that not all that culture offers is meaningful or worthy of our attention. Much popular culture can be frothy or vacuous. But don’t be put off:  there are stories, films, music that have depth to them and which contain clues that underpin the lives of others.  Don’t be afraid to sample widely; reject most; revel and immerse yourself in little.

As you do so, enjoy those things which are beautiful and which lead you towards the beauty of God.  And when the Christian looks at hurtful things, as look we must at times, do so with the eyes of one who looks beyond them and sees the Christ who enters into the hurt wanting to transform and remake them into something beautiful.

What did I make of Moby and his music?  Well, of the 18 tracks I sampled, there was a small number that I found moving but mostly I thought the music rather thin and the lyrics inwardly focused upon some dark emotions.  I probably won’t be returning to Moby.  But I have no regrets about sampling.  I now have a basis from which to comment from the perspective of experience (not an uninformed bigotry, as is sadly often the case).  It would be far worse not to engage at all.

Now, when I watch a film, listen to an album, read a novel or view some art I hope I am not afloat on whatever current prevails.  Because I am now grounded in seeking the true, the honourable, the just, the pleasing, excellent and praiseworthy. And reflecting upon such things.

When the road is rough and steep

“We don’t have a priest who is out of touch with our reality. He’s been through weakness and testing, experienced it all — all but the sin. So let’s walk right up to him and get what he is so ready to give. Take the mercy, accept the help.”

Letter to the Hebrews, chapter 4: 14-16

If you were one of the original hearers of this letter - a Jewish Christian of the 1^st century – the symbolism of High Priest and sacrifice would have been as familiar to you as anything we know today. The problem for me is that the imagery here needs an awful lot of explanation.  And an illustration that needs to be explained generally loses its punch.

So, here’s another starting point. 

When I was in Sunday School, there was a chorus that we used to sing.  Maybe if you’re old enough you’ll remember it.  “When the road is rough and steep, fix your eyes upon Jesus.”

It’s certainly true that for many people today the road is rough and steep. 

I was talking the other with a friend who had had a terrible trauma in her life.  It was one of those times when a pastor wisely listens much and says little, for in truth there is little to say and Biblical promises can sound like platitudes. I avoid people who have too many answers or who trot them out with a glib certainty. Anyways, talking with my friend, she asked me if I ever doubted that God is there.  Because, for her, God seemed absent and she felt like just walking away from the Christian life.

Walking away can seem a tempting option when our belief in God is stretched too far by life’s events or by the inner struggles we face.  In such times, we come to think that God doesn’t care.  Or that even if he cares, he won’t do anything about our situation.  At that point, we see only the costs of the Christian journey and none of the benefits. 

What things might make you think about quitting?

High in the list I guess would be the times when we seem to be talking to the ceiling.  We pray and our prayers are met by silence.  Or we have persevered in our Christian journey and we have given up what may seem such a lot without always receiving the promised peace or answers in return. When we have tried hard to lay down some of the foul-ups that wrap themselves so tightly around our feet but, as soon as we have kicked them off, there they are - back again.

Or we have reached a point where we feel boxed-in by life or circumstances or by our own repeated failures. Most of us know exactly where are faults lie, because we are daily confronted with them.  As the biblical King David writes in Psalm 51 after committing murder and adultery, “Wash away all my wrongdoing and cleanse me from my sin. For I know what I have done wrong and my sin is right there in front of me.” 

Yes, we may go to church. We may read the Bible. We do the things that we ought to have done and we have tried hard to avoid the things we ought not to do but, as the Book of Common Prayer has it so poetically, “there is no health in us.”  No spiritual strength.

You are not alone, walking your rough and steep path. The Jewish Christians who first heard these words had just those kind of those thoughts (the same kind that we face, though their world was so very different to ours). Jesus, who stood in their place and ours, showed us what a life totally dedicated to God was like.  He did what in the Old Testament only the high priest could do, offered the sacrifice to wipe out the penalty for all our sins.  But, unlike the early high priest, who had to make that journey into the holy of holies at the back end of the temple each year on the day of atonement, Jesus did this once and for all people and for always.

Without Jesus we are alone with our failings.  Without God taking the initiative there’s no hope of forgiveness.  But understand what a hope we now have.  Because of Jesus, born as one of us, we are now given a fresh start. 

Some thoughts on associating

I don’t tend to join things. 

I do belong to English Heritage (it’s more proletarian than The National Trust and no prickly tweed underwear required). We get value out of our membership because as a family we enjoy clambering over castle walls and crawling into chambered cairns.  I belong to the AA, although each year I wonder whether a much cheaper roadside recovery club would offer a better deal.  Despite being a political animal, I have not belonged to a political party since I was a student – sadly, in making Labour electable again, Blair’s party moved to the right where it remains, indistinguishable from the Conservatives and their oh-so-desperate-for-power coalition partners.  And, of course I do belong to my local church but perhaps that isn’t such a surprise...

It’s just that I have seen rather a lot of membership organisations from the other side.  For a while I was chair of a national association in the early years field, which included the big five children’s charities – household names all - as well as hundreds of local groups. For six years I also had the fun of creating and directing an intermediary body – an association of member charities – with a constituency of around 600 organisations.  So I know a bit about associations, networks and agencies that exist to support, resource and equip others. Nowadays I only join things that offer good-value services that will help me to do my job or enjoy my spare time but, and this is the key, with a strong preference to those where policy and direction is shaped as much by the members as by the trustees. 

In our Baptist world, our regional associations are set to grow in significance as the central resource at Didcot reduces in size and influence.  How can the experience of intermediary bodies in the wider world speak to our associations?  Here are some early thoughts, offered for discussion:

1.       In every association, there will be those seeking reform and those looking simply to fine-tune what has served well in the past. Why not bring together those pressing for a different future as sounding boards for possible change? We need to encourage respectful co-operation between change agents and status-quo seekers to get the best out of both since neither holds a monopoly on truth.

2.       Significant change only tends to arise from a compelling vision, a crisis, or both. Recent changes in our Baptist Union were driven by a financial (and, I would suggest, a management) crisis.  While we cannot control every aspect of the external environment in which we operate, we really do not want to be at the mercy of crises.  As we now see from BUGB, when you allow crisis to be the catalyst for change, you seldom have the resources or the time to bring about change well.  Therefore, a new vision – inspired by the Holy Spirit, we hope - is the only reliable change force we have.  But the naming of this vision does not have to be top-down or the preserve of those at the centre. 

3.       If you are the one who is recognised as ‘the leader’ then there is a strong temptation to think that you both need to generate all possible solutions to the strategic direction of the association and drive them forwards.  I believe that we do need ‘champions’ for change but these may well be the Mavericks on the edges, uncomfortable though that may be for those in the centre. Mavericks cannot be contained in committees or by standing orders. President Harry Truman's remarks about J. Edgar Hoover (Google it: too rude for this blog) are apposite here.

4.       So how then to create ways in which others can re-imagine Baptist associations? A lesson to be learned from the management world is that successful leaders ‘unfreeze’ the status quo to prepare for strategic change. They create anticipation, like the music in a film builds tension. So in our associations, what mood music are we hearing now, building anticipation for a different future? 

5.       Associations will be weak if all the key players have the same skills mix, e.g. pastors. We need strong teams that are filled with diverse members who have a commitment to the purpose of the association but are each capable of bringing different skills and constructively challenging others. The best short course of all those I have ever been on is the Mennonites’ Bridge Builders course, which is to do with handling conflict within the church.  Their first lesson?  Conflict is both inevitable and potentially healthy. We should expect sparky debate! Encourage everyone to disagree creatively. Well-handled conflict helps build clarity of vision and plan. 

6.       Finally, leaders in associations may need to treat the approbation of those around them with care. As someone once said: the warm sense of everything going well may sometimes be the body temperature at the centre of the herd.

Death in Woolwich

A week ago, an off-duty British soldier was killed on the streets of south London. It seems that his Help the Heroes t-shirt was enough to identify him as a soldier.  The attack was not  directed at him for his own sake. He simply represented the British military and the government; the country and values system that was so hated by the two alleged perpetrators of the murderous attack. The soldier’s name was Lee Rigby.

Already much has been written about this event. I think any speculation by me on what might have led men to commit such an act - to believe that is is somehow justified - would add nothing.  Yet one man’s death on the streets of Woolwich has been noted by friends of mine around the world, each with a different perspective.  I have jotted down here their immediate thoughts and reactions spoken to me on hearing the news.  I have not asked their permission, so the comments are not attributable to named people.

The first is from a Muslim living in the Middle East, who studied in London:

“Disenfranchised, radicalised Muslims have other issues. They don’t exist because they follow a certain faith. The scary bit is, anyone can just walk up to someone on the streets of London and behead them in daylight while others watch....that’s the death of humanity;  it’s very sad.” 

A Muslim living and working in south London:

“Sorry to hear about the recent London killing.  I truly condemn such acts; it is horrific. They should hang these ********……  I think it is important that the government finds out these kind of hidden brainwashing institutes and root them out. These kind of people never let us live peacefully in our old country [Pakistan] and not even here.”

A Christian living in Pakistan, facing the risk of persecution, commented:

“And I got news that a UK army man was slaughtered on the road.  Oh my God.  Please make aware your white [English] people. I don't want to see UK become like [Moorish] Spain [in the middle ages]. Don't repeat the history.  You know what they did in Spain. They killed and had Spanish wives.  Today target was an army man; next would be a civilian and then these things may be common; finally a UK Muslim state.  Sharia Law will be imposed.”

Finally, a Muslim human rights lawyer living in the UK:

“What worries me is the silence of some, and conditional condemnation of others. I’m talking about ordinary individuals, not organisations which issue press releases. I am critical of UK foreign policy but we just cannot shape it out of fear of lunatics. We will see from the government shortly a renewed effort to pass ‘Snooper’s Charter’ styled legislation [enabling intelligence agencies and police to see the content of all emails; until recently the proposed legislation had been withdrawn owing to civil liberties concerns.].”

What's on the box?

I heard this week that a good friend has recently discovered The West Wing, having started to watch this from the beginning on DVD as relaxation after a heavy week of ministry. I am envious of someone encountering this for the first time! This was one of those significant television experiences, like Thirtysomething or Hill Street Blues in the 80s and NYPD Blue in the 90s:  one of the firmer landmarks for navigating each week.

In the last couple of years, this role has been firmly occupied by each of the three series of The Killing.  This production from Denmark was compelling TV. My wife is well aware of my feelings for leading actress Sofie Grabol, so we only need acknowledge that and swiftly move on.  Swedish police drama series Arne Dahl, airing currently, comes close to the quality of The Killing, with an interesting ensemble cast, some dark crimes (is it always twilight in Scandinavia?) and some understated humour.  We never got into Borgen - was this good? 

The other outstanding piece of drama, this time from the US, remains Justified – now in its 3^rd season on UK screens. In the King household, the week falls into two halves: before and after each week’s episode.  If you had told me 3 years ago that I would be a fan of a cop show set in rural, poor white Kentucky or that I would be into Bluegrass music I would have dismissed the idea. By the time a drama reaches its third series, you have to start to wonder if it will increasingly fall back on to a formula but the writers and cast seem to be doing well so far. Both hero and villains have flaws. The baddies are, at times, breathtakingly stupid but retain enough malign character to be convincing. And the rugged Harlan County in Kentucky is the major non-speaking supporting act.

If you’re inclined to dismiss Bluegrass, as I would have done, check out YouTube tracks of Gangstagrass, Alison Krauss and Union Station, Horse Feathers (thanks to Ethan for putting me on to them) or Brad Paisley’s version of “You’ll never leave Harlan alive” here. Love it or hate it, Bluegrass has more depth than I had given it credit for previously.

The only UK drama we are watching at the moment is Scott & Bailey – strong female leads, good storylines, one lead character deeply flawed and one the steady rock.

Church from Scratch - a congregational study

I recently completed a dissertation based upon Church from Scratch, examined from the viewpoint of traditional understandings of the incarnation. This is a congregational study and includes insights from ten interviews. The full text can be obtained here.

Please feel free to make any comments you may have here or to question aspects - I would welcome a debate.

Faith and politics - some questions

On the sofa in the lounge of a student house in Bradford this week I came across a copy of the Economist dated April this year. One article to catch my eye was about Margaret Thatcher's faith.  You can read the article here.  The writer makes two main points: firstly, that Thatcher was the last Prime Minister openly to embrace some serious faith in God and, secondly, that she abandoned her low church roots in favour of a higher Anglicanism as she climbed the political ladder. Of course that didn't prevent her from savagely attacking the Anglican hierarchy at times, not least Archbishop Runcie - a decorated war hero - for his compassion towards the families of 'enemies.'

1979 was the first general election in which I had a vote and Thatcher was the main political fixture of the following 10 years. There then followed the bland John Major before the arrival of Tony Blair. I don't think we had any clue about Blair's faith before he was elected and Alastair Campbell famously advised the press (and Blair, according to Campbell's diaries) that we "Don't do God."  I take this to mean that faith as motivation or ground is entirely acceptable but the overt embracing of any faith which is then open to political scrutiny runs a serious risk of unravelling. Blair's faith also went on a journey, in this case from Anglicanism towards his wife's Roman Catholicism. I can remember the point when I first thought that Blair would seek admission to the RC church only after he left office. My reaction then was that he had sacrificed integrity for expediency and I have not changed my mind since.

Blair went on the Michael Parkinson show in March 2006 and said this when asked about his decision to invade Iraq:

 "The only way you can take a decision like that is to try to do the right thing according to your            conscience. I think if you have faith about these things, then you realise that that judgement is made by other people... and if you believe in God, it's made by God as well." When asked if he had prayed to God on the matter, he replied: "I don't want to go into that... you struggle with your own conscience about it... in the end, you do what you think is the right thing."

It would be silly not to acknowledge some aspects of the work of both these Prime Ministers. Yet I despised most of Thatcher's policies and I came to distrust Blair, who I suspected was overawed by his position and tried to make up for that. I am glad that in the UK we do not have much truck with 'Christian' parties or the horrid religious Right as they do in the United States. I am delighted that, quietly and without fuss, Christians, Muslims, Jews, Hindus, Sikhs (and I'd better say, Humanists!) contribute greatly to our political life in councils and governing bodies, as well as in Parliament. People who differ politically but share the same desire to serve others for the public good.

But did it make any difference that the two most influential British Prime Ministers of the late 20th Century are both identified with their faith? And what might we learn from their example about how faith and public service may be linked?

The 2015 election edges closer

Half-way until the next General Election, how do we think the Labour front bench is doing?  Are they convincing as a credible government in-waiting?  Well, in their favour they have more female MPs in the shadow cabinet than their opponents and they do have some confident and weighty figures.  It’s only a personal view – I don’t know any of them personally, and only have their public performances to go by - but here are the ones I feel are the more heavyweight hitters:

Ed Balls (Shadow Chancellor).  Yes, still carries some baggage from being Gordon Brown’s man but a master of his brief and a real bruiser in political debate.  On the downside, the public continues to hold him largely to blame for the state of the economy at the time of the last general election. 

Yvette Cooper (Shadow Home Secretary).  Capable and a good performer in public. Seemed to manage the Chief Secretary and Work and Pensions portfolios in the Brown government well.  Popular among Labour MPs, topping the poll for Shadow Cabinet elections.

Andy Burnham (Health). There must be harder jobs than opposing a Tory health secretary but Burnham seems to do rather well.  

Chuka Umunna (Business, Innovations and Skills)  Bright, confident and seems very ambitious, he is a convincing performer.

Douglas Alexander (Foreign affairs).  Solid performer. Conveys integrity.

However, for me, the star of the Labour first team is Jon Cruddas MP for Dagenham and Rainham and Policy Review Co-ordinator.  Not a glory-seeker (he didn’t want to be Deputy PM if he had won the deputy leadership of the party).  He faced-down and saw off the BNP in his east London constituency.  He isn’t afraid to be known as a left winger (or at least what passes for left in today’s Labour Party).  His ideas command respect and he seems to have integrity.  Politics needs more like him.

For me, most of the other members of the Shadow Cabinet – including the leader and deputy – seem pedestrian at best.  I am nearly as tired of seeing Caroline Flint as I became at seeing Hazel Blears in the last Labour government.

It won’t be enough for Labour to count either on the public’s unhappiness with the Conservatives or the deep losses the Lib Dems are expected to face following their opportunist alliance with the Tories.  If there is to be a change of government, they need to up their game a great deal.  They also need some policies.  There is a poverty of thinking arising from the three main parties’ determination to hold the centre ground, which is why UKIP seems so buoyant.