Emerging church

I'm currently doing some study on the emerging church. This is something I wrote in my journal today:

I wonder if the problem with all of this thinking and all of these church movements is that we’re asking ‘what does church look like?’ and not ‘what does a Christian look like?’ We have made faith a consumer choice, like any other, and are trying to make church an attractive choice.
How about if, instead of starting with non-believers and seeing what kind of church would apply to them, we had a clearer idea of what Christians look like, and completely focussed our churches around who and what what we want Christians to be. We might find that:
- We do accept diversity
- There are some areas where we don’t accept diversity
- The church necessarily becomes missional at a ‘grassroots’ level – one of the attributes of a Christian will necessarily be that they are missional.
- We won’t feel the need to ‘convert’ everybody (the early church didn’t), but we will have a desire that everyone who encounters the church lives differently.
- There’s far less chance of having a ‘bad’ church – you should have a church filled with good people! (in theoryland)
So, a ‘good’ Christian will be:
- Someone who really loves God.
- Someone who really loves others.
And as a leader, I need to model this. I need to love God and to love others. A challenge.

Vicky Gene and the Interruption of the Biker Dude

This is footage of a sermon, given on Sunday, by openly gay Angican Bishop Gene Robinson - first name Vicky. It's interesting, because of the unexpected heckling by an audience member - resulting in the service abruptly jumping from 'sermon' to 'hymn' with all the elegance of a Virgin Pendolino trying to jump from the Birmingham to the Edinburgh line at 120 mph.

What are your reactions to the clip?

Gene: Freedom fighter, or moral terrorist?

Interrupter: Defender of the faith, or homophobic bigot?

And how does God see it? Obviously he loves both actors in this drama - but of which one has read the script properly?

We must remember the context. The Anglican church is slowly coming apart, like two enormous icebergs - Icebergs that are being irresistibly pulled on by the undercurrents of very different social contexts. In many western countries, discrimination on the grounds of sexual orientation is a criminal act. Is it any wonder society sees the church as ridiculous for denying people office because of what they get up to in private? In many parts of Africa homosexual activity is an offence punishable by imprisonment. Is it any wonder Africans are reluctant to appoint Bishops who could go to jail?

Maybe God is big enough to be happy with both protagonists of Sundays performance, confronting each other from opposite icebergs: One unswervingly stands up for inclusion and an end to prejudice against huge opposition. The other publicly defends truths that been the majority view in the Christian tradition for 2000 years. Neither of them, and none of us of us sees things from God's perspective.

A man who I believe tries to is Rowan Williams. He has a foot on each iceberg, and is trying to hold the two together. (There's a great and quite fair article I read today on him here. I have a lot of sympathy for him - let's pray for him).

At risk of irresponsible passivity, I'd say that what most Christians will be doing in this debate will be an exercise in waiting for one or other iceberg to melt. Let's remember to be humble and loving as we do it, and pray that the Anglican church would remain one - after all, the larger the block of ice, the less likely it is to thaw.

Prayer.

I'm fairly good at praying about me. I'm not traditionally very good at praying for other things.

Like many Christians, the problem of unanswered prayer bothers me. If God can allow awful things to happen to Christians (and he does), then what's the point in praying for anything? Or at least, that's what I tell myself. Sometimes I suspect that really I just feel guilty that I don't pray for others more, and the above thought is just a way of rationalising my way out of feeling guilty: a way to make it God's fault that I don't pray for others, and not my fault.

Well, a number of things have built up, like water behind the straining dam in a disaster movie, to challenge this long held 'grievance' I've been holding [against the creator of the universe. Ha!]. These things are:

- Hearing Pete Greig, the founder of the 24/7 prayer movement, saying that we do need to be really honest about unanswered prayer (he's written a book about that), but that we don't need to get cynical - miracles happen when we pray

- Reading a section from Dallas Willard on fully abandoning one's heart to God's purposes, no matter what the circumstances. I was really annoyed with its simplistic, modernistic approach. And then I realised I was really annoyed with the way it was challenging me.

- Reading Jeremiah 40: he had had a really rough deal, but he experienced God's grace in a really practical way it. Then I remembered Moses, Elijah, David, Job and the whole Israelite nation, who all experienced the same - God showing his grace in horrible situations.

- Hearing the same day from a friend of mine for whom I'd been praying. She'd just been at the funeral of a close friend, who was diagnosed with cancer 2 months ago. She saw the hand of God in the funeral, and in his life leading up to it.

I've made enough excuses. Now I'm committing myself to actually PRAYING.

It's fairly simple - I just want to pray for one thing, that's not directly about me, every day.

Hold me to account on it, and if I there's anything can pray for you, let me know!

The Emerging church

I've just started doing a module on the Emerging Church for my theology course.

This is a BRILLIANT description and critique of the emerging church movement, (although the sound quality isn't perfect). It's by Jason Clark, who's a friend of the pastor of our church, and is an all round good egg. I'm subscribed to his blog.

All sin is equal -?

I have a problem with the way we think about sin.

I heard a podcast by the Evangelical Alliance the other day, commenting on The Apprentice. The writer was dismayed that Lee won, despite lying on his CV. Now, I don't think lying, even in a small way is a good idea. However, there is a sense in which, as one of the interviewing panel on the apprentice commented, lying on your CV is just 'not that big a deal.' Would we accept that?

This is not the problem I have though. The problem comes, not with how we classify sin, but with the way that we judge others.

See, if I believe God is perfect, and I should try to be perfect, then I'll try to root out sin in my life, and only do 'good' things. This is a GOOD thing. However, then, as a human being, I won't live in a state of constant guilt about my actions. SOME christians live in a state of constant unworthiness and guilt, but most don't - it's just too tiring.

This means that, although I may theoretically give assent to the fact that I am never worthy of God's grace, I will measure my actions with a yardstick that just about puts me above the bar in terms of my ethics, and so I will tend to walk around with a sense that I'm basically alright most of the time (unless I've just heard a sermon on sexual sin, the plight of people the third world, or the need to share the gospel with others, in which case I'll feel guilty for a few hours/minutes or until dinner, depending on how long it takes me to forget about it).

THIS means that if anyone doesn't cross the bar that I set for myself, they become a SINNER. And with a view of sin that says 'all sin is just as wrong in the eyes of God,' then I will be liable to treat them with either a sense of discomfort, or mild patronisation, or the cold shoulder.

I think that this is part of the reason why non-Christian communities are more accepting (about SOME things) than Christian ones. When I hang out with my musical theatre friends, I know that, were I a tattoo'd lesbian smoker, I would be completely accepted as 'normal.' I wouldn't be given sympathy; I wouldn't be seen as someone needing rescuing - I'd just be seen as a normal person, and expected to get on with playing my role in the show (probably Nancy in Oliver I should expect).

So are we surprised when gay people feel more comfortable in the gay community than in the church?! People have crossed the line from 'alright' to 'sinner' and are then given an identity as someone to be helped, avoided or vilified. Would you want to be part of a community that treated you like this? Can't we just see people - all people - as sinners who God wants to use to achieve his purposes?

I do of course accept that in a very real sense all sin IS equal in the eyes of God. But, what I do want to draw out is that we can very easily reject PEOPLE when really we should be helping them become righteous. Any hints on how to do that?!

A bit like me

Too much of a good thing

So, I get frustrated with Evangelical certainty as much as the next person (see post below. No, not the old person, the other one). BUT, I think there's a danger in uncertainty: when it comes to making moral choices, uncertainty about right and wrong can be the siamese twin of consumer choice.

To illustrate, here's a hot tip: next time you want to do something you think is wrong, don't bother trying to argue that it's right, just be uncertain that it's wrong! You'll soon be committing adultery / watching a whole series of lost back to back / making balloon animals and baptising them in tomato soup, with the best of them.

Or, if you can't wait to try it out, just use your imagination: How would asking these questions affect your judgement? (you can guess the scenarios)

- Does one more chocolate really make any difference?

- Is it all that bad to pull a sikkie?

- Did God really say, 'You must not eat from any tree in the garden'? ("No Eve - don't do it!)

None of these questions provide a cogent argument for the 'wrong' behaviours being right - but as humans so often all we need is the question to give ourselves permission to act.

Being uncertain can be a smokescreen to let us do things we really think are wrong without feeling guilty. Where do you draw the line between too certain and not certain enough? I'll let you know when I'm less uncertain about it.

The power of old people

How to avoid doubt

I was surprised to read recently that internationally-renowned speaker and author Richard Foster - someone whose profound and thoughtful books are praised by people as diverse as Dallas Willard and Delia Smith (and many others in between) - is apparently an anti-christian false prophet, bringing evil into the body of Christ ( "The cult of guru Richard Foster" ).

It made me think - If you want to avoid the uncomfortable state known as 'doubt,' then here's a great tip for y'all: Discount anyone who thinks differently to you, and deny that there's integrity in their thought process. Of course doing this is easy - just make sure you don't listen to them, or, if you do, don't do it kindly. If you can label them with terms like 'apostate' 'heretic' or 'cult leader' then even better.

The trouble is, I think it's very difficult to do this to someone and love them at the same time. You can certainly love someone and disagree with them - but to disagree with someone lovingly involves understanding them, seeing where they are wrong, and challenging them incisively. It doesn't involve waving the heretic stick at them and bundling them off to 'you're talking nonsense' land.

So, if loving people means listening to them, and understanding them, and acknowledging that their point of view could be as coherent as yours... it means loving people also means being open to challenge... which means - being loving necessarily means doubting sometimes?

Questions, questions.

"It's not about getting better answers - it's about getting to better questions."

This is the kind of stupid thing that theology lecturers tell you, to make you feel better about the fact that the more you learn, the more flipping confused you get about pretty much everything, until your brain feels like roll gum and starts falling out of your ears. Or so I thought, until it struck me:

1) Human desires can always be voiced consciously as unanswered (or 'open') questions.

2a) Human beings have a desire to 'close' their unanswered questions

An example: I want to go running. Why? One reason is that subconsciously, the question: "will I be able to live an active life when I'm older?" tickles my inner being.

If I knew the answer was certainly either 'yes' or 'no' then I'd have no reason to run - I'd either be in a permenantly super-fit state, or completely resigned to the fact that I'm a slob. But, I have a human need to close that question one way or another.

Or, take being attractive. The more sure you are that you either are or aren't attractive, the less time and energy you put into thinking about your appearance. It's the people who are uncertain about the answer who try very hard.

So, here's the last jenga brick in my little pop-psychology theory:

2 b) Open questions motivate activity

What do you think? Any truth in this? (I'd love to see if your desires are unanswered questions)

So, to view Christian discipleship through this magnifying glass: Imaginary Jimmy used to try very hard to do what God wanted in every situation. He lived his life like it was a series of stepping stones - and he had to carefully choose the right one to step on next - or it could collapse, and he'd fall through the floor. In nearly EVERY decision, there was God's way, and a wrong way, and it was a big mental effort for Jimmy to work out which one was which, and follow it (or not - and feel guilty).

The unanswered question Jimmy was trying to close was something like: 'Is God pleased with how I live, on a moment-by-moment basis?'

Now, Imaginary Jimmy has done some study. The former question hasn't been answered, but he's found different questions which swallow the first one up. The new questions go something like: 'Is my restored relationship with God being lived out in the way I act?' and 'Does my life have integrity?' He doesn't worry about what God wants moment-by-moment any more, and he's found a new, and better, question. He's also a bit more relaxed.

So, perhaps, finding better questions isn't just a meaningless cliche - it actually does change the way we act - and has the power to touch any area of our lives (that we're prepared to question!)

I consider this all pure speculation, and I'd love people to share their thoughts.

D

Selective violence

Jesus was pretty violent.

When was the last time your pastor drove people out of church with a whip (John 2)? Or said anything along the lines of: "You snakes! You brood of vipers! How will you escape being condemned to hell?" (Matthew 23:33)? Yep, in terms of non-violent communication, Jesus really missed the mark sometimes.

Please notice two attributes of Jesus' violence.

His anger was centred around the hypocrisy of the Pharisees ("Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites!" is repeated six times in Matthew 23).

It is contact anger - Jesus is engaging with the people he's angry with - not withdrawing (as mentioned by Jim McNeish at a recent daybreak day). Jesus says 'you hypocrites,' rather than 'those hypocrites.' He wasn't telling people about the Pharisees and how bad they were, he addressing them directly - (whether they were listening or not!).

Can we learn some thing from this, as postmodern, self-aware, emotionally intelligent, maybe even 'emergent,' Christians? Many of us have fervent mental anvils of change, on which we regularly hammer out our visions of church, and what it SHOULD be, verbally straightening out on it those ways of doing church that don't tie in with our vision. But, are we selective enough in our violence? And are we seeking to engage the systems of Church that we deride?

See, when I read Brian McClaren, I often think "he's got a point." I also sometimes think "did these people run over his dog?" At various points in his books I just think he sounds a bit... well... grumpy.

Similarly, I was surprised when, at a recent event, a prominent emerging church leader described certain leaders in the Anglican church as 'spineless' for not effecting change more quickly. There was certainly some vitriol in the way he said it.

See, where there is hypocrisy (politicking, prejudice, unforgiveness, one-upmanship, power struggles, wanting to own Ferrari's ), let's challenge it, maybe even with Christ-like violence. However, where people are tied into models of doing church that we find, well, wrong; let's be gracious, and love them, ugly hairy moles and all - remembering that we are not hairy-mole exempt (I know I'm not!), and that "in the same way you judge others, you will be judged," (Matthew 7:2)

And, wherever possible and practical, let's engage people. Talking about a person is reactive, easy, and turns people against each other. Talking to a person is proactive, and useful, and takes courage (because - I don't know about you; but it scares the chorizo out of me!). I know this might be impractical when we're talking about global Christian figures or movements, but maybe 'if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all,' can be a useful tool.

I hope his doesn't come across too critically (or superior): I never want to fight people who, like me, really hunger for change, and relevance, and life and integrity in church, and are too often disappointed by what we see. But, as we break the brittle, sun-calloused soil of religion that's useless and, in some cases, malevolent, let's carefully select what we plough; avoid thoughtless trampling, and pray none of us turn into grumpy, pessimistic old codgers.

D

Going Local

One of the most rewarding things I’ve done recently involved being stripped to my boxers and sponged down, before dancing enthusiastically before an audience who were paying for the privilege of watching. No, I’m not describing some sordid moonlighting to supplement my meagre income – this is actually a scene from Godspell, a musical based on the gospel of Matthew.

I did this as part of a local amateur dramatics company. As amateurs we did it for fun, and loved it, as did the people who saw it (so they told me)! I remember seeing a friend of mine in the (very profound) ‘Frankenstein, the Panto,’ last Christmas, and it was genuinely one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. Local productions may not yield the most polished performances, but when you know someone, it brings a level of engagement and entertainment you don’t get on the West End.

What’s true of faintly exhibitionistic musicals is true of many local activities – you get the fun of being involved! Whether it’s sports, music, gala-days, barbecues or even political debate, being a part of something local is great! You may be more impressed by the ball skills of the Arsenal defense, but a Saturday-league Dynamo Botley match can be just as exciting, – especially if you’re friends with the team, and certainly if you’re playing. Local activities = involvement = excitement!

So, it’s time for local activities to shed their stigma. A ‘community project’ is more than ‘a diversionary tactic for youths nearing an ASBO’ (although if it achieves this, it’s doing something worthy). Local community activity for its own sake is great – you don’t have to change the world (just your estate/village/gated community!) Local people in local communities – let’s get involved in local things; get to know our neighbours; and possible enjoy ourselves more than we ever expected. Unite! We have nothing to lose but our trousers!