Luggage and Labels

I have told this story before. But perhaps I may be allowed to tell it again via this blog. I suppose it must matter to me.

It was 2001 and I was undertaking Study Leave and was spending my 8 weeks investigating the Alternative Worship movement in the UK and writing up my findings.

I travelled to several cities throughout the UK to visit alt.worship communities and to converse with a number of those involved.

One afternoon in York, having just come off a train from London, I repaired to a quiet pub for a pint, to read a bit and write up some of my reflections. A man approached me, “Excuse me, but do you know that someone has stuck a label on your back?” he asked. I had not realised that someone had attached a label to me, and was grateful that the man had pointed it out. I asked him to remove it. He did so, and handed it to me, and it transpired that it was a luggage label that adhered to my back from the baggage I had been lugging around.

I sat down, grateful to have been saved the embarrassment of walking around York with a label on my back, took a sip of my pint and then smiled. For much of my ministry - indeed for much of my Christian life – I had been struggling with ‘labels’ and with the baggage that seemed to come with them. I had been lugging this baggage around with me. Was it now time to ditch it?

Of course, the particular label that I had owned (at least to some extent) was ‘evangelical’. Until the last few years I have self-identified as an evangelical.

Why?

In part because I came to faith in that context, and – for me – trusting in Jesus was a very real conversion experience. Prior to that I had been heading on a trajectory (if I may use that word!) which was taking me down increasingly destructive roads (and having met a couple of those who were also on that trajectory in the intervening years, I am all too aware of where I may have been headed!).

The faith I found within the context of evangelicalism was liberating and radical. I felt that I had been ‘born again’. You don’t get much more evangelical than that! I was set on an entirely different (and life-giving) trajectory. How can I do any other than be grateful for the evangelicals who helped me find such a redeeming faith!

But it was more than simply personal experience: it was genuine conviction too. I believed (and I still do) in the Bible as the ‘supreme rule of faith and life’, in Jesus Christ as God the Son in and through whom God’s love is revealed and especially in the Cross, in the orthodox Christian faith as passed down through the centuries and especially as embodied in the Creeds; that this faith involves a personal response to the love of God in Christ and that such faith is transformative, and that we are called to proclaim the good news of God’s love in Christ.

And yet… and yet… even from my early days of faith I could never completely and wholeheartedly sign up. By the time it got to the late 1990’s I had found what I then thought was a neat way of dealing with it. When people asked if I was an evangelical, I would ask back ‘Is Tony Blair a Socialist’ (this was before we knew the answer was “No”!). My point of course was this, define what you mean by ‘evangelical’ (‘socialist’) and I will tell you. Like ‘socialist’, the word ‘evangelical’ can mean different things and covers a wide spectrum. I knew this to be true, but found that not all that many evangelicals in Scotland seemed to believe it! There was (is) a fairly narrow definition of ‘evangelicalism’ in our nation.

From very early on I had disagreements with other evangelicals. For a start I was attracted to the early charismatic movement which – let it be said – was very different in the early 1970’s from what it became. In these days (difficult as it will be for those who do not recall these times to believe!) charismatics and evangelicals were often in opposing camps. But then the charismatic movement of these days included many Roman Catholics, High Anglicans, ‘social gospellers’, contemplatives etc and was endorsed by the likes of Lord George McLeod who spoke at some of the early gatherings. In the light of all that, no wonder some of my evangelical friends felt ill at ease!

Then there was my love of liturgy and high church ritual. This made several of my evangelical friends decidedly squeamish! And I think they were puzzled that I did not join the Christian Union or the Theological Student’s Fellowship, but instead hung around the Anglican Chaplaincy (with its high church rituals and liberal theology!). But – truth be told – that nurtured my faith more than any of the meetings of the CU or TSF that I attended. But, more, I could never have joined the CU or TSF as I could not honestly sign up to the Basis of Faith. I may acknowledge the importance and significance of the death of Jesus on the Cross (and I do) but why do I need to sign up to ‘the substitutionary sacrifice of the incarnate Son of God as the sole all-sufficient ground of redemption from the guilt and power of sin, and from its eternal consequences’. I did not and do not believe that this one ‘theory’ of the atonement should or does define the nature of what God has done for us in Jesus.

(Oh, and perhaps it is worth noting that on those occasions when I did attend a CU meeting, none of these nice evangelical Christians ever spoke to me!)

Of course, when in ministry and I began to follow the Christian Year, suggested that care for and action on behalf of the poor and marginalised was an essential part of Christian mission, spoke about ‘peace and justice and the integrity of creation’, and affirmed the role of women in ministry (remember this was the 1980’s!) many of my evangelical friends were alarmed. My two contributions at the first General Assembly I attended as a commissioner were in favour of the abolition of nuclear weapons and the equalisation of ministers’ stipends – neither of these were great ‘evangelical’ causes (and yet I believed and believe that they are Gospel causes!). I was not toeing the party line.

What is worse, I was making new ‘friends’. When I commented to one of my new friends that I was amazed at how well we got on given that he was a ‘liberal’ and I was an ‘evangelical’ he was puzzled and said ‘But you are not an evangelical, David. You preach a gospel of love, not of guilt’. He was not joking… and it made me think.

But still I clung to the label. Partly because I could not (and can not) swallow all of the ‘liberal’ or ‘progressive’ positions either. I have always said how alone I feel in the church, and I still do. One joke that has run in our household for decades now is that we better not have a party to which we invite all our friends, for they would be shocked to discover who we associate with!

And partly because I still owe a debt to my evangelical friends of almost 40 years ago through whom I discovered a transforming faith in Jesus. And also because I still am a credally orthodox Christian who affirms that the Bible is the supreme rule of faith and life, who longs (and works) to see others discover a transformative faith in Jesus, who believes that proclaiming this faith is a central part of our mission. It also must be said that I remain very unconvinced by the ‘progressive’/’liberal’ stream of Christianity which seems to me to be so woolly and sterile and unlikely to have any impact in contemporary society.

So where do I stand?

I don’t know… and I despair.

However, the present controversies in the Kirk are pushing me towards a decision. Some (not all) of what I have heard from the ‘traditionalist’ camp in the current debate on ‘same-sex relationships and the ministry’ has deeply alarmed me. If I were to continue to self-describe as an ‘evangelical’ I might be associated with that kind of attitude.

What kind of attitude do I mean? Well, the constant use of the phrase ‘Scripture plainly teaches’ would be one example. How can a handful of biblical verses only three of which are in the New Testament, two of which are notoriously obscure in the original Greek be taken as ‘the clear teaching of Scripture’?

What is the ‘plain teaching of Scripture’ on women speaking in church (1 Corinthians 14: 34-35) or having authority over men (1 Timothy 2: 11-12), or on divorce (Mark 10: 11-12) , or on birth control (Genesis 1: 28 & Genesis 38: 8-10)… and on this last point, if anyone can find me any Scriptural warrant for birth control, I would be interested to hear what it is!

What is ‘plain’ about homosexual behaviour that is not ‘plain’ about these other issues?

Why is it that we can accommodate various views on these issues but not on the homosexual issue? My questions are not simply polemic; I really would like to hear the rationale.

I have read widely and fully on the present issues and – while I am not yet finally settled on my view, I have still have not come across any argument that convinces me that somehow homosexual practice is in a wee category of its own away from these other issues. And that makes me wonder if there is another subconscious agenda operating here…

And so my problem remains. If I continue to self-identify as an evangelical am I associated with those who are unshakeably sure that faithful homosexual relations are sinful (notwithstanding their accommodation of some of these other issues)?

That I do not feel comfortable with…

… but if I cease to identify myself as an evangelical it does feel like I am somehow being excluded against my will….

Trajectories and Tribes: Thoughts on being left out…

Thankfully it only happens very rarely, but it remains excruciatingly embarrassing for both parties.

‘See you tonight then’.

‘Sorry?’

‘At the party’.

‘What party?’

‘At Jenny’s!’

‘Um… I haven’t been invited to any party at Jenny’s’

Cue awkward and embarrassing silence…

In such cases the person excluded or forgotten probably feels more hurt than anything else. I suppose I feel a bit hurt at the moment, but more sad than hurt. And such hurt as I feel is not for me, but for the church and the process of discernment.

As people continue to react and respond to the General Assembly’s debate on the issue of ministers in same-sex relationships, so groups have been gathering to discuss what to do and how to deal with the implications of the ‘trajectory’ that has been adopted. There have been, and there are to be, meetings of ‘evangelicals’ to debate and reflect and pray. I have heard about these from colleagues and from postings on facebook.

But I have not been asked to attend any of them. I am not surprised. I don’t think that I would now be regarded as ‘one of them’. I saw on facebook another colleague ask if he could attend… answer came there none! That said, it is possible that although I was not invited, I could have attended anyway. Maybe I too should have asked. Perhaps I would have been welcomed. But my impression is that these were invitation only events (and if I have this wrong, then I apologise and will ask to attend next time).

But I do think that the likelihood is that I and others have not been invited simply because we do not necessarily or decisively disagree with the chosen trajectory of the General Assembly. In other words, this issue seems to have become for some colleagues the litmus test of orthodoxy. Why has this happened? Why this issue? Who gave to others the right to decide who is or is not an ‘evangelical’, or who is or is not included?

The late Michael Vasey, author of the book ‘Strangers and Friends’ was an Anglican clergyman, a self-identified ‘evangelical’ and openly gay. Several years ago, when I was having a discussion with an ‘evangelical’ colleague in the course of which I was explaining that I was no longer so sure that the church should hold the ‘traditionalist’ position, I mentioned Vasey and suggested that he was an example of an ‘evangelical’ who took a different viewpoint. My friend responded, ‘ah, but he is not really considered an evangelical anymore’. Why was he not? Because he was openly gay and espoused an ‘affirming’ and ‘accepting’ approach! (And – for what it is worth – there are many ‘evangelicals’ who take a revisionist approach. See http://www.courage.org.uk/, http://www.acceptingevangelicals.org, http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/faith/article7051754.ece, http://www.eflgc.org.uk/, and so on and on… but I suspect that many would consider none of these people or groups is truly ‘evangelical’. Why? Because of the stance they take on this issue! Do you see what I am getting at?)

When Roy Clements – the former Baptist minister, conservative evangelical commentator and much admired preacher and speaker at big ’evangelical’ gatherings – announced he was actively gay, the invitations to speak ceased, his books (which were conservative bible commentaries and did not mention homosexuality at all) were withdrawn by ‘evangelical’ publishers, and he was shunned by his former friends.

His articles are worth a read http://www.courage.org.uk/articles/articles.asp?CID=4.) At one point he writes

‘We have always regarded ourselves most emphatically as “evangelicals”, and our theological position has not changed in anyway. But we have been denounced as “liberals” because we do not accept the purported “evangelical view” on the gay issue. There seems to be a determined attempt, at least by some within the evangelical camp, so to embed a particular view of homosexuality within the evangelical identity that there is no room left for dissenters like us. Indeed, the very existence of “gay evangelicals” has been conspicuously ignored in the entire debate.’

I do not wish to get into a discussion at this point on ‘labels’ and what they do or do not mean, nor on the various tribes of Christians within the church. Another day perhaps! Nor am I seeking to self-identify with, or exclude myself from any particular tribe. But it is interesting to note that where once I was included, now I feel myself to be excluded. And while my theological position in general has developed over the years and labels – however unavoidable – now make me feel uncomfortable, I still feel sad that it seems that I and others are not included in conversations, and I suspect this is because we take a different view on this issue. It seems that this has become the touchstone of orthodoxy.

But what really saddens me is that if we keep gathering to talk and pray in groups of people who share our views, then what results is not discernment, but reinforcement of existing positions.

Can we not talk together with those who take a different view or who do not yet know what view they take?

Can we not listen together, discover together?

Can we stop excluding one another from discussions and try to include one another in these conversations?

I hope so… I really, really hope so.

A Chosen Trajectory - The Assembly decides

Well, it was a tense and intense day at the Assembly, but the Church is now set on a trajectory which MAY lead to the the acceptance and affirmation of gay ministers in stable and committed relationships.

It is strange as - in my heart - I feel both relieved and hopeful - although my mind is still not completely resolved on the matter. Perhaps I still have to travel a little bit yet - but then I have already travelled a long way on this issue...

Conversations with some of my congregation today reveal that they too have been travelling and I was as immensely proud of those to whom I spoke today as I was of the General Assembly. Whatever my unresolved intellectual issues, I found myself turned off by the narrow apparent 'certainties' of the traditionalists.

But - like many others who share the relief and hope I am experiencing - there is a sense of sadness too. Sadness that many will feel very betrayed and bereft at the decision today and will think that somehow the church has moved away from true 'biblical' faith. I profoundly disagree with that perception, but I can understand their pain.

So let's all take a moment to feel their pain too.

And surely none of us - even those who are most committed tot he revisionist position - can feel anything but sorrow that some may chose to leave. I hope and pray that unity might still prevail. But I fear that there may be some - perhaps many - defections. And that is profoundly sad.

And spare a thought too for our sisters and brothers who are gay but who have felt it a matter of Christian faithfulness to struggle to maintain celibacy. No matter our views, these fellow Christians must feel a sense of abandonment and confusion this evening.

And I feel also for those sisters who are ordained ministers and adopt a traditionalist stance on this issue. If there is a split they must be wondering where their 'home' might be in the future.

The journey ahead will continue to be painful and difficult and the outcomes uncertain. Much prayer and considerable grace will be needed in the days to come...

Wine to gladden the human heart

Okay, I admit it. I am in danger of becoming obsessed with wine. But at this stage in the Lenten journey that may not be surprising!

However, it is not Lent or the absence of wine that has been dominating my thoughts. Rather it is the attitude of some Christians to wine – and other alcoholic drinks. I am well aware that attitudes and practice within the Christian community has changed over the last few decades. When I first made a clear decision to follow in the Way of Jesus it was in a context in which drinking alcohol was considered to be inappropriate for Christians. For me that represented a welcome break with some of my underage pre-Christian teenage practice which had involved a fair amount of alcohol indulgence. A clean break was – for me – an important part of beginning the road of discipleship.

Not that I stayed ‘tee-total’. Attitudes in the ‘evangelical’ Christian world were beginning to change and more and more people were drinking on occasion. Not in excess – or anything like it. But wine with a meal or a couple of pints of an evening were considered relatively normal by some of my fellow Christians, while others were still adhering to abstinence, and urging everyone else to do likewise!

That said I entirely respect those who do not drink. I have many friends who (for a variety of reasons) cannot drink, or others who choose not to out of personal Christian conviction. And, of course, I completely understand those who give up alcohol for a season as a spiritual discipline (for example, for Lent!).

When I read the Bible I find that it is almost entirely positive about wine etc, while being negative about drunkenness. And in church history we find that Christian ‘tee-totalism’ is a very recent phenomenon. Of course, there were always those who chose to deny themselves wine and strong drink for reasons for personal choice or spiritual discipline. But by and large the Scriptural witness is positive towards wine (it gladdens our hearts!) but negative towards drunkenness.

And when we come to regard our Protestant tradition pre the 19^th / early 20^th century obsession with ‘temperance’ then we find that the likes of Luther, Calvin and Knox were not slow to use wine or extol its virtues.

But what has really made we wonder recently is a wedding celebration we attended. It was a lovely event and I am delighted that we were there. However, at the couple’s request there was no alcohol served which was fine as far as I was concerned as a) I was driving and b) it is Lent! But I could not help wondering ‘Why?’ If ever there was a time for wine was it not a wedding? But what was even stranger is that the preacher in his address used the drinking of wine with a meal as an illustration of what he wanted to say. So what was all that about?!?

It took me back several years to a similar event when a relative was getting married and again for reasons of the couple’s choice arising out of their personal Christian commitment, no alcohol was served. But the officiant used the Wedding in Cana of Galilee as his theme and spoke of the wedding turning out like a free day in Oddbins?!? But then no wine to toast the happy couple of celebrate their new life together!

And again I ask, ‘Why?’

If people cannot celebrate a wedding (of all things) with a glass of bubbly, but still hear the preachers speak of water being turned into wine, what on earth is going on? Anyone got a clue?

Easter Day cannot come quickly enough!

Living out the Faith in a Broken World

There has been so much happening in the world recently; all of it highlighting the ‘brokenness’ of the world in which we live.

The earthquake in New Zealand, the even more devastating earthquake in Japan with the tsunami and nuclear crisis to follow, the events in Egypt and other Middle East countries and especially the current crisis in Libya.

All of these things raise serious questions for people of faith. They also provide much ammunition for faith’s detractors!

But such matters are not the main concern of this blog. I do not wish at this point to go into questions of how or why the world is ‘broken’ nor deal with issues of a loving God and natural disasters etc. These I may deal with another time, and many, many others are grappling with these issues.

Anyway, in the face of human tragedy the first response is surely that of concern for, aid to, prayer for and support of those who are suffering. Philosophical discussions and theological responses can come later, if come they must.

However, two things are really niggling at me. The first is the nuclear power issue and the second is the world’s response to the Libyan crisis.

With regard to nuclear power, it is perhaps not surprising that following the apparent threat of meltdown in the nuclear power stations hit by earthquake and tsunami, and the release of radiation into the atmosphere (and also it seems into the food chain and the water supply) many people are now saying that we must avoid nuclear power. But I wonder…

In a broken world there are no perfect answers. If we want to have energy we need to generate it, and – to the best of my knowledge – there are only three options: fossil fuels, renewables or nuclear.

With regard to fossil fuels, the evidence for human made global warming resulting from our excessive carbon emissions seems to me to be incontrovertible. I know that there remain many who question it (some because they have an instinctive distrust of ‘experts’, and many because the implications for lifestyle are just too inconvenient to contemplate). It’s a strange thing, but the recent extreme winter conditions have caused some in my hearing to say such things as ‘Well, so much for global warming’, conveniently ignoring that such extreme weather conditions were exactly what was being predicted by climate change scientists two decades ago!

It seems to me that as Christians who believe that we are stewards of creation and that we must honour the Creator by caring for what he has created, we ought to be in the vanguard of action! And even the climate-change doubters amongst Christians are surely still accepting of the view that we cannot simply continue to chuck our rubbish out into the garden of God’s creation whether that rubbish is landfill garbage or atmosphere bound carbon. So increasing our fossil fuel use is hardly an option.

So perhaps renewables are the obvious choice. And I for one agree that we need to dramatically increase our use of these. But they also come with a cost… windmills on hillsides or off coastlines and giant pylons marching across the countryside. And anyway, it is doubtful that renewables alone can provide our energy needs.

These are not easy issues for the environmentally responsible Christian!

So what about nuclear? Has the Japanese tragedy and the impact on their nuclear power stations (which is still unresolved at the time of writing this) entirely undermined the case for nuclear power? Actually, I don’t think so. An earthquake of almost unprecedented proportions and a tsunami following strike nuclear power stations where not all the back up was properly in place. And yet they seem to be on the edge of coping and the radioactive consequences remain relatively low in overall terms. Should that rule out the nuclear option for the UK?

No, it is not ideal. But then what is? How do Christians make decisions on such matters when there is no obvious good and bad, right and wrong?

And then, what about Libya?

Most of us would agree that Gadaffi is not a good bloke. Indeed, he seems to have been a cruel dictator. But how come the West which was so keen to ‘cosy up’ to him in recent years is now suddenly bombing his nation? Where is the right and wrong in this. And if they are imposing a ‘no fly’ zone to protect civilians in Libya why not in some of the other Middle Eastern countries where demonstrators are also being shot at by those loyal to dictatorial regimes?

Perhaps there is a moral case for this intervention. But I just don’t know. What does a Christian do, think, say? What is a Gospel perspective on this? Is it ever right to intervene to overthrow a dictator? What about Hitler? And if Hitler then why not Stalin or Pol Pot? Why Gadaffi now and not earlier? And so on and so on.

And how can we afford to spend all this money on bombs and missiles etc (and it is a HUGE amount of money that is involved) but we can’t afford to keep our relatively inexpensive libraries open? (Or does cutting the deficit not apply when it comes to missiles?)

I don’t have answers to all these questions. I am not sure what I think, which is really my point. As Christians, how do we decide on these complex issues?

And perhaps it all raises the underlying issue; how does a Christian politician or world leaders behave and decide when it comes to these big issues?

Answers on a postcard please to…..?!?

Lent: Giving up and taking up

I love the rhythms of the Christian year. I think it odd that some people avoid the patterns of the Christian year which I find so helpful in following the Gospel story. In addition, the fact that fellow Christians across the denominations and throughout the world are also on the same journey I find extraordinarily meaningful and moving.

And so I have been giving some thought to Lent which is fast approaching.

I rather wish we (in the C of S) did a bit more with Ash Wednesday. But I am planning a small step in St C's this year with an Ash Wednesday style of liturgy on the evening of the 1st Sunday of Lent. Next year perhaps we will actually move it onto Ash Wednesday!

In this I have been encouraged and inspired by the excellent 'Book of Common Worship' of the Presbyterian Church USA which includes a liturgy for Ash Wednesday which has within it the imposition of ashes. So if a Reformed and Presbyterian Church in America can do it, why can't we?!

So what about giving things up for Lent? Well, I suppose I think it is all rather easy to 'give something up' as if we are renewing failed New Year's resolutions. But it is not a bad practice if it is viewed as a kind of 'little fast' and offered as a spiritual act. So, yes, I am giving something up for Lent in that spirit.

But it would also be good to 'take something up' for Lent... a pattern of prayer, a commitment to support some group or organisation working for peace or justice, a new commitment to environmental action... whatever.

As well as giving something up I am planning to take something up.

Anyone willing/planning to do likewise?

(PS - in the light of my previous post - no need to share either what you are giving up or taking up!! The details are between you and God, it is the principle that I am interested in discussing!!))

Secrets and Self-promotion

Was Jesus into 'self-promotion'? (eg - the miracles, healings, feeding the 5,000, turning over the temple tables etc). These were hardly 'secret' events were they?

And yet he specifically resisted the 'spectacular' when he was being tempted by the Devil, and he told those whom he had delivered or healed not to tell anyone, then there is the whole issue of the 'Messianic Secret'.

I tend to think that Jesus seemed reluctant about his 'fame' and 'popularity'. But I know I may be reading into the Gospel accounts something of my own personality - for I am instinctively more at ease in the background and not in the limelight (and - yes - I know that will come as a surprise to many!).

When I read / hear things which I have written being incorporated without being attributed or acknowledged into (for example) other people's sermons or General Assembly reports (and I have!) then rather than feeling a sense of outrage, indignation or whatever... I have a sense of quiet pride and smugness that I know it was me who said that! (And I am more than aware that this is an acknowledgement of a great deal of very un-holy pride!). Indeed, in these last sentences I fear I have contradicted my position on this!

I am conscious that my own personality can get in the way of my judgement, my opinions and my perspectives on Jesus in the Gospels. What do I do about that???

Part of all this has been precipitated by my feelings of intense discomfort when colleagues 'self-promote' (imho!!) their ministries, charitable acts, congregations and so on...

is that just me? could be! My personality cannot cope with it. I could not easily promote myself, my charitable acts or my congregation's 'wonderfulness' without extreme discomfort.

I recall a friend saying that the one 'sin' he would never preach about was gambling... simply because it is the one sin to which he was not in the slightest tempted! So forgive me if I seem to question at all the integrity of those whom I (in my doubtful humility!) consider to engage in 'self-promotion'. How easy it is for me - who recoils at the very idea of self promotion (and does so from an unhealthy place I reckon) - to question the motives of others.

But the questions are burning within me.

Is it Christian humility to talk about ourselves and the wonders of our ministries and our congregations in the public domain (internet, facebook, press releases, blogs etc)?

Are our charitable acts meant to be published given what Jesus said about not letting or left hand know what our right hand was doing?

Does Jesus' apparent (in my view) reluctance to encourage publicity sit easily with our constant publicising of our congregations and their successes, triumph's, virtues??

Just asking!