Theology Everywhere

by Roger Walton.

Lamorna Ash’ s book, Don’t Forget We’re Here Forever[1] offers a beautifully written account of, amongst other aspects of Christianity, the wide range of beliefs held by denominations and groups that identify as Christian.  From Quaker silence on belief, through charismatic and high church ways of expressing belief to hard-line biblical literalists. The fact that she makes a journey from atheism or agnosticism to some form of faith through this forest of conflicting beliefs is in many ways remarkable. It seems that diversity of Christian belief does not put her off nor stop her from experiencing God and joining a church.

Her Gen Z pilgrimage appears, at first sight, to be a harbinger of claims that Christian belief is on the up. If the Quiet Revival, now a somewhat disputed survey indicating a significant increase in 18-24 age group in churches since 2021, offers some truth, then others have followed her pathway.  However, it is not clear what constitutes belief for this group. Community, rituals and mystery appear to be the attractive force not primarily belief.

Justin Brierley’s book The Surprising Rebirth of Belief in God [2] makes a similar claim.The evidence he brings of new belief in God is largely that of significant public figures showing at least sympathy for the cultural significance of Christianity. Figures such as Tom Holland, Iain McGilchrist and Jordan Peterson in their different spheres of work all seem to advocate an open agnosticism to the divine, though none claim to be Christian, let alone subscribe to orthodox doctrine.  Their interest appears to be in the functional role Christianity has in cultural terms, rather than a commitment to the Christian world view.

Equally, in any Christian congregation the beliefs held by individuals are hugely varied. Jeff Astley’s work on Ordinary Theology[3] suggests that many church members neither believe nor base their discipleship on the espoused doctrine of the church to which they belong and in which they worship. Most operate with a cluster of convictions rather than a systematic or orthodox theology, and an agnosticism or disbelief on certain doctrines. This is sufficient for their Christian living and to hold them within the Christian community.

In the past, some have sought to make orthodox belief the touchstone of Christian discipleship. I can remember as a university student being asked to sign a statement of belief before I could be admitted to a particular Christian group, as if only right belief can define the true disciple.  This obsession with right belief in the post Reformation period, led to torture, war and persecution on a massive scale and looks, in the light of contemporary inter-denominational conversations, like a tragic waste of life.

It is time to re-examine the role of belief in faith. The great creeds of the Church which have defined orthodox belief are stories extrapolated from stories in the scriptures. Yes, they have been refined through philosophy and careful thinking, but they still tell a story, an overarching or metanarrative. When we recite them in worship, we are not being asked for a line by line sign up but affirming our commitment to a story of God’s love manifest in creation and incarnate in human form to the point of suffering with and for us.  This story is a form of scaffolding which allows us to trust in God, encounter God, and hold on to a notion of God in the midst of a broken and threatening world. It is not a contract to which we must add our individual signature but a story which invites our response.

Over the last 100 years, as Christendom crumbled, the Christian West has become focused less on belief content and more on lifestyle and practice. Rules of life and patterns of living are discipleship defining rather than creeds or statements of belief.

This is not to imply that faith has no content. Rather, in the manner of practical theology, belief is embedded in and expressed through Christian attitudes and actions.  At a recent membership preparation class, would be members identified core convictions that were essential to them. These included God as a loving creator, the incarnation, the teaching of Jesus and the reality of the resurrection.  However, at the point of interview about why each wanted to become a member, there was nothing about the Christian world view. Instead, people spoke of wanting to belong to a welcoming community and a desire to live out Christian life in practical day to day ways.   For them, and for many, belief is not faith itself but a stepping stone or springboard into the life of faith, a way into God’s story.

Theology Everywhere is in a transitional period at present, so we are posting articles occasionally rather than weekly. See the moderator’s message at the end of this article for more information – The church may close, but Christ is Risen!

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[1]Lamorna Ash, Don’t Forget We’re Here Forever (Bloomsbury, London 2005)

[2] Justin Brierley, The Surprising Rebirth of Belief in God (Carol Stream, Illinois: Tyndale House Publishers, 2023).

[3] Jeff Astley, Ordinary Theology, Routledge, 2002, Astley, Jeff & Francis, Leslie Exploring Ordinary TheologyAshgate 2013

by George Bailey.

Alleluia, the Lord is risen! He is risen indeed, Alleluia!

The resurrection is a key foundation of Christian faith. It is at once the most revelatory and the most mysterious work of God in the world. Followers of the risen Christ hold the resurrection at the heart of daily life; yet as we live out this joyful calling, we also find resurrection is always elusively out ahead of us, just out of grasp.

Lately, I have been unsettled by ways we talk about the resurrection that might weaken or skew its reality for us. I have been troubled by the use of death and resurrection imagery to describe the church itself, or at least congregations within the church. I have been involved in theological reflection both about local churches which are closing, and also at the same time about plans for new churches to begin (in various ways, including ‘New Places for New People’ and ‘Church Planting’). This is a regular reality for all inherited denominations in the UK. In such contexts, I have used the language of death and resurrection myself – it can help people to seek hope through what can be a bleak experience: out of ‘death’ comes new life. Sometimes we go further and use the associated idea that, for there to be resurrection, there has first to be death. This seems to me to be even more potentially difficult! It illustrates the key problem with the analogy. When people die, the resurrection hope is about that person’s life being transformed beyond death and continuing with God eternally. However, when a local church closes (or even a whole ‘denomination’) this is within a bigger ecclesial ecology, and led by the Holy Spirit new communities of Christians will begin in new ways in new places. Churches are communities of people who live with resurrection hope, but the church itself is not a person. The language of death and resurrection is being used analogously, but if we push it beyond the point at which the analogy breaks down, it risks leaving us with an out-of-shape theology of the church.

The church is not the primary purpose the gospel. The purpose is the transformation of individuals, of communities, of humanity and of the whole creation – and the church is the gathering of those who have been integrated into this purpose, called together as a sign of that purpose being realized, and in order to join in as best we can with this work of God in Christ and through the Spirit. If one such gathering ceases to meet (to use some typically Methodist language) it is not the end of the overall purpose, not the failure of the mission, because the mission is held by God and not by the church. We can be concerned about the resurrection hope of the individuals who have been part of that congregation, but not about the resurrection of the church itself. The people of Christ, who constitute the church, will indeed die and be resurrected, but the church as a community and as an institution – by which I simply mean a community that has agreed ways of operating to hold congregations together as churches, and hold numerous local churches together, and also which enables new congregations to begin – does not have a human life, death and resurrection in the same way. It is a community and an institution, but not itself a living organism, not a person.

A counter argument to my point here might be that if we see the church as the ‘body of Christ’ then talk of the church dying and rising is indeed appropriate. I think that there are two underlying issues with the analogy of the church with the body of Christ which need attention. In 1 Corinthians 12 and Romans 12 the point of the analogy is to emphasize the interdependence of the members of the body. Each person is in relationship with Christ, and so each person is vital to the whole church; there is a mutuality of respect and value; unity in diversity. This needs to be held together though with the other NT uses of the analogy of the body of Christ in Ephesians 4 and Colossians 2 which include the added aspect of distinguishing between the body (the church) and the head (Christ). This latter aspect of the analogy helps us avoid slipping into seeing the church as the whole of Christ, as if all the parts of the body put together (all the members of the church) constitute the whole body of Christ. Distinguishing Christ as the head of the church reminds us that the work of God is primarily in Christ, and the church is a response to this, rather than the sole locus in the world of God’s work in Christ.

Worshipping with a church congregation on Easter Day is a reminder of this humility of the church. We are blessed by gathering with people we can see in one room, or often in one location outdoors at dawn, or sometimes with those connecting together in an online location, but we are also awed by the knowledge that others are worshipping in similar ways on the same day all over the world… and yet the wonder of the risen Christ is beyond all the totality of all the gathered churches.

For some churches this will have been their final Easter Day, yet also before Easter 2027 many new churches will begin. This is not a cycle of death and resurrection, but both those churches closing and those churches opening are together a sign of faith in the resurrection hope for all the world, for the whole of humanity, and for each individual as they live out their own discipleship faithfully.

_ _ _ _ _ _

On a related note, Theology Everywhere is entering a period of transition, and ending in the current format soon. I will be ceasing as moderator, and although there may be a way ahead for something similar to this forum, it will be not be the same. There are some articles for which work is in progress, which might continue to be released on Theology Everywhere, but these will, for the next short while, be less than weekly. I will write a final article in a few weeks, when the time is right. This is not a situation of death – ceasing this project will not mean theology ceases! I thank you all for your engagement with the articles here, both readers and writers, and I have faith that you will continue thinking and praying and sharing the gospel through theological work – and all that theology is a sign of the resurrection hope we share, and of God’s transforming Spirit at work in the world.

by Martin Thorne.

Here is a ‘book’ that occupies only one page in the Bible, a private letter from Paul to his friend and partner Philemon in Colossae, sent from prison in Rome. I have only seen a few commentaries but started with the reliable William Barclay who shows its format is like other letters of the period and reminds us we are in a sense hearing only half a conversation, not knowing what is understood, but unsaid, by these two, and also not having any of Philemon’s letters.

The Story – Paul is in prison, with a number of others (Timothy, Epaphras, Mark, Aristarchus, Demas and Luke are named). He opens by greeting and blessing Philemon (plus Apphia and Archippus) and thanks him for the love and help he has given Paul and ‘all the saints.’ Philemon’s slave – Onesimus – has been helping Paul and now he has become a brother in Christ, Paul regards him as a son. As such he is now useful to both Paul and Philemon. He is also ‘very dear’ to Paul but even so Paul is ready to send him back to Philemon. These initial pleasantries and praise are leading up to a favour.

He asks that Philemon free Onesimus and guarantees to pay any money owing. He puts this as a request rather than a command (but reminds Philemon that he is also indebted; to Paul for his ‘very self’). Paul asks for a room to be made ready for his return, confident that their prayers will see him released and concludes with greetings from his fellow workers and a blessing.

That’s the substance of the letter without any exegesis and although it’s an isolated letter it should at least be read alongside chapter 4 of Colossians where Onesimus also appears. He is returning to Philemon with Tychius (a brother, minister and servant v.7) with news and encouragement.

To this story, commentators have added two assumptions which bear scrutiny. The first is that Onesimus is a runaway slave (this seems to be a fairly general assumption) and the second is that he stole from his master (a common but not universal supposition).

Well, Onesimus is in prison – he must have done something wrong, right? Actually no, he goes back with Tychius and so likely came along with Tychius too. The alternative narrative is considerably less plausible. There are several reasons to conclude Onesimus is not a runaway slave. Of course, slaves did run away and had bad masters where they were badly treated – I’ve no doubt Androcles & the Lion, the fable by Aesop, draws on the prevailing culture; also Seneca in De Ira (On Anger). There were three Servile Wars in the previous century (culminating in the Spartacus Revolt) and the Empire dealt very harshly with any disobedience. Running away is a desperate measure, Onesimus may have run away but his master, Philemon was likely not a bad master (though he may have had subordinates/family who were).

Slaves did run away and it’s feasible Onesimus might have. If he did escape, why did he go to see Paul? If Rome is Slave Central it seems more likely you would run from it than to it. It’s a long dangerous journey of weeks to get there from Colossae for a lone slave and not particularly easy for a legitimate party. If you do get caught (Barclay & others tell us) you are probably going to be killed (either outright or in some entertaining way) or at best branded on the forehead with an ‘F’. To be conveniently placed in Paul’s cell is just a stretch too far. How much more likely is it that he was sent in a group and put with Paul through his partner Philemon to help his friend?

Most important; now as a fellow Christian Onesimus has become truly useful. As God was accepted by Paul, then Philemon and now Onesimus, so may the process continue if the slave is freed and recognised as a brother.

Some (including scholars who like to build straw men) have suggested Paul is tolerant, accepting or even tacitly approves of slavery. Others do not.[1] They might use Philemon for this or others passages like Col 3:22 but for Paul there are verses to deny this (Gal 3:28 and Col 3:11 for example) and really it goes against the whole Christian ethic. Look back, at the slaves who built the Egyptian pyramids, the Roman Empire, the British Empire and all the empires in between and then the ‘American Dream.’ From Elisha to Martin Luther King people have fought and taught against this and related oppression. What will future historians make of the current age? As slavery and oppression continue all around us, perhaps they will call it ‘The Age of the Underclass.’

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[1] “When the critics assail Scripture, they often make confident assertions about things about which they know very little (1 Tim. 1:7). In this case, when they rail against the Bible’s alleged endorsement of slavery, they are misrepresenting what the Bible actually teaches.” George W. Knight III, The Pastoral Epistles: A Commentary on the Greek Text. William B Eerdmans: 1992.

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by Stephen Lindridge.

Anyone who’s ever broken an egg, no not a chocolate one just yet, knows how easy it is with such a thin shell to release its lovely contents. Apologies to those with an egg allergy. We occasionally talk of places being ‘thin places’ where it seems easy to break through and meet God more easily than it seems in the normal run of life. Places like Iona, the Island next to Mull, or Lindisfarne (also known as Holy Island) in Northumberland, to name just a couple. I am sure you may know of other such special places where it seems God is much closer and it has been a place of encounter. The Spirit of God has perhaps gently broken through the veil of our human made barriers of distraction, anxiety, fear, or stress and brought us peace, joy, hope and most of all a sense of being loved by the living God.

Just recently I was in an ordinary convention centre. It wasn’t very big holding just under 100 people. We were using this space as a base for the Church holiday week away. At the end of the week we had a time of reflection about ‘dreaming dreams’, sharing stories with prayer stations to interact with. It was a deeply rich experience, in which many people openly shared what God had been doing in their lives, some from the week, others from the past year. After the service one of the participants came up to me while we were clearing everything up and said “this place is so special…, it’s a thin place.”  I paused and said, “yes I believe it is”. 

This church has for over 30 years been going away to this place, having a fun week’s holiday, with all ages, doing life and encountering God year on year. It’s a lot of work for multiple teams, no doubt, but it is a space where families and individuals, old and young engage in life together. All the mess of life is there but held in love and honesty. People were real, we weren’t all on our best behaviour.  It was a place where the veils and human barriers were lowered and the deeper hidden things were allowed to surface. God was encountered afresh, and from the stories shared, life had changed significantly. It was indeed a thin place. 

So much of the time ‘a thin place’ like Iona or Lindisfarne has been a place of solitude. Alone with God and the troubles of the day, giving chance to find the Spirit of God meeting and ministering to the individual in isolation, while the tide gave isolation for a few hours. Here in this holiday week with over 100 people, isolation doesn’t happen for very long. If you want to you can almost never be alone! Perhaps that sounds like your worst nightmare. I loved it, though I was very tired by the end of the week! Here, in dynamic community; everyone mucking in, moving through the rhythms of each day, eating, walking, talking, together. In the free chaos of all the various activities over the week, life in community was experienced. This ‘thin place’ was not so much the building in which we regularly gathered but with whom we gathered. The final meal we all shared was in one of the hotels nearby and it was again a loud and vibrant room of everyone having fun. The head waiter hosting us commented to one the lay leaders of the week and said, “I don’t think we have ever had One Family as big as yours in before.” The wonderful reply came, “some of us aren’t related at all but we are all family.” The waiter looked a little confused but before he could ask ‘what do you mean?’ Linda replied, “We’re a church, in which all are welcome and loved like family.” “Oh!” he said… “I wouldn’t mind being part of that.” 

It’s not a perfect community. It does have widely different views and theologies about many things but it is a place that has practiced loving each other no matter what for many decades and taught the next generation to do that same. It is frequently a ‘thin place.’

Where’s your ‘thin place’ to encounter God? How often do you manage to dwell there? Are you overdue a visit or is it right before you?

by Frances Young.

Having grown up in Methodism I couldn’t tell you when I first heard about that day when John Wesley felt his heart strangely warmed. It was certainly many years later that I read for myself the account in his Journal, and what struck me was this:

After my return home, I was much buffeted with temptations… They returned again and again … But now I was always victorious.

Two days later “my soul continued in peace, but yet in heaviness because of manifold temptations.” But next day “though I was now also assaulted by many temptations, I was more than conqueror, gathering more power thereby to trust and rejoice in God my Saviour.” What those temptations were is never divulged, but turning to John Wesley’s sermons, or indeed the recommended agendas for the early class meetings, temptation is a fairly constant theme.

So I wonder: have we lost something by reducing temptation to worrying about that chocolate biscuit offered with the coffee?

Temptation surely strikes at the heart of who we are. It being Lent, let’s start with the temptations that Jesus faced. The voice at the baptism has just revealed who he really is – the Son of God. The temptations go for that: how can he be sure? What does it mean? What kind of mission is he destined for? He has gone off into the wilderness to grapple with all that. His thoughts revolve around the powers suggested by that title, “Son of God” – surely his temptation is not simply selfishly to satisfy the hunger provoked by fasting, though that no doubt was a humanly physical factor prompting the thought; rather, isn’t the temptation to gain success

• by feeding the hungry (turning stones into bread),
• by getting celebrity through startling tricks (throwing himself from the pinnacle of the temple),
• by getting worldwide authority by worshipping worldly values rather than God (worshipping the devil)?

Yes, I have de-mythologized the devil to make Jesus’ human experience more like that which we might potentially recognize. Temptation lies in our thoughts. It only becomes sin if we act on our thoughts rather than resisting them – that point the desert Fathers of the 4^th century were quite clear about. It is an internal battle, none of which escapes God’s notice, for unto God all hearts are open, all desires known. Temptation strikes at the heart of who we are: “She has the faults of her best qualities,” I once found myself saying in a conversation about someone’s contribution to a particular situation.

Part of our problem, surely, is that we have generally de-mythologized the tempter. But even back in the 4^th century those desert Fathers recognised that even if you imagined a daemon insinuating itself into your mind, it was your “thoughts” which tested your commitment. And one of the chief temptations for them was akēdia. It’s a word hard to translate – the nearest is probably “despondency.”  It’s partly boredom, partly dissatisfaction, partly grief at loss, partly distraction, partly listlessness, partly restlessness – fundamentally it was the temptation to give up, to feel it’s not worth bothering with, to go back to living a normal life.

So was this peculiarly a temptation for monks? Hardly! Don’t we all know frustration with our circumstances? Do we never feel “fed up”, never look for a “let-out”? And what does that bespeak? Surely it signifies a primary anxiety about MY situation, MY position, MY role, MY adequacy, MY effectiveness, MY standing, MY comfort, MY future – you name it! – and also, surely, a lack of trust, a failure to find here and now the wonder that generates worship, eyes and ears closed to a Presence that transforms even the most challenging circumstances.

Those old desert monks would meet temptation by citing scripture – as Jesus did; and by dismissing the “thought” and buckling down in their cell to what they saw as their vocation – continuous prayer to banish the daemons and share in Christ’s victory over sin and death on behalf of all humankind. I sometimes wonder if we mistake our mission – that it’s not so much a call to convert every individual soul, but rather to engage in this struggle in prayer, in solidarity with all humankind, a struggle to realize who we really are in Christ.

A famous monk in the Egyptian desert was Evagrius, who wrote:

Steadfastness,

              and that one does everything with great care,

fear of God and perseverance, [these] heal

              despondency.

              Set for yourself

a goal in every task

              and do not rise from it

until you have finished it.

              And pray unceasingly, and express yourself concisely,

and the spirit of despondency

              will flee from you.[1]

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[1] Quoted from Gabriel Bunge, Despondency: The Spiritual Teaching of Evagrius Ponticus on Acedia, Yonkers, NT: St Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 2011.

by Martin Thorne.

This is the second part, following last week’s article.

Sangster addresses problems caused by neglect of Holy Communion, which are not confined to the Methodist Church and are not just personal but corporate. A cursory glance a history reveals that some of the basic practises of worship have changed both from Wesley’s and even from Sangster’s time. The Methodist Worship Book describes Communion as “…the central act of Christian worship…” (1999, pp 114-115), referencing 1 Corinthians 11; 24-25. (and of course also in Luke 22: 19-20) Jesus does not burden us with a huge number of Commandments but this is clearly one of them. Not to heed it is an act of disobedience.[1]

John Wesley, in his Sermon 101 on ‘The Duty of Continual Communion,’[2] makes clear the importance of the sacrament and dismisses some of the facile objections that seem to have re-surfaced today. This sermon is a good starting point. As a regular worshipper I was quite content with Communion about once a month, sometimes more often. This is from the conclusion of the sermon (bear in mind he was still in the Church of England):

“The Church gives a particular direction with regard to those that are in Holy Orders: “In all cathedral and collegiate Churches and Colleges, where there are many Priests and Deacons, they shall all receive the communion with the Priest, every Sunday at the least.”[3]

We referred last week to Sangster’s diagnosis of ‘Denial, Defeatism and Passivity.’ We cannot deny that there is a problem with the Methodist Church, nor can we simply throw up our hands and say ‘What can we do?’, nor sit back and leave it to others. Communion is not an optional extra any more than prayer, hymns, Scripture or tithes. More frequent obedience to Jesus’ commandment will not suddenly fill up the pews but it will be a good start.

Sangster’s diagnosis continues to be relevant in other ways too:

Institutionalisation – New disciplines were born in the twentieth century; one very relevant to us is form criticism, and we do not have to be experts ourselves to benefit from the deeper understanding it provides into Scripture. Plenty of other new fields of knowledge have appeared – atomic theory, biochemistry, nano-technology and so on while others have been largely eclipsed; phrenology, spiritualism and eugenics for example. While we can acknowledge this historical context our focus must pass it by since these do not bear directly on our look at the Church.

One new discipline that is immediately relevant is organisation theory. Some may recognise this in a corporate or governmental guise; it has evolved from ‘Time and Motion’ to ‘Organisation and Method (O&M) to ‘Personnel Management’ and then alas, devolved to ‘Human Resources’. Again, we must forgo a history lesson but keep in mind there are – amongst the jargon of ‘management consultants’ – ideas that can help Christians in human relations. Amongst the verbiage are jewels of wisdom.[4] We see it in action in the Bible, in Acts 6, where Peter has to reorganise and delegate in much the same way as Moses in the Old Testament. TheChurch needs to operate as an institution, but should do so in service of mission, not instead of it.

Paralysis – An old story (also used by Sangster) tells of a hungry man who went into a restaurant. He asks for a bowl of soup, one is brought and set before him. Looking at it he sees it is watery, pretty colourless and without much taste. He asks the waiter ‘What soup is this?’ and the waiter replies ‘Just soup.’ The hungry man responds ‘You’re right, it is just soup.’ The point being there are many who are only just Christians, without much substance or the saltiness Jesus asked for and therefore provide little sustenance to others.

Another challenge, not too much further in the future, is when the Church as we know it, at least in British Methodism, ceases to exist. We can adopt a resigned position of ‘palliative care’ or make provision for the next generation. Considering the Parable of the Talents those in authority must use their ‘assets’ to their best ability to facilitate this change in what may become known as the ‘New Methodism’. I conclude that Sangster’s concerns are fully justified, but also his belief that there will be a rebirth.

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[1] Methodist Worship Book, Methodist Trustees, Methodist Publishing House (1999).

[2] Available from the Wesley Centre Online.

[3] Sermon 101, section 20.

[4] e.g. D.S. Pugh (Ed) Organisation Theory (Penguin 1971, 7^th Repr 1979)

by Martin Thorne.

“To the People called Methodists with much affection and warm gratitude but in deep concern.”[1]

In this book we hear from one of the great Methodist preachers of the last century, Rev. Dr. W. Sangster and look at his concerns for the Church then. Sangster would have seen the rise of Methodism to its zenith in the early 1920s and then a decline which now has the appearance of a terminal dive. In 1938, as the 200th anniversary of Wesley’s ‘heart-warming’ – Aldersgate Sunday we celebrate today – he looked with deep concern, at the declining attendance in the Church. I wonder how he would feel now? To us 1938 seems like a golden age, now almost beyond living memory.

“If the people called Methodists, ministerial and lay, would humble themselves before the Almighty, not imputing blame to others but confessing their sins … God would bend to such faithful expectancy and use us again.” His point about the ‘cumbrous machinery’ (detailed in his previous pages) is still sharper today with its ever greater obligations for oversight and responsibility; also his remark that man-made obstacles are nothing to God and need not be insuperable to us if we – first, understand the problem and then have the wit and will to overcome. Of great importance, his comment on the class-meeting; where is that today? Elsewhere he makes observations about Denial and Defeatism to which is added here Passivity (‘wait & see’). Always easier to hopefully do nothing.

Today there are three internal failings in the Methodist Church in Britain which can be discerned:

1. Bureaucratised – “The bureaucracy is expanding to meet the needs of the expanding bureaucracy” (attributed to Oscar Wilde). Bureau → Office → Officialdom. The Church has volumes of rules, the Pharisees would be envious.

2. Institutionalised – Meaning “less able to think and act independently”, to which the synonyms entrenched, regulated, orthodox and traditional may be attached – not in a positive sense but as an indication of an inhibiting structure.

3. Paralysed – “Incapable of movement”, not steadfast but more like petrified or ossified, bound by ties of its own making: The efforts of the few hampered by the inertia of the many.

Well, this is easy to say but these rather sweeping generalisations are of little use unless accompanied by two things; actual examples and suggestions to overcome the problems.

This is not to be dismissive of the serious efforts of intelligent, committed and concerned members whose hard work has produced enjoyable, edifying and worthwhile projects; such as the Bible Month studies of recent years. There have been many valuable contributions like this and yet despite the helpful resources produced by dedicated Christians the Church continues to decline. Given the wealth of enthusiastic and often successful initiatives we must ask – how is the Church is in such a steep decline? (see membership figures on the Methodist website).

Sangster concludes here with what amounts to a personal remedy for us all:

“I Accept God’s full and free forgiveness and take the Lord Christ as my Saviour.

By God’s grace I Offer myself to do whatsoever my Lord the King shall command.

I Vow (and here may follow any vow the disciple is ready to make. Do not let us pose, even to ourselves. Let it be a pledge that Grace and Resolution can fulfil; and if it is made for one year or one month at a time it will not overwhelm us and can be renewed. The following are intended only as examples which the disciple can use or vary as God leads him)

I will spend fifteen minutes (or thirty or an hour) in quiet with God every day.

In my prayers I will listen more than I speak.

I will commend my Saviour in simple conversation to at least one other person every week.

I will read the Bible daily.

I will join in some form of Christian fellowship weekly.

I will attend regularly the service of the Holy Communion.

So help me God.”

While these are surely all important it is that last, Communion, we shall consider in a second article next week.

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[1] W.E. Sangster Methodism Can Be Born Again (Hodder & Stoughton, 1938, Repr 1958).

by Gerald Bostock.

The word ‘apologetics’ is not readily understood. Being an obscure term, the word remains an unknown quantity in the absence of a clear definition. So, it’s hardly surprising it is rarely used especially when the cognate word ‘apologies’ means the exact opposite of ‘apologetics’. It needs to be underlined that apologetics is not a matter of excusing failure but of explaining and defending the truth as revealed by God. The classic text 1 Peter 3.15 makes this clear when it urges us to defend the reason (λόγον) for our faith and hope. What is at stake here is the distinctive nature of apologetics: it is not a dogmatic exposition or a personal testimony but the intellectual defence of the faith. This can be seen in the original emergence of the word, as indicated in the OED:

“The science of apologetics… was unknown till the adversaries of Christianity assumed a learned and scientific character 1834”.

In the post-Enlightenment era, an intellectual critique and rejection of the Christian faith had to be met on its own terms and, however problematic and difficult this might seem, an intellectual defence of the faith could not be avoided. Hence ‘the science of apologetics’. The genie had been let out of the bottle of a self-contained and self-explanatory theology and a convincing response was required.

The Need for Apologetics

Now that scepticism and indeed atheism have become entrenched in significant parts of society and not just in various individuals there is a real challenge for the Church: attacks on the faith unanswered become attacks believed for lack of a convincing response. We are now in a situation, at least in western Europe, where the battle for the mind has been largely lost – even to the point of many people failing to recognise the fact and the significance of it. We cannot avoid the hard reality that this represents a victory for the ‘father of lies’ (Jn 8.44) and the ‘power of darkness’ (Col 1.13). It is a situation which cannot be resolved by repeating our traditional dogmas in the manner of tourists thinking that shouting ever more loudly in English will somehow enable foreigners to understand them. The fact is that the Church has to meet her critics and sceptics on their own ground and then challenge them with the ultimate questions of the meaning and the purpose of life, the nature of our creation as spiritual beings, and our understanding of God.

The Relationship of Apologetics to Evangelism

Apologetics, understood as the intellectual defence of the faith, is not a subject which will have much immediate appeal. Most people want a simple and pragmatic form of religion and may well dislike or even mistrust an intellectual approach. A dislike of intellectualism in evangelical circles is understandable if an intellectual approach appears to have discounted the need for conversion and the importance of personal experience. That said, it remains an integral aspect of mission and an essential element of the Gospel. The case for recognising this should be clear. The word for repentance (μετάνοια) means a change of mind, and the word for sin (ἁμαρτία) in its original sense means a ‘missing of the mark’ i.e. the wrong thinking which is the source of wrongdoing. In each case the mind is involved just as it is – or should be – in the normal course of life where we are enjoined to ‘love the Lord our God with all our mind (Mt 22.37)’ and in the process of our redemption when we are to be ‘Transformed by the renewing of our minds (Rm 12.2)’.

The intellectual defence of Christianity is integral to the effective proclamation of the gospel, not least in an age when many Christians are confused about the basic tenets of their faith and are in danger of being a ‘trumpet that gives an uncertain sound (1 Cor 14.8)’ when they are quizzed about their faith. Apologetics has a distinctive and essential role to play. We need to be confident of this and also about its relationship with evangelism. When we look at the overarching task of mission, it should be clear that apologetics cannot be ignored any more than John the Baptist can be ignored as the great forerunner of Christ. Just as John ‘prepared the way for the Lord (Mt 3.3)’ so apologetics clears the way for evangelism as the call of Christ himself to the individual soul. It acts as the light which illuminates the path to the door of eternal life.

by Josie Smith.

I was born at the beginning of 1930.    World War 1 had left the country exhausted.    The thirties are now regarded as a time of hardship and deprivation.     Not that I was aware of that – it was just normal.

I want today to point up in a mere thumbnail one or two of the more obvious changes in society and church over my 95 years.

The standard family pattern was two parents and their children, with grandparents probably living close by.   Father the breadwinner, mother the housewife, three or four pounds a week a good wage, and houses available to rent or buy.   

Then came World War 2.  Eight years of severe shortages where we all had to Make Do and Mend, salvage and recycle, buy second hand, do without things.    I still have some of the frugal habits of those times, and today’s throwaway society appals me.

Sunday was set apart.   No work, except for essential services.  Church in the morning, Sunday School in the afternoon, church again in the evening for the grownups.    Our church was huge, with two ministers and two deaconesses as they were called then.   Everything was church centred, apart from the occasional classical music concert.    That 2,OOO-seater Wesley Octagon has been replaced by apartments.    Homes for people.

There was reliable public transport.   Babies and small children had prams. Mother and child could look at each other, and the child was encouraged to look and listen and absorb.   Look, a pussy cat, or a policeman!   Listen to that bird singing!    Push chairs now face forward, so there is no eye contact or talk, and the grownup is on the mobile ‘phone.

Children were at home until school began at the age of five, learning how to live in a family.    Meals were at tables and taken together.   In winter the heat source was one coal fire, and the family would follow their pursuits together.    Now, both parents are in paid work from the time a child is weaned, children go to nursery, later migrate to their own rooms with their computer games, and connect with their friends remotely.     Once, they would have knocked on a nearby door and asked if their friend was coming out to play.

More and more children are obese, or are diagnosed with mental health problems.    Is there a connection?

After W.W.2 came cheap flights and the opportunity to travel abroad. Meanwhile public transport deteriorated and more and more people found cars a necessity.   Climate change eventually made itself felt.

I was once asked whether the church I belonged to at the time was primarily focused on maintenance or evangelism.    I replied that I would say SERVICE.    Church is firstly about the worship of God, and if this means anything it has to be demonstrated in love for our neighbour.

A teenager whose family had no connection with the church, explained why she had committed herself to the Way.    ‘These people had a quality of life which I wanted for myself.’   John Taylor, at one time a minister in Sheffield, said ‘I have never yet met anyone who became a Christian by studying the Creeds.    I have known many who were loved into faith by a saint.’

God who is LOVE needs us to love our neighbour.    This requires that we know our neighbour, work with others, join forces with seekers after truth,  justice and peace.    WE must be the saints – we are the Church, seven days a week, just by being who we are, loving people into faith.  

I think of vibrant churches I know.   Busy all day with community groups, choirs, local historians and dieters – volunteers serving meals to all comers, free, with voluntary contributions (nobody’s counting) or at reasonable prices to cover costs.    Christians and non-Christians alike serve and are served – we all get hungry!! – and find themselves in a good place.

I am looking forward joyfully.  

Onward and upward, fellow saints!’

by Jo Cox-Darling.

Where we are, matters – because there is wounded wisdom in the earth that we need to pay attention to.  In the previous article of this series – Digging for Wisdom – the narrative of Genesis 26: 12-32 revealed the significance of the underground, both literally and metaphorically. Genesis 26 declares that the underground matters,because there is wisdom to be found throughout and within the whole of creation.  God’s project of healing and wholeness isn’t an anthropocentric endeavour. 

The mycologist Merlin Sheldrake identifies ways in which fungi provide a deep interconnected communication system beneath our feet – the fruit of which are mushrooms which are having an ever-increasing impact on our daily life.  He writes that among other things, mushrooms are among the first things to grow after a volcano, new species are being discovered in Chernobyl, as they’re able to eat radioactive material and make it safe and organ transplants require a mushroom-based drug to prevent rejection. Sheldrake adds, ‘Mushrooms have loosened some of my certainties.’[1]

Where MacIntosh looks to the blossom for evidence of something sacred, Sheldrake looks beneath the soil – to the composting of the present in order to resurrect something new.  That the inevitability of death needs to be held as part of life’s process such that we need some woundedness, loss, death, and attrition – in order to provide the context into which new life is brought.

Perhaps our wounded wisdom starts when we have cast aside our certainties, and where we are digging deep and clinging on – and when we need to find something in the rotting mess that we find ourselves in. There is something about the sacred subterranean nature of faith that we need to pay attention to – whether it’s ancient wells of wisdom, or honest trashing of the things that are no longer working, or noticing and nurturing something new in the mess.

Missiologist Liu Wong writes, ‘Our lives are imprinted with the lives of others.  Wisdom is holding together what is seen and unseen [with] integrity, refusing to let go of seemingly different worlds, worldviews, and perspective.  Wisdom is connective, integrative, and restorative.  Becoming wise involves active engagement with God and with others and with the world.  We are transformed by our relationships, imprinted by the lives of others, as we recognise how God is at work in our choices and lives.  Wisdom that comes from leading with others recognises the mutuality and importance of relationships and understands how we grow, lead, and dance together.’[2] Ultimately, at the heart of wounded wisdom, is the invitation to simply love, and be loved in return.

Questions for reflection:

How would you describe the soil where you are?  How would you go about finding out about what’s beneath your feet – literally and culturally?

What ancient wells need to be dug out in your spiritual life?

Who are you growing wise with?

This year’s SPECTRUM Conference, Wounded Wisdom was held at Highgate House in May and was attended by around 25 people. The subtitle was Discovering Healing and Hope – Words and Wisdom for these days, and the content addressed how our minds and bodies try to cope with the sense of woundedness and vulnerability which are a familiar result of wrestling with all that the news and daily life throw at us. The speakers were Jo Cox-Darling and Brian Draper, who also prepared papers for the Spectrum annual study guide, which we also share through on Theology Everywhere. This is part five of a series of six articles. Also see The art of vulnerability and This is my body and Love for the unloved days and The Place Where Beauty Starts and Digging for Wisdom.

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[1] Merlin Sheldrake, Entangled Life, Vintage, 2020, p25

[2] Liu Wong, On becoming wise together, Eerdmans, 2023 p123