The One About The Actress, The Prince And The Bishop

pexels-photo-261848.jpegIt won’t have escaped your notice that there’s a wedding on Saturday; one of the royal variety. A British prince is marrying an American actress and a lot of people are very excited about it. I’m not that bothered about it, to be honest – I’m neither royalist nor republican, and have no special interest in dresses or any of the other questions surrounding the big day. As a clergyman, however, there is one aspect of the whole thing that piques my interest, with which I shall make sure that I catch up at some point. The sermon. Clergy like checking out the sermon on a day like this, because it gives us the opportunity to do to someone else what we imagine goes on in the lounges and kitchens of our church members after every service; discuss the sermon. This was given an extra twist this week when the identity of the preacher was revealed; the couple have requested that the sermon be delivered by Bishop Michael Curry.

I’ll forgive you if his name means nothing to you. It’s true that he is an eye-catching choice; not because he’s American. That makes sense, what with the bride being American. That he’s a person of colour is perhaps more notable and welcome than has been discussed; but that’s not what I’m talking about. The issue is that the branch of the global Anglican church which he leads is on the theological naughty step for a while as a result of a decision it took (and which Bishop Michael supports wholeheartedly) to bless the marriages of same-sex couples. There were consequences to this, hence the naughty step – sitting out various meetings for a period of time.

Same-sex marriage is, to put it mildly, an explosive issue in the church these days; and people on all sides of the debate can’t help but read something into this decision; those who support same-sex marriage are delighted because this feels like a vindication. Those who oppose it are dismayed and feel he shouldn’t have been allowed to take part (ignoring the fact that in the UK, royalty outranks Anglican clergy and we have to do what we’re told). Those who oppose Bishop Michael’s presence were further enraged by the Archbishop of Canterbury’s warm statement about the news  – feeling that he should at least have taken the opportunity to highlight that Bishop Michael’s church was still in trouble.

I’ve never heard Bishop Michael preach, but everyone who says he’s pretty good at it – lively, Jesus-focussed and very passionate. I’m looking forward to checking out the sermon at some point for myself. However I find the reaction to all this disturbing – even if it is understandable. Many of us seem to think that preaching at such an event is and should be a political statement; and that this represents a not so implicit encouragement to those who support same-sex marriage. It may be that, I suppose; but what if it isn’t? What if the Archbishop’s statement was meant to be taken at face-value – that he’s pleased to welcome such a passionate and able preacher to such a high-profile occasion? What if it’s possible to disagree – deeply – with one area of a person’s theology, and yet still see that God can and does use that person?

Such a view is not regarded warmly by many of my fellow evangelicals; for many, the doctrine of marriage is a line in the sand. Change that, and we’re no longer appropriately faithful to Scripture, goes the argument. We must, it is said, take a stand on this. All this will look rather embarrassing for evangelicals if, as expected, Bishop Michael preaches up a storm at the wedding and points people to Jesus without even alluding to same-sex marriage. It’s almost as if some of my brothers and sisters are willing him to fail, to make some big mistake so that they can be proved right all along. I’m sure they aren’t doing so, but that’s how it can feel from here.

The inconvenient possibility for many of us is, though, that is may be rather less important to God than we think it is. In his letter to the Philippians, Paul didn’t seem too worried about the motivation of those preaching the Gospel – he just longed for Christ to be preached (Philippians 1:18). There’s no mention there of the details of doctrine; just the longing that Jesus is preached. Those opposed to same-sex marriage say that this is a matter of Biblical authority and interpretation; with which I agree, but I also say that this is true of every point of doctrine. As long as we’re not changing the crux of salvation, we’re free to differ. What if the Holy Spirit is big enough to use people with whom you and I disagree? What if we’re wrong? Do we hold to this so tightly that we can’t even entertain the possibility that we may be wrong? Will those angered by Bishop’s Michael invitation to preach rejoice if he preaches a Jesus-focussed sermon Saturday? I hope that he does, and that they respond appropriately.

Doctrine matters, of course. I don’t wish to suggest anything else; but over the years I’ve been in ordained ministry, I’ve been humbled to realise that God seems to bless the ministries of those with whom I disagree with alarming impunity. I hope I’m learning to rejoice in that. Knowing some of these people well has challenged my doctrine and my practice, and has put some previously closely held ideas more in their proper place. I still believe much the same as I always have done about Jesus and the cross and the empty tomb; on much else, I have my own views (some of them unchanged, some of them changed) but seek to hold them with humility and grace towards those different to me. The wind of the Spirit blows where it will; it’s not for me to dictate the direction or the force, but rather to pray and join in where I find the Spirit moving. Even if – and perhaps especially if – that means I find out that I’m wrong, or that something I felt was important is of less significance than I assumed.

So I will pray for Bishop Michael, and for all who listen to him on Saturday. That he through him, the wind of the Spirit might blow, and that many may make much of Christ. If that happens, I shall give enthusiastic thanks.

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Bored With Church

Bored With Church

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I get bored quite easily. People close to me – be they parents, my wife, or whoever happens to be on the receiving end at the time – have grown well used to me saying so, or displaying the symptoms. Restlessness, not focussing, disturbing others from the no doubt important things they’re doing, sighing, puffing of the cheeks. You know the score. I have a 9 year-old who does the same. I understood a bit of why I do this when I was diagnosed with ADD last year, making sense of my inability to settle unaided by medication.

In truth, many of us know the feeling – a weariness with what we need to do or should be doing, a sense that there’s something better and more stimulating just out of reach. I’m in my mid-40s now, and it can be something of a stage of life thing for many of us; we’re no longer young, but the finishing strait is a long way off. That can be a wearying, deadening thought for many of us; hence, perhaps, the famed mid-life crisis that some crash into, a desperate attempt to make life interesting again, often bringing others down with us into the bargain.

There can be spiritual, church-based ennui too. Especially, I think, amongst those who (like me) would call ourselves charismatic Christians. Our flavour of faith can often seem attractive because we can be seen to offer drama: ecstatic experiences, prayer for revival, things to ‘push in to’ and the like. That reels us in, and gives us a lot of momentum. I’m not saying that these things can’t be genuine or important, but they can end up inoculating us against how things often turn out to be. When the life of the church isn’t one of constant breakthrough, success and answered prayer, boredom can set in. Worship services can seem repetitive; the life of faith just a little more run of the mill than we felt we were led to expect.

At this point people like me – people who lead churches, that is – often start to berate ‘consumer Christianity’ and get a little shouty. It’s not about what you can get out of church; it’s about what you can give. Church isn’t about getting, it’s about giving; it’s not about me, it’s about others, and the audience of One. There’s truth in this, and I’ve said it myself in the past; the trouble is, it can all start to sound a bit too much like a list of ‘should’ and ‘ought’; alarmingly lacking in the winsome grace that draws us to Jesus in the first place. Add to the mix the wearying litany of church leadership scandals, and it can seem to very difficult to make it all seem attractive. The result is that good people; good, gifted, wise people start to opt out of church with all the implications that has for various aspects of the church’s life.

One of the reasons this can be so difficult is that church leader is often bored too. It can be quite dull ‘running a church’; or it can be very hard and costly and you can just get wearied and worn down by the cost of trying to bring to birth what you think God is inviting into being. Either way, the result can be the same – tiredness, cynicism and boredom. You opt out – in spirit, if not in body.

So what’s the answer? Of course it’s too complicated for there to be one silver bullet to fix it all; but I think part of the answer may be in reminding ourselves that Jesus doesn’t drive people. Rather, he invites, calls, beckons. We want to push people, drag them into deeper commitment and involvement; Jesus, on the other hand, seems to make an invitation that’s so attractive and luminous that people are compelled to follow. We often talk of church leadership in these terms  – ‘The Call’; but what about the rest of us? Do we create a culture where each person gets to consider what the invitation, the call of Jesus is for them? Are people called to our churches, as we are as leaders; or do they simply fill a seat, a space on the rota, until they no longer can? This seems to me to be the art of spiritual direction, preached, prayed and discussed over coffee. Of course, there’s a responsibility on the individual there too – is she searching, listening, asking? Or is she allowing herself to atrophy? But that in turn asks questions of the leader; do we expect God to call people; do we structure church solely in terms of the event that will convert or create drama or crisis for people; or do we, through worship, word, prayer, sacrament, conversation take people with us in to the deeper life of God, where the self is redefined and the life reoriented? Do we expect that to happen – perhaps even multiple times – in the life of the disciples in our care?

These are big questions, not easily answered. But the boredom people – leaders and lay people alike – experience is real and needs to be addressed. No one ever promised the life of discipleship would be exciting; Jesus did promise a cross and a yoke, albeit an easy-fitting one – hardly images to engage the thrill-seeker. We have a difficult balance to strike between fostering holy expectancy of anything at any time, and the slow business of walking a hot and dusty road behind a man on the way to his crucifixion (and later, his resurrection). The question remains: are we, leader and lay person alike, listening for the invitation?