thinking mission

the illusion of safety

One of the wonderful conversations in C S Lewis’s ‘The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe’ is when Mr Beaver speaks of Aslan, describing the Lion as ‘the King of the wood, the son of the great emperor-beyond-the-sea and the King of the Beasts.’

Mrs Beaver joins in to say that ‘anyone who can stand before Aslan without his knees knocking is either braver than most or else just silly.’

“Then he isn't safe?” said Lucy. 

“Safe?” said Mr Beaver…. course he isn't safe.  But he’s good.  He’s the King, I tell you.”

The desire for safety is deep-seated. Lucy Pevensie, the character above, was instinctively averse to risk.  Like most of us, if we’re honest.  So the realisation that ‘he isn't safe’ wasn’t immediately reassuring.  Only the seemingly illogical follow up ‘but he’s good’ reminds us that danger, or risk, isn't always synonymous with being bad. 

Which brings me to the other Lucy – van Pelt – and her brother Linus, in the Charles Schultz ‘Peanuts’ cartoon. 

Looking out at the pouring rain, Lucy gives voice to her anxiety:

Lucy: “Boy, look at that rain… what if it floods the whole world?”

Linus: “It will never do that… in the ninth chapter of Genesis, God promised Noah that would never happen again, and the sign of the promise is the rainbow..”

Lucy: “You’ve taken a great load off my mind…”

Linus: “Sound theology has a way of doing that!”

This Lucy wanted safety as well, and Linus’s response gave her all the reassurance she wanted.  ‘Sound theology has a way of doing that!’  A great line, laden with some irony I suspect.

These encounters offer us two responses to anxiety.  One is met with ‘sound theology’, the other with an encouragement to journey on, accepting unknown risks but trusting that God is ultimately good. Both responses have their place.  But knowing there is more than one possible response is the key here, and a sign of spiritual maturity.

You see, I can easily argue that a Linus-like response can be just right.   In my early twenties, the faith that was nurtured in me from childhood was suddenly fanned into flame.  It all came together one evening round the kitchen table with two wonderful older Christians.  Their patient and skilful theological unpacking of Ephesians 1:13-14 and 2:8-9 cemented my faith in God, a faith that I now knew could not be lost by me, because it was never gained by me.  From that day to this, God’s grace has characterised my understanding of the Christian faith.

This is the time and place for sound theology, in particular to be found in laying the foundations of faith, outlining the great truths of the bible, sharing what learned and insightful men and women have discerned over many centuries.  Without this passing on of the faith, we will fail to enrich each successive generation, as we ourselves have been enriched. 

But where the foundations have been laid, there is also a danger that our sound theology, far from nurturing growth, actually stifles it.  And this danger is certainly there in evangelical circles where the adventure of theological exploration can be frowned on and seen as betraying our heritage.  

This is especially true when mission takes us, as it must, to the boundaries between belief and unbelief, and we are confronted by issues that demand fresh theological and ethical reflection.  If at that point, we only produce our previously constructed ‘sound theology’ and even argue that these matters, whatever they are, have been settled once and for all in the past, then we will fail to grow and develop our faith, and condemn others to the same.  That same ‘sound theology’ has a place to play, of course.  Haven’t I just called it foundational?  But yesterday’s word is not always today’s word, and is rarely God's last word.

Linus’s response to Lucy ‘took a load off her mind’.  But is that what theology is about? Her instant gratitude for Linus’ answer had the effect of dulling her enquiring mind and robbing her of the deeper encounter that her quest for understanding might have yielded.  She puts aside the troubling thoughts of the world and settles for ‘sound theology!’

I hope that we'll see the legitimacy of both responses.  When people look to us in moments of anxiety we can be flattered into thinking our only role is to be the dispenser of theological aspirin. 

More often I would rather see leaders like Mr and Mrs Beaver who have the courage to say that actually God may not be as you imagine God to be; God may not be containable by your words and formulations, and he definitely isn't safe!  But I tell you this – he’s good!  Journey on!

David Kerrigan 

rediscovering radical roots

Evangelical theology has served us well over the last 50 years.  In a sea of shifting sands (cultural, spiritual and ethical), evangelicalism has been a robust defender of the faith, and has served to strengthen the church.  It has shaped who I am as a Christian, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

In fact, in the late 80s and early 90s when, under the energetic and visionary leadership of Clive Calver, the Evangelical Alliance (EA) was growing rapidly many Baptists began to use the term Baptist and Evangelical interchangeably.  I know I did, and the words ‘conservative evangelical’ became a shorthand way of defining where I stood theologically.

 

 But in more recent years, evangelicalism has sometimes appeared to be static or harsh, judgemental and unforgiving.  Evangelicals like Steve Chalke, who explored whether other interpretations of the atonement might be helpful to the church’s mission, were attacked, and I use that word deliberately.  And many ordinary Christians I know, in good evangelical Baptist churches, have lamented the fact that it seems hard to question accepted evangelical theology without being given the kiss of death and labelled ‘unsound’.

 

Recent statistical data from Peter Brierley, former head of Christian Research, makes it clear that the percentage of the UK population attending churches is falling dramatically. If for no other reason, we have to face up to the fact that the church is increasingly irrelevant in people’s lives.  The temptation will be to adopt a remnant mentality and prepare to slowly die out in our defence of the status quo.  But a braver approach might ask why, if we really are good news, do so few fail to recognise us as such?

 

“Aha”, I hear voices ready to accuse, “here we go – water down the gospel so it becomes more palatable to people!”  Actually, that doesn’t even begin to come close to the issues at stake here.  I am not arguing for changed Christian convictions simply in order to attract more people.  I am pleading that we have the humility to look at how we live, how we gather, and how we express our Christian faith in a world riddled with injustice, where power is used and abused in a way that has little in common with the way Jesus encouraged his followers to live.

 

Baptist Beginnings

For me 2009 was an important year.  When I stood in Bakkerstrasse in Amsterdam last summer to witness the unveiling of a simple plaque to mark the beginnings of Baptist life and witness in 1609, I was reminded afresh that the early Baptists were radical believers, not conservative believers.  They gave their lives in the cause of religious liberty that they might worship God in freedom, and they demanded that others be accorded that same freedom.  They were strengthened in their convictions through their interactions with the Anabaptists, a radical group of believers who took us back to first principles about what it meant to be a follower of Jesus and not an upholder of religious power structures that comprised the Kingdom of Christendom.

 

In reflecting afresh on our Baptist heritage I am reminded that if our churchmanship or our theology ever shuts out the prophetic, disturbing, uncomfortable voices of our age, then we imprison ourselves behind our understanding of the truth rather than be liberated by that same truth.

 

We who have a high regard for scripture and revelation are grievously at fault if by saying ‘we know’ we shut out the possibility that ‘there is even more to know’.

 

And we are blind if we fail to see that those whom Jesus welcomed, to the disbelief of the good religious people of the day, were sinners, tax collectors, prostitutes, Samaritans, pork-eating gentiles, those with taboo-diseases, children of no status, women considered of no worth, fishermen with no learning.

 

When did we stop being a community where people such as these would know they would find a welcome?  Why are the hurting, isolated, persecuted, uncomfortable, lonely, confused people of today’s world not flocking to find Jesus through our churches?

 

Let me be fair – many are coming to our churches and coming to faith in Jesus, and many more are helped when we take to the streets and go out into our community.  Amongst our Baptist family are a growing number of edgy prophets, men and women who witness on and to the margins, who make no judgements but welcome people in the name and spirit of Jesus Christ.  These people inspire me.

 

Plymouth

On the final morning of our recent Baptist Assembly in Plymouth, as we reflected together on the challenge of mission in today’s world, I asked a simple question:

“What kind of church do we need to become in order that we are good news for those who do not easily see us as good news; people like our cohabiting neighbours, our Muslim or Hindu friends, or the gay man or woman who feels unwelcome?” 

This is fundamentally a simple question.  After all, we do want to be good news people, don’t we?  We want people to come into a saving encounter with Jesus Christ, don’t we?

 

But it is also a disturbing question.  After all, if we are to become good news to people who, right now, do not look to us for that good news, something needs to change, doesn’t it? The question is what?

 

People will assume I have an agenda here but I really don’t.  But I do nurture some hopes for the conversations that might ensue:

 

My hope is to encourage Baptists who might describe themselves as conservative evangelicals to rediscover what it means to be radical believers.

 

My hope is to encourage men and women within our Baptist community to take their high regard for scripture and revelation as a gift from God, and being confident in that gift, dig even deeper than before in the confidence that there is always more to discover.

 

My hope is that Christians of all persuasion will increasingly develop a Christ-like tenderness towards those who need good news and who silently plead with us to take another look at the reasons why the church does not seem to be good news to them.

 

I don’t have all the answers.  But as someone trying to rediscover what it means to be a radical believer, I must at least have the courage to ask the questions.

 

David Kerrigan

women in leadership - key texts

In the early to mid 1990s I was the Pastor at Pinhoe Road Baptist Church, Exeter.  During that time about six churches in the city worked together under the umbrella of the Exeter Evangelical Partnership (EEP). 

 

The EEP thrived because of good friendships amongst its leaders, a real desire to effect change in the city, and a shared evangelical commitment.  Out of this relationship came a number of city-wide initiatives, including a shelter for single mums, a schools outreach project, city-wide prayer initiatives and so on.  Most of these projects continue to this day.

 

One of the strongest churches in this group was, and remains, Belmont Chapel, which describes itself as “a large… independent, evangelical church with strong bible teaching, lively worship and the involvement of as many people as possible in the running of the church”.  This is a good description of Belmont – rooted in the Brethren tradition and attracting thousands of University students over the years.

 

For many years, I assume since it inception, Belmont has not believed it right to have women in their leadership team or for women to preach. This has now changed.

 

On their website we read that over the last two years they have been “reading the bible and praying together about the subject of women and particular roles in ministry, especially in the areas of leadership team and preaching. Following this process of review and discussion, Belmont’s teaching and leadership roles are now open to women as well as men. Various papers were produced as we came to that decision, but we’ve now produced a summary paper outlining the new position and the thinking behind it”.

 

The reason I want to draw attention to this is because for those interested in a thorough review of some of the biblical texts that have been interpreted as limiting the role of women in leadership, and a treatment of them that lay behind the views I expressed in my post limits of dissent, you can find the document by clicking here or here.

 

Its not a short document and one or two aspects of it would not be the exact wording or reasoning I would choose to use, but it’s a very careful piece of work and I wholeheartedly recommend it to those who ask questions of key texts.

 

And I commend the leadership at Belmont too, for having the integrity to revisit an issue as important as this with an open mind, and the courage to revise their position.

 

In two weeks time we will gather in Plymouth for our 2010 Baptist Assembly at which Rev Dr Pat Took (above) will be inducted as Vice President.  Pat is but one example of many gifted women in leadership amongst us, women for whom we thank God and through whom our discipleship is immeasurably enriched.

 

David Kerrigan

fear of compromise

I ended my previous post on this blog  by suggesting that a second fear that some Christians have concerning interfaith dialogue is that such engagement results in compromising the faith, dodging the hard issues, or settling for a lowest common denominator between Christianity and other faiths.

No doubt there are times when this has been, or is, true.  But the renewed emphasis on engaging with other faiths that is evident these days, especially from within the evangelical world, has brought with it a dynamic which may not have been so noticeable in past years. 

The need of the hour is for a courageous engagement of people from different faiths.  This does not mean combative, but it does mean frank and honest. 

A good example of this was the publication recently of “A Common Word - Muslims and Christians on Loving God and Neighbour.”   For those unaware of the original document on which this book is based, you can read it here at the 'Common Word' website . And amongst the hundreds of responses received, that which came from the Baptist World Alliance which can be viewed here was exemplary in its courtesy, its appreciation and yet also its honesty concerning the many major differences between Christianity and Islam.

The book “A Common Word – Muslims and Christians on loving God and Neighbour” is edited by HRH Prince Ghazi of Jordan, Miroslav Volf from Yale Divinity School and Melissa Yarrington, also from Yale and is one of the first systematic theological explorations of the issues that A Common Word” has evoked. 

The approach the book takes is in keeping with the robust nature of contemporary engagement.  Take this extract from Prince Ghazi –

“A Common Word does not signal that Muslims are prepared to deviate from, or concede one iota of, any of their convictions in order to reach out to Christians – and we expect the reverse is also true… neither does (it) mean Muslims are going to facilitate foreign “evangelism opportunities” in the Islamic world in the name of “freedom of religion.” (p11)

No room for slushy sentiment there. Nor when Volf himself reflects on the dialogue that A Common Word has made possible, and especially doctrines such as the Trinity and Christ’s atoning death:

“Significant agreement on love of God and neighbour does not erase these undeniable, deep and consequential differences.”  He goes on to mention ‘practical problems causing tensions’ between communities, and cites specifically “persecution and lack of full religious freedom, problems concerning evangelism… and many others”. (p21)

So this engagement is one which entertains few illusions. Mistakes may be made along the way, but the need of the hour is for God’s people to engage in brave theology. 

A brave theology -

–  will recognise in this moment in history the need for Christianity and Islam especially to find a way of co-existing peaceably (blessed are the peacemakers) while staying true to our religious convictions 

– will look to build interfaith relationships because only in the context of relationships can hard things be said to those to whom you have been willing to listen deeply, and hard things be heard from those who likewise have listened deeply to you. 

– will recognise that the biblical injunction to love our neighbour means, in this situation, the risk of sitting down and talking, not with people of no faith (which characterises most expressions of outreach), but with people of strong faith, a people for whom, if we are honest, we sometimes entertain both fear and suspicion in our hearts.

One of the most challenging chapters in the book is from Martin Accad, a good friend of BMS through our partnership with Lebanese Baptists and the Arab Baptist Theological Seminary  where he is based. 

In exploring what Jesus meant by 'love your neighbour' Martin helpfully reminds us (pp157-160) that in the Old Testament this primarily meant “Love the strangers living among you” (Leviticus 19:34) and the familiar command of course was “Love your neighbour as yourself”, in effect a call to be hospitable. (Lev 19:18)

When Jesus was asked “who is my neighbour” he radically extended the definition of neighbour to include those who were the archenemies of the Jews, namely the Samaritans (Luke 10:30ff) hence it was logical, but controversial, for Jesus also to add the injunction “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you.” (Matthew 5:44) Martin is not implying that Muslims are the enemy, but he is helping us to see how radical 'love your neighbour' must be.

None of this is easy.  In most Muslim-majority countries there are far less freedoms than Muslims enjoy elsewhere in the world, not least in Judaeo-Christian cultures like the UK.  I see the growth of Islam in the west and I worry deeply for our Christian heritage which is being eroded.  I hear hostile comments from hostile Muslims and dont easily hear the voices of those more moderate.  I recognise ‘fear and suspicion’ as emotions that sometimes describe how I feel and I am not blind to seeing that it is but a short step further to seeing Muslims as my enemy. 

That is not the road I wish to travel. There is an alternative.

David Kerrigan

 

fear of the unknown

Why, when our core business is making Jesus known, are some otherwise committed Christians so unsure about talking to people of other faiths?

 

Last week I was invited to share in a meeting of the Christian-Muslim Forum, in this case a meeting of 30-35 Muslim and Christian scholars gathered together to explore the nature of dialogue itself. 

 

The meeting was at Lambeth Palace and, as one would expect, the Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams spoke well.  Dialogue, he said, in a typically Rowanesque way, is not polemic (an argument to prove me right and you wrong), nor debate (a rehearsal of arguments for and against certain positions) but a God-given means of discovery (about God, about self and about one’s conversation partner). 

 

Professor Tim Winter from Cambridge University responded, but did so under his Islamic persona Sheik Abdal Hakim Murad, for he is a Muslim convert.  He reminded us how the media delights in focusing solely on what he called the trouble spots of faith – the Christian Church’s obsession about issues of sexuality; Muslims and the blight of terrorism; Judaism and the incalcitrance of Israel over the Palestinian people.  In these contexts, he said, “a hurting world lashes out in its meaninglessness against those who still find meaning.”

 

The other main speakers were Maulana Yunus Mohammed of Bolton Council of Mosques and Dr John Azumah of London School of Theology. John reflected on how dialogue was being embraced by Evangelical Christians in a new way.  

 

What made this gathering ‘real’ was the desire to be forthright and honest.  No-one is under the illusion that the universal truth claims of Christianity and Islam are reconcilable.  They are not.  The Archbishop caught the mood when he argued against the views of those who, he said, seem to presuppose that real differences between faiths don’t exist and all such differences can be reconciled. “They can’t” he said and added later that because our religions both make exclusive truth claims “it is not easy to find a space that we can inhabit together.” 

 

So, why bother with dialogue at all?  Why enter into dialogue with people whose faith position is strong, whose likelihood of converting is limited, and whose view of your own faith is that it is inadequate?

 

Yes indeed, these are questions many Muslims ask each other! 

 

And so do Christians.

 

But since when did we only seek to share our faith with those we consider potential converts?  As a BMS missionary, I lived in a country of 125 million Muslims – do you think that was fruitful territory?  What about our people working today in West Africa, the Middle East, Central Asia, North Africa?  France and Belgium?  Moss Side and Blackbird Leys?  The God revealed in Scripture calls us to engage with all who need to hear of the love of God in Jesus Christ.

 

So let’s be honest.  In my experience people who are most often critical about interfaith dialogue are critical on two grounds.  The first is fear and the second is… fear.  But the two are different.

 

The first fear is a fear of the unfamiliar.  It’s a fear of people whose life is so different, whose language and culture is alien, whose worldview is so utterly ‘other’ that people don’t know where to start. People who are most loudly critical often (not always) don’t know a solitary man or woman from another faith.  They have never shared a meal in a Hindu home, they do not have a Buddhist or Sikh they would count as a friend, or even a passing acquaintance.  This is the fear of the unknown, and it is quite understandable.  It just needs to be recognised, owned and dealt with. And in the coming year I’m hoping we at BMS can help provide resources to help in this area.  

 

But there is a second kind of fear too – and it’s the fear of selling out, of compromising our faith and settling for the so-called lowest common denominator.  And I’ll look at that issue in a separate blog in the next day or so. 

 

David Kerrigan

the limits of dissent

[A personal view - not an official account - of one aspect of Baptist Union Council this week.]

 

I returned from BU Council on Wednesday, feeling that this had been three days well spent.  Recent Councils have been excellent in grappling with substantial issues in ways that restore your confidence in the principle of the gathered community discerning the mind of Christ under the guidance of the Holy Spirit.  I commented on this in relation to last November’s Council here.

 

These last three days have had a major focus on “Women in Leadership among the churches of the Baptist Union of Great Britain”.  This wasn’t a debate about whether women can exercise ministerial leadership.  That was established back in the 1920s and affirmed many times since.  Nonetheless we were ably led by both women and men into an understanding of some of the attitudes women encounter when they explore a leadership calling, not least to pastoral ministry itself.  And we engaged with a wise, theological understanding of Paul’s overarching ‘grand vision’ as exemplified by Galatians 3:28 as well as his need to attend to immediate realities occasioned, for instance, by hitherto uneducated women speaking up in worshipping communities. 

 

As you would expect, there were a range of views expressed, though with the vast majority supportive of the Union’s long-held support for women in leadership in all roles. 

 

But it wasn’t theological pressure that brought this issue to Council but the continuing discrimination experienced by women exploring or undertaking leadership roles, especially as ministers.  And so, fittingly, it was the pain of women’s experiences brought into the open by their story-telling that shaped the character of Council’s listening.  Their stories at times made me ashamed to be a man knowing that men in our churches could be so offensive, so hurtful and at times so misogynistic.

 

And so Council, it seemed to me, was clearly of a mind to say enough is enough.  Things must change.  And that is a challenge to all of us, not least those of us in denominational leadership. 

 

But then comes the question of how we handle those who dissent, some out of biblical conviction, others out of ignorance, some out of prejudice. 

 

Whilst Baptists would never wish to stifle dissent, nor act punitively towards those who do so, there was a courageous recognition that whilst there is a place for conscientious dissent, this must never, ever occasion the kind of hurts that were recounted this week. Further, prejudice masquerading as dissent could no longer be tolerated. 

 

And how is prejudice to be distinguished from principled dissent?  Blind prejudice is when someone says to a woman in ministerial training that she shouldn’t expect a salary because her husband has a good job.  Blind prejudice is when women have to tolerate comments about their shape, their weight or parts of their body. Blind prejudice is when a woman is told that ‘I hope you’ll never preach while menstruating’.   And there were many other stories besides. 

 

There was a tacit understanding that as a Baptist people we have made our position clear.  Our forebears believed they had discerned the mind of Christ on this matter many years ago (at a time when women’s justice was hardly a popular cause).  That conviction has been reaffirmed over the years and now again in March 2010. There should be no barriers to women exercising leadership in our churches. 

 

It follows therefore that even those who dissent on grounds of biblical conviction have to understand that they do so over and against the conviction of the gathered community.  Of course, there are examples in history where the majority have been wrong, and this mantra will be trotted out.   But this is significantly deeper than ‘a mere majority vote.’  This is men and women from our Baptist family, over many generations, set apart for a purpose, devoting themselves to listening, praying and discerning, and together we have again and again arrived at the same position. 

 

Enough really is enough therefore. 

 

Those who dissent on biblical grounds must understand that this is not the position of the family of which they are a part. 

 

And anyone exhibiting the kind of ‘blind prejudice’ illustrated above is behaving in a way that, let it be understood, is completely unacceptable among us.

 

No woman within our Baptist family, called and gifted for leadership, should have that calling stifled. 

 

David Kerrigan