Life inside the Doughnut

I  suspect the experience of my own denomination in this corner of the world is not unique or isolated. A demographic map of its members through the last century or so would look like an expanding doughnut, matching the population shift from the inner city to the outer suburbs. The flagship churches of the denomination have gradually moved further from the city centre, with the growing churches at the outer urban fringes. The mission strategy and leadership structure has largely replicated the same approach which drove the inner city churches in the 18^th century: focus on young families and children’s ministries, and let the population growth do the rest.

During this long period, declining churches in the inner city were shut down, and their properties sold off. Surviving churches struggled through the decline, with little in the way of resources and opportunities from traditional ministry approaches to refashion themselves for a new era. As generational change lead to people moving away from the inner city, these churches were maintained by a faithful remnant who only knew one way to be church.

No-one envisaged the residential return to the inner city that has unfolded over the past two decades. Town planners were largely unprepared, and churches with them. While the cities have undergone a massive renewal of infrastructure, many churches inside the doughnut find themselves with churches and ministry centres designed for ministry in the 18^th century, and with ministry strategies best suited for communities filled with young families beginning their journey in new neighbourhoods.

Some important things considerations inside the doughnut:

·         Renewal of church infrastructure in the inner city is an expensive exercise, often complicated by heritage constraints. Inner city churches are often faced with a conundrum: in order to reach people in their community, they need to renew their infrastructure. However, due to the size of the church community they lack the financial resources to undertake this renewal. (As a side note, it is interesting to observe that most growing and vibrant churches have renewed their infrastructure in the previous decade. Cause/effect?)

·         Families in the inner city are a different demographic than those in the new dormitory suburbs. They are generally older, and have a stronger commitment to environmental and political concerns than their outer-urban cohort. It is likely they are more affluent and more highly educated also.

·         Risk and reward for inner-city ministry is often such that denominations are less likely to invest. New models of ministry need to be found, which makes choices between investing in the inner city (with its unproven track record for growth strategies) and in growth areas on the urban fringe a no-brainer for denominational resources.

·         Ministry training is largely focussed towards church-as-it-is, or at least a continuation of the trends which have been evident for decades.

In reality, an approach which appears to make the hole in the doughnut larger is not only dangerous, but one might suggest ultimately counter-productive. There ARE signs of re-emergence in inner suburbs and inner city around the world. But not only are the models of this re-emergence diverse, they are mostly very different from the models driving outer-suburban church plants. I suspect that the large majority of these re-emergent models are based in refurbished infrastructure.

An old adage offers wisdom: As you go through life, make this your goal: Keep your eye on the doughnut and not on the hole. For the sake of the future, we have to look to the hole, lest the doughnut be lost altogether.

The Problem with Evangelical Hope

The response of the Australian Christian Lobby to Kevin Rudd’s change of heart in relation to same-sex marriage exposes one of the problems with the way evangelicals understand and express hope. The formulation leaves a large and important gap which, paradoxically, robs us of any meaningful hope in the present.
The ACL – not alone, mind you – shapes its hope in clinging to an idealised past (or present), in which many of the changes happening in society need to be undone. In the first instance then, hope is framed as a return to a mythical Garden of Eden, subtly framed as a time when the church ruled the earth, imposing its morality upon all. The implicit depiction is of an immediate future which is characterised as a further descent into… well, it is left unsaid, but the implication is further into an ungodly mess. Which provides the platform for the second aspect of hope: heaven.
In this formulation, the Christian hope is ultimately about getting to heaven when we die. Heaven is thus a consolation prize for enduring the inevitable descent which characterises modern society.
Of course, it is not just same-sex marriage which comes into the firing line to mark this continued descent. Any number of conservative hobby-horses become symbols of a culture which has turned its back on God: abortion, people living together, drug use, pornography, greenies, people opposed to gun ownership (OK, not in Australia!). The items missing from such a list are the ones which reveal an interesting agenda: greed, gossip, unethical corporate activity, environmental vandalism… Each suggesting that the only answer to a hope which is framed around turning back to an idealised past or hanging on to a consolatory future is to get what you can in the present moment.
Of course this is something of a caricature, but the principle essentially holds. The notion that the kingdom of God is breaking out amongst us isn’t part of the package. The idea that there is good news in the present moment which renews hope for eternal life in the here and now doesn’t enter the equation.
The central line of Jesus’ prayer still reads “Your kingdom come, your will be done on earth as it is in heaven…” The Christian hope is constructive and creative, and embraces the promise of Jeremiah “For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future,” (Jer 29:11) which is built on the call to “build houses… plant gardens… and seek the peace and prosperity of the city.” (Jer 29:5)
The Christian hope coalesces with much of the hopes of all human beings, and points to a source which enables its fulfilment, and a deeper call which transcends a limited hope in the present moment.
Whatever one may conclude about the call for same-sex marriage, those who wrestle with it share a common hope for a better world and a better community. Surely that’s something Christians can embrace and engage with.

From the Outside In?

It strikes me that there are a number of significant hurdles to be contemplated as we reflect on the invitation to theologically reflect on what it means to be a Baptist denomination, any one of which serves as an obstacle of some size on its own, let alone where there is a range of issues in the mix. Let me articulate some of these:

Complexity – “re-imagining the BUV” assumes we can “imagine” it in the first place, and then understand the complex permutations and combinations which changes to structure might cause. Starting this process is like grabbing hold of a loose thread in a jumper – once you start pulling, you risk unravelling the whole jumper. Building aeroplanes in the sky and herding cats are two images which strike me in this process. I wonder whether it is a little too clinical an approach. Theological reflection is an ongoing process in which praxis is essential. One act of reflection (or a time) without consequent action and further reflection is insufficient, and suggests there is a “right answer” to be found.

Experience – it is fair to say that there are those of us who find ourselves at one end or other of a spectrum: there are those who do not have a positive experience of denominational life, for whatever reason. And there are those for whom participation in denominational life has been a complete blessing. We all read the denominational structures through a particular grid of experience, none of which disqualifies us from recording our observations and communicating them for the good of its future (or should I say, our future, keeping in mind Frank’s observation that the BUV is our denomination).

Understanding – from the outside in. How many of us have a real understanding of what is happening inside the denominational office? Of the considerable complexities which reflect the theological, pastoral, ethical, organisational, legal and administrative issues. The question could be asked as to how effective any reflection is from a distance…

Personal Concern. There are those who believe that speaking out about their experience and concerns will compromise them in terms of future pastoral appointments, and therefore choose to continue to suffer in silence. The only way for evil to flourish is for good people to do nothing. But there is another risk in speaking out – not having one’s concerns validated by others. There are times when we haven’t been pastoral in our response to one another. The history of the VBMN list shows this. The use of the anonymous post feature of the list has demonstrated the need for a place to vent in complete confidence.

Incompleteness – sometimes we hold strong convictions about something without necessarily having the capacity to offer a potential solution. That’s OK. It is a function and a privilege of community to hear the incomplete thoughts born of pain, angst, or even joy, and to help one another work through the implications.

From the Outside In? Asking us to reflect on something most of us have only experienced at the margins is problematic. There may be longer term strategies unfolding which aren’t apparent, or to which we may not be privy. A change in organisational direction, theologically and strategically, emerges from familiarity with the systems and their impact in relation to the strategic plan, surely. BUT… let us never forget that the central figure and central story of the Christian faith is found at the margins: outside a city wall, amongst the poor and marginalised. If we are to develop healthy denominational structures, we need to hear all voices, all thoughts, because we should be listening for the voice of the Spirit, and not one of self-defense or self-justification.

My efforts in these writings are an exercise in “thinking out loud.” And certainly – as one who has had little contact with the internal workings of denominational life – from the margins. Theological reflection is a conversation. It is dynamic. We all need to offer our half-formed thoughts, impressions and observations.

Denomination by Association

My first response to the night of theological reflection, and to Frank’s paper is rightly determined to be too theoretical. In retrospect it is my effort to put some parameters around the nature of theological reflection, and to underline that our capacity to determine what God is doing in the present is enhanced by our knowledge of what God has done in the past and of the hope which calls us into God’s future. The question, “What are the implications?” is an important one, but must always be answered with the realisation that all actions and structures express values and embody particular futures. In this light I turn my attention to the Baptist tradition of Association.
From the earliest days Baptists were drawn into association with one another. We need to consider what the nature and purpose of association meant at that time, and how association became denomination…
It is something of a catch cry that the reason for denomination is that there are things that we can do together that we can’t do separately. While acknowledging the truth in such a statement, it does need clarification. Over time it has amounted to a deferral to the denomination rather than the cooperative spirit which undergirds the notion of association. In association, churches found support as they grappled with the implications of the theological convictions which drove them to establish Baptist churches in the first place. In the same way that Paul’s mission to the Gentile world raised questions related to practices such as circumcision, so the embrace of liberty of conscience and commitment to corporate discernment of God’s call pressed the new church to consider the implications. We have studied these movements around theological conviction: General vs Particular Baptist distinctives are but one example, but the ways in which they developed the practices at a local level are as formative as the theological statements produced. Association was about shared conviction, commitment to exploration of this call and its implications, and about supporting one another in this journey, so that individual churches did not feel isolated and alone in the struggle. I do not get the sense of an “Association office” being established to support the work. Rather the Association itself was engaged in the struggle and questions emerging at the local level. They were local church practitioners together. And one would assume, not in large churches by modern standards.
The purpose of Association was directed towards empowering and supporting the local church. This was enhanced by the development of theological frameworks for understanding their mission, although the coming together as Association was arguably founded on this.
One of the arguable outcomes of the shift towards “doing things together” is an increasing disconnect with that which is done corporately from the local experience, to the effect that it looks more like outsourcing than cooperative ministry. By way of example, our Baptist social service and missional ventures are now quite distinct from the local church and disconnected from a significant proportion of those who make up our churches. The major connection, if it exists at all, is through funding rather than an identified partnership in mission and ministry together.
The problem of distance is one which plagues all denominational offices. Ministry at the local church level engages at a different perspective than a denominational office. Not only are they shaped by different concerns, the engagement interface is different. In hindsight, this is one of the troubling thoughts which plagued me on the night and since – the theological reflection undertaken appeared to be largely from the inside-out. That is, we seemed to be reflecting on what is and how to make it better/more effective, rather than taking up the call to reflect on what God is doing in the world and asking how we might align with it. Here I would respectfully disagree with Jeff Pugh’s contention that this is limited to “in those places and with those people who are preaching his message and where the message of the Cross and resurrection is bearing fruit.” Such a limited view of God’s work in the world implies that God is only at work in the church, or in terms which the church readily understands and identifies. If we are to learn anything from the history of the early church and the mission of Jesus it is that God often appears at the margins – even of religious life, inviting us to see His work in new ways and new perspectives. If we limit our theological reflection to what God is doing in the church we risk becoming increasingly insular and inward-focussed. Theological reflection has always been on what God is doing in the world, and where God is leading creation, and those who would follow the call of God.
It is beyond contention that the ministry interface at the local level has changed considerably over the last forty years, perhaps with increasing pace over the last decade. The metaphors and narratives which inform people’s lives are increasingly disconnected from the ones which have nurtured the church’s history and, until recently, Western culture. The risks of and frameworks for ministry have changed considerably. How do we negotiate these in the context of the world and not merely in terms of the risk exposure of the denomination? How do we engage with these in ways which open us up to the new possibilities which God is already creating? How do we prepare ourselves for different ways of being and doing that reflect God’s call in the present and towards the future which God has called us to?
The shift from association to denomination has created a structure where a disconnect between the view from a denominational framework and that from the local pastoral office is not only possible but extremely likely. One potential outcome is the drifting apart of the member churches as they engage more intentionally with their local settings, formulating responses which might be informed by any combination of scripture, Baptist tradition (from the local to the global), openness to God in the present, and understanding of what the future of God looks like. As each develops their own matrix of these (and other) backgrounds into their local church culture, the overarching denominational distinctive gets lost.
Some might argue that the capacity of a denominational body to engage in meaningful ways across the whole state is limited (echoing something of the argument in Federation about the redundancy of the states). As we look back to our associational heritage, we must ask ourselves whether its culture and approach is worth recovering and in what way. Let me offer some food for thought.

An Association view of our Union of Churches could see:
A move to having say 8-10 Part-time area ministers each with 20-25 churches in their locality to care for the pastors. This would enable regional pastors to engage with ministry at the local level, possibly into smaller churches, thereby putting leadership skills to work where most needed. It could also establish a sense of equality and partnership between pastors and their area minister, knowing that the interface of ministry is fresh for all, that many of the challenges being felt by the area minister are direct and not vicarious, creating a sense of mutuality of support and care in ministry. Area ministers would be based at the local level, and therefore have local understanding of issues and context.
In this scenario, the role of the Director of Ministries would have a significant responsibility for leading/mentoring/pastorally caring for the area ministers, modelling the type of care and support which is hopefully reflected in the local settings. This could enhance the environment whereby the process of theological reflection begins to inform wider aspects of denominational life, and the local level engagement with the wider denominational level is enhanced. Rethinking of denominational funding arrangements might also release funds and other resources to the different areas where decision-making around its use is also enabled. Resources shifted back from supporting denominational initiatives towards initiatives at the local level, with particular emphasis on those conducted in association.
As the listening ear to all that is happening across the various regions within the state, the potential for prophetic leadership role by the denomination, both to the churches and the wider community, speaking to missional and into cultural issues such that the church’s engagement through public theology is enabled and enhanced. Whilst recognising that there will be evident tensions as a consequence of doing so, providing a framework in which engagement with the wider culture and community can be modelled enables the public aspect of theological reflection and engagement to develop.
It might be worth reflecting on how the particular associational groupings are established at a local level, and whether a uniform size for each association is appropriate. One might also want to examine whether the area minister was employed by the denomination, or resourced by the denomination through the local church, or even the local association. In any case, such an approach may well place support into the local context where it is needed, with a degree of mutuality amongst pastoral leaders in the area.
And then there are issues around the operation and culture of the denominational office which I haven’t yet begun to articulate...
Another time, perhaps.

Theological Reflections on Re-imagining

The Baptist Union of Victoria is presently undertaking a phase of ‘re-imagining’, which provided the foundation for a time of theological reflection in a session earlier this week. Principal of Whitley College, Frank Rees, was invited to present a paper, which he has published on his blog. Carolyn Francis, Jeff Pugh, and Alan Marr offered responses. I found it difficult to find the appropriate point of connection to the conversation, partly because of the “so what” question which lingered in the back of my mind, and partly because of the confusion about whether the focus is on the denominational office, or on the Union of Churches themselves. Frank identified this important distinction. Frank’s starting point, however, was one which is worth underlining:

“Frankly it is deeply concerning that so little of our decision-making seems to be guided by any overt theological consideration at all.”

What sort of theological reflection do we need? Two aspects of our theological reflection are perhaps on more solid foundations than the other. We need an historical theological reflection: one which looks back to the scriptural foundations, both the text of scripture and the life and teaching of Christ. While this apparently rests on a sure foundation, there are issues to be addressed not only in relation to the way that particular texts are interpreted, but also to the particular texts we choose to interpret. Keeping the entire corpus in the conversation and reflection is more of a challenge than we like to admit. Certain texts often are chosen as interpretive grids through which all other aspects are filtered. There are uncomfortable tensions within scripture that we need to keep alive. These must also find consistency with the teaching, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, through whom our understanding of God and his work in the world is ultimately shaped.

But our historical theological reflection must also embrace our own Baptist history, looking back to its foundations and its journey through the centuries. As long as we claim to be re-imagining the future of the Baptist church in Victoria, we must be clear about what we imagined it to be in the first place. Again, this is not as simple as it sounds. Not only do we need to hear our founders’ call to liberty of conscience, even to the point of protecting those who choose not to believe, we must hear also the calls of our Victorian founders, whose unusual step to seek government regulation of our constitution sits oddly with the commitment to separation of church and state. And still more recently we must grapple with the source of the unique diversity which our denominational ties represent, forged on the anvil of some difficult debates in Assemblies, but arguably given a mere nod in the present.

Historical theological reflection is important to our understanding of the present. We cannot hope to understand where we are without examining the journey to this point.

The second aspect of theological reflection which perhaps rests on more solid foundations is that of the future. The eschatological hope which calls us forward. At the core this is clear – the reign of Christ and the restoration of God’s order. We believe that God’s future is clearly established in the just reign of Christ. It is hope which shapes our action in the present. It gives us something to work towards, even if we do believe that the end interrupts rather than fulfils the directions of creation. Our task and call is to work consistently with God’s purposes, which are spelled out for us. But again, this is more complex than initially apparent. Interpretations about the way the end will come cloud the apparent consistencies we uphold about what that future might look like – at least in terms of the internal values it represents: justice, peace, grace. Eschatology asks us to articulate what we believe God is calling us to become. This is grounded in scripture, and in the life, death and resurrection of Christ, which if it confirms anything tells us that the purposes of God are stronger and more sure than any systems which earth can array against them.

The third aspect of theological reflections is somewhat more contentions: reflection on what God is doing in the world today. It is a tenet of mission: to find where God is working and partner with it. How are we to do this? It is important that we undertake the first two aspects of theological reflection before entering this phase. We cannot know where we are without understanding where we have come from (how we got where we are), and where we are going. Any interpretation of the present must find its orientation between these two points. And it must be done in partnership with some form of sociological reflection: an understanding of what is happening in the world around us. Jesus once rebuked his hearers for not being able to read the signs of the times. The temptation is to paint this picture in two colours, rather than to engage the nuances of God’s work in the world today. The world is both getting worse and getting better. This curious admixture of good and evil is ever the challenge for the church to negotiate. For the purposes of our own denominational journey, we must constrain our focus at some point to reflection within the churches which make up the BUV, and the denominational office itself. (As much as I support Frank’s contention that the denomination is the churches, we must recognise and articulate the disconnect and individuality of identity. It is the only way we can work to realign them.)

I hesitate at this point to offer some pithy insights which such a reflection might bring, as the complexity of the task is one which requires more than one person. I will, however, make some observations.

First, there is no such beast as “value-free action.” We wonder whether the BUV should lead the churches. It does. The actions it has taken have always conveyed a message to its member churches. One of the best ways to identify the values of anyone or anything is to evaluate its actions. The statement about intentions should always be measured against the actions which are undertaken, and vice versa. Are we doing today that which reinforces the values we espouse? the calling we confess? On Tuesday night I found myself pondering this when the statement was made by someone that smaller churches seem to be grappling most and coming up with the most creative responses to the present missional challenges, and considered the parallel denominational discussions about the viability of small churches. The disconsonant ring between these two points echoed in my ear. Similarly we speak of the BUV as the union of churches, yet our new governance structure seems to reflect a governance model which moves away from empowering churches in this regard.

Second, I had some difficulty understanding whether the focus on re-imagining is about new ways of being church, new ways of being a denomination, or new ways of structuring the denominational office and function. The conversation on Tuesday night left me in somewhat of a quandary here. Perhaps the issue relates to articulating the primary purpose of our churches and structuring our denominational office so that churches can achieve that. Arguably the greatest challenge to be faced is how we build the bridge between our scriptural and denominational heritage and our present setting. With Frank, I believe that our Baptist heritage leaves us well-placed to engage the public realm. Many tenets of Western belief systems are found within our own: liberty of conscience, commitments to freedoms, and to just action. Losing grasp of our denominational heritage has hampered us somewhat here.

The third comment emerges from what appears to be an elephant in the room. Not one conversation picked up on Frank’s observation that “churches in general, including Baptists, will continue to experience significant decline in numbers, finances and viability.” If any piece of information should cause us to pause and reflect, surely this is one. This is a challenge of imagination as much as anything else, something which perhaps requires a paradigmatic shift in our thinking about church properties and denominational assets. Currently about half of our denominational office is funded from a source whose original charter proscribed its use for such a purpose. This has the dual impact of reducing funds available to churches for the original purpose of the fund, and covers up a question related to the longer-term viability of our collective ministry through the denominational office.

This is an important conversation, and a welcome initiative from the BUV leadership. Getting one’s head about its complexity perhaps requires that we be less focussed on the immediate structural responses and more about articulating the correct questions to be asking. I thank those who presented their reflections on Tuesday night, and who engaged in response. I would say, however, that the demographic in the room also gave some pause for reflection…

In case you missed Sunday School

THE STORY OF ELIJAH
The Sunday school teacher was carefully explaining the story of Elijah the Prophet and the false prophets of Baal. She explained how Elijah built the altar, put wood upon it, cut a steer in pieces, and laid it upon the altar. And then, Elijah commanded the people of God to fill four barrels of water and pour it over the altar. He had them do this four times
"Now," asked the teacher, "Can anyone in the class tell me why the Lord would have Elijah pour water over the steer on the altar?"
A little girl in the back of the room started waving her hand, "I know! I know!" she said, "To make the gravy!"

LOT'S WIFE
The Sunday School teacher was describing how Lot 's wife looked back and turned into a pillar of salt, when little Jason interrupted, "My Mummy looked back once, while she was driving," he announced triumphantly, "and she turned into a telephone pole!"

GOOD SAMARITAN
A Sunday school teacher was telling her class the story of the Good Samaritan, in which a man was beaten, robbed and left for dead. She described the situation in vivid detail so her students would catch the drama. Then, she asked the class, "If you saw a person lying on the roadside, all wounded and bleeding, what would you do?"
A thoughtful little girl broke the hushed silence, "I think I'd throw up."

DID NOAH FISH?
A Sunday school teacher asked, "Johnny, do you think Noah did a lot of fishing when he was on the Ark?"
"No," replied David. "How could he, with just two worms?"

HIGHER POWER
A Sunday school teacher said to her children, "We have been learning how powerful kings and queens were in Bible times. But, there is a higher power. Can anybody tell me what it is?"
One child blurted out, "Aces!"

MOSES AND THE RED SEA
Nine-year-old Joey, was asked by his mother what he had learned in Sunday school. "Well, Mom, our teacher told us how God sent Moses behind enemy lines on a rescue mission to lead the Israelites out of Egypt When he got to the Red Sea , he had his army build a pontoon bridge and all the people walked across safely. Then, he radioed headquarters for reinforcements. They sent bombers to blow up the bridge and all the Israelites were saved."
"Now, Joey, is that really what your teacher taught you?" his mother asked. "Well, no, Mum. But, if I told it the way the teacher did, you'd never believe it!"

THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD
A Sunday School teacher decided to have her young class memorise one of the most quoted passages in the Bible; Psalm 23. She gave the youngsters a month to learn the verse. Little Rick was excited about the task - but, he just couldn't remember the Psalm. After much practice, he could barely get past the first line. On the day that the kids were scheduled to recite Psalm 23 in front of the congregation, Ricky was so nervous. When it was his turn, he stepped up to the microphone and said proudly, "The Lord is my Shepherd, and that's all I need to know."

CHURCH SMILES
There was a very gracious lady who was mailing an old family Bible to her brother in another part of the country. "Is there anything breakable in here?" asked the postal clerk.
"Only the Ten Commandments," answered the lady.

AMISH CARRIAGE
While driving in Pennsylvania ,a family caught up to an Amish carriage. The owner of the carriage obviously had a sense of humour, because attached to the back of the carriage was a hand printed sign: "Energy efficient vehicle: Runs on oats and grass.
Caution: Do not step in exhaust."

QUILT
Sunday after church, a Mum asked her very young daughter what the lesson was about. The daughter answered, "Don't be scared, you'll get your quilt." Needless to say, the Mum was perplexed. Later in the day, the pastor stopped by for tea and the Mum asked him what that morning's Sunday school lesson was about. He said "Be not afraid, thy comforter is coming."

The Church where it's all about ....

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Losing the Second Generation

We in the West are in angst about the 'lost generations' in church - generally in the age of 30-55; people who have left the church of their parents, many having abandoned the faith altogether. We have a noted rise in alternative spiritualities, which are often grounded in ancient practices.

The Religion Report of May 16 spends some time analysing the shift away from Catholicism in Central America, a report coinciding with the Pope's visit. While the ratio of priests to Catholics is about 1 to 7000, in evangelical churches it is 1 to 300, going some way to explaining the drift from Catholicism to evangelical and charismatic churches. But that's not the whole story. Michelle Crowther reports:

But the Catholic church's great exodus is not only at the hands of its competitors. In pockets of Latin America, the debate is no longer between different faiths. Many of those who leave choose no organised spiritual alternative. In Guatemala for example, polls since 1990 show about 12% of citizens citing no religious affiliation at all. And in Mexico, 43% of second-generation evangelicals have no affiliation with the church. This is a very important reality check for those Christians who imagine that the future vitality for Christian churches in the 21st century, lies in the developing world. Even in the global south, the trend towards European style secularism is beginning to appear. If 43% of second generation evangelicals have no religious affiliation, it may be that the drift towards these sects is just a staging post on the way towards no religion. If they're being born again in Mexico City, it's into a new life of liberalism.

Which gives pause for thought. Is there something about the charismatic/evangelical commitment to the present/immediacy of God that does not sustain? Catholic rites and practices are steeped in ancient tradition... practices and images embedded in daily life. But while the charismatic/evangelical tradition has perhaps countered some of the 'deadness' which often permeates such ritualistic approaches, one wonders whether the roots have been jettisoned also. What is it that sustains faith? What rituals and images bring us back to our centre? That the second generation charismatics/evangelicals abandon at such a rate suggests the roots are shallow... it parallels the well-travelled "back door" of the church in the West. People don't find it sustaining for the long term.

We might want to point our fingers at the wider culture and indicate that it's a type of spiritual ADHD, consistent with the constant clamour for something new, yet that is often the paradigm of worship and spirituality we have embraced... focussed towards "our needs" at the surface level, but apparently missing something at the deeper.

I am one who finds ritual and repetition to be boring after a short period of time. I gave up on a highly liturgical worship after enjoying it for the first couple of weeks because knowing what was coming, both in words and actions, did not help me engage. Yet I acknowledge the place for ritual and repetition, for the disciplines of the faith which bring us back to the same place and remind us of - and tend to - our roots.

This is a continuing challenge. The Mexican experience highlights a reality we have known in the West, bringing it into stark relief. Where to from here?

Looking for Jesus: Refugees in Faith

The 'back door' of the church is well-travelled, with increasing numbers turning their back on the church, but not on Jesus. Barney Zwartz reflects on this phenomenon.

Nonviolence

I was privileged to hear Father John Dear speak at a Whitley College seminar yesterday. John is a peace activist in the non-violent tradition of Jesus, Gandhi and Martin Luther King, whose message is grounded in the gospel narrative, and flows from and into the life that he leads. He has given me much food for thought, but one stands out above all others at this time. I have been reading a series of reflections on the last words of Jesus from the cross by Stanley Hauerwas, fitting as we move through Lent. John Dear made an observation which gave me pause for thought... what were the last words of Jesus to the gathered church of the time? They were spoken in the Garden of Gethsemane... "put down your swords".
From this time forward, the disciples dispersed; the last words from the cross heard by only a few.
What is the import of these words?
It struck me as John spoke that we regularly disconnect the individual events of Holy Week in particular and the life of Jesus in general from the overall picture. We cannot separate Jesus' injunction to put down the sword from his crucifixion, or response under pressure at trial - Jesus eschewed violence as a response. Neither can we ignore Jesus' overturning of the tables in the temple, or the prayer for his disciples, "Love one another as I have loved you".
The Christian faith has been tacked onto, and at times given fuel to trains heading for war. How are we to embrace this last command of Jesus in the garden?
The way of nonviolence has demonstrated powerful and transformative effects, far greater than military might (consider Vietnam, Afghanistan, Iraq, The Falklands, the list could go on...), yet we have barely learnt the ways.
It is something which will remain at the forefront of my journey through Lent.

Lent (2)

Lent is the season when we look at our way of life with hope:
to see it as God sees it, both in its present reality,
and its future possibilities

Looking for a new church

King of the Hill goes looking for a new church...

Jesus and Osama bin Laden 2

This little foray into advertising has created much discussion... The weekly newsletter "Soundings" from the Centre for Christian Ethics, offered the following helpful response.

Does Jesus love evangelical poster art?
by Kristine Morrison
As signs proclaiming that Jesus loves Osama adorned mainstream protestant churches this week, the deluge of media interest appeared to require some explanation. Baptist spokesperson and Director of the Centre for Christian Ethics, Rod Benson, fleshed out some or the detail in Soundings no. 45 (1 February), assuring enquirers that Jesus did in fact love Osama bin Laden and many other evildoers of our planet and our time.
It appears that it wasn't such a serious question after all. The answer was so simple. There is a seamless and uncontroversial Christian approach that claims that any human being, no matter how reprobate, has claims upon the love of God.
What then was the point of the question? I'm a sufficiently conversant participant in evangelical culture to be very clear on the point of the question. The point was to assure non-believers - the unchurched, those who are "not-yet-Christian" - that in their reflective moments they ought to banish any thoughts that they are beyond the reach of God's love because, if God can love Osama, then God can love them.
Did the poster succeed in conveying that message of unconditional love? Well, yes, the poster was technically correct but it fell well short of answering some important human questions.
I'm glad for several reasons that the infamous poster was not displayed on the front wall of the local church I attend. First, because the question betrays an ignorance of the kinds of questions that non-believers ask themselves. Current evangelical practice relies on persuading people that they are sinners.
It is true that many modern people possess an inner anxiety. The anxiety, however, is not so much about the magnitude of evil they have committed. Society could not function if it were populated with multiple Osamas. People's consciences are much more likely to be troubled by the way they do things rather than what they do. They wake in the night not because they didn't pay their bus fare but because they were impatient or dismissive of the bus driver. They didn't necessarily do anything bad; rather, they could have done better.
Most people do not consider themselves anywhere near as bad as Osama bin Laden. This is not to say that they cannot appreciate the fact that they fall short of ideal human behaviour. The common everyday experience of human failure lies more in the realm of character than actions. The Osama question does not arise for most people, and it is therefore not an effective evangelistic approach.
The second reason I am glad this poster did not appear on our church wall is that it pays far too much attention to the perpetrator of evil and fails to appreciate the hurt of the victim. It is a pastoral faux pas on an all too public scale. When people who have been victims of abuse witness the church proclaiming happy days for the perpetrators of evil it is as though they are wounded again.
The question most likely to be occupying the minds of passers-by is, "Does Jesus love the victims of Osama?" Human suffering, whether personal or that which we see in others, is a profound stumbling block to the acceptance of Christianity. Christianity offers serious answers to the problem of human suffering but there were no pointers to these answers in this poster. The poster raised the problem of human suffering but provided no answer and gave the impression of being more interested in reconciling with the perpetrators of injustice than supporting the victims.
Third, perhaps the answer to the question of God's love for Osama is more ambiguous than it seems. We may agree that all humans are loved by God but is it possible to engage in such widespread and systematic practices of evil that a person can disqualify him or herself from being human?
Can we degrade ourselves so completely that we are no longer recognisable as humans? If a person is no longer human then is that person outside the orbit of God's love? In ordinary conversation behaviour that is good, generous and kind is described as humane, while practices that are deliberately and systematically cruel are described as beastly, animalistic or inhuman.
A modern rendition of the animalistic human is the human as machine. We describe people as machines when they appear to have lost any human feeling and they have become totally functionary beings. The idea that human beings can lose their humanity is not a totally foreign one and therefore makes the issue of God's love for bin Laden less of an open and shut case than has perhaps been demonstrated.
Poster Christianity is perilous witness. Simple truths, simply stated can be less than helpful to those with whom we desire to communicate, notwithstanding the goodwill of those who develop these posters. We can be encouraged, within our churches, that people do read our advertising signs. But we can also be challenged to consider the pastoral implication and the wisdom of using some of our available promotional material.
Not all publicity is good publicity.
Kristine Morrison is a midwife at Sydney's Royal Prince Alfred Hospital and a member of the Social Issues Committee of the Baptist Churches of NSW and ACT.

Revisiting Numbers

I have been fond of saying that the three measures by which we traditionally determine success in ministry is based around "the three Bs: Bums (on seats), Budgets, and Buildings". If any of these is on the increase, we assume that the ministry is a good (successful) one. But I wonder whether that is true.

Ryan Bolger takes another look at numbers:

We needed to take another look. Are numbers always evil?

He suggests that "what is counted is always imbued with theology." And suggests that perhaps numbers still have a place - suggesting different things to count.