Catch the Vision I

Moderator, this has been an eye-opening year for the Steering Group. We have been brought eyeball to eyeball with what St Paul calls ‘the principalities and powers’ of our age. By that phrase he meant those unseen forces, like economics and demography that shape our lives and the common cultural assumptions like secularism and consumerism that determine what is believable. It has not been a comfortable experience, but it has been an essential one. Lesslie Newbigin once called Britain the hardest mission field he had ever encountered. We see no reason to contradict him. For the last century or more the church has been pushed to the margins, quietly written out of the mainstream of culture, irrelevant to the daily round, until of course joy or tragedy need ritual management. Paul would have described that marginalisation as the work of the principalities and powers.

However, living on the margins takes its toll. We have felt it in the gentle, graceful decline of our membership, for so many years imperceptible, but now forcing us to acknowledge that there aren’t enough of us to keep all parts of the United Reformed machine oiled and in good working order. We feel it too when we take a long hard look at our age-profile and realise that if things go on as they are we will be a church of 42,000 members in 2024, not 84,000 as we are now. That is not to be unrealistic about the possibilities of mission; it is to be realistic the ageing process and demographics. Eyeballing the powers and speaking the truth has not made us popular in some parts of the church. We have been accused of acquiescing in a culture of decline and ignoring mission. Nonsense. No-one, as Jesus almost said, sets out to war without making a few calculations first.

So, we’ve been doing a few calculations on the margins. The first is a theological calculation. It is that God is God of the margins. God has been there before. Once the powers that be tried to force him out of his own story on Jerusalem’s rubbish heap, only to discover that he is mightily powerful in the margins, indeed, you might say he did his best work there. But the world mistook failure for weakness, and vulnerability for incompetence. So, being on the margins is no bad thing if you worship the marginal God. It might even be more faithfully satisfying than throwing your weight around in the seats of power. But it’s not going to be comfortable. The fringe benefits are, as they say, out of this world, for we know that in the end, all will be brought together under Christ as head.

The second calculation is that the United Reformed Church is far from dead or moribund. We have no wish to get into a debate about statistics, nor to put overmuch weight on them because we know how well they are collected. Nonetheless, with due modesty we would suggest that our figure that just over 9% of our churches are growing churches and that just over 25% have seen no decline in their worshipping congregation over the last 5 years are as solid as any. It might not be stunning news, but it is much better than many expected.

Alongside that we would offer two observations. The first is that we are intrigued that we now have a third as many adherents as members, and we wonder what that is telling us about changing patterns of religious behaviour. The second is that we wonder on the basis of the research that Pilots has undertaken, and also on the experience of our colleagues in the Church of England, whether simply counting Sunday congregations is an accurate reflection of the complexity of being church to-day. We live in a world that does not believe anything until it has been counted. We note with interest that the North West Regional Authority was highly sceptical of the churches position as a stakeholder in civil society until the Churches Regional Officer proved statistically that the church was the foremost provider of volunteers in the region. We think that the churches might be encouraged if they knew what they actually contribute to society and had a way of measuring their actual impact on their communities.

Living on the margins is forcing the churches to experiment and innovation, to discover new ways of being church. The assumption is sometimes made that this means old ways of being church are part of a culture that is passing. We believe that an age of transition such as the one we are living in is more complex than that, and that a multiplicity of forms of church life is a more likely scenario. We want to tell some stories about the mission which faces our church.

Our first two stories are about being church traditionally, yet ecumenically, in completely different situations.

Let’s begin in mid-Wales, in a 60s council estate built on a mountain at the top of a valley. According to the EU this is one of the most socially deprived areas of Europe. In the midst of it all is a church Llanfair, St Mary’s, two council houses knocked into one, with a sanctuary at the centre and an astonishing array of community facilities packed around it. Llanfair takes two realities with complete seriousness - the unity of the church and the reality of the community. Penrhys is the post-Christian world in miniature, yet by adherence to those two principles, and a ministry lived out in the midst of the community, the church is filled for the Eucharist every Sunday, and 50-60 attend a mid-week service of compline. The stories that could be told are remarkable and, in some cases, heart-rending. If you want to see lives transformed, and salvation at work, go there.

The cost and opportunities of being church in post-Christian Britain are writ large there. They belong together. The cost is in a ministry soaked in the life and trials of those folk 24/7, in the patient creation of relationships. John Morgans’ last report to the sponsoring body of Penrhys before his retirement last year read, ‘Our week is spent on Penrhys: chapel, cafe, homework [club], discos, dominoes, discussions, meeting neighbours day by day. We stand alongside their lives, focused in births, marriages and deaths. We worship together six times each week. All our Sundays are spent in Llanfair.’ Here, in a post-Christian world, is a church which takes worship, theology and Biblical scholarship seriously, doesn’t treat people as fools, and is unafraid to teach eleven year old lads the difference between transcendence and immanence - and they understand. The Christians of Penrhys know that God makes a difference.

Just outside Cambridge, called Cambourne - 3,000 homes planned, 10-15,000 people plus business park. It is being developed by 3 building firms. It is a ‘nice’ village, beautifully landscaped, good amenities, designed to high specification, and expensive. At the end of the High Street the developers have given a prime site for the erection of a church which must, as a condition of the gift, have a ‘high vertical structure’ of some sort. It is an ecumenical venture, bringing together the Baptists, Methodists, Anglicans, Catholics and ourselves. At present the church has established itself in a couple of portacabins called ‘The Ark’- which is the only space for community use in the village. Thanks to the foresight of the church leaders of the area, the church has been there from the start. The next challenge for all is the new church - because churches don’t come cheap. This is from Cambourne’s web-site:

‘As an ecumenical church we are working out what, in this place, it means to be God’s people through worship and service. We aim for a Church Centre that is a place where people can feel at home and yet which is adaptable enough to accommodate future change. A place for contemplation but also a place for celebration. Places where people can sense God’s presence but also come together to socialise. We want the church centre to be welcoming and attractive and to be at the heart of Cambourne’s life. (www.combourne.net/church)

In radically different ways, traditional church works in Penrhys and Cambourne. It still can have meaning, depth and resonance in the community, and make a difference for Christ’s sake. What it demands of the wider church is resources - of paid people and money. What it also demands is full-time, sustained, focused ministry. There are lessons for us there.

But other places present different challenges.

Cardiff Bay is one of the most remarkable developments of our day. It is to be the focus of Welsh national life. The Welsh National Opera House is rising in a glory of Welsh slate. The debating chamber of the Welsh Assembly is being built next door. There are huge, beautifully engineered public spaces, restaurants, offices, shops and 10,000 houses planned. The Christian presence thus far has been in the brilliantly conceived symbol of the lightship, offering the light of Christ in meeting, relaxation, and ministry reaching out in chaplaincy. That is fine in the midst of a dynamic building site, but less satisfying in a residential and business community where land is at a premium. How do the churches of Wales respond to the missionary challenge of the Bay? What is sacred space on the Bay? What will it say if the churches are absent from the Bay? In a very different way to Penrhys, the Bay is post-Christian Britain, in the sense that, unlike Cambourne, the assumption has been that the future of this national site has no need of a visible Christian, or indeed even faith, presence.

A world away from Cardiff Bay, down the District Line, just beyond Mile End is Bromley-by-Bow. By all poverty indicators, it is one of the most deprived little bits of England. We have a church there. In 1983 it was on the way out, small, elderly, with a bleak future. Closure seemed the only possibility. The then Moderator told the new minister that this was the last chance saloon, and to think outside the box because traditional ways of being church wouldn’t work there anymore. Andrew Mawson took him at his word, and persuaded his little congregation to open up the building for the local community. Local artists were the first in, eager to pass on their skills to others in exchange for free workshop space. Twenty years on the Bromley-by-Bow centre has a revenue budget of £2m, employs 105 staff, and works with a team of volunteers that rarely drops below 50. They have pioneered a holistic and radical approach to Health Care in their Healthy Living Centre. The place is alive with people of every race, gift and culture, with community gardens, artists integrated with health workers, community care groups, a community cafe which provides training for young people as well as excellent food, and they have just bought three acres of parkland and are raising money for a horticultural training centre. And at the heart of all of this is a chapel, a table, a chalice and paten. Quite literally at the heart because that is the permanent heart of the impermanent activities that centrifuge around it. When I visited, a multi-cultural play group was surging around that space, but the still point was there, visible, always present, the Christ who gave his own life for the world, just as that little congregation gave the precious space of its church away to the community in 1984. The congregation is bigger now. Not vast, you would scarcely expect that in a predominantly Muslim area, but the difference the kingdom has made meets you in every person you meet.

Four stories, all true, all about us, show something of the mission agenda that confronts us. More importantly, they all show that we can do this church ‘thing’ in post-Christendom, when we trust in the transforming presence of Christ and keep our eyes firmly on serving the world he died to save. Two of those examples pose the question of how we react to new civic developments. Two ask how we stand alongside the poor and dispossessed. That, of course, is not the totality of the mission agenda. Mission is where we are. It is what the church is for. And by the grace of God, we are part of God’s mission. By the judicious use of resources, we can make our churches welcoming, useful, and attractive. We can and do work with the elderly, break the barriers of race, help the homeless find homes, treat asylum seekers with dignity as real people with terrible stories, and enable disaffected young people to find understanding and acceptance. We can do mission. Here a civic chaplain who is one of our ministers discusses with a Town Centre Manager, a Shopping Centre Manager, a Tourism manager and others how to promote Easter.

All around us the church is making a difference for Christ’s sake. God is at work. The margins are interesting places. We are continuing to learn how to live the kingdom. That is what ‘Catching the Vision’ is all about. Small church that we are, how do we continue to play our part in the mission of God? Where are our priorities? Where can we make a difference for Christ’s sake?

There is a good deal of talk about ‘alternative’ church, new ways of being church which concentrate on networks of people rather than buildings - cell churches, pub churches, cafe churches. We recognise that the tectonic plates of being church are shifting, but we believe the scene is complicated, and our prediction is that cheerful muddle will prevail whilst the Spirit winnows the real grain from the chaff. For example, one area of distinct growth in the metropolis is amongst black Christians and in what we term in ugly jargon ‘single ethnic congregations’. Those churches are traditional - they have ministers and buildings. Our commitment to multi-cultural ministry is long-established in some places, well respected and at the cutting edge. I suspect that we are also rather better at other forms of ‘alternative’ church that we suspect. That is why Pilots is such an interesting and significant development. It shouldn’t be marginalised as ‘that’s just the kids’. It is actually a new, midweek way of being church. We have a strange mindset. I remember taking part in a district visitation to a church which thought it had no missionary outreach. On Tuesday lunchtime each week they fed 60 elderly folk and always followed that with an act of worship which was evangelical in focus in the church hall. Sixty people caught up in the circle of prayer, Scripture and praise. And because it didn’t result in a congregational increase on Sundays it wasn’t mission. There are times when we are our own worst enemies.

However, if we had one disappointment over responses to the questionnaire, it was that there seems to be so little engagement in new forms of church life. It may be that the questions we were asking were the wrong ones to elicit that information. As we said in our report, we wish to do much more work on mission and spirituality. However, we do wonder if our structures inhibit rather than promote such experiment.

CTV is about mission. It is about how we go about participating in God’s tomorrow, how we shape the United Reformed Church for that engagement. It is therefore about how we use our resources. Of all the research we have undertaken this year, the financial has been the most surprising.

Our research has revealed what a wealthy church we are - if only we were to be ‘we’ rather than ‘us’ and ‘them’. In her book The root of all evil? How to make spiritual values count the financial journalist Antonia Swinson says, ‘Follow the money and in the end we’ll find out who is winning, who is harmed and exploited. Nothing else so clearly exposes personal or corporate wiles, our aspirations and desires, our success or failure to live God’s way.’ We could do worse in the URC than ponder those words carefully.

The challenge before us is immense. Lesslie Newbigin was right. This is a spiritbreakingly hard mission field. But it is one to which we bring remarkable resources

· a huge commitment of time and lives,

· a resilience and competence at being a minority in a majority culture which is a product of our dissenting past,

· a creativity which sometimes allows us to catch God’s moment

· a vibrant ecumenism which sees fellow Christians as partners not competitors

· a spirituality which (at its best) knows Christ and not party lines.

We are called to be church in God’s tomorrow. We will not be there alone. There are Christian partners alongside us of every race and tradition. The old assumptions and language are passing. In post-Christendom evangelicals no longer ignore social action, and liberals no longer sit light to the imperatives of the Word. This is the world of Oasis and Faithworks, Stop the Debt and the Trade Justice Campaign, of black Pentecostal ministers and Roman Catholic cardinals sitting at the same ecumenical table, learning to share in the mission of God. It is a world that needs our united resources and efforts, not our bickering and arguing. Let me end with another story from Lesslie Newbigin:

When he was bishop of Madurai Lesslie Newbigin told how he received a request to baptise 25 families in a village he had never heard of. Eventually he unravelled the story. First, a team of development workers arrived to dig a well and provide the village with fresh water. The engineer in charge told them he was a Christian, but his gift was in engineering not evangelism. However, the villagers realised he was a good man. Second, one of the villagers visited a nearby town where a colporteur sold him a copy of Mark’s gospel. When he got home he read some of it to the villagers. Some months later a travelling evangelist passed through the village, preached a fiery sermon and left a tract which asked the question, If you die tonight, where will you go?’ The villagers decided that they ought to know more and asked a Christian congregation in a village five miles away to send someone to tell them about Jesus. There was a labourer in that congregation who was injured and unable to work, so the congregation sent him to the enquirers for a month. The final stage was the request for baptism. The moral is obvious. Put the engineer, the colporteur, the villagers, the travelling evangelist and the labourer in a seminar on mission and they would agree about nothing. It is a shame, said Newbigin wryly, that missionaries write missions history, because they overrate their role. Mission is the work of the Holy Spirit. ‘Mission is not a burden laid upon the church; it is a gift and a promise to the church that is faithful.’

May we be faithful, both to-day and tomorrow

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