Contagion or Carcinogen?

The whole thing with this church planting malarky has weighed on my mind for some time. For those of you who don't live within the scope of an Oyster Card and therefore not in HTB heartland, a church plant is nothing much to do with Mrs Miggins and her flower rota, or indeed the lovely chap who tends to the weeds by the gravestones. 

No, this is far more important. 

Church planting is de rigueur around London and environs and refers to the creating of a new church community, often within old disused church buildings or the local school. The art of the church plant is exemplified by the Church of the Holy Trinity in the Archdiocese of Brompton, who regard it as a gospel imperative (the 'making disciples' thing). The simple fact is, if you leave a spare bedroom un-used for too long, one of two things will happen: you will pay tax or else your spare bedroom will be planted by the planters and a church dedicated St Flossy in the Wold will be created among your detritus. Church plants are also easy to spot for there are some common characteristics in each

1. There will be a polyvinyl Alpha Course banner outside

2. The Pasta will be wearing the obligatory hoody and have a funky modern hairdo, goatee and that church-plant fringe thing

3. The Pasta's name will be abbreviated from that given at their baptism (often with a 'z' added for extra funkiness)

The fact is, in sitting here and writing this, I have been absent from my own church building for a few minutes, and I am already sure that Muff and Baz have taken over the joint to create the next branch office of Alpha International. 

Now, as the meagre parson that I am, with a church community to love into the Kingdom, I find that the greater burden on my reverential shoulders is manifest in the need to keep the present day subsidised so that tomorrow has half a chance. I am largely a fundraiser to maintain, if I am lucky, the parochial status quo. Most incumbents across most parishes across Christendom face the same challenges, unless of course they are those Johnny-come-Latelys from the fecund breast of the HTB mothership. They pitch up, rip the hoarding down from the crumbling carcass of St Silas under the Wardrobe, by their own effort paint it and make it look pretty, install the rock act and the obligatory sound desk, and crack on. Are they worried about the bills? Possibly. But what is the case is that they are ready to use the re-enlivened St Silas by the Bedside Cabinet as launch pad to a new church plant.

I have often pondered this gentle spread of the planters across the territory. That they are of a single breed of ecclesial expression, that they all seem to have the same theology, that their outward face is often mitigated by the same nurture course - this, I confess, worries me. That I sit in some measure of fear for my parish community when I eventually leave because I am quite sure that a planter is already being cloned in readiness to take over and turn the altar into a drum kit - that worries me. That they are all the same worries me too as I believe passionately in the diversity of the church. That there seems to be no future place for Christians born as I have been born worries me, and there are times when, in my less charitable moments, I feel that this relentless church planting is carcinogenic. Not all church communities are the same, of course, so why are all church plants the same? 

The fact remains, though, that I know that what the planters are doing is right. They are broadcasting their seed so that new Christian communities can grow. Rather than being a carcinogen, they are in fact contagions for the Gospel and rather than wish to wipe them from the face of the Earth, wish that my 'tribe' could learn a lesson and see the very real need for all types of church plant in the breadth of expression that the Lord must surely favour. Us catholic types surely have it easy. We don't need sound-desks and drum kits, my name doesn't have to be changes to Davey and I am delighted, thank you very much, with the Pilgrim Course. All I need therefore, for a church plant is a cup, a plate, and the heart for it. 

In my little parish, thriving though it is, I have neither the first idea or the apparent resource to accomplish any sort of plant, as I see it. I don't have an International Corporation to which I can claim a place at table to help me. I do, though, want to see the church of God grow. I grant that in this part of London I am HTB-locked, so what do I do? I am so locked into the the need to have church pay its way in the present day that the idea of sending out some good folk with a roll of cash seems impossible. I so want the church that I love grow and thrive. It is an exciting time to be a Christian and the world is hungry, but I have been born into a tradition that seems to favour the liturgical moment and not the risk of a tomorrow in the dust and uncertainty somewhere new. As someone that I know (who is much wiser than I) put it  - we need more mission-minded Catholics so that we can be contagious too.

Circles and Straight Lines

The lasting effects of the glossolalia 

There are times in my standard Earth week when I find myself hanging with the dudes from the funky charismatic churches. The great joy of our Church of England, apart from the joy and solace to be found in the wording of draft amendments to draft bills for draught excluders is that we are a broad church.

At one end of the spectrum you get the funkies in their open-neck shirts, perma-smiles and and prayers that are two-thirds the word "just". At the other end, you get us old dears, in our black suits and white collars, quaffing gin and stinking of burned resins. And I think that it is a remarkable and wonderful organisation that can house us all. 

In wider society, there is talk of high and low, or else of candles and the upper or lower placings thereon. In other words, one would imagine that my brothers and sisters from the bean-bag edifices of the Holy Stage-Set were the furthest end of the continuum from us from the "if it ain't prehistoric it just ain't cool, man" wholly cluttered-up edifices. Nothing in common, differing emphases on the persons of the Godhead, different outfits, different language and all that. 

I used to think that too. I am the first to say that much of the charismatic wing is a complete mystery to me and I fit into it like my feet do my daughter's fluffy slippers. Equally, I know that my mates from the charismatic wing think me basically papist and a throwback to times before churches had electricity. And that is fine. Actually, it presents a perfect balance - I think. 

Rather than a straight-line with ends - us on one, them on t'other - I have now come to the point of view that despite previous best-efforts to deny this thrice until my cock crowed, we are actually a lot closer. I think the whole thing is a circle, not a line. What charismatic Anglicans and Anglo-catholics have in common is a deep sense of engaging physically with the worship in which we are part. The truth be told, we all wave our arms around and I could no more not cross myself at a Blessing than they elevate arms in praise songs. It isn't contrived - it is just who we are. You look at a picture of a large act of worship at the cathedral church of the Holy Trinity in the Archdiocese of Brompton, and you would see as much smoke, light and effect accompanying the music as in the spikiest of High Church shrines. Perhaps the music is different and we use different linguistic styles, but in the end, we tune ourselves into the bit of God we understand most of all in a physical and specifically tactile way. I sort of get it, truth be told. 

In the end, I think we are all a lot more similar than any of us would have courage to admit. There is always the danger that particularism will prevail and "mine" becomes better than "yours" which does nothing but stifle this wonderful breadth of ours. The more that "we" can be "us" and "you" can do the same, I think that the balance achieved is the best in the world. However, for now I will leave it that in the great circle of church existence, only the accidentals stop us from being rather alike. 

When The Planters Become the Planted

It is now a well known fact that the chaps and chappesses at the Cathedral Church of the Holy Trinity in the Archdiocese of Brompton are buying up pretty well all of Greater London. "Church Planting" they call it, so we don't worry too much. Like a game of ecclesial monopoly, the Alpha-cash-advantaged posse of Jesus Lovers at SW7 are staking their claim on every empty church in the area. 

I will say now, that I favour "church planting", and that it is a credible way of reaching out to new communities. Perhaps where I struggle with it, whoever the planter of choice, is when it imposes a single-mode approach to our broad faith, or if by the advantage of cash it can replace the impoverished. If I had millions in the bank, I could church plant to my heart's content - badge them all as contemporary modern catholic and staff them with those of my own perspective. I wouldn't because I am not sure that the Gospel would want that of me. This is just my perspective - as one who favours breadth of expression in a geographical area - not one that says we are all the same, thank you very much. 

But there is a new peril on the horizon for the spare un-planted bits of very-planted London. It is this. 

Saddleback Church is of the American model of church - which is to say that it is big. There are smaller Anglican Provinces. I can't claim a great knowledge of its workings, but it is a very large organisation. You may have heard of others - Willow Creek, the one that invented leadership is another such example. In fact, in the case of the latter, its members all have good thighs, because the church has so many summits. Enough if that.

I have to say here that I don't get this idea of MegaChurch. Is bigger better? Is size important? Is success and the appearance of success a key factor in church growth? How must it be when the 'vicar' is a world-famous, away on conferences sort of person whose time you will never get? There may be answers to all of things, and good answers too - and I am not setting my stall out against these organisations. If I believe that the Holy Spirit is present in my church, then I have to believe that The Lord knows what he is doing over there! I am almost certainly a product of my middle-class white English upbringing, so a parish gathering that exceeds 150 gives me a nose-bleed! 

However, I do have a problem with this idea of church planting London from the comfort of US high-octane Holy Spirit central. This sort of feels like "our way is best, so we are coming over to set up our corporate model and do the job that we think you aren't doing well enough". The idea of 'church as franchise' is where I have a fundamental issue with planting - because I believe a church is a contextual gathering of Christians in a geographical area (you know, like a parish) that bears the specific characteristics of the interaction between the people and their spiritual leader. I don't believe that I can cut off a limb of Ss Philip & James Whitton and shove it in the ground somewhere else (already served by a parish church and its priest, lest we forget) and believe that it is another, new, Ss Philip & James. What we do works here because it is of us and for us, and for those who live around us. 

So, will American MegaChurch Inc work in London? The business side of my cerebral cortex feels that the market is saturated in these parts, and the other part just thinks this is, well, arrogant. Even before we count the churches outside of the Church of England, there are 400 odd parishes in London, over 500 worship centres. Add to that the Catholics and the Free Churches, the independents and Uncle Tom Cobbly and All, and I think that we have London covered thank you very much. Yes, you could buy my church with your cash and yes, you might even get more bums on seats in the short term but there is more, so much more, to London parish life, or indeed British parish life, and money just won't cover that. 

However, in the end I sense that this won't be my battle. I do wonder if Saddleback aren't going to queer the pitch of my brothers and sisters over at HTB. Upon their turf of choice will this fight be fought. 

Is Church Planting a One-Sided Game?

In the natural world of nature, beasts grow by dropping seeds or sprogs, or by sending roots through the dark earth. I am not sure that I believe in magical storks or pink pudgy babies falling from stars, so I am left with this clumsy biological fact. And it works. Just look out of the window - life everywhere, all born of an older life elsewhere. 

Now that I have earned a PhD in the natural sciences, I can make a pronouncement or two about the life of the church.

I live in the heartlands of what is affectionately known as Aitchteebee - a super-church in the City that gave birth to that rarely seen thing, the Alpha Course. You speak to Christians around here, you fast discover that a great number of churches in this part of the world are Aitchteebee Plants. Frankly, they are almost without exception successful, growing and thriving places - and good for them. Someone has to be. 

Sometimes, I lose heart. I lose heart because as a catholic kind of Christian, it feels (even if it only a feeling) that our 'end' of things is well into terminal decline, with half our people leaving to be what they would now term as 'proper Catholics'. This means that there are precisely eight Anglo-Catholic priests in the whole of Britain, and so I lose heart when I see my brothers and sisters of the evangelical wing having it away with new churches, world-famous nurture courses and growth beyond all measure. 

In trying to work out why this is, I have to ask what might be going on. Is evangelicalism the only expression of faith supported by God? Nope. Is it about money? Possibly. Is the whole world evangelical except for the eight of us who like to faun over thuribles for a living? Nope. So what is it then?

It has to be a heart to church plant. Like every organic being in the whole of God's creation (and we could argue that a perfect model exists for us right there), big things emit little baby things that grow into the next big things. Yet we Anglo-Catholics just don't seem to want to bother. The sad thing is, we are easy transplants - all we need is a Mass Set, and a Bible and we are a liturgical body. I do not believe that my friends in the evangelical wing of the church have the only successful plant-model - they simply have the only plant-model (and cash, which helps, of course). 

I know that there are successful catholic communities that could plant a church (and if any of us simply waited for enough cash then we would get nowhere fast). I am not advocating a fight-back on the part of the catholics, because I believe that the world needs all of us. But it needs us by balance. For this to happen, people like me could learn a lesson from those who seem to know better, to look beyond the stylistic issues (or even celebrate the differences) and get on and grow as nature intended. 

Being in A New Diocese

As many of you may have gathered, I am now working in a new Diocese. I was formerly in the Diocese of Oxford, an organisation that sponsored my vocation, trained me, ordained me and gave me my Title - and for all of that I will hold the Diocese, and its people, close to my heart.

Sadly, for priests of my particular breed (more especially those of us at an earlier stage in priestly ministry or those of us with no sense of calling to rural ministry - or both) there are few/no incumbent's jobs to speak of. That is the way of things, whatever my thoughts and feelings - and I was required to make my own luck.

So here I am, happily in place in a new Diocese. It is a strange transition, mostly because it is unexpected. In the context of parochial ministry, one learns the lay of the land, the names of the right people to talk to. This happens by osmosis rather than deliberately, and so it is that a new set of people and processes needs to be learned. 

Yesterday proved to me what a wonderful diverse diocese London is. Within the one working day, I was sat at one point next to a (very amusing and entirely decent) priest from the Cathedral Church of The Holy Trinity in the Archdiocese of Brompton;  later the same day I was seated next to the (equally amusing and entirely decent) Incumbent of All Saints Margaret Street, a liturgical Mecca to those of my disposition. Both were normal things to do in a normal day in the Diocese of London. Furthermore, at one end of the day I was sharing a room with a man whose voice I have heard on Pause for Thought for years; the other end of the day I was exchanging pleasantries with another man whose voice is heard on television and radio (and who has an interest in media, including blogs I was delighted to learn). Just a normal day.

In every sense - be that ministerially, personally, emotionally, socially, geographically and also through the lens of my children's eyes and those of the fragrant Mrs Acular, I am daily reminded of the rightness of moving here to west London. I am surrounded by priests and Christians of such breadth and of all shades of tradition. Frankly, it is breathtaking what a difference it makes to life. The price was paid mostly by my amazing and supportive wife who had to suspend her career, and perhaps in a few decibels of aircraft noise. 

One of my greatest fears for the Church is that it becomes the same - that the monied organisations feed off of the cadavers of the dead (broke) churches and make them all the same. Breadth, variety, difference, dialogue, less corporate image, more quirkiness - all of those things will see the Church live on. A few months ago, I feared becoming a marginal Christian of a bygone age. Now, I am still a marginal Christian of a bygone age, but now I am but one of the necessary shades of priestly expression that makes up the remarkable tapestry that is the Diocese of London.