Damascus or Psalm 139

Today, in the Anglican cycle of things at least, we commemorated the conversion of one Saul of Tarsus. Flash bang wallop, one very neat letter writer, jail-bird and Mediterranean rambler.

This day, and the readings to which we were treated in Exciting Holiness this morning (fine book, get a copy), brought to mind a small anxiety I have harboured for a good number of years. 

In the main, there are two types of Christian (in this schema): those termed 'cradle-Christians' and those who did all that getting-to-know the Lord stuff at a later age. Put another way, you get your Psalm 139 disciples or you get your Damascus Road disciples. 

This is, of course, a statement of the blindingly obvious. I accept, too, that people drift in and out of faith as their lives peak and trough and that such elasticity is a good and healthy thing. Christianity, in the main, is not a faith of those 'inside' and those 'outside', and that it one of its most gracious qualities. Toe-dipping, running-away-screaming, coming back when the kids grow up, confessing an old faith on the death bed - all these and so many more are ways that as Christ's disciples, we make sense of that journey.

If only it were that simple. Sadly, it feels (I lean on 'feel' as it might just be me) that there is a spiritual stratification in place, surrounding this specific matter. 

I have lost count of the times when I have seated myself in an Anglican Circle in a large room to dissect my 'story'. Largely throughout theological training, but quite a lot since, I found myself doing the 'going-round-the-circle' thing. How we come to faith is up there with our name and some interesting nonsense about how we lived life before we sat in that room, and spill our guts we do. Then it happens.

Person 1: God spoke to me up when I was a terrible teenager

Person 2: I gave my life to Jesus at 6.42pm on April 11th 1976 and it was raining outside

Me: I have always been a Christian since I was born

Person 4: My dad is a priest and I always went to church

Person 5: I answered God's personal call to me after three decades in the wilderness

Person 6: I was a crack addict until I let God into my heart and here I am

All good, no issues. Unless you are sat there in the room. Confessing a Psalm 139 faith is about the same as "I am only here because I can't be arsed to leave", or "Accidental Christian". Confessing a Damascus Road faith is received triumphantly like a hero returning from the field of battle, scarred and bloodied, but alive (and yes, affirming grunts from the throng are audible). I have never given my life to God simply because I didn't ever need to. There were no days before my faith, I was made like this (fearfully and wonderfully?). Sadly, it seems to be the case that you ain't no-one unless you can name the time and place. 

I am no-one. 

Except who God made me to be, and I am happy at that.

On Being 'Loved to Death'

During my recent sojourn in Jersualem (had I mentioned that I had been to Jerusalem? No! Sorry - thought I had) we sat and listened to a very senior Rabbi, British born, who has the ear of the Pope and Tony Blair (to some of you, both these names would indicate a poor man who needs help, but I encourage you not to be churlish). In short, he is a Rabbi who knows his stuff and is a very influential player in the Jewish-Christian dialogue.

His words, not mine: "We [the Chief Rabbinate of Jersualem] don't really want to deal with Evangelicals; they just want to love us to death. It is hard to sit in a room with people who are only interested in converting us". 

In many quarters this is how all Christians are regarded, as a scythe-blade of supercessionists who are only happy when converting the world. I wanted to deny this assessment but then I thought back to just two experiences of my own:

1. When I was 19, and well beyond the point in my life when I felt a sense of calling, had put in 16 good committed years to church life, and had started to read Theology, I ambled into a church with a friend. It was a charismatic church, a superbeast of a place, but despite appearances I am a very open-minded chap, and my friend wanted to try the place out! Within an hour I had been identified, separated, and moved to a small room with three or four others - where I was invited to accept Jesus as Lord - they refused to accept my confession that I really was already spliced with Mother Church. Perhaps it is because I didn't put my hand up during the singing [I didn't need the toilet] that caused me to be identified. Needless to say I left - upset, vowing never to return to the place.

2. I was chatting to a homeless geezer who I used to help out with some electricity and provisions when he was selling Big Issue outside my emporium. He had told me of another Godshop that had invited him and a load of his mates in for a lovely hot dinner one hard winter. He gladly accepted, but while they ate, they were invited to accept Jesus as Lord, or [and I speak the truth] they would all end up in Hell. He had stood up himself to tell the swanky-suited sir that being homeless is as close to Hell as it gets, so it didn't matter if he accepted the invitation or not, really - but thanks for the chow!

It seems that most [yes, these days it seems to be 'most'] Christians are hell-bent on converting the world. Sixteen gazillion lovely people have been exposed to the Alpha Course (though I note that church numbers are still slipping, so where did they go? - a post for later), and mission after mission pop off like firecrackers 

- but what are we converting these people to?

Our church is becoming polarised. If you aren't an Evanglical, you are more than likely going to be an Anglo-Catholic (until half their clergy bugger off - thanks boys, nice one ... not) - but very few are in the middle. The middle used to be a large swathe of church life where it seemed to me the real growing was taking part. It was the middle where the heat of charismatic worship and the correctness of catholic liturgy were set aside and nurturing took place. The middle is where families took their kids, where they did the prayers once in a while. The middle is where the sense seems to be spoken - the liberal view.

So what are we feverishly converting people to?

Christians have, I think become embarrassed about church life. We are so keen to specialise it that we have stopped some of the things that people know and love. Jumble Sales and Tombolas, Harvest Festivals and Cake Stalls have given way to Introduction Offers for the Newly Recruited - a course, some Tongues for some, a homegroup where you can properly intitiated and loved to death. 

Then what .... ?

What then .... ?

Anwers on a postcard.

The Father, the Son and the Only Bloke

I was sent a flyer through email last week, inviting me to a seminar dedicated to getting men (back) to church. It is to be called 

Reaching 'Unreached Men'

Perhaps a little perjorative in its titling, as it makes it sound like if you are not a God botherer when you are a lost lamb - men won't thank you for that. But anyway ...

I am unable to go, as 'life' happens, but I would have loved to, for good and healthy reasons as I have a specific interest and a specific perspective:

1. I am a man. The pants-tackle will confirm that, as will the gruff voice, and the fact that films with Hugh Grant make me feel queazy. Yes, dear readers, I am a man, dammit.

2. I am such a bloke as the seminar seeks to reach - and my ordained status only makes me an anomaly to the ordained, not to geezerdom. I have spent many good years working with the 'unreached' geezers in retail, know a little about what makes them tick, and share a heart with them on the whole.

I think men can be (mostly) sub-divided accordingly, each needing a specific 'approach' (sorry, fellas, I am now guilty of treating you like lab-rats too)

Blokus Grunt-Monkeii: Something of a majority state, I am quite clear that I fall into this category. 

  - Pragmatic

  - Family motivated, financially 'hand-to-mouth' on the whole

  - Sports interested

  - Retailing, manual/skilled labour, all that sort of thing, tired and needing of a beer in the evening

 Blokus Hairgeleii: The next largest state of man

  - Mostly graduate, or at least diploma'd, have some saving in the bank and a stonking mortgage

  - IT, Banking, management - all that sort of thing

  - Famly motivated (less likely to have kids that the other lot above, careers first, you see)

  - Sports interested, problem solvers, wine quaffers

Blokus Modernmanicus: An important, but slightly smaller subset

  - Caring professions, teaching, nursing etc etc

  - Almost universally graduate, union minded

  - Family motivated, gin and tonic types (or fancy Lagers)

  - Less sports interested, and less likely footy or wuggah for those who are sports interested

Homo Tweedicus: A small but influential subset

  - Movers and shakers, and often seen with a gold signet on their little finger

  - Sport is a minority interest, and almost always wuggah - brandy or single-malt types

  - Family motivated, but in the wider thirty generations of N and N sense

  - Orxbridge, or Durham if they bummed out

  - Politically minded and financially affluent

There are others, of course (Blokus Shavedheadimus - for those who love extremism; Homo Homo Blokus - for those who like other blokes; Laddus Hoodicoverupus - an intermediate state, sort of like a pupation state before full fledging into manhood and so on and so forth ...)

So, how does the church reach the 'unreached men'? The eternal question ...

My modest offering, born of my own perspective only, are these:

1. Meet men where they are, and in what they love to do. In simple terms, be a visitor to a pub once in a while - most usefully in a dog-collar. Get to know people and do not, and I mean it, do NOT use the 'G' word [God] - game over if you do, unless of course they rasie the subject unprompted. Build relationships with people, enter into chats with them, be interested in them without a heart to convert them - being an infectious Christian will do its own job (and God does the converting, not you)
2. Men want to feel in control of their own lives and more especially those of their family - engage with men at that level. Provide for their children, get to know them. No dad is immune to the goodness that a person shows to their offspring, believe me. 
3. Don't try and save men (in the Christian sense) - respect the caveman side of all blokes. Men don't need saving mate, and that's a fact - they are the hunter gatherers (even if they aren't really) - and to save one who saves others will earn you a poke in the eye. 
4. Talk work - what do they do for a living? We know that Jesus was a carpenter, so there is no failing in being just a little interested in what people do all day. Be interested, get to know thir work, and for God's sake, don't judge them. Binmen are as vital (if not more so) than merchant bankers. 
5. Most blokes have stuff to do on Sundays (I was in 'the wilderness' for two years due to working patterns, so Sundays were a dead loss [and no, I wasn't in the wilderness, just busy, so be careful about terminology) - they will put their family before church every time
6. Do not presume that because someone works in shop, supports Man U, has a tattoo of a spiderweb across their face, owns a Staffy etc etc that they arent committed Christians (just perhaps not a churchgoer) - someone made that mistake with me once and tried to introduce me to the Lord, which is fine, but they didn't ask the right (or any) questions and made some appalling (and offensive) presumptions about me (I was testing my vocation at that time too)
7. Men are interested in their own things. For me, it is fast cars, jet aircraft, rock music, films that expose giblets and gizzards, real ale, etc - I am not the same as my wife in my tastes or most of those who attend any given church on any given Sunday. Talk Aston Martins or Eurofighters with me, or the virtues of Exmoor Gold, and I will quickly become interested in you and what you stand for. The Christian contageon will do its work in proximity, not from a distance.
8. Think flatpack construction - men get there in their own way and prefer to work it out for themselves. Men's Curry Nights, a trip to a beer festival, tickets to the next Air Tattoo - they will do you better than a Service (or other in-church) initiative - to men they represent the Instruction Manual. Give men the opportunity to make their own connections, and they just might  - some might not, so be ready for that too. 

This is a daft brief list. I could batter on for days about this stuff, but for now will call 'Time'. I congratulate the fella from Grove on his initiative with his Seminar, and wish him every success. We need more men in our churches and even with my collar on, I feel like a minority. In St Mary Aylesbury, there are more Zimbabweans than men under 45 - six times as many.   

*Caveat - this is an English/British perspective for those who read this on distant shores!