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Finding a new church

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At Warwick university, term has only just started again. For lots of freshers, this means settling into new communities and, of course, finding a new church. There are many ways to face this challenge.

churches

Photo: Wikimedia user Tarquin Bina, under CC License

1. Non-committed: I’ll never get involved with a church here. My real church is at home, that’s where I’ve got my friends. So, yeah, maybe I’ll go to church here ‘cos, you know, I still need some teaching to get me going. Or maybe I’ll be content with CU meetings. But I won’t get stuck into a church.

2. Church-hopper: Oh this is exciting! There are soooo many churches to choose from! I need to select the one that fits ME the closest. Hang on a minute, that other church might actually be a tiny bit better. I won’t settle into a church until I have found THE one. And because, of course, no church is perfect (well, except for mine) I won’t settle at all.

3. Forceful Visionary: Well, this church shares a name/denomination/vague resemblance with my home church, so I will go there. But, hang on, it isn’t exactly like what I know from back home. Never mind that, I will soon change that: I’ll talk to the incumbent to let him or her know that the way we do things back home is sooo much more efficient and Christ-like

4. Fanboy or fangirl: I have chosen this church. Because of this, it is bound to be the best church around (because obviously, I cannot make mistakes). This means that anyone I meet should be convinced to come to my church.

5. Disappointed fanboy or fangirl: I had chosen this church, but got sorely disappointed, either because I couldn’t change it to what I wanted it to be or because of something else. Therefore, that church is bad and I’ll let everyone know about it being bad.

There may be more reactions – and I’m looking forward to reading about them in the comments. But these five have two things in common: firstly, that I have been (and to some extent still am) guilty of them at some point or other; and secondly, that they betray a vision of church as an object that serves us, rather than as the bride of Christ that is to be served.

An approach to the local church as only a place of service to me as a worshipper is one which is intricately individualistic and bound to disappoint. And there are two ways  to look at a church in such a way: one is to see local churches as unchanging and the object of a choice. This means the church will see no growth other than in numbers, and I don’t think that can bring about the Kingdom. The other way is to see yourself as unchanging and the church as molding itself around you; and that means the only growth you can expect personally is the type of growth that fits your pattern. I have come to learn that growth does not tend to come in expected ways.

So here’s what I suggest: when going to a new church, stop and listen. Listen to the community it embodies, listen to its needs as well as to its leadership. Try to empathise with the leadership and to understand why they might be doing what they are doing. This takes time; and it takes commitment: the first two options aren’t open to us. It takes open-mindedness to realise that the local church is here to serve more than just our individual selves, and it takes humility to realise that it is here to serve and challenge us too.

It’s hard not to judge the local church – and there’s a time and a place for challenging leadership. But that time can only come after the acceptance of their greater wisdom – or we’re not speaking in  the church at all, we’re speaking to it as outsiders.

A New Chapter

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In many British universities, this week sees the arrival of young impressionable students. For them, sixth form is over and a new life is about to start. International students are about to live a whole lot of new experiences, meet new people. For some of them, it’s just a bracket – an exchange year which is intercalated within their normal degree. A pause of sorts.

Less than a month ago, it was my life that saw what many could term the beginning of a new chapter. I moved from England to the Parisian suburbs, stopped being a student and started teaching. Well, technically, I’m still a student until my final exams, and I only just finished writing the thesis, but let’s not nitpick.

chapter

Photo: Brian0918, under CC liicense

Such changes happen all the time. You might be getting a mortgage for a new house, and close the chapter of your tenant years. You might be expecting a child, or getting married, or moving to a new job. It feels like the old you dies and a new you is ready to take his place. And when you like the old you, you don’t want to let go. I didn’t want to let go.

But here’s the thing: if you’re a Christian, you should not see it as the end of an era. It is not the death of the old you. Here’s why:

  • your identity is not in what you were doing in the old chapter. Your identity is in Christ, and everything else is rubbish compared to that. Are you so insecure in your Christian identity that you think it can die?
  • while we’re on the subject of death to your old self: this is true. You died to your old self, and are now living as a new creation. Are you willing to compare your change of circumstances to your coming to faith?
  • don’t you understand you have everlasting life? If you think of that merely in biological terms, you are missing the point. It is you – it is I – who live forever. Your likes and dislikes. My personality. All turned towards Christ.
  • and even if you feel you can’t hold on to that identity, well, you’re right. You can’t. But God does, and He has called you by name. That identity can never die.

And on top of that, you are taking with you all your experience from the chapter you thought was over. It’s not. Right now, is its continuation. Sure, there are friends you’ll slowly get out of touch with, and your circumstances have changed. But your actions build on your experience. If you think you are turning over a completely new leaf, you are forgetting yourself… and you are paving the way for doing the same thing with your current circumstances: making them useless and unattached to you.

Just don’t. And remember: seasons follow each other, they don’t happen in random order; and there is a season for everything.

How do I do that?

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When I was writing my second ever sermon, the first draft had most of what I was saying. The four steps of discipleship were there; and the one I was seeing as essential, finding God’s presence first, was there. To pick that up from the Biblical passages that were going to be read was easy enough; although getting that focus might have been slightly less straightforward.

But my first draft was seriously lacking. What wasn’t there was the list of suggestions as to how one could find God’s presence: pausing, receiving communion, praying, etc. That list got included after my curate asked me one very simple question. That question was:

“How do I do that?”

how

I was quick on my feet. I could give, more or less, the list that made it to my sermon. In short, I knew the answers; but looking back, I fell that list was rhetorical – as rhetorical as the question was. We both knew the answers. The very fact, however, that I hadn’t thought to unpack it means one of two things: either my knowledge of these was only superficial and intellectual, and I did not consider them seriously enough to consider them worthy of dwelling on; or they were integrated enough in my own life that they felt too natural to make explicit. I don’t know which one it is; I hope it is the latter rather than the former. But what matters here, as a preacher, is that for some members of the congregation, neither will apply. For these members, it is crucial that I address the How question – else, the sermon remains theoretical, unapplied, and, ultimately, dead.

Preachers, make sure that your sermon is not a succession of theological points (unless you are trying to inspire awe of God in that particular sermon!), and make  sure that for each and every point that involves your congregation, you answer – even if in some limited way – the “How” question. It can be a list. It can be a testimony. It can be something else – it doesn’t have to be exhaustive (that would just be arrogant and overly ambitious!)

You see, that “How” question is crucial because it allows theoretical, intellectual knowledge – mantras, as it were – to become effective in our lives. I was reminded of that a few weeks ago. I was talking with a friend; and in the course of conversation, I mentioned the image of someone taking on more and more bags upon his back, when he can just lay it down at the Cross.

It is a fairly common image, I’m sure. And when I first heard it, my mind was full of “Amens”. I thought the image was faithful and very well thought of, and I was content to leave it there; filing it away as something I could use later myself.

Then, my friend asked me “How do I do that?”

That was a violent question. It made me realise that I had been paying lip service to this image (which I still think is a good image), but never considered to apply it myself. In answering my friend’s question, I realised that letting go is difficult; and that something that seems simple is, sometimes, just the opposite. That night, I learned a whole lot more.

That was a raw question. In it, the deep, deep desire for my friends to let go of his worries and lay  them down at the Cross was bare. He wouldn’t have asked that question if he wasn’t filled with the all-consuming passion to actually do it. Asking “How” is not an intellectual pursuit, it becomes the outlet of our souls’ rawest desires.

Sadly, asking “How” is not that common, when it comes to spiritual things. Possibly because it makes one feel silly – after all, if it weren’t obvious, wouldn’t it have been explained already? Possibly because it engages us more than we feel comfortable with.

It shouldn’t. So start asking “How?”; you may find you are a blessing to the person who, actually, hadn’t thought to apply what he was talking about.

The Mysterious Switch – and seven lessons therefrom

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In the chaplaincy, where I spend most of my time, there is a switch that does absolutely nothing. As far as we know. Well, it does switch the state of things from order to chaos and vice-versa; but it doesn’t turn on any lights.

switch

The other day, someone came around to fix it. After aeons of it not doing anything. The excitement was maximal. It wasn’t just fixed. It was replaced. And as the electrician came and replaced it with a brand new switch, we could see it was, indeed, wired. It was going somewhere. The excitement! As soon as the electrician was done, we tried the switch. And nothing happened. Someone then asked the electrician what the switch does (most of us wouldn’t dare). He had no clue – it had just been reported that the casing was broken.

1. Mystery is sometimes a better thing than purpose. Everyone in the chaplaincy community knows about the mysterious switch; and that event was described as one of the most exciting things that happened in the chaplaincy in a long time. Someone even came to the chaplaincy especially to see the new switch and brought friends with him! In more basic terms, that switch had become part of our local culture, something that unites us. So I’m glad that the magic hasn’t been destroyed and the switch found out to be just an old light switch.

2. The middle ground satisfies no one but is a precarious equilibrium that most will strive to keep. The old switch could, if you were careful, be balanced between Chaos and Order. While there are factions in the chaplaincy which defend vigorously that the switch should remain in their position of choice, only one person manages to balance the switch in the middle. And whenever it was balanced, it would remain balanced, even though it made no sense (what’s the midpoint between Chaos and Order?). Now that position is no longer tenable; as sometimes the middle ground is no longer tenable for the Church of England. But ridiculous though it may look now, it doesn’t mean it wasn’t a good position when it was tenable.

3. To outsiders, that mystery will make us look like a bunch of lunatics. Actually, you probably think that we are a bunch of lunatics (and, yes, don’t worry, I have exaggerated the importance of the switch). When the repairs were taking place, we just stopped in our tracks. And got excited for the rest of the afternoon. So that the electrician must’ve wondered what we had spiked our tea with. While it’s fine to have our own culture and in-jokes, we must be careful that these aren’t off-putting to others. And we must also remain that our own quirks will look bizarre to others before we judge other people’s behaviours!

4. Often, our jobs lead us to do illogical things. And we don’t notice, we don’t ask. We just do it. There’s the electrician who repaired a switch he didn’t know the purpose of; the person who requested that repair to be carried out too. In cases like this, it’s only a matter of wasted resources, and is of rather little consequence, other than making us look foolish. But sometimes, the consequences reach far beyond this. Refusing to help someone who hasn’t the right form; following directives that dictate you throw away food that simply doesn’t look its best – these are far more damaging. Think before you blindly obey.

5. A switch that appears to do nothing *will* be flicked. Seriously. Try this. Or this.

6. We repair and maintain things which have outgrown their purpose. Yes, tradition is nice and comforting and worth preserving for its own sake. But we need to be careful not to keep on doing things just for their own sake, at the risk of losing the purpose for which we did them in the first place.

7. The tiniest nudge will lead people to investigate; but that nudge is necessary. The switch had been accepted as the useless switch for a while now; but when it was fiddled with, renewed investigation to find out what it did was carried out – trying to find broken lamps, thinking of historical evidence, etc. To no avail, though :-(

If you were in the chaplaincy before my time, what does the switch to the right of the cupboard do?

It’s all about the key change(s)!

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There’s a great piece of liturgy we’ve been using all summer for communion. The response is always the same and goes:

“This is our song. Hosanna in the highest.”

Unusually, though, the call changes (subtly) halfway through the liturgy. It goes from “This is his story” to “This is our story”.  The moment it changes is after the description of the Last Supper – where, through communion, we are invited to the body of Christ. We make the story ours in accepting that invitation.

Photo: Tim Geers, under CC license

In keeping with the musical imagery of the prayer, I’ll call that evolution a key change. And key changes are everywhere in our lives, and they are good:

  1. key changes are exciting! (yes they are. They are most definitely NOT cheesy).
  2. the melody stays the same. The new creation is redeemed and freed from sin, but is the same human being with the same gifts and the same interests. We sound different, but we remain the same.
  3. key changes are usually up, but sometimes down. What feels like losing ground sometimes is the best way to progress.
  4. key changes very rarely happen to a single part. If the vocals change key, but not the band, there will be clashes. So don’t do it alone: involve others with you. At the Last Supper, Jesus did not break the bread and drink the wine on his own. It was done, not just for, but also with a community. This, indeed, became our story.
  5. it is easier for a choir to go into a key change if they are led into it by a soloist or a single note on the piano. Leaders, your role is to help these key changes happen. But don’t feel like you have to drag the key change for a whole verse – leave it on one note and just see who follows: sometimes, it is enough!
  6. key changes happen at pivotal moments. It’s rare to change keys mid-verse (though it happens). Learn to identify opportunities for growth.
  7. it’s not worth changing key for the sake of changing key. There are some songs with 13 key changes, but they are rare. If you change key too much, or push yourself too much, you may find you break your voice. Take it slowly, and warm up!

Revvers: spot the songs I was thinking of.
Everyone else:
add your own thoughts :-)