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Baptists and the Communion of Saints

Paul Fiddes, Brian Haymes and Richard Kidd, Baptists and the Communion of Saints: A Theology of Covenanted Disciples (Baylor, 2014), 232pp.

Baptists have had very little to say, at least, constructively about the communion of saints. Well, that isn't wholly true, as Brian Haymes, one of the three authors of this new book on the doctrine points out. Baptists and the Communion of Saints is written by three friends - Paul Fiddes, Brian Haymes and Richard Kidd. Three friends who have be colloborating theologically together (with others) for over 30 years. The idea for the book emerged from a paper given by Haymes on the communion of saints back in 2006 and from that they decided to write a joint book that looks to see if anything can be said from a Baptist perspective on this doctrine that receives little attention.

The big theme of the book is to take a Baptist theology of covenant (which they wrote about first in 1985 in a little book called Bound to Love) and join it with a theology of communion. Each of the authors brings something of themselves to their two chapters - Fiddes his interest in covenant, participation and his recent involvement in the BWA conversations with the Roman Catholic church; Kidd brings his interest  in liberation theology, process theology and poetry and Haymes' concern for Baptist history and his experience of pilgrimage to Lisieux, what was the home of the Catholic St. Thérèse. The book I think is stronger for the different style and approach to the doctrine, the chapters are both connected, but can also stand alone. The exploration of communion of saints is looked at from different angles, not all of which might have featured if had been the work of only one author. There is also something Baptist in having three authors writing together a book about the communion of saints.

The book is not just an academic treatise and ends with a jointly written chapter that asks what difference the doctrine makes. They identify four areas - the communion of saints enlarges our sense of the church, across time and space; the communion of saints enlarges our life of worship; the communion of saints can provide us with help in terms of pastoral care of the dying and the bereaved; and the communion of saints enlarges our understanding of baptism and the Lord's supper. The conclusion is that this doctine matters, and matters more than many of us recognise. 

Baptists and the Communion of Saints is theology in service of the church, and not just for those who call themselves Baptists, but to other traditions. This is an important book and deserves to be widely read, especially by those engaged in ministry. This is a work of practical theology, which takes both practice and theology seriously. It is another indictator that when they can find the time, British Baptists can produce excellent theology. The book also joins an increasing number of Baptist-authored studies that have a catholic horizon - another recent example is Elizabeth Newman's study of (another Roman Catholic) St. Teresa of Avila, Attending the Wounds on Christ's Body (Cascade 2012) and also Curtis Freeman's forthcoming (and much anticipated) Contesting Catholicity (Baylor, 2014).

If you read anything this year, read this book, especially if you're Baptist. I'm convinced you won't be disappointed. I'm not saying you will agree with all of it, but it will stimulate and challenge you to think more deeply around ecclesiology, eschatology and hagiography, which will shape how you prepare and lead worship and those in your pastoral care.

Reflecting on Ministry (4)

This is the 4th interview. Preivous interviews were with John Rackley, Tim Presswood and Ruth Gouldbourne. This interview is with Simon Jones.

Simon Jones is the minister of Bromley Baptist Church. He's ministered in Peckham, edited Christianity magazine and been a regional co-ordinator for BMS. He's written several books on the New Testament, including The World of the Early Church and is about to publish a Grove booklet on Paul and Poverty. He is an associate tutor in New Testament at Spurgeon's College, and supports Urban Expression in London. He blogs here.

What’s the most important lesson you learned about ministry that you didn’t know at the beginning?

That the questions are more important than the answers. At the start of my ministry I assumed that I was there to answer people’s questions, to help them to nail down the facts of the faith so they could live them. Now I think it’s more important to help people frame the questions they have about life and see how Jesus can come alongside them and help them to work those questions through.

It’s not that I’ve stopped proclaiming the truths of the gospel or unpacking the message of scripture in sermons and Bible studies. It’s that I’ve realised that isn’t the be-all and end-all of ministry. People need information. But more than that, they need help to find a framework within which they can handle the questions life throws at them as they grow up. 

What led your into ministry?

When I was a teenager feeling my way to faith, a woman who played a significant role in modelling the lifestyle of Jesus to me, told me that I would be a pastor one day. She said that I had a pastor’s heart and head for teaching. So for the whole of my Christian life, I have thought that this is my calling.

More specifically, once I’d graduated and worked as a journalist for a number of years, I sensed God saying that now was the time I should focus full-time on teaching and preaching. So I explored going to theological college and once I’d started there, began to ask what kind of church I was going to identify myself with. After a good deal of soul-searching I decided that I was a Baptist by conviction and so sought accreditation by the long route.

Had you been part of a Baptist church before college?

Yes, I was a deacon at a Baptist church but had started attending because it was the nearest evangelical church to where I lived. It was while I was at college and helping to edit a Mainstream booklet on Baptist identity that I began to think about what kind of evangelical I was. That and Christopher Hill’s The World Turned Upside Down persuaded me that I was a Baptist and so should be a Baptist minister.

What keeps you going?

Loads of music, art, curries and the Holy Spirit

I know you’re a big music enthusiast, and the question below asks about the impact of theological voices, I wonder if your ministry has also been shaped by a particular soundtrack?

I listen to copious quantities of rock, pop and indie music for its sheer entertainment. However, it is a window into a world of thinking that I have also found to be incredibly valuable. Some Christian writers – like Bruce Cockburn, Charlie Peacock, Michael Gungor and Bill Mallonee – have stretched my thinking about the faith and especially where discipleship and politics crash into each other. Other writers have also stimulated my thinking and provided food for the journey – they are probably too numerous to mention and I’ll miss someone important, but these are some that I return to often: Nick Cave, Paul Simon, Anais Mitchell, Joni Mitchell (no relation), Neil Young, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young, Chicago (up to 1976), David Gray (his new album is wonderful), David Bowie, Arcade Fire, Damon Albarn, Joseph Arthur…

Along with visual artists, these people have helped me see the world in fresh ways, ways that have challenged my comfortable Christian assumptions and sent me back to the Bible with new ideas and questions.

Over the last couple of years as a church you've run Messy Church. How did this begin and how has this changed you and the church? 
 
Messy church began because I thought we needed to find a way to provide a forum where a lot of families who came to our parent and toddler work could explore the Christian faith more overtly. At the same time, the people who led our parent and toddler were also exploring messy church as a model.

So we went with it. We began running it monthly at 9:00am on a Sunday, serving cooked breakfast, having arts and crafts and songs and stories. It last about an hour and ten minutes. We get between 80 and 100 people every time, a 50/50 mix of church and non-church people.

I think it’s changed me by helping me to be more spontaneous and responsive to what’s actually happening next to me. It’s helped me to trust God and to seek to see what he’s already doing in people’s lives rather than thinking they need my answers to questions they don’t know they’re asking!

I think it’s changed the church by showing them that it’s possible to run several things at once; that it’s possible to offer a variety of ways for people to connect with Jesus and begin the journey of discipleship.

What are the virtues/values of Messy Church?

The key values of messy church, as I see them, are that nothing happens without food and everyone matters whether they are nine months or ninety.

I’d also say that messy church is teaching me that discipleship is learned best in groups of all ages and so what we teach has to be accessible to all ages and stimulating for all ages.

What are the strengths of Messy Church and what are its weaknesses? Has its become ‘church’ for those who attend or is still a crossing place/stepping stone?

It has become church for a 15 or so people who attend it and no other church activity; it is a place where we are able to explore discipleship in a messy way. The strengths of messy church are that it is a community where all ages interact informally around some simple gospel themes. That makes it a real church and not just a crossing place or stepping stone. We have done an infant dedication at messy church – that led to a great deal of conversation about what we were doing and why it mattered.

Its weaknesses are the same as those of every other church – it only suits certain kinds of people.

What one thing should ministers do more of and what one thing should they do less of?

I think we should spend more time in the community, drinking coffee, wine or beer (depending on the time of day and the location), listening to what’s going on around us and seeking to make relationships with those who don’t come to church activities.

This means that we should be at fewer ‘church’ events that can run perfectly well without us if we only learned to trust our people and the gifts God has given them. 

Has there been one book or theological voice that shaped your ministry?

Very difficult to say. But Walter Brueggemann, Tom Wright and Bruce Winter have all stimulated lots of thought and action. But Chris Sugden’s Radical Discipleship back in the seventies and Howard Snyder’s Community of the King in the 80s and Alan Roxburgh from the 90s to the present day have each shaped my ministry and mission in ways I’m still discovering.

What does being a Baptist minister mean to you?

I am a Baptist by conviction, believing in the gathered church, the separation of faith and state, the community where everyone has a role and a chance to flourish in God. So being a minister in this movement means I get to explore what this means. 

Furthermore, I come into contact with a lot of others who are seeking to be ministers in a similar way. And that stimulates me.
 
How do you see the relationship between church and mission?

Mission gives rise to the church so however we understand ‘church’, we need to keep adapting to keep up with where the mission (always led by God) is going.
 
Is there anything in church that doesn’t adapt? Is tradition – particular forms and patterns of church – a hindrance to mission?

Well, you could argue that the NT texts are printed traditions, the basis for our reflecting on who God is and what he calls us to in the world. But those texts are rich in models for how we embody the faith in a particular context and full of insight about how we might embody the life and story of Jesus in our communities. But traditions of singing (a relatively recent innovation), of sitting in rows, of having bespoke ‘holy’ places in which to meet, of having a leadership identifiable by dress are all to be judged on their usefulness for creating communities that embody the story of Jesus in ways that our neighbours can relate to. 

Did you approach local church ministry any different having been outside (as a journalist and then with BMS) it for 7 years?

Yes. I avoided getting sucked into to a lot of things that weren’t in my job description. And I was able to do this because I was not coming from being a minister elsewhere. I was able to ensure that my job description focussed on the areas that the leadership of the church had invited me to focus on. And I got them to support me in not doing the things that many church members thought a senior minister should do.

Can you tell a story of where something didn’t work or that you failed?

We’ve done events that have bombed when we expected them to go well! I think the real failure was a project we set up with another church about 7 years ago to offer budgeting advice to people being given tenancies by the Council. We sorted out how it would with the housing department at a pretty senior level – they were very keen to see it happen. We trained a load of volunteers (about 50) and used some council money to get set up with IT. We launched and no one came. We went back to the council, sorted out a referral process with housing officers. And still no one came. I think over the life of the project – about 8 months – we saw two or three people, none of whom were referred by the council. Ah well…  

What impact did that have on the church? Was it more reluctant to start other projects? Did it question the original decision and perhaps by implication the Holy Spirit?

I think people were disappointed – especially those who volunteered – but I think we reflected after the event that we had acted in good faith, but for various reasons, the particular project we tried had failed. I think the underlying principle that the church should be active in the community offering support and help to vulnerable people remained unshaken by the experience and re-emerged in our foodbank and night shelter.

Do you see yourself as an evangelist?

Sort of. I see myself as someone who leads the church in mission, part of which is about being able to tell people why we do things and what Jesus offers to do in their lives.

Does the phrase “leading the church in mission” reflect your key understanding of ministry?

Yes. For me ministry (an English take on a Greek word that means serving) is about mission, being caught up in the mission of God in Jesus and going where the wind of the Spirit blows us.

Where are you most incompetent as a minister?

In the detail of pastoral care (which fortunately isn’t my job in the team I lead!)

What do you mean by ‘detail’?

David Coffey (former General Secretary of the Baptist Union) told me when he heard I’d been called to Bromley to be team leader that the job would suit me well because I wouldn’t lose any sleep over not remembering people’s names! It was a little cruel but spot on. I have always been a big picture person, a starter not a completer/finisher, someone who tells the story of where we could go. I then get to know the people who rise to that challenge.

Are you hopeful for the future of Baptist ministry and/or the Baptist Union? Why or why not?

I find it hard to be hopeful about institutions. They come and go. I am hopeful in God and believe that the baptist way of being church has a lot going for it. I have benefited from the input of regional associations but I think they are all intensely stretched at the moment and seem to need more support from the churches than vice versa.

Maybe the Baptist Union should be smaller, freeing resources to stay in the associations to fund mission more locally.

But one of my struggles is with the model of church we currently have where some people are set apart and paid for doing a job that should be shared around the church. We spend a lot of money shoring up an institution that could be used to further God’s mission. I’m not sure this way of doing things will last a generation.

What is the ‘institution’ bit of the Baptist Union?

A lot of it feels institutional – and some of it in a good way (if we have accredited ministry, someone has to hold the list, manage the pension fund). And any body that represents thousands of churches and tens of thousands of people has to be a bit institutional. But I have always found the processes of decision making cumbersome because it has been trying to create a one-size fits all environment that I think is increasingly out of step with our atomised society. I believe in local interdependence and working closely with other Christian communities (of whatever label) who seek to embody the story of Jesus in the same locality that I am. 

What has been the main shape of your ministry? (e.g. pastoral carer / leader of worship / missionary / networker / fundraiser / social worker)

Apostolic story teller. I’m the one who goes off doing stuff on the edge of the community and comes back raving about what I’ve seen God doing…

I like that phrase ‘apostolic story teller’. Do you story of what God is doing means others find their way to the edge, or are they largely happy for you to go and later tell the story?

The term comes from Alan Roxburgh and I latched on to it because it seems to me to capture something essential about what I do which is both parts of the question. I stand at the edge of the church family pointing out to the world and telling them what’s happening and how we could be involved in it. But at the same time I am helping people from outside the family to find a place within it. And I am leading church members into engagement with the world beyond the church and resourcing them for it. 

Questions of finance (not surprisingly) seem to be in the mix of so much of ministry, church and mission – what have you learned, if anything, from how to deal with the issue of scarcity?

Still learning. Scarcity is more and more a fact of life in our churches. We are medium sized and in a well healed London suburb but people are strapped for cash and we are increasingly precariously financed. Without a change of model and a revolution in Christians’ attitudes to money, I can’t see it getting any better. 

I know you’ve done some thinking in this area, so I what might that model or revolution look like?

Well, I’ve just finished a Grove Booklet on Paul and Poverty, so I’d suggest that answers the question! But briefly, I think it’s about taking what the gospel says about money and our use of it seriously and it’s about looking for ways to model how a community of radical economic equality, friendship and mutuality works with the resources they have to ensure that real practical needs are met.

If you could write your own obituary what would it say?

That I spent a lot of time nearly realising my potential; that I missed a lot of boats; that I did a number of small-scale things well; that I wrote a couple of books that are really worth reading; that I have had an input into lots of people’s lives that has generally been positive. 

I have found that too often in church we are not that bothered about mission – has that been your experience and why is that?

I think Christians struggle with the idea of mission for a whole load of reasons. Here’s a couple. The first is that church is a bit of club experience for them; it’s where they have their friends and where things happen to make their lives better – including services that are often challenging at all sorts of levels. And church offers opportunities to serve in a variety of ways that keep the institution going. And the second is that people are uncomfortable in the world when they are expected to do something related to church. So, they’re perfectly at ease going to work and shopping, doing the things they understand because no one needs to know they are also Christians. But they uncomfortable when they have to invite their neighbours to an event the church is putting on or telling their faith story in a context where outsiders might be present.

Have you found that worship transforms people?

I have found that learning to be a disciple transforms people and that rarely happens in a church gathering. Worship is the offering of our lives as spiritual sacrifices, so it’s a 24/7 activity. It can be resourced by what we do when we gather (our songs and sermons) but it becomes transformative when it’s done in the stretching environment of a workplace that offers ethical challenges, a family that brings its share of trials among the joys. 

If I hear you right in your answer, gathering together to worship is the means of energizing for the more important action of witnessing. Gathered worship has an instrumental purpose?

You could put it that way. Howard Marshall, in a paper that had a huge influence on my thinking, suggested that the early Christians gathered to hear from God, mainly through one another, so that they would be resourced to offer their bodies as living sacrifices through the week which was their ‘reasonable worship’. Robert Banks makes the same case in Paul’s Idea of Community. 

The temptation of much ministry both inside and outside the church is to be “nice” – is this something that troubles you? Have you been able to resist it?

I’ve never had much trouble being nice; nor have I felt the need to be nice when the situation demanded that I be truthful. I think it’s unhelpful to go out of one’s way to rub people up the wrong way. But I have found that people engage with you at a much deeper level if you are real and honest and truthful with them. If they know where you stand, they are prepared to let you know where they stand and how you might be able to work together.
 
Is social media a blessing or a curse?

A bit of both, I think. It’s an essential way of keeping in touch with a whole range of people and finding out vast amounts of information about what going on locally and globally. But it’s a pain when everyone in a meeting is constantly engaged with their screen and not the people in the room. I guess it’s all down to how you manage it.

Yes.

Thank you Simon.

Cry With Us

This is a season of weeping and mourning, but it is not void of hope.

Our tears are the bridge between brutality and humanity;

our tears are the salty gates for seeing a different reality;

our tears are facing soulless nations and a parched mentality;

our tears are the dam preventing rivers of animosity.

For the sake of the mourning men, cry with us to reflect your amity.

For the sake of the poor children, cry with us demanding sanity.

For the sake of lamenting mothers, refuse violence and stupidity.

Love your enemies and cry with them is the advice of divinity.

Bless those who curse is the path to genuine spirituality.

Pour tears of mercy; compassion is true piety.

Pray with tears, for the sake of spreading equity.

Followers of Jesus: crying is now our responsibility.

But don’t cry for your friends only;

but also for your Enemy.

 

Yohanna Katanacho

 

See here for context.

Book Review: Deep Church Rising by Andrew Walker and Robin Parry

Andrew G. Walker and Robin A. Parry, Deep Church Rising: The Third Schism and the Recovery of Christian Orthodoxy (SPCK / Cascade, 2014)

Deep Church Rising is the culmination of Andrew Walker's work. It follows on from his earlier work of Telling the Story (1996) and the edited volumes Different Gospels (1993 [1988]) and Remembering Our Future (2007). Walker with assistance from Robin Parry argues that the future of the church must be a 'deep' one, one that looks to the great traditions of the church as part of its history and future. They are concerned that there is a Third Schism taking place, which looks to set separate Christianity from its theological moorings, that casts doubts on the traditional doctrines of the Trinity, incarnation and resurrection. In their sights are the likes of Don Cupitt, John Robinson, John Hick, Maurice Wiles and Shelby Spong and the more widely read Marcus Borg and John Dominic Crossan, representing in past the wider impact of modernity and postmodernity. Walker and Parry claim we have lost, or are in danger of losing, the gospel and the response is therefore a vital recovery which they call 'Deep Church'. A Deep Church response, they say, is in the practice of right belief, right worship, right living sourced in scripture and tradition and made possible through an intentional catechesis.

The book has three things to say. First it seeks to articulate the dangers the church is facing - the privatisation of belief, worship as entertainment, ethics without telos - all of which threaten Christian orthodoxy and orthopraxis. The faultline on which a possible third schism may occur is precisely a too 'thin' Christianity which has unwittingly wed itself to a consumer age. The target in the authors' sights are (I think) both a liberal Christianity, which wants to jettison key doctrines and an evangelical charismatic Christianity that is too dismissive of the deep catholic traditions of the church. The second is to offer a defence of a catholic Christianity rooted in creeds, sacrament, and catechesis. The future of the church is one that takes seriously the doctrine of the church as articulated in Nicaea, one that takes seriously the celebration of the eucharist, one that takes seriously the catechesis of Christian faith and practice. Walker and Parry argue that where these are marginalised, we have lost the plot, experiencing a gospel amnesia. Thirdly it is a clarion call for a church renewed by the past, a church that has the deep resources which shape its worship and mission to enable it both to survive and flourish. 

The book can be read as an extension of Walker's early forays into 'deep church' or perhaps as a more systematic presentation of deep church. I think while I enjoyed Remembering the Future more as a book, within it were some helpful and creative attempts to explore the implications of a deep church theology, Deep Church Rising offers a more coherent description of its message. The title is an interesting one, is this a signal to a church that needs to rise from its past or is it a statement that the Deep Church movement (that feels too strong a word) has legs. At one point Paternoster had a book series called Deep Church, (commissioned by Parry), but as far as I know it only had three titles: The Gospel Driven Church; Evangelicals and Tradition; and Remembering Our Future. Walker was going to contribute a fourth, and Deep Church Rising is probably that book. The call for a more 'catholic' future for the church is one that has other advocates, for example see the work of James K A Smith and Baptists Steven Harmon and Curtis Freeman, amongst others.

The church should be grateful for Walker (see forthcoming collection of essays Wisdom in the Spirit in his honour) in several ways, this book is one of them and hopefully it will be widely read and find an 'Amen' in those who do.

Book Review: A Brief Theology of Sport by Lincoln Harvey

Lincoln Harvey, A Brief Theology of Sport (SCM / Cascade, 2014), 130pp.

In the last couple of years, perhaps partly related to the 2012 Olympics, there has been a flurry of theological reflection on sport in the UK - see special journal editions of Studies in Christian Ethics 25.1 (2012), Anvil (2012) and Practical Theology 5.2 (2012) and Rob Ellis' study The Games People Play (Wipf & Stock, 2014). Amongst this work comes Lincoln Harvey's A Brief Theology of Sport. The title of Harvey's work is a deliberate echo of his theological teacher Colin Gunton's work A Brief Theology of Revelation, who's theology has an indelible mark in this work. The title both highlights the book's key strength and its key weakness. Its key strength is its readability, Harvey's argument is easy to follow, doesn't get weigh down in footnotes or immaterial 'academic' side notes. Its key weakness is it sometimes feels too brief, the reader is left wanting the implications of theological claim to be developed. This might not be a weakness, for in leaving the reader something to do, Harvey offers a good "sermon", in that, he does not to do all the work of application, but lays the ground for others to explore what it means for our discipleship and practice. We must also stress that the title is clear that what Harvey is doing in his book is making a theological argument, which is important when we can too quickly jump to practice. Harvey believes that sport can have a theological rationale in the doctrine of creation.

The book comes in two parts. The first part explores sport within religion and within the Christian tradition. Harvey recognises the ubiquitous-ness of both sport and religion and that they are often intertwined. In terms of the history of the church it has a mixed relationship with sport. For the early church, sport was too embroiled in religious activity of other gods, later sport became a means of supporting the crusades, before being frowned upon by Puritanism, and then from Victorian times onwards, sport becomes a means for evangelism. Harvey demonstrates the popularity of sport, the general negativity from the church, but the occasional 'instrumental use' where it suited the church's purposes.

The second part explores what sport is and then provides two chapters which establish sport within a Christian doctrine of creation. Harvey's argument is that sport exists in and for itself. He writes, in what is a good summary of his argument: 'Sport is not worship. Worship is the liturgical celebration of who God is with us. Sport is the liturgical celebration of who we are by ourselves' (p.94). In this he separates sport from all other activities that 'is not worship' (p.96). Sport is unique in only being for its own sake and 'not directed to the glory of God'. That is a big claim! I wonder how those engaged in the theology of the arts, drama or music might respond, should we see sport like them, or is sport unique?

Chapter 9 offers 'seven avenues for further thought'. Here the brevity is frustrating as Harvey teases us with what in a longer study may well receive at least a chapter each. The seven avenues are rules, competition, idolatry, sport and war, professional sport, gender and sport and good and bad sports. In identifying the problem of idolatry in sport, Harvey identities the sin, but offers no remedy. In discussing professional sport, he argues that 'true sport is amateur sport, professional sport a corruption' (p.105), which begged for further ethical reflection on how Christians might respond or participate in professional sport, which dominates our lives. It is in this section, in a footnote, that a key question is asked of Harvey. Harvey writes that just as sex should not be professionalized, either as porn or prostitution, and so the question is begged (asked by a friend), is his ongoing attendance at the Emirates Stadium to watch Arsenal play football not the equivalent of watching pornography (p.109ff.). The final avenue in terms of good and bad sports felt also tantalising, Harvey suggests some sports could not be defended on theological grounds and some sports will be more faithful (my word) theologically.

In the concluding comments, Harvey highlights what its like to go to the football on a Saturday and church on a Sunday. The argument of the book is that properly understood they should not be in competition, but I wonder if they are more in competition than Harvey allows. He recognises the problems of supporting Arsenal, but appears to live with them, rather than identifying possible ways to subvert or confront them. I wonder if football or other sports shape a person's life much more than a Sunday morning in church.

Harvey is to be congratulated in opening up sport for theological reflection and laying down some key ground work and further lines of thinking. It deserves to be widely read, especially by the avid sport followers in our churches. This reader is left asking for Harvey to help us engage further, developing the lines of thought intellectually, imaginatively and practically (see the introduction to Sam Well's Learning to Dream Again).

Reflecting on Ministry (3)

This is a third interview with a Baptist minister. The previous two were with John Rackley and Tim Presswood. This present interview is with Ruth Gouldbourne.

Ruth is the co-minister of Bloomsbury Central Baptist Church, London and has been there since 2006. Previous to that she ministered at Bunyan Meeting Free Church, Bedford and was a Tutor at Bristol Baptist College (1995-2006). She was the 1998 Whitley Lecturer and gave the 1998 Hughey Memorial Lectures at the International Baptist Theology Seminary, at that point in Prague. She was until recently the Chair of the Board of Trustees at IBTS. She has a PhD in church history from the University of London and her thesis was published under title, The Flesh and the Feminine: Gender and Theology in the Writings of Caspar Schwenckfeld. She has also co-written a book on Baptist ecclesiology and written several other journal articles and book chapters. She is involved in the Baptist Historical Society.

What’s the most important lesson you learned about ministry that you didn’t know at the beginning?

It’s impossible and that’s ok; that is, we will never do all that needs to be done and we will never do it all to our own or anybody else’s satisfaction, and speaking of the things of God and ministering in the name of God is a ridiculous undertaking when you stop think about it, and all of that is ok, because it’s God’s idea and so God’s responsibility. All I have to do is turn up and offer. 

What led your into ministry?

An experience of inevitability. The careers teacher at school suggested it when I was 16, and I dismissed the idea because “women aren’t ministers” – which at that stage and in that place was true. I seriously did not think about it for another few years through ending school and doing a degree, and then it became obvious that, while it still wasn’t possible, it was really the only possibility. The insight and bloody-mindedness of my parents, and the openness and exploration of the church in which I grew up, and the taking it for grantedness of my husband all combined to make what was impossible possible – that, and being welcomed into another Union.

You've recently been developing a new service at Bloomsbury called Informal Church. How did it happen, what is it and how is this changing you and the church?

Our evening service was just the same as our morning one, but much smaller – so small it seemed pointless. We had tried various things, but nothing really worked, and when Simon arrived, because of our common interest in Anabaptist theology, we decided to do something radical and start a multivoiced service using the themes and convictions of the Anabaptist Network. We share food, we share worship in which everybody is able to take a vocal part, through prayers and through discussion rather than a sermon, and through a leaderless liturgy for communion. We have grown a new congregation of about 20-25 people, some who sleep rough, some with significant mental health challenges, one an infant, and others who enjoy the exploratory nature of the discussions. It can be hard work, disconcerting and, at times, wonderful. Personally, it is both the hardest thing and one of the more rewarding things I do – it has been an interesting experience to actually to put into practice some of my theoretical convictions, and discover how to do it, and whether I really am prepared to live with the reality. For those who come, it has been a freeing place. For those who have stopped coming, it has been a release from “duty” and a discovery that it is possible for us to do something they don’t relate well to, and that to be ok. And for the bulk of the congregation, they don’t really notice it….

What one thing should ministers do more of and what one thing should they do less of?

More sitting still – with ourselves, with God, with other people. Less being active, and needing to do God’s work for God.

What keeps you going?

The proper and pious answer and the one I wish I could give is prayer. The actual answer is trying to remember to pray. And the experienced answer is my husband and knowing I can walk away from this whenever I choose.

That latter phrase probably requires some expansions; I think for many of us, being a minister is not what we do, it is what we are. Certainly, that is my condition. I was vigorously challenged by somebody who loves me when I expressed this once, who insisted that “you are much more than what you do or offer”. That challenge, together with a wise spiritual director who regularly draws me back to the conviction that a) God can run the universe and therefore the bit of it that I am involved in perfectly well without me, and involves me out of love and enjoyment, not out of need and b) God loves me, not what I do, combine to free me from the sense of “obligation” to what I do, and offer – on a good day – the capacity to offer what I do, and what I am, as a gift not as a duty.

There’s a real sense in this answer that any minister must be one who remains ministered to. You speak here of a spiritual director, have you always had one, or is this something that has come later? What led you to seek spiritual direction in this formal sense?

I think you are absolutely right about being ministered to. I started working with my first spiritual director when I went to teach in Bristol, so about 20 years ago. It had been something I had heard Anglican colleagues talk about, and I was interested in finding somebody who could help me think, and specifically pray more clearly. When I moved to Bristol, this put me in touch with people who were able to link me in with the networks of people who had trained in this work. And I started the discipline. And it has been that. But it has been really important; somebody who knows me well and needs nothing from me, who will challenge me and help me hear God, and also – and this has been vital – who is from a very different tradition, and so can offer me different resources, but also asks me to account for certain “assumptions” that I take for granted, but which might be viewed differently within a different theological framework.

Has there been one book or theological voice that shaped your ministry?

Eugene Petersen has been important to me; but I have been more influenced by people I know and interact with – and who know me, and challenge/encourage/question/mentor me

What does being a Baptist minister mean to you?

I am Baptist by background and by conviction, and before I was a minister. Thus the way in which I am a minister is shaped by this theology and practice; I am not a minister who happens to be Baptist, not even a minister who is convinced by Baptist convictions. I only know how to be a minister as a Baptist; in community, in covenant with a congregation.

With this strong Baptist heritage, what have you learned or received from other ecclesial traditions?

I talked above about spiritual direction – that would be one of the significant gifts I have received; specifically, being put in contact with a mystical tradition, which is not immediately available to Baptist tradition (though I think there are interesting links) Quaker friends (or perhaps just Friends!) have helped me appreciate even more deeply a radical openness to the Spirit’s leading and ministering through the community. Mennonite friends have linked me more deeply to radical discipleship and the meaning of baptism as more than “my witness to my saviour”. And working very closely with Anglicans has opened me to the richness of reading Scripture without comment in the service in very positive ways (I’m not sure I’ve phrased that right!)

How do you see the relationship between church and mission?

I’m not sure I understand what you mean by this question. Church is born from mission, and is the place where the mission of God is given voice. The mission of God for the transformation of the world, the coming of the Kingdom is much bigger than the church, but within the church it is rehearsed and voiced.  

This suggests that there is nothing the church does that is not mission. Do you find that too often Christians want to separate mission off as an activity of the church?

Yes. If we are church, then mission happens. I think our hardest struggle is to be church. Too often – and I will absolutely put my hand up to this as something I buy into – we are not church, we go to and we support, and we organise church – which keeps it out there, and not something that I am. That leaves me free to get on with the rest of my life, unencumbered by these impossible demands of discipleship. If we dare to be church, that is, if our primary identiy is as baptised people who are part of the body of Christ in and through everything, then mission is not a “thing we do”, any more than we might “do” inviting people to our friendship. We make friends because we meet people and get to know them. Mission happens as we love and move. I am about to start preaching….

What, if anything have you learn about ministry/church/mission from your involvement in IBTS?

My particular role there was one of the areas where my incompetence was most evident, and so I learned a lot there about just going on with it when I knew I couldn’t’, and seeing that God works through that. I learned more than I can say about the breadth of the church, the complexity of being Baptist, the joy and the pain of our particular way of being sensitive and shaped by contexts, which can mean we look very different, and find it hard to trust each other, if we have come out of and been shaped by profoundly different contexts – and the trust and appreciation, to say nothing of the love that can emerge as we discover that in belonging to God, we have to belong to one another.

As British Baptists, like in politics, we sit often on the edge of Europe. I’m interested in your phrase ‘the complexity of being Baptist’, which hints at the breath of Baptist life within Europe which we in Britain no little of. Being exposed to that breath, what is it that joins Baptists together?

I have no idea! Actually, that’s not true, but it’s not necessarily what we might expect or even feel comfortable with. There are plenty of ways of being Baptist in different parts of the world, including Europe that I would be very uncomfortable with – and which would be very uncomfortable with me. The place of women in the church is not the least of these issues.

Clearly, an understanding of baptism as belonging to believers is central. But what for me leads to that and grows out of it, the nature of church meeting, is not an uncontested position, for example. Nor is the notion of the independence of the local church. We do all claim to take Scripture seriously – but then, no Christian community as a whole is going to claim that Scripture doesn’t matter. Baptists often claim to take it more seriously than they/ we think we see others do, but I am not convinced about that. Evangelism and mission matter – and we do share that. But we don’t always mean the same things. Separation from state control – though I once had a fascinating, and mildly surreal conversation with a student at IBTS called Constantine about this whole issue, as he argued for the need for state protection. And as somebody who had lived through and seen the church suffer significantly because of Communist oppression, he had a particular voice I couldn’t afford to ignore.

I would love to see more UK Baptists in touch with the life of the European Baptist Federation, and discovering the delights and struggles of being Baptist in such different contexts – many where some of the things we struggle with really don’t matter, and where some of the things we take for granted are so so so different in different contexts.

Can you tell a story of where something didn’t work or that you failed?

Oh, so many! One of the things I was committed to, but didn’t work was “Playing at Prayer” – a series of Saturday mornings when I invited people to come and explore different ways of praying and being with God. Just didn’t work. However, one of those who mentored me had drummed it into me that you try something and if it doesn’t work, you stop, and try something else – without feeling too bad about it. I do feel bad, but only because I enjoyed it, and failed to communicate that to others.

Where I have failed; I dealt very badly with a bullying Zionist group, and let them win, when we came under pressure not to allow a Palestinian event to happen here. It happened, but I said we couldn’t do it again, because I couldn’t cope. I have failed to love various people enough and so they left. I failed to confront a situation which developed within the church because I was afraid of hurting people, and ended up with a situation in which more people were hurt even more than badly than might have been the case. 
…. How much more do you want? ☺

I ask this question to challenge the notion that there is any minister who is fully equipped or only knows success, which can often be what is presented. I wonder if success is a word that should be banned in church?

Yes! I know that that statement “We are not called to succeed but to be faithful” is both a cliché, and not particularly helpful. But – I don’t think we can always judge success and failure easily, and even more importantly, justly. I’m sure every preacher has had the experience of being told after the sermon “Thank you for saying such and such – God really used it to speak to me” and thinking “I didn’t say that” I wonder if we might want to reflect on how that applies elsewhere; that the places where we have no idea that we might have been the means of grace may be far more frequent than we know. And equally, the places where we “know” we have got it right, we have done well ,everybody tells us we are succeeding might be not the success we think in the “upside down kingdom” After all, the cross hardly looks like a triumphant moment….

Do you see yourself as an evangelist?

Back to definitions again; somebody once summed up my preaching as “God loves you, learn to live with it” which I believe is a profoundly “evangelistic” message; in that, we all need to hear that, believers and non-believers, and to allow ourselves to be turned around by it towards God and away from ourselves.

I usually end sermons with a call for decision, but normally that is a call for believers to live as if they actually believe what they say they believe, in the conviction that evangelism begins with the people of God.

Much of the rest of my work is with individuals who are in pain or confusion; some believers, some not. I don’t see that work as explicitly evangelistic, but more as offering something of a glimpse into the invitation and acceptance of God that may – or may not – enable somebody to respond insofar as they can at that moment, to being loved.

What role, if any, does tradition play in ministry, in church, in mission?

We are shaped by tradition whether we know it or not; so, it is helpful to know what the tradition is so that we can handle it well, and make informed choices. Tradition is our soil – but plants grow in different shapes and produce different fruit; tradition doesn’t determine us, but can nourish and sustain us.

As Baptists are bound too much by tradition or could we benefit from being more conscious of our tradition?

I fear that we might often be bound by it precisely because we are not conscious of it. Knowing where we come from, why we do something, how we have been shaped – and indeed, that we have been shaped – gives us more choices of response than simply this is how it is, or, it has to be different, without knowing why it is the way it is.

Where are you most incompetent as a minister?

Where to start….? I find it very hard to talk to people I don’t know – a bit of handicap in a church in the centre of London regularly visited by folk from beyond the congregation, both on Sundays and in the week. I struggle to view things from a detached point of view, which means I get paralysed by being hurt when nobody meant to hurt me. It is hard to speak of the things that mean the most, and so making preaching more than superficial is difficult. …… In almost every area, I think is the answer!

You of course gave the George Beasley Murray Memorial Lecture with the title ‘In Praise of Incompetence’, challenging in part a tendency towards the over-professionalization of ministry. At the same time is an equal tendency within churches to say everyone is competent apart from the minister?

Sometimes, yes. I think ministry is one of those “jobs” a bit like teaching, where people, especially if they have had experience of being ministered to, or being taught, think “I can do that.” I do on occasions bite my tongue to stop myself saying “could we please start from the assumption that I know my job” In some ways, I think it comes from a very healthy sense that the church is not hierarchy, and we all have a place and a voice.

Part of the argument of my lecture is that ministry is not a task, but a being. But it is, on the whole, the task, or tasks, that people see. And often think they too could do. And people may be right about that; there is very little that I “do” that others could not also do, and sometimes do better. But I do not believe that that is what ministry is. The minister offers more to the congregation than the fulfilling of certain tasks – and I don’t think anybody can do that. It is a God-done thing, and God does it through certain of us that God calls and appoints to it. This is not through merit, or even particular skills, but the weirdness of grace and gifting. I want to be as good at my tasks as I can be. But if all I do is my tasks, if that is all I am there for, then those who think they can do it better are probably right.

Are you hopeful for the future of Baptist ministry and/or the Baptist Union? Why or why not?

Yes, because, despite being a profound pessimist in many ways, I think that God works. As a teenager, I attended a meeting at which somebody challenged my father about the dire future then being faced by the church, and the faith in our country. And he said – and we teased him about it for many years – “I have every confidence in God”. I do believe that God can look after God’s self, and doesn’t need us to do it. And so, at a deep level, I am confident that the mission of God will continue. Will it continue among Baptists as it has done – I shouldn’t think so, but then it never has done. One of the delightful things about being a historian is that it quickly becomes very clear that things are always changing, and they never fell very secure – even in those times when we, looking back, think they were. And still the love of God is active. There hasn’t always been Baptist Union, and even when there has, it has always been changing, haven’t always been Baptists (contra Landmarkists!) - but there have always been the people of God, and I see no reason why that should cease. Our patterns and our convictions about how things “ought to be” are always penultimate.

What has been the main shape of your ministry? (e.g. pastoral carer / leader of worship / missionary / networker / fundraiser / social worker)

Leader of worship, pastoral carer, pray-er

Questions of finance (not surprisingly) seem to be in the mix of so much of ministry, church and mission – what have you learned, if anything, from how to deal with the issue of scarcity?

I’ve learned that I panic. I’ve learned that I need people around me who can actually read balance sheets and understand accounts, and that I need to learn to trust them. I’ve learned that there is never going to be enough.

If you could write your own obituary what would it say?

She did what she could – but that’s less of an obituary and more of a wish that that might be what is said. I’ve no idea what an obituary might say because I don’t think many of us have a clear idea of how others see us, or the impact or not that we have in the world.

I have found that too often in church we are not that bothered about mission – has that been your experience and why is that?

Again, back to what is meant by mission; most of the congregations I have had the opportunity to be involved with have been deeply concerned about what it is that God wants them to do in their neighbourhood – the call to serve and to meet people has been high. We haven’t always (often!) agreed on just what that should look like, and we haven’t always done it well, but people have been concerned to work it out.

Have you found that worship transforms people?

It transforms me – I don’t know that I can speak for anybody else.

The temptation of much ministry both inside and outside the church is to be “nice” – is this something that troubles you? Have you been able to resist it?

By “trouble” do you mean something I succumb to – I so, the answer is “yes”. I think that would have been true of me even if I had not been a minister. Resisting it happens – when it happens, because I get tired of being nice, or because one of my colleagues, who has a much stronger capacity to resist it, challenges me.

I wonder if the nice-agenda, stems from this is how God is viewed or how we present God; faith has become overly therapeutic. Is ministry about providing a more expansive, even “terrifying” vision of God?

I’m not sure how I feel about a more “terrifying” vision of God; but a bigger view, and a deeper sense of encounter, yes. Gospel is “bad” news as well as good news, so faith “simply” as therapeutic is problematic. Facing our own darkness, and the reality of the brokenness of the world is not about being nice; there needs to be anger and lament and fear – that’s not the right word, but I’m not sure what is - of our own capacity to hurt, and our own complicity in evil, and evil structures. And we don’t do that by being nice…..

Is social media a blessing or a curse?

Personally, I find it very useful; I can interact with people from the security of my own space, I have reconnected with people long-lost, and I am able to stay in touch with campaigns and conversations that I would only vaguely know about otherwise. For the church – I don’t think we have got to grips with it yet. Like any way of relating, it is simply a way of relating. How we actually use it is what will make it blessing or curse.

Would you be happy with the use of twitter in worship?

I do it – not when I am preaching – so, yes, I guess I am happy with it. With the normal condition I put on doing things in worship – that it doesn’t distract others. I often have people fall asleep in worship. I say that this is fine as long as they don’t snore enough to worry others. I think I feel the same way about tweeting. I know people worry that it leads to a “scattering” of attention, and that may be true. But it may also be a way of focusing attention; reflecting, commenting on what is happening is a way pf participating. It has, as I write this I realise, certain connections with what we do in Informal Church and multivoiced practice.

Hauerwas to Aberdeen

News released today is that Stanley Hauerwas has been appointed to a Chair in theological ethics at Aberdeen. Part-time, but then the guy has just retired from Duke and is 74. It's a great appointment. Having lost Bernd Wannenwetsch last year with a criminal conviction, Hauerwas is not a bad replacement! Hopefully it might mean he will travel across the UK a bit as well.