Tomorrow’s Sermon: Of Fish And Forgiveness

John 21:1-19

Introduction
John 21 is a significant passage for me. Let me take you back to 1985. It’s Low
Sunday, the Sunday after Easter. I am a church steward in my home church. A Local
Preacher from another
church in the circuit
was preaching on this passage. All I know is that on
that morning something clicked with me. It began a journey of discovery that
led me to theological college and eventually into ordained ministry. Chris West
has a lot to answer for!

It’s also a passage that has been important for me since I
began reading the books of the late David Seamands,
who taught much about how the Gospel relates to our emotional brokenness. His
interpretation of this story and others had a beneficial effect on my life and
on others.

So I bring a lot of gratitude to John 21, along with a large
number of existing assumptions. In my preparation this week, I have tried to
start with a blank sheet of paper. That hasn’t been entirely possible, but I
hope I can be like the wise and faithful homeowner of whom Jesus spoke, who
brings out from the storehouse things both old and new (Matthew
13:52
). I want to approach this account of Jesus at the water’s edge by
showing that he’s not at the edge of our lives, but at the centre. The risen
Christ is at the centre of every part of our lives.

1. Fish
The seven disciples are back on their home territory, the Sea of Galilee – or
as ‘home’ as the Roman Empire will allow them to think of it, since Rome has
renamed Galilee as the Sea of Tiberius in honour of the emperor Tiberius. It’s
as home as you can get but it also has unwelcome influences.

‘I’m going fishing,’ says Simon Peter, ‘Anyone care to join
me?’ And his six friends go off with him in the boat.

Despite what some Christians might think there is nothing
implied in the story that is critical of Simon Peter returning to his old
profession of fishing. This isn’t despair or unbelief. He has met the risen
Christ and hope has been restored in his life. Going back in the fishing boat
isn’t an act of bad faith. He’s back at his old job and it’s OK.

Except it’s not OK. It’s disastrous. They go out to fish at
night – it was the best time – and it’s a complete failure. The most fruitful
time and they catch no fish. Then a mysterious stranger appears on the shore.
In the muzzy tones of daybreak, they can’t recognise him – quite a theme of the
Resurrection stories. Almost certainly they also don’t recognise Jesus because
they’re not expecting him.

And maybe this strange figure can make out a school of fish
in the great lake as the first sunrays creep over the horizon. Or perhaps he’s
not a fisherman at all. What does he know? Whatever, let’s do as he says and
let down the nets on the other side of the boat.

And you know what happens. They go from nought to a hundred
and fifty-three in a matter of seconds. (It sounds more like a Ferrari than a
fishing boat.) As they sail towards the beach ‘the disciple whom Jesus loved’
(whom I take to be John) recognises the man who has called out to them. ‘It is
the Lord!’ And good old impetuous Peter dives into the water and rushes to him,
or as quickly as he can through the water, hampered by newly wet garments.

What has happened? Jesus has shown up at the workplace, and
he has blessed and transformed it.

How many of us find our place of work is rather like the
experience of the fishermen overnight – a lot of slog and no sense of
accomplishment? I spent seven years in the Civil Service and when I left for
theological college, even the atheists were jealous. I have one or two funny
stories from those times – not least from when I dealt with National Insurance
contributions and a self-employed woman returned her papers, saying she was
jacking in her career due to ‘unforeseen circumstances’. She was a clairvoyant.
However, largely it was a dreary, discouraging job, even if I was helping
people who needed Social Security. I don’t think I had any sense that Jesus in
his risen presence could be with me at work in the way he was with me in church
activities.

But in John 21 Jesus doesn’t limit himself to the religious
stuff. Some people have tried to find all sorts of significance in the number
of fish, the one hundred and fifty three. But to me there is no convincing
symbolism there, however laden with symbolism John’s Gospel is. I think the
simple fact is, the risen Christ transformed the working environment and made
it fruitful.

I am not suggesting that being open to the risen Christ at
work automatically makes everything fine. This is a broken, fallen world. There
will still be suffering, toil and meaninglessness at work. It is the curse of
Adam, who in the biblical story of the Fall was told that in the light of sin
the ground he tilled would be cursed and he would toil all the days of his life
(Genesis 3:17). But the
Cross of Christ redeems the effects of sin’s curse, and his Resurrection gives
new power to live. So if we by faith believe that he is present with us and
ahead of us at work, the workplace may become fruitful for us. But if it
doesn’t and it remains an oppressive place to be, then he is still present,
sharing the pain with us.

Yet in saying all this I am aware that I am addressing a
congregation containing many for whom paid employment is in the past. This
probably sounds irrelevant to you. So I invite you to see what is underlying
this. It is the conviction that we meet the risen Christ in the ordinary
routines of life as much as we meet him in the singing of hymns, the saying of
prayers, the sharing of the sacrament and the ministry of the word. Here in
this story when the disciples get to shore, Jesus somehow already has some fish
and he’s cooking it. (Where did he get his
fish?)

On Good Friday we as a family had fish and chips for our
dinner, not out of the Catholic tradition of ‘fish on Friday’ but because our local chippie had a special offer.
And I suggest to you that next time you eat fish, remember the risen Jesus on
the beach with seven of his disciples. It’s like the Salvation Army tradition
of expecting to meet with Christ at every meal, not simply at Holy Communion.

The miraculous catch of fish and the breakfast that followed
call us, in the words of Michael Frost, to the
holy task of ‘Seeing
God In The Ordinary
’. He is present in everyday life and he uses the raw
material of mundane living to make his presence known and speak to us. God has
always been doing this. He spoke to Amos through a plumb line (Amos 7:7-9) and a basket of
fruit (Amos 8:1-3). Jesus
drew lessons from a fig tree (Mark
11:12-14
). Let us, as Michael Frost says in his book, learn again to be
attentive to this truth, to ‘shudder properly’ at God’s speech through
creation, to hear him in stories, see him in others and embrace the spiritual
discipline of astonishment. All this is raw material for our discipleship
because we believe that Christ is alive and with us.

2. Forgiveness
It’s 1985. It’s that service I mentioned at the beginning, where this passage
spoke powerfully to me and eventually led to theological college and the ordained
ministry. When Chris the Local Preacher expounded this passage, he likened
Jesus to those craftsmen who are master restorers of damaged paintings. The damaged
painting in the story is, of course, Simon Peter. And Jesus restores him.

Peter’s damage is the three times he denied Jesus (John 18:15-18, 25-27). Here, as
we well know, Jesus gives Peter three opportunities to affirm his love for him,
in place of the denials.

Moreover, this work of restoration by the risen Jesus is
good news for us. How many times have we let Christ down or even denied him?
Have we wondered whether he still loves us, or whether he is still willing to
use us in the work of his kingdom? As a Christian and as a minister I have seen
a wide variety of versions of this. Some have over-sensitive consciences – what
psychiatrists would label ‘scruples’. I think of one person who felt God would
not accept her, because she had misread the words of the Holy Communion service.
That may be an extreme example, but it is a true one and more common than you
might think, given a combination of a severe interpretation of the Gospel and a
person with low self-esteem.

For others, though, it is something more serious. It may be
a failure to speak up on Christ’s behalf at a critical point, as Peter did. It may
be a moral failure, such as unfaithfulness to a spouse. It may be a criminal
act that may or may not have been detected. Some think they have committed the ‘unforgivable
sin’ of ‘blasphemy against the Holy Spirit’ (although ‘blasphemy against the
Spirit’ is specifically calling the Holy Spirit’s work the work of the Devil – Matthew 12:22-32 – and
therefore those who are worried they have committed this sin are those least
likely to have done so).

But if Christ can restore a coward like Peter, and in the
Old Testament can use another coward like Abraham, a murderer like Moses and an
adulterer like David, then it seems that God indeed is the master restorer of
human beings. What he has done once, he can do again. If he can make a
slave-trader like John Newton into a Christian and later a campaigner for the
abolition of the industry in which he made his money, he can restore broken
people like you and me.

Failure may feel like a death, and it is. However, our faith
does not stop with death: it goes through to resurrection. Therefore, Christ
raises up failures. He forgives them and gives them a new start. Failure is
never the final word with Christ. He restores. He has restoring grace for those
of us who know we have let him down – and some of us have let him down badly.

To be sure, his restoring work is not the parody of
forgiveness that we sometimes hear, where someone says, ‘Yes, I forgive you, it
was nothing.’ If forgiveness is needed, then it wasn’t nothing, it was
something, and it hurt. And neither is it as trivial or flippant as to say, ‘God
forgives – it’s his business.’ Failure hurts both parties and to walk through
it to healing may well be painful. The three times Jesus asks Peter, ‘Do you
love me?’ make him face up to his failure. But Peter faces those denials in the
loving presence of Jesus. The story says ‘Peter felt hurt because [Jesus] said
to him the third time’ (verse 17). Yet he goes through with it, because he is
with Christ, and he finds healing.

I have two friends with deep hurts in their lives that have
damaged relationships, especially with their spouses. Both have received
Christian counselling. What is common to both is that whenever the counsellor
has put a finger on the root issue they have run away and stopped receiving the
counselling. They have been unwilling to walk through the pain. As a result,
they have never dealt with their problems. They remain unhealed, broken people,
and their closest relationships remain very disordered. If only they truly knew
that the risen Lord would be walking with them as they faced their pain.

But Peter does come out the other side. Jesus restores him. And
with restoration comes a renewed calling. ‘Feed my lambs’ (verse 15); ‘Tend my
sheep’ (verse 16); ‘Feed my sheep’ (verse 17). He is more than forgiven; he is
re-commissioned. For those here who know they have failed Christ today, the
good news is that our risen Saviour will walk with us as we face the failure
and come through to forgiveness. Then there is this bonus: Jesus still has a
calling for us. We may think he is crazy, but he isn’t. He didn’t simply
forgive us so that we could wait placidly on the platform for the glory train; he
forgave us so that we may have a new lease of life in the service of his
kingdom.

Conclusion
So let us be open to the risen Christ taking us by surprise. We may find
his presence in the ordinary life of work and the world, and respond to him
there. Alternatively, it may be more like Peter and Jesus’ private conversation
– and for us, that would be something like prayer. Either way – or both –
Christ is risen to let us know that God has not finished with us. He has
unfinished business with each of us. As Paul puts it:

I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work
among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.
(Philippians 1:6)

Alternatively, as the t-shirt slogan has it, ‘Please be
patient with me: God hasn’t finished with me yet.’

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Tomorrow’s Sermon: Of Fish And Forgiveness

John 21:1-19

Introduction
John 21 is a significant passage for me. Let me take you back to 1985. It’s Low
Sunday, the Sunday after Easter. I am a church steward in my home church. A Local
Preacher from another
church in the circuit
was preaching on this passage. All I know is that on
that morning something clicked with me. It began a journey of discovery that
led me to theological college and eventually into ordained ministry. Chris West
has a lot to answer for!

It’s also a passage that has been important for me since I
began reading the books of the late David Seamands,
who taught much about how the Gospel relates to our emotional brokenness. His
interpretation of this story and others had a beneficial effect on my life and
on others.

So I bring a lot of gratitude to John 21, along with a large
number of existing assumptions. In my preparation this week, I have tried to
start with a blank sheet of paper. That hasn’t been entirely possible, but I
hope I can be like the wise and faithful homeowner of whom Jesus spoke, who
brings out from the storehouse things both old and new (Matthew
13:52
). I want to approach this account of Jesus at the water’s edge by
showing that he’s not at the edge of our lives, but at the centre. The risen
Christ is at the centre of every part of our lives.

1. Fish
The seven disciples are back on their home territory, the Sea of Galilee – or
as ‘home’ as the Roman Empire will allow them to think of it, since Rome has
renamed Galilee as the Sea of Tiberius in honour of the emperor Tiberius. It’s
as home as you can get but it also has unwelcome influences.

‘I’m going fishing,’ says Simon Peter, ‘Anyone care to join
me?’ And his six friends go off with him in the boat.

Despite what some Christians might think there is nothing
implied in the story that is critical of Simon Peter returning to his old
profession of fishing. This isn’t despair or unbelief. He has met the risen
Christ and hope has been restored in his life. Going back in the fishing boat
isn’t an act of bad faith. He’s back at his old job and it’s OK.

Except it’s not OK. It’s disastrous. They go out to fish at
night – it was the best time – and it’s a complete failure. The most fruitful
time and they catch no fish. Then a mysterious stranger appears on the shore.
In the muzzy tones of daybreak, they can’t recognise him – quite a theme of the
Resurrection stories. Almost certainly they also don’t recognise Jesus because
they’re not expecting him.

And maybe this strange figure can make out a school of fish
in the great lake as the first sunrays creep over the horizon. Or perhaps he’s
not a fisherman at all. What does he know? Whatever, let’s do as he says and
let down the nets on the other side of the boat.

And you know what happens. They go from nought to a hundred
and fifty-three in a matter of seconds. (It sounds more like a Ferrari than a
fishing boat.) As they sail towards the beach ‘the disciple whom Jesus loved’
(whom I take to be John) recognises the man who has called out to them. ‘It is
the Lord!’ And good old impetuous Peter dives into the water and rushes to him,
or as quickly as he can through the water, hampered by newly wet garments.

What has happened? Jesus has shown up at the workplace, and
he has blessed and transformed it.

How many of us find our place of work is rather like the
experience of the fishermen overnight – a lot of slog and no sense of
accomplishment? I spent seven years in the Civil Service and when I left for
theological college, even the atheists were jealous. I have one or two funny
stories from those times – not least from when I dealt with National Insurance
contributions and a self-employed woman returned her papers, saying she was
jacking in her career due to ‘unforeseen circumstances’. She was a clairvoyant.
However, largely it was a dreary, discouraging job, even if I was helping
people who needed Social Security. I don’t think I had any sense that Jesus in
his risen presence could be with me at work in the way he was with me in church
activities.

But in John 21 Jesus doesn’t limit himself to the religious
stuff. Some people have tried to find all sorts of significance in the number
of fish, the one hundred and fifty three. But to me there is no convincing
symbolism there, however laden with symbolism John’s Gospel is. I think the
simple fact is, the risen Christ transformed the working environment and made
it fruitful.

I am not suggesting that being open to the risen Christ at
work automatically makes everything fine. This is a broken, fallen world. There
will still be suffering, toil and meaninglessness at work. It is the curse of
Adam, who in the biblical story of the Fall was told that in the light of sin
the ground he tilled would be cursed and he would toil all the days of his life
(Genesis 3:17). But the
Cross of Christ redeems the effects of sin’s curse, and his Resurrection gives
new power to live. So if we by faith believe that he is present with us and
ahead of us at work, the workplace may become fruitful for us. But if it
doesn’t and it remains an oppressive place to be, then he is still present,
sharing the pain with us.

Yet in saying all this I am aware that I am addressing a
congregation containing many for whom paid employment is in the past. This
probably sounds irrelevant to you. So I invite you to see what is underlying
this. It is the conviction that we meet the risen Christ in the ordinary
routines of life as much as we meet him in the singing of hymns, the saying of
prayers, the sharing of the sacrament and the ministry of the word. Here in
this story when the disciples get to shore, Jesus somehow already has some fish
and he’s cooking it. (Where did he get his
fish?)

On Good Friday we as a family had fish and chips for our
dinner, not out of the Catholic tradition of ‘fish on Friday’ but because our local chippie had a special offer.
And I suggest to you that next time you eat fish, remember the risen Jesus on
the beach with seven of his disciples. It’s like the Salvation Army tradition
of expecting to meet with Christ at every meal, not simply at Holy Communion.

The miraculous catch of fish and the breakfast that followed
call us, in the words of Michael Frost, to the
holy task of ‘Seeing
God In The Ordinary
’. He is present in everyday life and he uses the raw
material of mundane living to make his presence known and speak to us. God has
always been doing this. He spoke to Amos through a plumb line (Amos 7:7-9) and a basket of
fruit (Amos 8:1-3). Jesus
drew lessons from a fig tree (Mark
11:12-14
). Let us, as Michael Frost says in his book, learn again to be
attentive to this truth, to ‘shudder properly’ at God’s speech through
creation, to hear him in stories, see him in others and embrace the spiritual
discipline of astonishment. All this is raw material for our discipleship
because we believe that Christ is alive and with us.

2. Forgiveness
It’s 1985. It’s that service I mentioned at the beginning, where this passage
spoke powerfully to me and eventually led to theological college and the ordained
ministry. When Chris the Local Preacher expounded this passage, he likened
Jesus to those craftsmen who are master restorers of damaged paintings. The damaged
painting in the story is, of course, Simon Peter. And Jesus restores him.

Peter’s damage is the three times he denied Jesus (John 18:15-18, 25-27). Here, as
we well know, Jesus gives Peter three opportunities to affirm his love for him,
in place of the denials.

Moreover, this work of restoration by the risen Jesus is
good news for us. How many times have we let Christ down or even denied him?
Have we wondered whether he still loves us, or whether he is still willing to
use us in the work of his kingdom? As a Christian and as a minister I have seen
a wide variety of versions of this. Some have over-sensitive consciences – what
psychiatrists would label ‘scruples’. I think of one person who felt God would
not accept her, because she had misread the words of the Holy Communion service.
That may be an extreme example, but it is a true one and more common than you
might think, given a combination of a severe interpretation of the Gospel and a
person with low self-esteem.

For others, though, it is something more serious. It may be
a failure to speak up on Christ’s behalf at a critical point, as Peter did. It may
be a moral failure, such as unfaithfulness to a spouse. It may be a criminal
act that may or may not have been detected. Some think they have committed the ‘unforgivable
sin’ of ‘blasphemy against the Holy Spirit’ (although ‘blasphemy against the
Spirit’ is specifically calling the Holy Spirit’s work the work of the Devil – Matthew 12:22-32 – and
therefore those who are worried they have committed this sin are those least
likely to have done so).

But if Christ can restore a coward like Peter, and in the
Old Testament can use another coward like Abraham, a murderer like Moses and an
adulterer like David, then it seems that God indeed is the master restorer of
human beings. What he has done once, he can do again. If he can make a
slave-trader like John Newton into a Christian and later a campaigner for the
abolition of the industry in which he made his money, he can restore broken
people like you and me.

Failure may feel like a death, and it is. However, our faith
does not stop with death: it goes through to resurrection. Therefore, Christ
raises up failures. He forgives them and gives them a new start. Failure is
never the final word with Christ. He restores. He has restoring grace for those
of us who know we have let him down – and some of us have let him down badly.

To be sure, his restoring work is not the parody of
forgiveness that we sometimes hear, where someone says, ‘Yes, I forgive you, it
was nothing.’ If forgiveness is needed, then it wasn’t nothing, it was
something, and it hurt. And neither is it as trivial or flippant as to say, ‘God
forgives – it’s his business.’ Failure hurts both parties and to walk through
it to healing may well be painful. The three times Jesus asks Peter, ‘Do you
love me?’ make him face up to his failure. But Peter faces those denials in the
loving presence of Jesus. The story says ‘Peter felt hurt because [Jesus] said
to him the third time’ (verse 17). Yet he goes through with it, because he is
with Christ, and he finds healing.

I have two friends with deep hurts in their lives that have
damaged relationships, especially with their spouses. Both have received
Christian counselling. What is common to both is that whenever the counsellor
has put a finger on the root issue they have run away and stopped receiving the
counselling. They have been unwilling to walk through the pain. As a result,
they have never dealt with their problems. They remain unhealed, broken people,
and their closest relationships remain very disordered. If only they truly knew
that the risen Lord would be walking with them as they faced their pain.

But Peter does come out the other side. Jesus restores him. And
with restoration comes a renewed calling. ‘Feed my lambs’ (verse 15); ‘Tend my
sheep’ (verse 16); ‘Feed my sheep’ (verse 17). He is more than forgiven; he is
re-commissioned. For those here who know they have failed Christ today, the
good news is that our risen Saviour will walk with us as we face the failure
and come through to forgiveness. Then there is this bonus: Jesus still has a
calling for us. We may think he is crazy, but he isn’t. He didn’t simply
forgive us so that we could wait placidly on the platform for the glory train; he
forgave us so that we may have a new lease of life in the service of his
kingdom.

Conclusion
So let us be open to the risen Christ taking us by surprise. We may find
his presence in the ordinary life of work and the world, and respond to him
there. Alternatively, it may be more like Peter and Jesus’ private conversation
– and for us, that would be something like prayer. Either way – or both –
Christ is risen to let us know that God has not finished with us. He has
unfinished business with each of us. As Paul puts it:

I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work
among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.
(Philippians 1:6)

Alternatively, as the t-shirt slogan has it, ‘Please be
patient with me: God hasn’t finished with me yet.’

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Digital Faith Part 2

Following yesterday’s post on this subject and Bill Kinnon‘s kind comment on it, I went back to his site tonight and found a link to this post by Heidi Daniels. I’ve left a comment there: her experience is of pastors who wanted to mediate her relationship with God. So much for the Reformation heritage of the priesthood of all believers, then. Clearly much of the Protestant, evangelical and charismatic churches (and I still count myself within those traditions) only pay lip service to that great doctrine.

It’s also been interesting to be in a meeting tonight where we effectively did some ‘digital faith’. We were discussing holding a Saturday festival for the ecumenical partnership in which I serve, but without making it some boring AGM. Partly we arrived at the idea of a festival rather than an AGM by surfing between different ideas that had been expressed earlier in the meeting. Then when we talked about some of the format for the festival, we wanted a section where people could express their hopes, dreams and visions for the partnership. We haven’t got it all nailed down yet, but basically we want an interactive, open-ended conversation rather than just the church leaders telling the members of the congregation what to do. I think we agreed there would need to be some input to begin the process – someone has to start the interaction, and maybe there is a leadership duty to do that – but I think we were unconsciously using the digital model I discussed yesterday.

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Digital Faith

In last Thursday’s Methodist Recorder, Andrew Graystone,
Director of the Churches’
Media Council
, said:

“Many church leaders are blissfully aware that there is a
revolution under way that’s every bit as radical as the invention of the
printing press. Five years from now we will either have learnt to minister in a
digital environment or we will be its victims. Analogue churches won’t survive
in a digital age.

“For a church, going digital means recognising that most
people spend many hours a day using a computer. It means acknowledging the
important place that gaming, surfing and blogging play in many people’s lives.

“It means learning to use contemporary communication tools
like e-mail and podcasting, rather than photocopying the weekly news sheet. It
means developing a language and a mindset – even a theology – that embraces
digital culture.”

Graystone was launching the programme for this year’s Churches’ Media
Conference
, which will be exploring the digital revolution. He keyed his
comments in to the forthcoming switch-off of analogue television in the UK in
favour of digital.

A bit of Googling
showed that the Recorder is late reporting this: Methodist media chaplain Tony Miles blogged this on 30th March.
However it was the first I had seen of this. (Perhaps I’d better subscribe to
Tony’s blog feed.)

Reading Graystone’s words, I fear too many churches and
Christians will interpret them altogether too superficially. They’ll spend a
few thousand on a video projector and laptop, they’ll use e-mail, they’ll set
up a church website (perhaps using bespoke
templates) and – er, that will be it.
They will miss what I see as the most important part of Graystone’s thinking.
It bookends the quotes above: the digital revolution is as radical as that
brought by the printing press, and it will require a new language, mindset and
theology. What follows constitutes some preliminary thoughts about what that
might involve as Graystone’s thoughts bounce around my mind. I make no claim to
originality, and there is plenty of thinking going on around these issues. Rex Miller (see next paragraph), Leonard Sweet and a thousand others are
further ahead in their thinking than I am. These are just some of the things in
my mind as a practitioner on the ground in largely older, more traditional
churches. I hope they help. Some of the language is ‘theological’: I’m using
some terms as a shorthand to cut down the length of what will by my standards
be a lengthy post, at least as long as one of my sermons!

In my mind, the best introduction I have read to the need
for a digital theology remains Rex
Miller
’s book The
Millennium Matrix
. Building on Marshall
McLuhan
’s famous statement that ‘The medium is the message’, Miller avers
that ‘The medium is the worldview’. (I have mentioned this before.)
In speech-based oral cultures, truth was found in relationship with others. In
the print culture truth is put in a logical sequence of propositions. In the
broadcast culture of radio and television it is in personal stories and
experience. In the digital culture truth becomes interactive, conversational
and open-ended.

So what will digital theology look like? Methodologically,
the old days of ivory-tower one-way stuff from the experts (the papacy of
scholars) will go. It’s no accident the ‘emerging church’ talks about an ‘emerging
conversation’. Perhaps Bill Kinnon’s recent post ‘The People Formerly
Known As The Congregation
’, which has made a big splash in the Christian
blogosphere, is a good indication of this. Note not only that Kinnon represents
people who will not be just told what to do by experts (who may well use power
abusively): he has begun, surprise, surprise, a conversation. Emerging
Grace
has talked about the underlying issues of passivity, the clergy/laity
divide, institutionalism and other dehumanising factors. Jamie
Arpin-Ricci
has then joined in with a community perspective. John
Frye
has couched a reply in the pastor’s voice. And Greg
Laughery
has offered a pastoral response. Theology is being done here in
conversation, and in this case the Christological-missiological ecclesiology of
the emerging church (as per Alan
Hirsch and others
) is being developed. It isn’t being handed down. People aren’t
being forced to sign up or ‘submit’. Beliefs are still held passionately – this
gives the lie to the ‘postmoderns don’t believe in truth’ nonsense. But it’s
being done differently. It’s the methodology of digital theology. Kinnon didn’t
give a paper and the others gave formal responses: this is truly the
interactive and conversational approach characteristic of digital culture. It is
surely no accident that the emerging church has so enthusiastically embraced
blogging, where the website is not static but contains content for interaction.

(Which makes the phenomenon of blogging among those
committed to a Reformed theology interesting: Adrian Warnock is committed to the
dogmatic stances of Martyn Lloyd-Jones and
Together For The Gospel, the latter of which
seems to believe that denying women leadership in the church is essential to maintaining
the Gospel. Warnock, though holding convictions that in other circles have
tended to lead to intemperate attitudes to others, puts his convictions – with which
I by no means agree – over in a remarkably irenic tone, a tone more in keeping
with the conversational nature of the best blogging rather than the ‘flaming’
that has elsewhere and in other times characterised theological debates and
arguments.)

More specifically the particular conversation begun by
Kinnon has a lot to do with the fallout from spiritual abuse, where power has
been used badly and people have been damaged, often by leaders who themselves
have unresolved damage in their own lives that leads to an insecurity that is
falsely satiated by power and prestige. Postmodernism has rightly criticised
the abuse of power; theology has sometimes done that, but the most obvious
example in recent decades is liberation theology and to pick up some books from
that movement is also to read the papacy of scholars, however much the authors
have been involved at street level. The interactive conversation of digital
theology brings new hope for dealing with the abuse of power, of encouraging a ‘servanthood’
mentality and celebrating what we learn from one another.

Digital theology, like digital culture, will also be
open-ended. This can sound quite threatening to someone like me whose basic
theological instincts are pretty conservative. After all, I believe the Bible
is not to be added to, because I believe in the finality of Christ. How open-ended
can we be when we believe in the finality of Christ? Actually, we can still be
open-ended. Theology is a provisional task and it always has been. It is
always, like the task of preaching, about building a bridge between the world
of the Bible and the world we inhabit. That is why it’s a mistake to fetch upon
the doctrinal statements or creeds of particular generations, be it the Fathers
(the Apostolic and Nicene Creeds) or the Reformation (the Westminster
Confession of Faith, the Thirty-Nine Articles) or the founder of a movement
(Wesley’s Forty-Four Sermons): worthy and profound as they all are, they are
snapshots of their times, and specifically related to the issues of their days.

My nervousness about open-ended theology and the finality of
Christ is about the danger of losing the foothold in the biblical revelation,
because that is determined by the finality of Christ. Provided that remains,
then theology has an ongoing task to interpret the Christian faith for the time
and place in which we live. It is also open-ended because we cannot claim the
same inspiration that we claim for the biblical writers. And even the biblical
writers expressed the message of Christ in different cultural forms, according
to the situations they were describing and the recipients of their work. So the
Synoptic Gospels couch the Gospel in terms of the kingdom of God, a very Jewish
concept, reflecting the geographical and religious context of their stories –
and in fact Matthew expresses it in the most Jewish language, the kingdom of heaven, with the classic Jewish aversion
of the divine name. John, with a Greek background in mind, speaks of eternal life.
The Acts of the Apostles concentrates on the kingdom while the message is being
preached to Jews but this becomes ‘Jesus is Lord’ in the wider Roman Empire, in
contrast to the claims that Caesar is Lord. Writing to the Romans, Paul picks
up the Roman legal term ‘justification’ and uses it to describe the Gospel. Open-ended
theology, rooted in the finality of Christ, will, if you like, be incarnated in a particular culture. We have
a task to do that for today. And what we do for our day will not do for future
generations, although I hope they will learn from us as we learn from the
Fathers, Reformers and others.

All this makes for a non-linear theology. Gone are the
systematic theologies. They never could cover everything, however much they
tried. At best they were consistent theologies, but tended to make one theme an
organising principle to the detriment of others. For Calvin it was the
sovereignty of God, despite the fact that the most fundamental statement made
in the whole of Scripture about God is, ‘God is love’. But the theology will be
non-linear as it mimics the habit of web surfing. We go to a website, read or
look at something, and while we are there we see a hyperlink to something else
and off we go. At the next site the same thing may happen. The little ‘down
arrow’ next to the ‘back button’ in the web browser becomes vital in tracing
our way back.

What would a non-linear, ‘surfing’ theology look like? It would
also be one that makes ‘connections’. If the conversational, interactive
theology makes connections between people in a dialogue, a non-linear theology
will make connections between different fields. The narrow specialisms will
shrink. Years ago I read Stephen
Lawhead
’s sci-fi novels. I can’t remember whether it was in Dream
Thief
or Empyrion
(Dream Thief, I think) where a key character describes himself as a ‘connections
man’. He connects different disciplines rather than doing what the typical PhD
does, finding one restricted original area of one discipline. The connections
people needed to be valued, he said, rather than to be despised. A digital
theology would value such people. It will connect biblical studies, doctrine,
church history, missiology, liturgy, pastoral studies, cultural analysis, art
criticism, literature, politics, economics, the sciences and so on. Breaking free
of the restrictions and jumping across the boundaries of various disciplines it
will re-tell what Middleton
and Walsh
called in ‘Truth
Is Stranger Than It Used To Be
’ the non-totalising metanarrative of Christ
crucified in our cultures.

It might reasonably be argued that the  Gospel of Christ crucified has always been at
the heart of the Christian proclamation: the trouble is that it has got tied up
with the baggage of empire that has undermined it. This is not to suggest that
digital theology is or will be without baggage, too: it is bound to be, because
it is the work of fractured, fallen humans, ‘cracked eikons’ as Scot McKnight dubs humankind. But if we
can keep to the interactive, conversational and open-ended values, surfing our
theology together, we have a chance of creating a suitable wineskin in our day
for the new wine.

All this means a reshaping of church and a reshaping of
theological education, and both for Gospel reasons rather than the financial
and church decline pressures that are currently forcing denominational leaders into
painful decisions. The digital community can help. Tim Bednar’s paper from circa
2003, ‘We
Know More Than Our Pastors
’ may have a lousy title but it points out the
way bloggers connect and converse across a wide range of people and subjects. The
colleges and the non-residential training courses have much they could offer if
they went for a conversational, connections approach to theological education. They
might even model something that new church leaders could take into active
ministry.

But perhaps the coalface will be the church. If more churches
are begun with the Hirsch DNA of beginning with Jesus, going on mission with
him into the culture, and then letting the resultant church take a shape
appropriate to the culture in which she has grown, that will be a prophetic
sign. Meanwhile the older churches can still find new life. We who lead may
still wish to preach (I do!) but we need to encourage a proper conversation in
the church – about what has been preached, about what to preach in the first
place, about the gifts and passions God has given each of us for his mission. Frost and Hirsch make a passionate case
in ‘The
Shaping Of Things To Come
’ for a fivefold Ephesians chapter four ministry
leadership team in churches of apostles, prophets, evangelists, pastors and
teachers. Generally we just concentrate on the pastors and teachers, making for
inward-looking churches. But a team leadership with these gifts would balance
the church and help re-emphasise the missional priority of the church. Team leadership
would also model what needs to happen across the whole body of the church,
namely the sharing of all gifts and talents. So, for example, although in
Ephesians 4 Paul seems to anticipate some prophets who are in a leadership
position in the church, in 1 Corinthians 12-14 he assumes that the gift of
prophecy resides in the body – it need not be exercised by a leader.

And that means the ‘control freakery’ of which many leaders
are guilty will have to go – we cling onto things like there’s an old-fashioned
demarcation dispute and say, “That’s my territory, not yours”. We do so out of
the same sense of personal insecurity that leads to spiritual abuse. In a world
where, as Chris Edmondson says in ‘Fit
To Lead
’ the identity of Christian leaders is under considerable pressure,
we can fall back into a defensive attitude as self-protection. But it’s not
exactly Christ-like. I’m not entirely with those ministers who say their role is
to work themselves out of a job, but there is a blessing and a giving away that
needs to be done if we are to have an interactive, conversational, open-ended
approach. I have heard it said by a colleague that he believed in the
priesthood of all believers; nevertheless it was his job to come down from the
mountain like Moses with the word from the Lord. I wouldn’t be in this calling
without a sense that it involves bringing ‘a word from the Lord’ to people, but
the idea that I have an exclusive claim on that in the body of Christ is something
I struggle with. Ministers still have their particular skills in interpreting
the written Word and such interpretations can and will be prophetic, but we
bring our gifts to the conversation; we don’t use them to shut down the
discussion.

The ‘surfing’ element is also quite a challenge to ordained
ministry. I am someone who likes to keep a committee meeting to the agenda. It drives
me crazy when people go off on tangents. I am still very ‘linear’! A committee
meeting to me is a task-focussed group and we need to deal with that task,
preferably without the meeting dragging on until late at night. Bringing the
group back to the subject in hand can be a wearing task, especially trying to
do it lovingly. But sometimes the tangents have to be attended to. People have surfed
off as if clicking a hyperlink that interests them in the initial conversation
and it alerts us to other important interests. We will have to press the back
button to return to the original discussion, but in the meantime the surfing in
the conversation may make us aware of other things that need to be taken into
account in the life and mission of the church and certain individuals.

There’s nothing new under the sun in what I’m advocating
here. For thirty or forty years charismatic Christianity has been advancing the
cause of ‘every member ministry’, but the trouble is, it seems to have got lost
in the midst of a combination of on the one hand trying to cope with dodgy
mavericks who use that as a base for causing trouble and on the other hand the
afore-mentioned insecure, damaged leaders. It certainly has to be handled
wisely. And similarly people have always gone off on tangents in conversations.
But the digital age makes it all the more important to be attentive to these
trends and phenomena.

Well, that’s just the beginning. Hope it’s not too
pretentious and/or shallow. I’ll post more as and when I get any thoughts.

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Tomorrow’s Sermon, Resurrection Mission

Tomorrow’s Gospel passage has meant a lot to me for a long time. So much so that I found myself with a lot of small, scattered thoughts about how the Resurrection has key themes for mission. So much seemed relevant to the more ‘missional’ approach. So not three developed points but seven bullet points this week!

John 20:19-31

Introduction
in the house where I grew up there was a very small toilet next to a tiny
bathroom. The time came when Dad decided to knock them into one. I was about
thirteen and in bed with the ‘flu. My seven-year-old sister took great delight
in wielding a hammer alongside Dad as they brought down the wall and made one
room of more reasonable size.

It’s Resurrection evening, the disciples are behind locked
doors in fear, and the risen Jesus appears. He is recognisable but his body has
acquired new powers. He doesn’t need to break down the walls to get in, but this
story is about breaking down walls in other ways. In particular, it’s about
breaking down walls to release his followers in mission. What walls does he
break down? What does he bring in their place so that frightened and
unbelieving disciples might share in his Father’s mission?

1. Peace
The disciples are imprisoned behind a wall of fear. Their trouble-making
teacher has been executed and now the authorities are surely going to round
them up. Despite the women going to the tomb that morning, followed by Peter
and John, fear still holds them prisoner. To them, Jesus appears and says, ‘Peace
be with you’ (verse 19).

The risen Christ brings peace to fearful followers, because
if he is alive then what can ultimately defeat them? Opponents may come with
dire threats and even take blood, but if the disciples of Jesus believe in the
Resurrection then whatever happens to them, death is defeated and fellowship
with Christ is permanent and eternal.

Is it not common for fear to choke our participation in mission?
We fear what friends will say if we talk about our faith. We fear trying
something in case it fails. But the risen Christ says, ‘Peace be with you’ to
us, too. Granted, it can take a long time for his truth to calm our racing
pulse and lower our blood pressure, but he says it nevertheless. It is possible we shall be ridiculed for
speaking about God and Jesus and it may be that we try some community action
that doesn’t come off, but human mockery and failure are met by the peace of
Christ. And in any case, we may not fail! Or we might be part of a sowing
process. The wall of fear is there to stop us taking missionary risks, but the
risen Christ says, ‘Peace be with you – so go on, take some chances in faith!’

2. Joy
The second wall after fear is despair: the disciples’ dreams of the last three
years have been violently dashed. But Jesus shows them his hands and his side –
yes, it is him! ‘Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord’ (verse
20).

I can never hear that verse without thinking of a favourite
story. While I was a student at Trinity
College, Bristol
we had a visit one week from the Bishop of the Arctic. He would come to
the college every few years, apparently to recruit missionaries. The first
Christian missionaries to the Arctic had come from our college.

He told a story in his sermon about those first
missionaries. They were translating the New Testament into the Inuit tongue
when they came to this verse. But the language had no word for ‘joy’. One day a
missionary went out with one of the Inuit hunters and his dogs. Upon their return,
the dogs were given some meat to eat and the missionary thought, ‘Now there’s a
picture of joy. I’ll ask what the word is to describe the dogs.’ As a result,
that first Inuit New Testament translated John 20:20 as, ‘Then the disciples
wagged their tails when they saw the Lord’!

And the risen Christ replaces our despair with a wagging of
our tails – with joy! The despair of death can envelope us. Church decline takes
its toll on us. Recent forecasts suggest the extinction of the Methodist Church by 2030. But suppose
that’s not quite how things should be seen in the light of the Resurrection? Maybe
it’s more like a Canada-based thinker on the contemporary scene called Alan Roxburgh has recently
put it
:

Those who say the church
is dying in the West are mistaking the phenomenon of transition for death.
They’re not the same! We may say the church we have known and experienced for
the last 150 years or so no longer has legitimacy as the sign, witness,
instrument and foretaste of the kingdom. But that’s very different from saying
the church is dying. We shouldn’t confuse the two. The church in the West isn’t
dying and it won’t because God keeps turning up in all these places we so
easily give up on because we see them as hopelessly out of tune with the times
or just not getting what needs to take place. The stories emerging in these
places are harbingers of God’s emerging life in old churches.

Maybe the risen Christ
wants to meet us so that we can make the transition from the old dying ways of
church to new expressions of his resurrection life that defy society’s
expectations of us. Maybe if we lay down our obsession with institutions, programmes
and all the things that are church as we have known her for most of our lives
and set out instead to meet our risen Lord then surely we shall be bearers of
his life for the world.

3. Purpose
Next,

Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father
has sent me, so I send you.’ (verse 21)

A culture of death, dominated by fear and despair, is one
that makes you wonder whether there is anything worth doing. What purpose is there,
for which we might live or die? But the risen Christ gives his disciples a
purpose: ‘As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ Here is purpose: it is to
continue the Father’s mission that Jesus began. They don’t have to invent
anything from scratch; they are simply to do what Jesus did.

And yes, I know that sounds a lot easier to say than to do. But
the template is there, in the life and ministry of Jesus. We don’t have to
worry about techniques, we don’t have to invent new programmes, we merely have
to take Jesus as our lodestar for mission. Look at what he said and did. Then put
that into operation. Bring good news to the poor, grace to sinners, healing to
those in pain. And that means, as I’ve emphasised before, looking hard at what
we presently do to see whether it contributes towards a missionary end or
whether it just makes us feel good. Our call is not to be in the church but to
be the church in the world, for that is the purpose to which the risen Christ
commissions us.

4. Power
This stuff is all very well – peace to overcome the fear that paralyses
mission, joy to deal with crippling despair, purpose instead of aimlessness or
an inward-looking death – but we still may feel unable to rise to the
challenge. For that problem, Jesus has another word:

When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them,
‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’ (verse 22)

You can have all the arguments you like about this verse,
especially about how it relates to Pentecost that came seven weeks later, but
maybe John is just telescoping into the end of his Gospel a summary of
important things he wasn’t going to cover in detail. What we know for sure is
that Jesus promised the Holy Spirit to his disciples for the missionary task. If
our purpose is to continue the mission of the Father for which Jesus was
incarnated, then we do mission in the Jesus way. And Jesus, for all his divine
status as the Son of God, also functioned (in the words of Jack Deere) as ‘a
man in the power of the Spirit’.

And that surely means we need to make the journey from
Easter to Pentecost, as the Easter season itself does. I have a theory that for
many Christians Easter Day is our favourite. It gets us over the misery and
violence of Good Friday, but we never make the journey to Pentecost, because we’re
afraid of all that emotional Holy Spirit stuff. But the Holy Spirit is the
missionary Spirit, and to be a missionary people requires the Spirit just as
Jesus needed did at his baptism. If we are troubled, then one worthwhile
question is this: does Jesus ever give bad gifts?

5. Authority
If there’s one thing the disciples in the locked upper room don’t feel they
have it’s authority. They are weak and vulnerable, waiting for the secret
police to break down the doors and take them away for questioning, torture and
execution. But for mission Jesus bestows authority upon them:

‘If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if
you retain the sins of any, they are retained.’ (verse 23)

Again, we have a difficult verse
here – and I suggest it doesn’t mean a priestly power to forgive sins or
otherwise at formal confession, because that is God’s prerogative (cf. Mark
2:7, Acts 8:22) – but at heart I think this too is one to give us missionary
shape. This is about the Gospel message.

And I believe it’s about the
Gospel message in both word and deed. It’s Gospel word in the power of the
Cross, where people find release through the death of Christ. It’s the Gospel
deed as we practise forgiveness. It’s no accident I just spoke of people
finding ‘release’ at the Cross, because that is what forgiveness is: we release
people, that is, we set them free from all obligations to us.  We don’t ‘hold’ them under obligation to us because
of their sinful acts against us. Forgiveness is missionary: it proclaims and
demonstrates the Gospel.

6. Patience
What a mistake we make in singling out ‘doubting Thomas’ from the other
disciples – as if they had been full of faith before meeting the risen Christ!
At least Thomas is honest when his friends tell him, ‘We have seen the Lord,’
and he replies, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my
finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe’
(verse 25). But there is no record of him being berated.

And Jesus seems to bide his
time, too. He waits for that next time when Thomas is with the disciples, and
at that point meets with him and leads him to his confession of faith: ‘My Lord
and my God!’ (verse 28).

The missionary endeavour is as
much about process as about crisis; it’s about patience as well as about crunch
decisions. People take time to become followers of Jesus Christ. We may fail to
notice that, because the experience of previous generations was of a shorter
apparent gap between first contact with the Gospel and a commitment to Christ. But
those experiences came from times when people had a greater familiarity with
Christianity and the Bible than today. Now we need to be in for the long haul
with people. There will be patience in the building of relationships, and
indeed we won’t simply be making relationships just to make ‘God fodder’ of
people. No longer can we entertain the idea that we’ll muster up the courage to
bring people to one church meeting or evangelistic event and if it doesn’t
click into place spiritually for them there it’s curtains. Patience is a gift
for mission today.

7. Inclusiveness
A little detail I’ve overlooked before – I’ve never seen the significance of
this until now:

‘A week later his disciples were again in the house, and
Thomas was with them.’ (verse 26a)

Thomas was with them. The doubting man was not excluded
because he had questions tinged with blunt honesty. He was still included. Perhaps
it was because the others were still conscious of how they had felt only a week
earlier. They remembered their own doubts. Such remembering enabled them to
continue to include Thomas.

In a way, this links with what I have just said about
patience. For Thomas, the group of disciples was clearly a safe space where he
could air his questions and doubts. It has become increasingly important in
missionary approaches in recent years to create these safe spaces. So whatever
you think of the Alpha Course, one of its undoubted strengths is that people in
the small discussion groups are allowed freedom to say whatever they think of
the week’s topic, and the group leaders are under orders not just to shut them
down with a standard Christian response. The approach of the cell church movement
has been to introduce people to the Christian community via the small group,
where – amongst other things – there is open discussion.

Conclusion
Thomas, allegedly the great doubter, but I think the great questioner, ends up
with a personal audience with the risen Christ, and a much greater blessing
than he might have expected. Yet Jesus promises a larger blessing than that to those
who come afterwards:

‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are
those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’ (verse 29)

What blessings might be in the offing if we allow the risen
Christ to shape the way we share in the Father’s mission with him? What if his
peace enables us to break free of fear? If he gives us joy that conquers
despair? If his resurrection fills us with the purpose of sharing in that
mission? If he gives us Holy Spirit power to be his witnesses? If the authority
the risen Christ gives us is not the type that lords it over people but brings
forgiveness in word and deed? If we share his patience with doubters and
include them while they are on the journey to Christ, sharing our journey at
the same time? What if

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Tomorrow’s Sermon, Resurrection Mission

Tomorrow’s Gospel passage has meant a lot to me for a long time. So much so that I found myself with a lot of small, scattered thoughts about how the Resurrection has key themes for mission. So much seemed relevant to the more ‘missional’ approach. So not three developed points but seven bullet points this week!

John 20:19-31

Introduction
in the house where I grew up there was a very small toilet next to a tiny
bathroom. The time came when Dad decided to knock them into one. I was about
thirteen and in bed with the ‘flu. My seven-year-old sister took great delight
in wielding a hammer alongside Dad as they brought down the wall and made one
room of more reasonable size.

It’s Resurrection evening, the disciples are behind locked
doors in fear, and the risen Jesus appears. He is recognisable but his body has
acquired new powers. He doesn’t need to break down the walls to get in, but this
story is about breaking down walls in other ways. In particular, it’s about
breaking down walls to release his followers in mission. What walls does he
break down? What does he bring in their place so that frightened and
unbelieving disciples might share in his Father’s mission?

1. Peace
The disciples are imprisoned behind a wall of fear. Their trouble-making
teacher has been executed and now the authorities are surely going to round
them up. Despite the women going to the tomb that morning, followed by Peter
and John, fear still holds them prisoner. To them, Jesus appears and says, ‘Peace
be with you’ (verse 19).

The risen Christ brings peace to fearful followers, because
if he is alive then what can ultimately defeat them? Opponents may come with
dire threats and even take blood, but if the disciples of Jesus believe in the
Resurrection then whatever happens to them, death is defeated and fellowship
with Christ is permanent and eternal.

Is it not common for fear to choke our participation in mission?
We fear what friends will say if we talk about our faith. We fear trying
something in case it fails. But the risen Christ says, ‘Peace be with you’ to
us, too. Granted, it can take a long time for his truth to calm our racing
pulse and lower our blood pressure, but he says it nevertheless. It is possible we shall be ridiculed for
speaking about God and Jesus and it may be that we try some community action
that doesn’t come off, but human mockery and failure are met by the peace of
Christ. And in any case, we may not fail! Or we might be part of a sowing
process. The wall of fear is there to stop us taking missionary risks, but the
risen Christ says, ‘Peace be with you – so go on, take some chances in faith!’

2. Joy
The second wall after fear is despair: the disciples’ dreams of the last three
years have been violently dashed. But Jesus shows them his hands and his side –
yes, it is him! ‘Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord’ (verse
20).

I can never hear that verse without thinking of a favourite
story. While I was a student at Trinity
College, Bristol
we had a visit one week from the Bishop of the Arctic. He would come to
the college every few years, apparently to recruit missionaries. The first
Christian missionaries to the Arctic had come from our college.

He told a story in his sermon about those first
missionaries. They were translating the New Testament into the Inuit tongue
when they came to this verse. But the language had no word for ‘joy’. One day a
missionary went out with one of the Inuit hunters and his dogs. Upon their return,
the dogs were given some meat to eat and the missionary thought, ‘Now there’s a
picture of joy. I’ll ask what the word is to describe the dogs.’ As a result,
that first Inuit New Testament translated John 20:20 as, ‘Then the disciples
wagged their tails when they saw the Lord’!

And the risen Christ replaces our despair with a wagging of
our tails – with joy! The despair of death can envelope us. Church decline takes
its toll on us. Recent forecasts suggest the extinction of the Methodist Church by 2030. But suppose
that’s not quite how things should be seen in the light of the Resurrection? Maybe
it’s more like a Canada-based thinker on the contemporary scene called Alan Roxburgh has recently
put it
:

Those who say the church
is dying in the West are mistaking the phenomenon of transition for death.
They’re not the same! We may say the church we have known and experienced for
the last 150 years or so no longer has legitimacy as the sign, witness,
instrument and foretaste of the kingdom. But that’s very different from saying
the church is dying. We shouldn’t confuse the two. The church in the West isn’t
dying and it won’t because God keeps turning up in all these places we so
easily give up on because we see them as hopelessly out of tune with the times
or just not getting what needs to take place. The stories emerging in these
places are harbingers of God’s emerging life in old churches.

Maybe the risen Christ
wants to meet us so that we can make the transition from the old dying ways of
church to new expressions of his resurrection life that defy society’s
expectations of us. Maybe if we lay down our obsession with institutions, programmes
and all the things that are church as we have known her for most of our lives
and set out instead to meet our risen Lord then surely we shall be bearers of
his life for the world.

3. Purpose
Next,

Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father
has sent me, so I send you.’ (verse 21)

A culture of death, dominated by fear and despair, is one
that makes you wonder whether there is anything worth doing. What purpose is there,
for which we might live or die? But the risen Christ gives his disciples a
purpose: ‘As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ Here is purpose: it is to
continue the Father’s mission that Jesus began. They don’t have to invent
anything from scratch; they are simply to do what Jesus did.

And yes, I know that sounds a lot easier to say than to do. But
the template is there, in the life and ministry of Jesus. We don’t have to
worry about techniques, we don’t have to invent new programmes, we merely have
to take Jesus as our lodestar for mission. Look at what he said and did. Then put
that into operation. Bring good news to the poor, grace to sinners, healing to
those in pain. And that means, as I’ve emphasised before, looking hard at what
we presently do to see whether it contributes towards a missionary end or
whether it just makes us feel good. Our call is not to be in the church but to
be the church in the world, for that is the purpose to which the risen Christ
commissions us.

4. Power
This stuff is all very well – peace to overcome the fear that paralyses
mission, joy to deal with crippling despair, purpose instead of aimlessness or
an inward-looking death – but we still may feel unable to rise to the
challenge. For that problem, Jesus has another word:

When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them,
‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’ (verse 22)

You can have all the arguments you like about this verse,
especially about how it relates to Pentecost that came seven weeks later, but
maybe John is just telescoping into the end of his Gospel a summary of
important things he wasn’t going to cover in detail. What we know for sure is
that Jesus promised the Holy Spirit to his disciples for the missionary task. If
our purpose is to continue the mission of the Father for which Jesus was
incarnated, then we do mission in the Jesus way. And Jesus, for all his divine
status as the Son of God, also functioned (in the words of Jack Deere) as ‘a
man in the power of the Spirit’.

And that surely means we need to make the journey from
Easter to Pentecost, as the Easter season itself does. I have a theory that for
many Christians Easter Day is our favourite. It gets us over the misery and
violence of Good Friday, but we never make the journey to Pentecost, because we’re
afraid of all that emotional Holy Spirit stuff. But the Holy Spirit is the
missionary Spirit, and to be a missionary people requires the Spirit just as
Jesus needed did at his baptism. If we are troubled, then one worthwhile
question is this: does Jesus ever give bad gifts?

5. Authority
If there’s one thing the disciples in the locked upper room don’t feel they
have it’s authority. They are weak and vulnerable, waiting for the secret
police to break down the doors and take them away for questioning, torture and
execution. But for mission Jesus bestows authority upon them:

‘If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if
you retain the sins of any, they are retained.’ (verse 23)

Again, we have a difficult verse
here – and I suggest it doesn’t mean a priestly power to forgive sins or
otherwise at formal confession, because that is God’s prerogative (cf. Mark
2:7, Acts 8:22) – but at heart I think this too is one to give us missionary
shape. This is about the Gospel message.

And I believe it’s about the
Gospel message in both word and deed. It’s Gospel word in the power of the
Cross, where people find release through the death of Christ. It’s the Gospel
deed as we practise forgiveness. It’s no accident I just spoke of people
finding ‘release’ at the Cross, because that is what forgiveness is: we release
people, that is, we set them free from all obligations to us.  We don’t ‘hold’ them under obligation to us because
of their sinful acts against us. Forgiveness is missionary: it proclaims and
demonstrates the Gospel.

6. Patience
What a mistake we make in singling out ‘doubting Thomas’ from the other
disciples – as if they had been full of faith before meeting the risen Christ!
At least Thomas is honest when his friends tell him, ‘We have seen the Lord,’
and he replies, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my
finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe’
(verse 25). But there is no record of him being berated.

And Jesus seems to bide his
time, too. He waits for that next time when Thomas is with the disciples, and
at that point meets with him and leads him to his confession of faith: ‘My Lord
and my God!’ (verse 28).

The missionary endeavour is as
much about process as about crisis; it’s about patience as well as about crunch
decisions. People take time to become followers of Jesus Christ. We may fail to
notice that, because the experience of previous generations was of a shorter
apparent gap between first contact with the Gospel and a commitment to Christ. But
those experiences came from times when people had a greater familiarity with
Christianity and the Bible than today. Now we need to be in for the long haul
with people. There will be patience in the building of relationships, and
indeed we won’t simply be making relationships just to make ‘God fodder’ of
people. No longer can we entertain the idea that we’ll muster up the courage to
bring people to one church meeting or evangelistic event and if it doesn’t
click into place spiritually for them there it’s curtains. Patience is a gift
for mission today.

7. Inclusiveness
A little detail I’ve overlooked before – I’ve never seen the significance of
this until now:

‘A week later his disciples were again in the house, and
Thomas was with them.’ (verse 26a)

Thomas was with them. The doubting man was not excluded
because he had questions tinged with blunt honesty. He was still included. Perhaps
it was because the others were still conscious of how they had felt only a week
earlier. They remembered their own doubts. Such remembering enabled them to
continue to include Thomas.

In a way, this links with what I have just said about
patience. For Thomas, the group of disciples was clearly a safe space where he
could air his questions and doubts. It has become increasingly important in
missionary approaches in recent years to create these safe spaces. So whatever
you think of the Alpha Course, one of its undoubted strengths is that people in
the small discussion groups are allowed freedom to say whatever they think of
the week’s topic, and the group leaders are under orders not just to shut them
down with a standard Christian response. The approach of the cell church movement
has been to introduce people to the Christian community via the small group,
where – amongst other things – there is open discussion.

Conclusion
Thomas, allegedly the great doubter, but I think the great questioner, ends up
with a personal audience with the risen Christ, and a much greater blessing
than he might have expected. Yet Jesus promises a larger blessing than that to those
who come afterwards:

‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are
those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’ (verse 29)

What blessings might be in the offing if we allow the risen
Christ to shape the way we share in the Father’s mission with him? What if his
peace enables us to break free of fear? If he gives us joy that conquers
despair? If his resurrection fills us with the purpose of sharing in that
mission? If he gives us Holy Spirit power to be his witnesses? If the authority
the risen Christ gives us is not the type that lords it over people but brings
forgiveness in word and deed? If we share his patience with doubters and
include them while they are on the journey to Christ, sharing our journey at
the same time? What if

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Tomorrow’s Sermon, Resurrection Mission

Tomorrow’s Gospel passage has meant a lot to me for a long time. So much so that I found myself with a lot of small, scattered thoughts about how the Resurrection has key themes for mission. So much seemed relevant to the more ‘missional’ approach. So not three developed points but seven bullet points this week!

John 20:19-31

Introduction
in the house where I grew up there was a very small toilet next to a tiny
bathroom. The time came when Dad decided to knock them into one. I was about
thirteen and in bed with the ‘flu. My seven-year-old sister took great delight
in wielding a hammer alongside Dad as they brought down the wall and made one
room of more reasonable size.

It’s Resurrection evening, the disciples are behind locked
doors in fear, and the risen Jesus appears. He is recognisable but his body has
acquired new powers. He doesn’t need to break down the walls to get in, but this
story is about breaking down walls in other ways. In particular, it’s about
breaking down walls to release his followers in mission. What walls does he
break down? What does he bring in their place so that frightened and
unbelieving disciples might share in his Father’s mission?

1. Peace
The disciples are imprisoned behind a wall of fear. Their trouble-making
teacher has been executed and now the authorities are surely going to round
them up. Despite the women going to the tomb that morning, followed by Peter
and John, fear still holds them prisoner. To them, Jesus appears and says, ‘Peace
be with you’ (verse 19).

The risen Christ brings peace to fearful followers, because
if he is alive then what can ultimately defeat them? Opponents may come with
dire threats and even take blood, but if the disciples of Jesus believe in the
Resurrection then whatever happens to them, death is defeated and fellowship
with Christ is permanent and eternal.

Is it not common for fear to choke our participation in mission?
We fear what friends will say if we talk about our faith. We fear trying
something in case it fails. But the risen Christ says, ‘Peace be with you’ to
us, too. Granted, it can take a long time for his truth to calm our racing
pulse and lower our blood pressure, but he says it nevertheless. It is possible we shall be ridiculed for
speaking about God and Jesus and it may be that we try some community action
that doesn’t come off, but human mockery and failure are met by the peace of
Christ. And in any case, we may not fail! Or we might be part of a sowing
process. The wall of fear is there to stop us taking missionary risks, but the
risen Christ says, ‘Peace be with you – so go on, take some chances in faith!’

2. Joy
The second wall after fear is despair: the disciples’ dreams of the last three
years have been violently dashed. But Jesus shows them his hands and his side –
yes, it is him! ‘Then the disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord’ (verse
20).

I can never hear that verse without thinking of a favourite
story. While I was a student at Trinity
College, Bristol
we had a visit one week from the Bishop of the Arctic. He would come to
the college every few years, apparently to recruit missionaries. The first
Christian missionaries to the Arctic had come from our college.

He told a story in his sermon about those first
missionaries. They were translating the New Testament into the Inuit tongue
when they came to this verse. But the language had no word for ‘joy’. One day a
missionary went out with one of the Inuit hunters and his dogs. Upon their return,
the dogs were given some meat to eat and the missionary thought, ‘Now there’s a
picture of joy. I’ll ask what the word is to describe the dogs.’ As a result,
that first Inuit New Testament translated John 20:20 as, ‘Then the disciples
wagged their tails when they saw the Lord’!

And the risen Christ replaces our despair with a wagging of
our tails – with joy! The despair of death can envelope us. Church decline takes
its toll on us. Recent forecasts suggest the extinction of the Methodist Church by 2030. But suppose
that’s not quite how things should be seen in the light of the Resurrection? Maybe
it’s more like a Canada-based thinker on the contemporary scene called Alan Roxburgh has recently
put it
:

Those who say the church
is dying in the West are mistaking the phenomenon of transition for death.
They’re not the same! We may say the church we have known and experienced for
the last 150 years or so no longer has legitimacy as the sign, witness,
instrument and foretaste of the kingdom. But that’s very different from saying
the church is dying. We shouldn’t confuse the two. The church in the West isn’t
dying and it won’t because God keeps turning up in all these places we so
easily give up on because we see them as hopelessly out of tune with the times
or just not getting what needs to take place. The stories emerging in these
places are harbingers of God’s emerging life in old churches.

Maybe the risen Christ
wants to meet us so that we can make the transition from the old dying ways of
church to new expressions of his resurrection life that defy society’s
expectations of us. Maybe if we lay down our obsession with institutions, programmes
and all the things that are church as we have known her for most of our lives
and set out instead to meet our risen Lord then surely we shall be bearers of
his life for the world.

3. Purpose
Next,

Jesus said to them again, ‘Peace be with you. As the Father
has sent me, so I send you.’ (verse 21)

A culture of death, dominated by fear and despair, is one
that makes you wonder whether there is anything worth doing. What purpose is there,
for which we might live or die? But the risen Christ gives his disciples a
purpose: ‘As the Father has sent me, so I send you.’ Here is purpose: it is to
continue the Father’s mission that Jesus began. They don’t have to invent
anything from scratch; they are simply to do what Jesus did.

And yes, I know that sounds a lot easier to say than to do. But
the template is there, in the life and ministry of Jesus. We don’t have to
worry about techniques, we don’t have to invent new programmes, we merely have
to take Jesus as our lodestar for mission. Look at what he said and did. Then put
that into operation. Bring good news to the poor, grace to sinners, healing to
those in pain. And that means, as I’ve emphasised before, looking hard at what
we presently do to see whether it contributes towards a missionary end or
whether it just makes us feel good. Our call is not to be in the church but to
be the church in the world, for that is the purpose to which the risen Christ
commissions us.

4. Power
This stuff is all very well – peace to overcome the fear that paralyses
mission, joy to deal with crippling despair, purpose instead of aimlessness or
an inward-looking death – but we still may feel unable to rise to the
challenge. For that problem, Jesus has another word:

When he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them,
‘Receive the Holy Spirit.’ (verse 22)

You can have all the arguments you like about this verse,
especially about how it relates to Pentecost that came seven weeks later, but
maybe John is just telescoping into the end of his Gospel a summary of
important things he wasn’t going to cover in detail. What we know for sure is
that Jesus promised the Holy Spirit to his disciples for the missionary task. If
our purpose is to continue the mission of the Father for which Jesus was
incarnated, then we do mission in the Jesus way. And Jesus, for all his divine
status as the Son of God, also functioned (in the words of Jack Deere) as ‘a
man in the power of the Spirit’.

And that surely means we need to make the journey from
Easter to Pentecost, as the Easter season itself does. I have a theory that for
many Christians Easter Day is our favourite. It gets us over the misery and
violence of Good Friday, but we never make the journey to Pentecost, because we’re
afraid of all that emotional Holy Spirit stuff. But the Holy Spirit is the
missionary Spirit, and to be a missionary people requires the Spirit just as
Jesus needed did at his baptism. If we are troubled, then one worthwhile
question is this: does Jesus ever give bad gifts?

5. Authority
If there’s one thing the disciples in the locked upper room don’t feel they
have it’s authority. They are weak and vulnerable, waiting for the secret
police to break down the doors and take them away for questioning, torture and
execution. But for mission Jesus bestows authority upon them:

‘If you forgive the sins of any, they are forgiven them; if
you retain the sins of any, they are retained.’ (verse 23)

Again, we have a difficult verse
here – and I suggest it doesn’t mean a priestly power to forgive sins or
otherwise at formal confession, because that is God’s prerogative (cf. Mark
2:7, Acts 8:22) – but at heart I think this too is one to give us missionary
shape. This is about the Gospel message.

And I believe it’s about the
Gospel message in both word and deed. It’s Gospel word in the power of the
Cross, where people find release through the death of Christ. It’s the Gospel
deed as we practise forgiveness. It’s no accident I just spoke of people
finding ‘release’ at the Cross, because that is what forgiveness is: we release
people, that is, we set them free from all obligations to us.  We don’t ‘hold’ them under obligation to us because
of their sinful acts against us. Forgiveness is missionary: it proclaims and
demonstrates the Gospel.

6. Patience
What a mistake we make in singling out ‘doubting Thomas’ from the other
disciples – as if they had been full of faith before meeting the risen Christ!
At least Thomas is honest when his friends tell him, ‘We have seen the Lord,’
and he replies, ‘Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my
finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe’
(verse 25). But there is no record of him being berated.

And Jesus seems to bide his
time, too. He waits for that next time when Thomas is with the disciples, and
at that point meets with him and leads him to his confession of faith: ‘My Lord
and my God!’ (verse 28).

The missionary endeavour is as
much about process as about crisis; it’s about patience as well as about crunch
decisions. People take time to become followers of Jesus Christ. We may fail to
notice that, because the experience of previous generations was of a shorter
apparent gap between first contact with the Gospel and a commitment to Christ. But
those experiences came from times when people had a greater familiarity with
Christianity and the Bible than today. Now we need to be in for the long haul
with people. There will be patience in the building of relationships, and
indeed we won’t simply be making relationships just to make ‘God fodder’ of
people. No longer can we entertain the idea that we’ll muster up the courage to
bring people to one church meeting or evangelistic event and if it doesn’t
click into place spiritually for them there it’s curtains. Patience is a gift
for mission today.

7. Inclusiveness
A little detail I’ve overlooked before – I’ve never seen the significance of
this until now:

‘A week later his disciples were again in the house, and
Thomas was with them.’ (verse 26a)

Thomas was with them. The doubting man was not excluded
because he had questions tinged with blunt honesty. He was still included. Perhaps
it was because the others were still conscious of how they had felt only a week
earlier. They remembered their own doubts. Such remembering enabled them to
continue to include Thomas.

In a way, this links with what I have just said about
patience. For Thomas, the group of disciples was clearly a safe space where he
could air his questions and doubts. It has become increasingly important in
missionary approaches in recent years to create these safe spaces. So whatever
you think of the Alpha Course, one of its undoubted strengths is that people in
the small discussion groups are allowed freedom to say whatever they think of
the week’s topic, and the group leaders are under orders not just to shut them
down with a standard Christian response. The approach of the cell church movement
has been to introduce people to the Christian community via the small group,
where – amongst other things – there is open discussion.

Conclusion
Thomas, allegedly the great doubter, but I think the great questioner, ends up
with a personal audience with the risen Christ, and a much greater blessing
than he might have expected. Yet Jesus promises a larger blessing than that to those
who come afterwards:

‘Have you believed because you have seen me? Blessed are
those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.’ (verse 29)

What blessings might be in the offing if we allow the risen
Christ to shape the way we share in the Father’s mission with him? What if his
peace enables us to break free of fear? If he gives us joy that conquers
despair? If his resurrection fills us with the purpose of sharing in that
mission? If he gives us Holy Spirit power to be his witnesses? If the authority
the risen Christ gives us is not the type that lords it over people but brings
forgiveness in word and deed? If we share his patience with doubters and
include them while they are on the journey to Christ, sharing our journey at
the same time? What if

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Missional Life In The Local Church

Excellent and highly encouraging new article this week by Alan Roxburgh in his Roxburgh Journal: real support for those of us who want to see creative missional life in established denominations. Just take this paragraph as a taster:

It’s not only possible for all kinds of existing churches to innovate missional
life but it’s at the heart of what God does. There are stories out there of the
Spirit calling into being emerging missional local churches in congregations
some of us would have given up on a few years ago. This is the nature of the God
we worship and praise. Our Lord just keeps turning up in the most God-forsaken
places. How else do you make sense of the Incarnation and the perduring life of
both Israel and the church? These convictions are not based upon new theories of
change, complexity and emergence but are a confession about the way God is
revealed in Jesus. Those who say the church is dying in the West are mistaking
the phenomenon of transition for death. They’re not the same! We may say the
church we have known and experienced for the last 150 years or so no longer has
legitimacy as the sign, witness, instrument and foretaste of the kingdom. But
that’s very different from saying the church is dying. We shouldn’t confuse the
two. The church in the West isn’t dying and it wont because God keeps turning up
in all these places we so easily give up on because we see them as hopelessly
out of tune with the times or just not getting what needs to take place. The
stories emerging in these places are harbingers of God’s emerging life in old
churches. Emergence theory tells us that when lots of little stories start to
percolate you can be sure some strange attractors will start doing
uncharacteristic and unexpected things. I believe lots of existing congregations
are pregnant with strange attractors ready to do uncharacteristic things. That’s
always the way of the Spirit. What a great time to be alive!

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You Must Read This Book

Now I wouldn’t normally choose a title like that for a blog, ever since I saw an advert for a book at Spring Harvest many years ago that described it as ‘This indispensable book’ (I thought only one – well, one collection – fitted that description). But …

I’ve just finished reading ‘Fit To Lead‘ by Chris Edmondson, the warden of Lee Abbey, and formely a vicar of large and small, inner city and rural parishes. This is the book I wish I had read around the time I began in ministry, especially given the poor quality of my Methodist training. Edmondson doesn’t tell you how to do all the ministry tasks, but he does describe what it takes to nourish you and find the appropriate support so that you can minister well. The list price is £9.95 but I picked it up for about £2 through the Christian Book Club.

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