Friday 29 June 2012

Body Language



When a woman visitor heard that the church needed assistance for its crèche, she offered her services and was turned down. The elder to whom her offer was referred said ‘we don’t use non-members for work in the church’ - not the kind of response we might expect. Some would take the view that it was an opportunity missed. The woman could have been drawn into the church and opened up to the gospel. As it happens, when she was thanked for her interest, she received the rejection without question, understanding, it seems, a relationship between entitlement and formal membership. Some churches do not see this and operate (at best) on the basis of a credible profession of faith – not as a precondition of membership but as a qualification for service and privilege. In such fellowships we might find non-members participating in the Lord’s Supper, contributing to aspects of worship, covenant children in their later teens standing outside formal membership assuming responsibility for aspects of ministry and elders effectively ignoring accountability and collective responsibility in order to do their own thing.

It is true that over the years churches have appeared without formal memberships. One evangelical church I know has a duly constituted eldership but by deliberate decision no membership. The Calvary Chapel fellowships have no members, the only formal position being that of pastors accredited through their affiliate programme. The pastors are not accountable to local elders, only to God and an independent board of elders.  This, it is said, makes them resistant to advice and correction.  It is probably true to say that views about formal membership are less uniform and more relaxed than a couple of generations ago.  At the time of the Evangelical Awakening in Wales, the founders of what became the Presbyterian Church of Wales placed great store by examining candidates for membership of the religious societies and exercised zeal in expelling those estimated to be unworthy of the privilege. Times have certainly changed!

A former colleague in a seminary where I used to teach told me that in his opinion formal church membership has no basis in scripture and was only to be preserved as an expedient. Even in churches where formal membership lives on, the importance attached to it can be variable and inconsistent. Sometimes candidates are rushed into membership without due preparation, non-members rise to positions of prominence and official members are made to feel that they are unimportant or taken for granted. Individualism has become institutionalised and is perhaps most damagingly apparent in the activities of leaders whose commitment to collective leadership and responsibility is minimal and whose children, though professors of the faith, are not encouraged to join the church. It seems that ‘co-habitation’ as opposed to ‘marriage with vows’ is becoming the norm.  Of course much of this is justified by reference to the doctrine of the invisible church membership of which the visible church is not competent to judge (Bannerman).  In reality it is little more than a form of  institutional individualism that devalues the membership of those who made the commitment and took the trouble to 'tie the knot'.

Saturday 16 June 2012

Home Is Where your Heart Is - reflections on 1 Peter 1:1-2


Home is where your heart is and to be away from home is to be a stranger. Being a stranger means not belonging but not losing one’s identity. Some years ago my wife and I visited our great cultural festival, the National Eisteddfod. After about an hour of recognising only one word in around every four hundred, I wanted to go home; I felt that I was a stranger. The Welsh word for this is hiraeth, which everyone says is untranslatable. It means something like a longing for one's home tinged with sadness for the people and place from whom one is separated.

Christian experience is like this. The apostle Peter, from the very beginning of his First Letter, reminds us that as Christians we are strangers or exiles journeying to our real home.  We have an identity and a citizenship but not here. Not that the here and now is unreal or unimportant but it is transient and on the whole uncongenial. We have to pass this way in order to get to where we are going and to do this successfully we must fix our hope firmly on Christ. Only then will we keep our identity, persevere along the way and finally receive our inheritance. John Calvin writes ‘… if heaven is our homeland, what else is the earth but our place of exile? If departure from the world is entry into life, what else is the world but a sepulchre?[1]

The environment in which we live is hostile, the terrain difficult and we fool ourselves if we think otherwise. Humanly speaking journey’s end is achieved against all the odds. In her poem inspired by Samuel Rutherford’s dying words, Ann Cousins wrote, I’ve wrestled on towards heaven, against storm and wind and tide, Now, like a weary traveller that leaneth on his guide. Amid the shades of evening, while sinks life’s lingering sand, I hail the glory dawning from Immanuel’s land.’ Christian reflection tends to individualize experience but for Peter we make our journey as part of the great pilgrim band. He points us towards our inheritance as encouragement to persevere against storm and wind and tide. But we are strangers together; ‘you’ and ‘your’ are almost invariable plural, not singular. We are strangers of ‘the dispersion’ – the people of God scattered throughout the world. There is safety in numbers.

There might be something in the movement to reclaim and transform culture but for the Christians of Pontus, Galatia, Cappadocia, Asia and Bythinia in the first century, culture was the killer - literally. Whether or not the persecutions of Nero’s reign form the actual background does not matter, God's people lived with slander, discrimination, deprivation, suffering and the threat of the ‘fiery trial’ on a daily basis. Such conditions test the commitment of the strongest, which is why Peter insists that they should live as people determined to obtain the inheritance reserved in heaven for them. Carl Truman asks the question “Have you noticed … [how] ‘heavenly mindedness’ has come to be seen by some as the real problem in the church, rather than worldliness and the aping of secular culture? It is a strange church culture indeed where such things are now commonplace.”[2]

If First Peter reminds us of anything, it is that we are strangers together, members of that great spiritual entity known as the Dispersion, travelling the same road, fighting the same fight and heading for the same destination as the pilgrims to whom Peter wrote so long ago.