Building Communities That Honour the “Other” and resist unconscious capitalist bias.

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At the heart of many of the issues we face is our unconscious tetheredness to capitalism and how this playing out in its late stages. Inspired by  Ian Mobsby recent article I wanted to explore more how non othering emerging church or community spaces might play out practically in the light of my recent posts. As Ian highlights Merton wrote  “The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves…”

This vision of love—unpossessive, liberating, and rooted in radical acceptance—is both beautiful and destabilising. It asks us to relinquish control, to release our grip on outcomes, and to embrace the sacred chaos of difference. But how do we translate this into the messy reality of community-building? What practical approaches may help us resist the urge to “twist” others into our image. Here’s a few thoughts drawing from Merton’s theology, eco-feminist thought, and lived experiments I have been involved in over the years.

How do we build on Divine Love, Not Human Effort, Merton argued that true community is founded not on our “own love” but on “God’s love”—a love that “puts us in a position where sometimes natural community is very difficult” . This shifts the focus from compatibility (seeking those like us) to faith in something larger than ourselves. Christina Cleveland writes similarly in her work on reconciliation. What I particularly like about Christina’s work is her acknowledgment of the mental and emotional energy these spaces take. Stereotyping and categorisation are short cuts are hard to override and even in a more enlightened outlook it’s takes energy and intention to try and inhabit these spaces.
In practice either joining or intentionally gathering people across ideological, cultural, or generational divides, through local community garden for instance could a way forward. However in reality too often these spaces can be pretty homogenous. So intentionality to host shared spaces is needed eg meals where climate activists, retirees, and teenagers collaborate on composting projects, learning to listen without agenda.
A key for us in Cumbria has been to Ritualise surrender, in our Cmpfire gatherings we set the tone by saying we are not here to fix things and use a talking stick for simply creating a space to listen deeply. I wonder what would it look like to begin meetings with a simple practice: “We are here not because we agree, but because we trust something beyond us.” Reframing conflict and spaces as generative, not destructive.

Borrowing from ideas in  Eco-Theology of Becoming-With what does it mean to move on from notions that we need to fix stuff. Donna Haraway’s concept of “becoming-with”—seeing humans as entangled with non-human beings and ecosystems, resonates with Merton’s call to love others as they are. This ecological lens rejects transactional relationships (e.g., “I’ll love you if you change”) in favour of mutual accompaniment.
Soil doesn’t demand plants conform to its image; it nourishes what grows. Applying this to community roles: lets gifts emerge organically. What would it look like to shift from hierarchical leadership to something more organic based on needs at particular times and where tasks are claimed based on passion, not just expertise.

In Alchemy At The Edge I’m working on the idea of Listening Fast and Listening Slow, and how context changes the listening process. If we host walks where members share stories while attending to the more-than-human world—birdsong, wind, urban rhythms our listening will be very different.  This approach dilutes the ego’s voice and fosters the type of missional humility the church really needs.

There is an unconscious capitalist bias around progress and growth. It’s something we have noticed in our mixed ecology trellis, because it can read like a graph people make an assumption that we value top right more than bottom left. We can these challenge capitalist efficiency assumptions by honouring those who simply be—the elderly, neurodivergent, or chronically ill, as vital to the community’s ecosystem. In the context of the Mixed Ecology of church this means recognising the value of everyone on the Trellis.

I love TAZ spaces and Merton acknowledged that “we are going to make mistakes” in community, but “it really doesn’t matter that much” if rooted in good faith . This liberates us from the myth of permanence, inviting experimentation. Do we really value process Over Perfection or again is our desire to get it right or make it permanent, or sustainable part of a capitalist bias. Creating pop-up spaces, temporary, theme-based communities (e.g., a 40-day Lenten arts collective or a prayer space, a listening bench) allow people to practise radical acceptance without lifelong commitment mirroring something to a TAZ.

We also need to normalise endings: what would it look like have fixed point reviews where you expect to end something unless there’s a real reason to continue, so we prevent stagnation and power hoarding. Instead of asking did this meet x or y outcome we could ask  “How did we help you become more yourself and would changing or ending our structure/meeting/values etc help you become more authentically you?
Instead of thinking  every relationship needs resolution or a space needs to continue what would a bless and release ritual for departing members or spaces look like  acknowledging their ongoing role in other spaces, with real joy and sadness.

Merton’s vision of love is no sentimental ideal. It demands courage to dwell in uncertainty, to release the ego’s need for control, and to trust that “the power of God’s love will be in it” even when our efforts feel fragile.  In a world obsessed with optimisation, building communities that honour the “other” becomes countercultural resistance—a way to “stay with the trouble” (Haraway) and find holiness in the unpolished, the unresolved, and the unscripted. Perhaps the most radical practice is this: to love a community enough to let it evolve beyond our own imagination.
“We are human becomings,” as Pip Wilson once wrote. May our communities become spaces where all people can unfold in their wild, messy, gloriously uncontainable uniqueness.

Towards an Entangled Ecclesiology

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Following on from the post on Hopium which seemed to get a lot of traction I wanted to revisit and update the series of posts I did on rethinking church nearly 20 years ago as so much of theology has shifted.
The church, as we have inherited it, is a curious organism. We gather, we sing, we listen, we disperse. But beneath the surface, a tension still simmers when not masked hopeium.  A innate sense that the forms and definitions we cling to are no longer fit for the world we inhabit. As I wrote years ago, western Christianity’s subcultural weakness is not simply a matter of style, but of substance—a deep-rooted commitment to evolutionary tweaks, wrapped up in the idea of progress and an unconscious bias shaped by capitalism. So revolutionary re-imaginings are not given the space needed for real change. We are, perhaps, rearranging the furniture in a house whose foundations are already crumbling.
We have mistaken the kingdom for the church, and in doing so, we have shrunk the wild, inclusive, boundary-breaking movement of Jesus into something manageable, measurable, and ultimately, exclusive. The “mustard seed” has grown, yes, but what has taken root in its branches is not always shelter for the world’s birds, but often a haven for scavengers. The vultures of our own dualisms, our own need for security, our own reluctance to let go of the white make sky god reside in our branches and we welcome them both knowingly and unknowingly.

Our inherited dualisms—sacred/secular, worship/life, activity/being—have split us down the middle. We “worship” in buildings, but not in workplaces or wild places. We “pray” at set times, but not in the ongoing, messy encounters of everyday life. The emerging church, for all its creativity, often risks being a new style in an old paradigm—mission-flavoured rather than mission-shaped, to borrow George Lings’ phrase.
What if, instead, we took seriously the call to a holistic, post-dualist faith? What if, as eco-theologians remind us, the whole earth is full of God’s glory—not just our sanctuaries, but the soil, the rivers, the market stalls, the digital commons? What if, as Donna Haraway suggests, we are and always were already entangled—human and non-human, sacred and profane, church and world—in a web of becoming-with?

Let’s risk a new definition: Church is not an event, nor a building, nor a set of beliefs. It is a way of being and living—a series of chaotic but intentional encounters with God, with one another, and with the world. It is a porous, processual, ever-unfinished community, founded on the holistic teaching (and wild example) of Christ.
This kind of church is less about “services” and more about service; less about “worship” as a genre, more about worship as a posture of life. It is a community where everyone’s gifts—however secular or sacred they may seem—are welcomed, reflected upon, and woven into the shared story. It is a space where buying a fairtrade banana, tending a garden, or protesting for climate justice can be as much worship as singing a hymn, if done in love and for the flourishing of the other.

Donna Haraway’s call to “stay with the trouble” is deeply resonant here. Church is not about escaping the world’s mess, but about inhabiting it more deeply, more compassionately, more creatively. We are, as Haraway puts it, “companion species”—not just with each other, but with the more-than-human world. Church, then, is an entangled, ecological community: a place where we learn to be human together, in kinship with all creation.
Eco-theology reminds us that the redemption of all things is not a distant hope, but a present calling. The church is not a bunker against the world, but a compost heap—messy, generative, full of potential for new life. Our worship is not just liturgy, but liturgy lived: in acts of justice, care for the earth, radical hospitality, and the ongoing work of reconciliation.

So what might this look like in practice? Imagine a group of people—some committed, some curious—gathering, walking, sharing meals, tending gardens, reflecting together, acting together, welcoming the stranger, making space for lament and joy. Leadership is facilitative, not hierarchical. The process is open-ended, responsive to the Spirit, and always in conversation with the wider world. An invitation not a blueprint. As with all living things, church must be allowed to grow, adapt, and sometimes die, so that new life can emerge. We need the courage not to simply shift to new wineskins but a paradigm shift to wine bottles, such is the change demanded by the context 20 years on from when I first wrote.

We are living in a time of ecological crisis, social fragmentation, and spiritual longing. The old paradigms are failing us, and the world is groaning for communities of hope, justice, and deep belonging. The church, if it is to have a future, must be re-formed—not just in style, but in substance; not just in structure, but in spirit. (I’ll write some more on this after reflecting on Alasdair Macintyres death and revisiting his approach to virtue ethics)
But for now Let us, stay with the trouble. Let us risk the chaos of true community. Let us become, together, the community the world needs—entangled, embodied, and ever unfinished.

Hopeium, the church, and change

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In church systems and institutions, it’s not uncommon to encounter a phenomenon of “hopeium.” It’s that heady mixture of optimism, faith, and a dash of magical thinking that makes us believe everything will be okay—if we just believe hard enough. On one hand, this hope can be a balm. After all, hope is foundational to the Christian story: the hope of resurrection, of renewal, of God’s kingdom breaking through. But what happens when hope becomes detached from action, critical reflection, or adaptive change? That’s when hopeium can turn toxic.

Toxic hopeium often shows up in church systems grappling with deep-seated challenges: declining influence, outdated structures, or a widening gap between institutional priorities and the needs of the world. Instead of grappling with the hard realities, institutional leaders might cling to vague promises of revival, grand but unfocused visions, or the comforting refrain of “God will provide.” While it’s true that faith can move mountains, it’s also true that someone has to pick up a shovel. When hope is used to paper over systemic issues or avoid making tough decisions, it can lead to stagnation, disillusionment, and a cycle of institutional inertia.

Consider the denomination that launches a major strategic initiative every few years, each time heralded as the solution to declining membership or cultural irrelevance. Resources are poured into programs and campaigns, but the underlying issues remain unaddressed: the inability to engage with a rapidly changing society, resistance to adaptive change, or a leadership culture that prioritizes preservation over mission. Hope, untethered from thoughtful strategy and missional humility, becomes a narcotic. It numbs us to reality instead of equipping us to transform it.

And yet, hope is also a gift. It’s what inspires institutions to dream of a renewed role in society and take risks for the sake of the gospel. The challenge, then, is to ground institutional hope in adaptive change strategies that acknowledge reality while pointing us toward renewal.

So, how can church systems navigate this tension? The first step is honesty. Institutional leaders need to adopt a posture of missional humility, recognizing that no single program or vision will fix systemic issues overnight. Missional humility invites us to listen—to God, to our communities, and to one another—and to admit where we’ve fallen short. This isn’t about doom and gloom; it’s about clarity. Only when we understand the landscape can we discern the path forward.

Next, we need to pair hope with action rooted in adaptive change. This means moving beyond technical fixes to addressing the deeper cultural and systemic shifts required for renewal. It might mean dismantling hierarchies that stifle creativity, investing in grassroots initiatives, or fostering a culture of experimentation and learning. Adaptive change requires courage—and a willingness to fail—as we navigate uncharted territory.

Finally, we must cultivate a theology of hope that’s robust enough to withstand setbacks. Christian hope isn’t about quick fixes; it’s about the long game. It’s about trusting that God is at work, even when we can’t see the fruit of our labors.

Hopeium, in its toxic form, can trap church systems in a cycle of false expectations and inertia. But hope, when rooted in truth, humility, and adaptive action, can be a powerful force for institutional renewal. The difference lies in whether we use hope to escape reality or to transform it. As I prepare for my next stage with Alchemy At The Edge I want to harness the transformative power of hope.

To all remains – Advent 2024

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It’s been an interesting journey and this advent I wanted to reflect on the words “to all that remains”. The activist in me usually rushes to throw out words into the world and to resist this as a discipline this year I started a poem that I have been slowly adding to and editing for throughout advent so far. The past few years so much of my thinking has been drawn towards the earthed interconnectedness of what people call the Anthropocene. The space that transgresses the separation of culture and nature, it is a language that resonates deeply for. me and for those who have read this blog over the years will know im really not into dualistic ways of thinking. The journey this year has taken me deeper into compost theology, nature connectedness and the interconnectednesss of systems and particularly in recognition that we are all in the system. Bayos phrase “we are not stuck in traffic we are the traffic” has sunk deep into my soul over the last six months. Through all this my language has been in deficit, I can’t find the words to describe what is happening easily at this deeper soul level, I want to find a way to talk about the deep mystery in the deep compost, and usually find myself reaching for CS Lewis’s ideas of “Deep Magic” and Tillich’s “God as the ground of our being” and yet it still feels lacking. I guess it’s the space of art and poetry, so I wanted to write something more poetic to describe where my soul is reaching but even these words are only partial.

At the start of his article Doing Dirty Theology  Terry Biddington writes  “For a religion whose beginnings are to be found in an underground tomb or cave, the Christian community has made little effort over the centuries to familiarise itself with what lies out of sight beneath its feet, down there, under the dark earth, and in the soil that is, as we now recognise, the life-support of all living things on the planet (Cf. Genesis 2:4–12). Indeed, despite its beginnings in the soily depths, the Christian tradition as a whole has tended to strive only for the “light” of the celestial realms above and thereby eschew the mysterious “darkness” below. It seems historically to be a religion that has aspired ceaselessly for the bright realm of the heavens and has rejected the earthy darkness, the ensoiled and earthy materiality of the here-and-now.”

He goes onto discuss the earthy nature of Tillich’s statement, and that’s what I want to re-familiarise myself with. Its a journey that I thought I started when I moved here and started to relate back to nature through Mountain Pilgrims but actually its something I practiced long before I came to faith, when I would leave the house when my father had been drinking, or things were too much as sit by the stream where the wild orchids grew, or follow the deer and badger paths in the woods on the edge of Exmoor.

Advent is a good time to reflect on this earthed reality, but if we focus only on the light of the halo that so often surrounds our images of the baby Jesus we miss the deeper Christ that this halo is calling us towards. This space where nature and culture collide into the deep mystery in the deep compost where we have to let the soil do its work and let go.

When I started this post I thought the poem “to all that remains” was ready to publish but in writing this Im aware its not so that will have to wait for later in the season.

Crafting Mission in Systems

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This a longer post than usual. Ive shared this paper with a few people and they have asked me to post it more widely. I’ve had trouble with the images so had to upload as PDF so you will nee to click sorry

Its been 8 years since moving from deliberately being on the outside edge of church to moving to the inside edge of the institution. We have had ups and downs and for the most part I have loved the roller coaster. I have used different theories of change over that time, had brilliant colleagues and seen some great stuff emerge. I have been given a freedom of movement, support to experiment, opportunities to lean into my gifts, encouraged to play pirate, and we have got a lot of stuff done and had a lot of fun, tears and laughter along the way. At our peak before covid we were seeing a new fresh Expression of church emerge every few weeks, and overall Fresh Expressions now made up around a quarter of the church in Cumbria. I hope our work has been Christ centred, and we have tried to work both at a practical level on the ground and taking this learning to work at a cultural and systems level. I think mission is much more of an art form or craft than something more mechanistic or technical. Indeed when we reduce the mission of God to a simplified process or technology for conversion we slip away from the heart of the gospel.

I have always thought quite strategically and tried to adopt a posture and missional humility that is rooted in Jesus’ temptations in the wilderness where he resisted the power to provide, perform or possess. I have often failed to live up to this. 8 years on and maybe I’m starting to find a way to talk about how to make space for the craft of mission in the systems I find myself in.

There are two key concepts that have helped start to find that language. The first concept is a process Wheatley and Frieze’s Two Loops of change which I have discussed before and secondly the CYNEFIN framework. The focus of so much my first few years was on the bottom arrow of the two loops, Naming, Nourishing, Narrating and Networking what was happening on the ground in the emerging mission and Nurturing more and more of this.

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The result was a stronger missional ecosystem, that planted over 100 fresh expressions, some great people and practice on the ground, and a fledgling mixed ecology of church. We made mistakes along the way particularly around how we held the tension between time honoured and fresh expressions of church, how we communicated and simply by dropping the relational ball at times because the scale and pace of the change at times was overwhelming.  As the emerging system gained traction it was clear that there was more going on here as we sought to follow the mission dei in our communities and reflect that back into our systems. Perhaps it was a practical outworking of what Taylor calls “one mission in two directions out into the world and back into the church”. (which I also think is at the heart of Pioneer Ecclesiology).  As momentum built eventually, we were asked by the bishop what would this look like to help the whole transition and the partnership with CMS was formed. A key piece of work then needed was to find a way to talk about the whole system as one rather than its two constituent parts and so we developed Mixed Ecology Trellis. This really helped us counter some of the previous failings and changed the conversations on the ground because everyone can find themselves on the Trellis. It also recognises that people can have multiple places of belonging[1] eg a time honoured church can also have fresh expressions, innovate etc. So instead of setting people up against one another it honours the diversity and better reflects a more authentic ecclesiology that recognises the multiplicity of what church is.

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However we also recognised the value of the two loops and that we needed to take the learning from the emerging system if we are to have any hope of growing a mixed ecology that wasn’t just a technical change but something more crafted and genuine. So with what seemed seems like an impossible challenge from the bishop to try and take the whole church with us I started to play with the how the two loops translating them into the time honoured and emerging church and mapping the Trellis onto the loops alongside who and how we might support the transition.

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The second concept is The CYNEFIN framework. So often the church finds itself in disorder because we fail to recognise which of the four zones; simple, complicated, complex and chaos we are operating in. (technically there’s 5 zones as disorder is one but simplified for this post)  Consequently, we often reach for a tried and tested method of mission thinking that Best practice is what is required when in fact more often than not the cultural context of mission means for the most part we need Emerging or Novel practice (see left hand side of image CM4 below). Theology also plays a key part in the process and often our preconceived ideas, theologies, orthodoxies and practices will pull us towards thinking we are operating in a zone we are not really in.

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Church Planting can work really well in the Simple zone where you are clear about the context and variables. This is why Resource Churches saw such success where there were clearly identified student population, cultural contexts and resources that fitted were utilised. Where there are the right conditions it is easier to sense, categorise and respond with what is needed in terms of leaders, worship leaders, plant size etc to ensure a best practice result. This is great and to be applauded. However the mistake we too often make is that we too often try to assume that what is best practice in a simple zone will work in another zone. Church Planters have quickly learnt that in rural areas or estates you need to reach for good practice as the context and call of the missio dei in those places demands something different. It may carry much of the same charism but if you try to force a one size fits all you are bound to fail.

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Another key piece of learning is that as the context shifts further towards a post christendom, hyper (post) modern culture the more key the left-hand side of the framework becomes. It is essentially the R&D department. We may have some models of good practice of youth ministry that can operate in the complicated world of young people but in reality, we only scratching the surface. So much of the world is much more complex or chaotic we need to find different ways forward. The development of Bubble church in Southwark diocese is a good illustration. Towards the end of Covid as the world opened up to the chaos of social distancing a way of running a service for children and families each sitting on their own rug bubble was enacted. It was a novel practice for a chaotic situation. Growing over time and the shift away from social distancing this novel form of church has been able to grow and where the context allows can now also be a model of best or good practice and duplicated in other areas. Likewise Network Youth Church recognised the complexity of youth ministry in Cumbria and was able to take the learning from the emerging church to probe and sense a way forward. Using the 6 stages of the FX journey we have seen church emerging for 1000s of young people in a way that looks different across the county but shares the same DNA and intention of being and growing church with young people.

The critical challenge to the system is that funders like Best and Good Practice because the outcomes are predictable, easily measured and more attainable. So often words like scalability, or repeatable are used which are fine but missiologists know that due to how culture operates and the cultural ties and inherent cultural tribalism (we mix with people like us) the reach within the simple or complicated zone is drastically reduced.  Breaking out of these zones and developing emergent and novel practice is why NYC and MYCN have been able to reach such significant numbers of young people who have no previous connection with church.

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In terms of funding models what we measure becomes what matters. As funders look towards the right hand side of CYNEFIN these best practice and good practice inevitably become a lense through which they see the world. It is easy to forget that often best practice started out a novel. One way to consider this is to encourage funders to recognise the difference between Lead Measures and Lag Measures. In the terms of growing New Worshipping Communities in the missional context we will be seeking Emerging and Novel practices which essentially correlates to the bottom loop of change. So the lead measures that we should be looking for are things like Relationships, Connections, Networks, Conversations, Reflective Practice spaces, New Learning etc. The lag measures are much more obvious on the right-hand side as we know what good practice eg a resource church looks like. One challenge we have faced in Cumbria has been that we have tried to measure Novel and Emerging practice with Lag criteria that is more fixed. This will mean we may not/cannot hit funders targets in particular ways and obviously that will make them question the validity of novel or emergent practice.

However as culture moves further towards the left without significant development of emergent and novel practice the long term future of any system will remain bleak.  This is especially true for the church systems as research also shows that where systems are wrapped in notions of orthodoxy change is harder. Work that is seen as novel or emergent practice is often accompanied by novel or emergent thinking. So its takes a secure system to allow this process to happen and a humble system and leadership to take the learning and apply it their wider context.

This is especially hard in the church systems as we exist in a double wrapped paradigm. Chris Neal coined the phrase “gravitational pull” in relation to pioneering in the institution. He would talk about the gravitational pull of inherited church acts as a double wrapped paradigm. There’s the culture/tradition that has been placed around the original (dissenting) idea as one layer ie the way we do things around here. Then the second structural layer of leadership hierarchy etc. Chris used to say pioneer projects need enough velocity to break that gravitational pull. Like a rocket needs the boost to break gravity and head towards the moon until the moon starts to pull it forward. So the challenge of current system is are we willing to at least offer enough investment in the left hand side in the hope that we may like Bubble church learn some lessons that can encourage a genuine mixed ecology.

Back in the 1990s The Lausanne Conference for world evangelisation stated that a key factor for the church and its leaders in the future will be their ability to develop a missional humility that learned to listen well to the edge. I think it would be fair to say that this is still a lesson we are learning and when it comes to investing in innovation, we are particularly bad. The church seem to get collective amnesia every 15 years or so. The church in the City report gave rise to Church Urban fund that was later cut, the Youth Apart saw a growth in the development of the youth service and work force across the church and subsequently cut. The latest has been the withdrawal of funding from Fresh Expressions following what may have been the most impactful report of all Mission shaped church.

In the context of the church system how the left hand side often plays out is that we see orthopraxis emerging as people seek to reach new people in new ways with the good news and this is then accompanied by theological reflection. This theological reflection can then be challenging to the perceived orthodoxy of the system it has emerged from. Particularly where missional humility is lacking. But when the theological work is not embraced, we are weaker as whole for it and the new practice emerging is much more susceptible to the whims of change rather than being recognised a genuine works of the spirit and backed longer term accordingly.

Audre Laude said  “For the master’s tool will never dismantle the master’s house. They may allow us temporarily to beat him at his own game, but they will never enable us to bring about genuine change.”Therefore as we visit the two loops not only do we need to nurture the practical outworking of mission on the ground, talk about its scale, energy and hope, we also need to find ways to nurture the thinking (and pioneering ecclesiology)  that’s accompanies it. Inherent in this challenge is the need to do this in a way that honours the new, breaks the gravitational pull and reflects the humility needed in the new missional context. If we are discovering the G-d who flows with skaters or Christ the wounded healer that is the G-d or Christ we need to reflect this in how we talk and how we measure not just in the theology that accompanies it.

[1] Co-incidentally CYNEFIN also means places of multiple belonging

Thinking about the why and the way post covid

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The Golden circle from Simon Sinek has been the key concept in helping businesses think differently about their approach. He says every business knows the what, the product etc but few know the why. The why has always been critical to the charity sector and especially the faith charity sector and then working out how this informs the how and the what are logical and critical next steps. However whilst this linear cause and affect approach will remain I think we are in the midst of another critical shift.  In the complexity of the  “it is what it is” post covid world where positive regard, inclusive openness  and benign indifference all meet it demands we rethink these sort of linear models that work well when dealing in simple contexts, but under resource us for more complex situations.  Indeed Dave Snowdon who developed CYNEFIN would argue that you need to approach the situation differently depending wether you are in a chaotic, complex, complicated or simple zone and indeed one of our biggest failings is to recognise the zone we are in. For the faith organisations the why has always much more complex than we often think at the outset. This complexity is why the simple responses have limited connection and impact and may work at surface level of short term but are often found wanting in the long term. As this why complexity collides with the new post covid complexity already  mentioned we see many faith sectors doubling down on simple responses or descending into chaos. What we fail to realise is actually that the two are often linked. We want the command and control that chaos demands and it plays into the hands of those who think the why is simple, until we end up in quite a negative loop.  

Modernity has led us towards a teleological approach where we think we know everything there is to know about the why  (or put God in a box) and so choose actions the how and what accordingly. However we need something less teleological that’s more humble and that recognises the complexity of the world we are in. So we approach the why as something less fixed and as a joy to be discovered as we sense our way forward. This is why The Way is such a key concept in the Christian faith, we only discover the WHY  by walking it. 

Permission to play at the edge?

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This post is kind of connected to previous one. This morning I was drawn to the idea (probably because I have been reading Them Merton again) that I needed to give language to what I was sensing. So the couple of sentences I developed and posted are below.

Since I wrote the original post on how doctrine shapes measures a few days ago I have been thinking about its broader implications and particularly how we use the bible in our missional context. Can we be playful with the biblical text as we sense the Spirits lead and how far do we allow the historic to influence us as we seek to develop translations that feel authentic to where the community and spirit is. So in the light of the image above rather than what are the boundaries, Im interested more in where do the boundaries come from and when we place these type of boundaries on our playfulness are we again in danger of reducing the text to a formula and losing the magic and mystery.

This is particularly pertinent to me at the moment as Im working on some text for the outdoor community Im a part of. Anyway I wanted to play a bit so wrote the passage below and wondered what people thought? You might spot the text it’s based on, you could say it’s a long way from the text, and so far you no longer recognise it? A prize of Kendal Mint Cake to anyone who does recognise it. You might say its a good or poor piece of faithful improvisation, you might see it as heresy, you may find it resonates comfortably or uncomfortably? But in doing so I want to know why, and where do those boundaries come from, and I would love to know is why do you have the reaction you do.

Creator Sets Free (Jesus) shows us that total peace is possible, a ceasing of strife, a ceasing of separation, a different relationship with time, space, nature, ourselves and others. A mystery revealing a peace between us, all tribes, and the whole of creation. A deep magic that moves us towards a total  connectedness so that we may know and be in unity, with one another and with all creation. United together under the Beloved, we are one body. Creator Sets Free comes as the breath of peace and so we are drawn close to the Beloved like we are drawn to the thin places where heaven touches earth. We all; human, tree, rock, creature are of the same spirit, no longer strangers, we are family. Creator Sets Free is our true north, and with all of creation we are now being weaved together and becoming a dwelling place for his Spirit, a renewed creation, a holy place.

What we measure matters,New Christian Communities or New Worshipping Communities, and Emerging missional approaches

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That maybe the longest title I have ever given a blog post but the national Church of England Strategy has set a target of developing 10000 New Christian Communities but the language coming out is that what will be measured are New Worshipping Communities and what we measure matters as it speaks to certain ideas and approaches.
Two conversations recently have got me thinking a bit more about measurements and how the paradigms that resource projects shape these outcomes. I was working on an IME2 session with Paul Bradbury for Pioneer Curates and we were discussing Resilient Pioneering and Sustainability. This led to the idea that the Institutional paradigm see things one way and therefore means one thing by sustainability because they value things like solidity, cohesion, and shape, whilst the Emergent paradigm sees sustainability differently because they value emergence, flexibility, etc. So an emergent project might change its shape to achieve sustainability and continue but this may not valued to the same degree in the institutional paradigm precisely because it has changed shape.
However this also then sparked deeper questions for me about what then gives shape to the paradigm we are in, in the first place. In particular what theology gave shape to the paradigm we are in. So when it comes to the question of measurement Im wondering if the institutional / inherited paradigm values and wants to measure New Worshipping Communities not just because it speaks of solidity cohesion and shape but because NWC reflect their particular doctrine of salvation. In his paper  A view from the Street Stefan Paas puts it they have a “soteriological paradigm that echoes societal differentiation and subcultural isolation. ‘Conversion,’ ideally perceived as dramatic and sudden, is the bridge from one culture to the other, or from the ‘world’ to the ‘religious’ realm. It is a paradigm that allows for clear distinctions (e.g., between the saved and the lost) and challenges (e.g., regular churchgoing as a mark of the truly converted).”
What is interesting is how at odds this approach is with a more Missio-dei orientated theology  and emerging missional community practices where the values of those joining shape what is emerging because we recognise the work of god in those people and some of those values. Consequently what emerges maybe new christian communities that don’t fit the criteria set for new worshipping communities because these parameters are set through the wrong lens. 
However as Pass reminds us its important to remember that the soteriological paradigm that values differentiation is only one view of soteriology and one that is informed by the reformation and rise of the economic transactional culture of modernity. So as pioneers who faithfully improvise and draw on culture and christian tradition we may need to find other soteriological traditions that help us in the emergent paradigm. Indeed many of the new christian communities I see emerging are more fluid and much more aligned to the soteriological approach of the church from 200-400AD which saw salvation and about how do we live, thrive, and find healing in a time of uncertainly are valid, real and orthodox. Some many call themselves new spiritual communities rather new christian communities as using word christian carries colonial and negative connotations. Or they may adopt  practices that would not be seen as worship in an institutional paradigm but are authentic and contextually appropriate to the emerging paradigm. So they may never count in the 10000 not because what we measure matters, but because we measure what matters to the paradigm we are in.  

The grace space between the Rock and the Person

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It’s that season where newspapers tell us stuff we already knew and there is a subsequent flurry of activity in faith based circles. This time is was The Times telling us Britain is no longer a Christian country, say frontline clergy. The article is behind a paywall but a summary with a couple of links is HERE.

In the accompanying flurry of radio interviews, articles and comments much attention is paid to How things are done and depending on your perspective, the same old arguments about the how get rolled out. Now Im starting to sound grumpy mainly because entrenchment gets us nowhere.  Perhaps one way forward is to think why are we in these trenches in the first place and I think that much of it is do with the Epistemology and Ontological approaches to church and faith and truth that I discussed in the previous post. Language is going to fail me so Im going to play with metaphor to try and find a more spacious way forward.

In one trench you have epistemology and we wave the flag of Jesus the Rock. Here we know what Jesus looks like, and like a rock it never changes. They are steadfast, predictable, weighable, and known, and when we look we see the security and shelter on offer. The truth is at hand but it’s held closed.*

In the other trench is ontology and we wave the flag of Jesus the Person. Someone like anyone who grows, eats, drinks and someone who learns and changes. They are prone to unpredictable stories, and when we look into their eyes we see we are all on a journey to the deep unknown. The truth is at hand and it’s held with and open palm*.

And like in wars of old, neither side makes any progress whilst the world looks on unable to comprehend why either side is so dug in the first place. But between them is a field a space where grace and love can model something else to the world. Its hard to imagine, impossible to describe but the deeper magic that rises up as each side climb out of their trenches, kick a ball around, exchange gifts and really encounter one another, yet it is something of beauty that the whole world recognises, longs for and is drawn towards.

Like the temporary Christmas truces during the war we catch these glimpses of beauty. These glimpses are fleeting because not because we resist change but because we resist loss and when you’re dealing with something as fundamental as the nature of truth people feel they have an awful lot to loose.  Yet we know these grace spaces when we see it, we catch these thin places out of the corners of eye, they serve as new banner to rally under but for something for lasting to be embraced we will need to clamber out the sides of those muddy trenches, take the risk of those first hard yards towards the other. Falteringly  step beyond the graves of heroes of bygone eras and enter the grace space. But to stay there we will need to let the grace space invade our very being, and do the soul work that these genuine encounters demand until we learn that neither truth needs the upper hand, and the kin-dom is so much more we can imagine.

 

*See Graham Adams Holy Anarchy “Truth-in-Hand. Grasped. Contained. Sufficient” p38 “Truth-in-Process. truth as event, conversation, an ecology of potential, attentiveness, the making possible of greater empathy.” p39

 

Explaining Church as way of being with AI’s help

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I recently did a podcast for Youthscape which timed in well with a lot of thinking I have been doing recently about the nature of church. my amazing friend Paul Rose gave some great thoughts that’s set my mind going on why knowledge (epistemological) based approaches to defining church are such a stumbling block. I think much of what I was arguing for in Here Be Dragons was a more ontological approach but At the time I hadn’t really encountered enough embodied theology and practice to start to frame it well. As Rachel and Martin said I use a lot of long words I thought I might just explain the ontological approach a bit more here. And then I thought as it was youth focussed and I’m into co-creation why not use the latest tech to help. So  I asked ChatGPT Ai to write it for me in the style of Sunday Papers blogpost and here with a few edits is what was created.

I think my shift reflects the growing interest among theologians and religious scholars in the use of an ontological approach and towards a deeper consideration of the fundamental nature of reality, and a rejection of the dualistic thinking that has long dominated Western thought. Part of what we learnt from being and doing church young people and Flow was we needed a different embedded joined up approach, and this was where we were heading in Here Be Dragons with sobornost.

At its heart, an ontological approach to the church emphasizes the importance of being and existence, rather than simply knowledge and understanding. While the epistemological approach tends to focus on the intellectual aspects of faith – what we know, what we believe, and how we come to know it – the ontological approach looks beyond these cognitive processes to consider the very nature of the church itself, and the role it plays in the world.

One of the key benefits of an ontological approach is that it allows us to move beyond the limitations of language and conceptual thinking. Too often, our understanding of the church is shaped by our attempts to put it into words – to define it, categorize it, and understand it within a particular framework. However, this can often lead to a narrow and limited understanding of what the church really is, and what it can be.

By adopting an ontological approach, we can begin to see the church as a dynamic, living entity that is constantly evolving and changing over time. Rather than trying to pin it down with definitions and concepts, we can appreciate the church in all its complexity, and recognize the many different ways in which it can manifest itself in the world.

Moreover, an ontological approach to the church allows us to move beyond the traditional boundaries of religious affiliation and denomination. Rather than seeing the church as a set of beliefs or practices that are unique to a particular group, we can recognize that the church exists in many different forms and contexts, and that it has the potential to transcend the divisions that often separate us.

Of course, an ontological approach is not without its challenges. It requires us to embrace uncertainty and ambiguity, and to acknowledge that our understanding of the church will always be limited by our own experiences and perspectives. However, these challenges are precisely what make the ontological approach so valuable – by embracing the unknown and the unknowable, we open ourselves up to a deeper and more meaningful relationship with the church, and with the divine.

In conclusion, the adoption of an ontological approach to the church represents an important step forward in our understanding of what it means to be religious and spiritual in the modern world. By focusing on being and existence, rather than simply knowledge and understanding, we can move beyond the limitations of language and conceptual thinking, and appreciate the church in all its complexity and diversity. So let us embrace this approach, and open ourselves up to a deeper and more profound experience of the divine.

The Ai bit ends here.

once the podcast goes fully live on the site I might say a bit more why I think how the epistemological approach showed up in the podcast discussion and how it can inoculate us from change.