One of our
curate Marion’s more interesting achievements has been to establish an
ecumenical prayer group which meets on the second Monday evening in the month.
This doesn’t sound like anything very radical, but it’s the mix of people that
makes it unusual. It’s settled down into a gathering of Anglicans – coming from
a mainly Catholic-side-of-centre church, remember – and Charismatics from
various church communities round the area. When it became clear that managing
the different styles and expectations presented some challenges, I helped
Marion think through it and devise a very minimal ‘liturgy’ to provide the
meetings with some sort of shape (basically just a gathering and closing time
of quiet and the Lord’s Prayer). Those challenges are still there, and
Anglicans who come have to have either a sympathy with noisy, passionate
Charismatics, or exercise a great deal of self-control; but the group still
meets, nearly two years later.
I don’t have
the opportunity to attend very often, but I was able to come to most of the
August gathering. I came in a bit late and sat in the circle just as the prayer
was at its most Charismatic mode, the attenders from those church communities
and one of our congregation who is furthest in that direction dominating the
proceedings. The main concerns were that Swanvale Halt church, in particular,
should experience revival. Anna, who belongs to our congregation, often chafes
about what she perceives as our lukewarmness and reluctance to talk about
matters of faith, and mentioned that to God: ‘Lord, please change us so that
we’ll be more willing to be open about our faith, and set this place on fire,
so that everyone around us says, What’s going on at the church? They’re all
excited and talking about God!’ I wondered whether that’s really what people
would say, and, further, as I often do, how far God gets a word in edgeways in
the Charismatic mode of prayer, and how far it’s more about us than him. Having
said that, only to listen and never to speak is also to pray incompletely: you
may find that you are not really listening to God at all, merely eavesdropping
on your own thoughts. Speech takes the uncertain motions of the Spirit and
brings them, or what we take for them, into the open and tests them. Those
motions must be named, as they are in the liturgies of the Church, and gain a
power as a result: we are physical beings, not mere minds. I suspect I am not
as willing as I should be to speak about the things of the Spirit, and it has
taken me long years to find even some way to do so in my own voice.
But – ‘revival’?
What would ‘revival’ in people’s faith – assuming they require it – look like? And
would it really bring the success Christians of a Charismatic (or even
Evangelical) bent dream it might? Nearly forty years ago that doyen of Evangelical hymn-writers of a
former generation, Graham Kendrick, wrote
Restore, O
Lord, the honour of your name,
In works of
sovereign power come shake the earth again,
That all may
see, and come in reverent fear
To the
living God, whose kingdom shall outlast the years.
Restore, O
Lord, in all the earth your fame,
And in our
time revive the Church that bears your name.
And in your
anger, Lord, remember mercy:
O living
God, whose mercy shall outlast the years.
Dumping in a
reference to God being angry is
almost demanded for lyrics that
emerge from that stable, but the rest of the words are equally striking.
Although the powerful lyric appears to be about God, in reality it’s about us, about our needs and desires, about the desperate yearning to be in charge
again, not for anyone else’s benefit apart from our own. And beneath them is a
dreadful insecurity. We are in with the boss, aren’t we? So where is he? What’s going on? And forty years of singing this hymn and praying these things
later, God still has yet to do it. Instead, all the traffic is, apparently, in
the other direction, so much so that you would be forgiven for wondering what
on earth God is up to, or whether he’s there at all. But ‘revival’ is the
answer. Wave our hands harder, sing louder, and the gays will go away, and the
Kingdom will come.
A few days
ago I mentioned the survey the Church Army was conducting into the way Messy
Church works. One of the questions asked ‘What would be the most appropriate
way of measuring discipleship among your Messy Church families?’ and provided
some ideas – reading the Bible at home, taking communion, giving financially, ‘using
and discovering their gifts in ministry’, changing character and changes in
lifestyle. Leaving apart the challenges in quantifying some of these
characteristics, I’d be happy for ‘revival’ to be judged in terms of any of
these measures.
I think revival would be having enough volunteers to be the salt of the earth - running a homeless shelter (as a church, or with other churches), offering free sunday lunch for all, whether or not they have been to the church service, having an old-folks drop in with activities at least one afternoon a week, having pre-school mums and toddlers club at least one morning a week, running a kids summer camp (residential or not) at a token charge, running regular free marriage and parenting courses (as well as courses about leadership and faith), doing prison work at HMP Send, support for those in your community who are fostering and adopting, ex-offenders, people in debt, those with mental illness, etc, hosting concerts and other community events. In short, loving our neighbours.
ReplyDeleteThat would shake the earth!
Good luck!!
It would indeed, and a church which isn't thinking how to serve the world around it - even if it just means supporting members in the work they do in the secular world - isn't really 'engaged in mission'. To be fair, most churches of all varieties do things of that kind. But yes, engagement with the world God loves is one of the tests of what we do inside the walls of the building.
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