A huge part of my motivation and inspiration for research comes out of my own story and journey as a follower of Jesus. The first church I went to was a large town centre Baptist Church that was evangelical and charismatic. Since I came from a non-church background, the doctrine and practice that flowed from this church experience became normative. 20 months later I was at London Bible College, large, evangelical, slightly charismatic and quite baptist. Of course these are retrospective labels since I had no idea what an evangelical was before I was well into my time at LBC. Church experience at LBC was mixed but generally along the same theme. After LBC, I was at a mid-sized CofE Church in North London that was ‘generically evangelical’ [my label]. One year later I was an Assistant Pastor at a mid-sized Baptist church again that was conservatively evangelical and embarrassingly charismatic [they were embarrassed to realise they were charismatic]. And then in a very surprising [to me at least] move I became senior staff in a large CofE, conservative evangelical and recovering charismatic church. Finally in a very surprising to everyone else move I became an Ordinand at Ripon College Cuddesdon of liberal catholic fame.

These episodes in my journey lead me to reflect on my own diversification as an evangelical this is what I came up with.

Charismatic Evangelical [1992-1994] Describes where on the spectrum I was converted into.

Doctrinally Disillusioned Evangelical [1994-1996] Is how I felt when I realised you needed to go to bible college to discover who Jesus is and the resultant belief-melt-down that follows.

Post Post Evangelical [1997-1998] Is how I described myself at the public debate with Dave Tomlinson after seeing how scattered and in some places ‘obvious’ his arguments were.

‘Edge of the World’ Evangelical [199-2001] As opposed to Open Evangelical. That place where you are at the edge of the ‘flat’ world, since flat is how the doctrine felt, and wanting to take a step to get off or out, and yet finding nothing to step on to or in to.

New Kind of Evangelical [2001-2004] After reading book of similar title and seeing that it might just be degrees of perspective and there might yet be some life left in the old girl yet!

Cosmopolitan Evangelical [2005-] Since God’s call to Anglican Ordination; being neither Anglican or thinking about ordination up until that point. Cosmo because I know where I come from and don’t want to desert or abandon that past, despite trying to previously. But also wanting to be not just comfortable but actually at home in foreign places; to be able to encounter God, minister, lead, teach and live in a culture that is not my home. “To be ready to find God in the unexpected places.” To quote my selection application papers.

These diversifications have of course being supplemented with differing doctrine and practice, or least looking for such. It is with this background that I am engaging on the long process of exploring the stories of enrichment and division that emerge from other people’s diversified journeys.

This week at Ripon College Cuddesdon [check out new website] has been our Themed Study Week. For me that meant a week of sacraments.One of the funniest, frustrating and profound moments was towards the end of an hour or so worming our way through a history of ‘transubtitution’. This, as you may know, is the doctrine of real ‘fleshly’ presence: where the host, the bread, becomes the real flesh and the wine becomes the real blood of Christ.At the crux of this, it came to the point when those amongst the group would need to explain why they indulge in ‘biscuit worship’: why it is they elevate the host, bow in it’s presence at the point of consecration, reserve some sacrament and bow in it’s presence? It is at this point that the magic word came out: “mystery”.And then it struck me, that when the Anglo-Catholics do stuff that they find hard to explain, let alone hard to understand, then they bring out the word “mystery”. And when the charismatic evagelicals are rolling on the floor barking like dogs, and they find it hard to understand and explain, then they too bring out the word “mystery”. And it further struck me that there is little difference between these occurrences.

Money is a huge issue in ministry: I mean personal money. We have recently become debt free for the first time since entering full-time ministry 9 years ago. This has been both because of some generous people and a lot of hard work earning extra money and scraping by with bear minimum [techniques and examples maybe the subject of another blog].

Becoming a vicar is not done for the money, in fact, you are not paid to do the job. Instead you receive a stipend, which is money to live on so you don’t have to work. The bottom line being that if a vicar was paid for what they did, remunerated, paid for the service provided, then there are few churches in the UK who could afford it.

This provides an odd situation where you could become the incumbent in an area you would never be able to afford to live in. There are certainly many places where the poor of the town live in the Rectory. So there you are ministering to people earning far in excess of you, living in superb houses you usually see in Home and Garden type magazines, whilst you as the vicar are scraping by trying to provide for your kids and afford a weeks holiday each year.

Having painted that picture, I am very grateful for the surprises of being in this ‘living-by-faith’ situation. We have being blessed by money through the door, holiday locations given, help in crises and the regular support by family and friends.

Such a life though provides two points of juxtaposition. Firstly, on a practical level of lifestyle between ourselves and those with more disposable income. Secondly, on managing the internal coveting and calling. Desiring a more wealthy lifestyle and desiring to follow my calling, realising that one probably excludes the other for us.

Most of my experience in church ministry has involved a reasonable amount of projects. At the Baptist church, the youth ministry was a huge programme, not that relational engagement was low on the agenda but with 250 under 18′s at it’s peek you need programmes. Programmes always bring goals and deadlines for preparation and activity.

There was a much higher emphasis on relational ministry at the Anglican church and a relatively low programme base alongside that. However, there always seemed also to be a project, or several, that we as the leadership team were working on.

Projects produce goals and goals are measurable. I had a conversation with David about measuring ministry and how, in a rural commuter town with many experienced active and retired managers, did he feel the church measured his ministry. We were at the time sitting out in the sun at a very nice place with coffee and cakes.

David’s thoughts were very interesting. He highlighted some areas where the congregation expected to see performance, administration, communication, conduct of services, the condition of the church building and pastoral care.

Most of these points are reasonably measurable and in most cases possible to improve on. The congregation expects a smooth running ship and not to be the victim of unprofessionalism. Interesting that these are seen as professional aspects of being a vicar in today’s world.

It is not unsurprising to see pastoral care on the list. If the people don’t feel cared for, then what is the vicar up to! Obviously this is particularly measurable at the points of crisis. If one family felt unsupported in a time of crisis then the news would soon spread and the vicar would likely be approached.

What is surprising about the list is what is missing. Discipleship, mission [local and global] and growth in numbers. Some of the things that would be towards the top of my list. Is this a difference in approach to ministry, different contexts, differing theology or perhaps emphases on calling?

For my part, I would feel I was side-stepping my calling and short-changing the parish if we were not growing, in love for God, in love for our neighbour and numerically in people entering the kingdom.

I spent some time with the verger this morning. The vergers job, it seems to me, is to prepare the building for worship and generally oversee the daily operations of the building for those who use it, residents and visitors alike. Alongside that there are some ceremonial aspects which involve a black cloak and a staff. But why a Verger?

What has struck me in the first few days here is the place of place. In youth ministry, space is important, a space to meet and be, but that space is mobile. It’s fabulous if you have a room, or even a building for your youth ministry, but most churches don’t and actually are not the poorer for it. Finding homes, rooms and halls [and even different churches] for space to meet and be is part of being in the mobile, ever moving culture. But as a vicar, place becomes important. Having a large church building [even if in comparison to others it is small] defines the starting place for you ministry. It is base camp as Geraldine calls it in the first episode of Vicar of Dibley.

Base camp has a history, a physical history of the building and the communities that have called it ‘their church’ over its time. This history not only defines the physical space with the various stones, pews, monuments and woodwork. It also defines the spiritual space of various practices and ‘ways of doing things’. Now whilst I have experienced this before in all the churches I have worked in, I had a kind of free pass because of the type of ministry I was involved in which was always seen as radical and new. So I have never taken much thought over how the place defines your ministry. David relates the process of trying to move communion down from the high altar to a table in front of the chancel steps. This was not welcomed but a 6 month trial was agreed. After 6 months 65 survey responses were received and only one indicated that they were happy with the new arrangement. David now does communion at the high altar even though this is against much of his desire, theology and conviction. His ministry has been shaped, or perhaps shoe-horned into, the place.

Because of this strong tie between the vicar and the building, even ministry in the community ultimately refers back to the building. Introducing yourself as the vicar is met with reference to the church, silently or vocally. Being in the schools, council meetings, shops and community events does not and cannot separate you from the building. Of course some church leaders have released themselves from such physical constrains and now meet in a café or school building, but they have in fact just swapped one set of physical constrains for another.

Two thoughts follow. The first is that such a constraint forces you to engage with where that community is coming from. A thorough appreciation of the journey thus far is the foundation of any journey yet to come. It needs to be thorough because just observing the superficial appearances does not reveal the relational investment that members of the community might have with the history and thus the physical aspects of the building. In needs to be an appreciation because just dismissing various episodes in their story as old or worse still as misguided in theology or practice simply means that they won’t follow any leadership you might have to offer.

These thoughts at least, lead me to the attitude change that needs to take place. That is, to learn to love your building: live in it, hear it breath, listen for the heart beat and watch it welcome its visitors old and new. Even if you eventually need to let your building lie in peace and die, you must be in a place to be bereaved before such a suggestion enters your thoughts, let alone the PCC agenda.

In this context, being the Priest-in-Charge sounds rather strange and even arrogant. For surely, until you’re in a place where you love your building you are but a visiting-priest. Visiting and joining in the faith journey of a community.

After being involved in leading the service in some way or another I have always had the habit of standing by the door as people leave. This is obviously to allow people to interact with the content of the service and of course to put some human contact into the sometimes detached sense of being ‘up-there’ at the front.

In previous churches this exercise has always had some pretty stiff architectural opposition since the location of the coffee has conflicted with the location of the door. In the end this usually meant that I stood at the door for a few minutes until I felt completely left out of it and then joined the queue for drinks and biscuits.

Having stood at the door at St James’ now a few times there is a clear difference. At the door you have contact, physical and vocal, with everyone at the service. It would have to be their intent if someone wanted to leave without speaking with the vicar. At coffee, I would normally end up speaking to those who wanted to speak to me, either with and agenda or more often simply because they were friends.

Now I understand there will be all kinds of problems with the door model. Primarily, it would only work if there were no coffee. At St James’ the coffee is at the beginning of the service time for those who would like it. Additionally, it could take a long time for everyone to leave if the congregation were of any size, although it did not seem that cumbersome even at Christmas. It would also be easy to count this brief contact as a substitute for the genuine and sustained contact of meeting and visiting the parishioners.

However, the way the door works here at St James’ is that it becomes the link between the ministry in the building, on Sundays, marriages and funerals, and the ministry of being around the town. Speaking to the same person at the church door and behind the post office counter or just simply as they are walking their dog physically breaks a very real mental gap between church services and life. This is perhaps even more so for the non-regular-church-goer who perhaps was only in church for a funeral and Easter but who now knows who the vicar is when they meet in everyday life.

This door ministry has a particular place in small and market town parishes where the vicar does their life in the context of the few thousand people in the parish. There is of course less opportunity as the specific place becomes larger and where community is less tied to place and more to network. But perhaps the challenge arises wherever the church happens to be, how can you help people cross the gap between service and life by your physical presence as the vicar?

Once I had made a move towards ordained ministry I began to take more notice of what the clergy on the staff were doing: funerals, weddings and services. I remember a conversation with the curate about funerals and what is involved once the church received a call from the funeral directors or family. What struck me is not how many times you might need to visit the family, preparing the service including perhaps a eulogy, communicating with the director and perhaps the crematorium and what bereavement follow-up might be appropriate. Rather it was that such a phone call might happen at anytime of the week, day or night.

Getting such a phone call on Monday morning when the diary already has preparing for the APCM on Tuesday evening, being involved in civic ceremonies on Wednesday, a day in the school interviewing for a new head on Thursday, preparing for Sunday services on Friday morning and visiting your parents-in-law in the afternoon, can only mean trouble at home when the children begin to wonder where their Dad is. Getting it on Friday afternoon when you are just settling down to prepare the sermon can only mean something gives that cannot be given!!
The easy conclusion is to start the week with your diary half empty! Is this possible?

What is also apparent is that once you get from behind the computer screen and live as a part of the community in which you are the priest, time becomes a very disposable commodity. Going to the Post Office to buy some stamps can turn into 3 conversations and an hour, for a 10 min walk and job.

Being a person who usually starts their week with their diary full and avoids situations that are likely to take more time than I can spare I have a load of movement to make. But…

But what?
Is the answer to diary in community time, in which you either do the things that come up like funeral visits and visiting the sick? When nothing comes up then there is time to bum around the parish and meet some people doing ordinary things like shopping.

Is the answer to never take on the things that eat up you time, like various committees and groups that inevitably result in more jobs on the to-do-list?

Perhaps then I need a strategy that keeps the diary under control and gets me out into the community. Or a passion that means I can keep my strengths and weakness in the right balance? The strength of getting things done and the weakness of being too goal driven?

This diary discipline, which reflects your calling and ministry, your values and passions, is a major area to submit to the sabbatical principle, the chance to break old habits that are getting you no-where and wearing you down. I have slipped into a place where my diary is in control of me and I must do what ever it takes to make sure that when [and if] I start ministry again, I gain a firm grip on my diary. Keeping a balance of my strengths and weaknesses but allowing my passions to express themselves in a way that is life-giving to myself, my family and the parish.

The Funeral and Thanksgiving service of Diana Welch happened this morning. I attended and observed. During this service a very clear distinction between the ministry I have been part of and the ministry of a vicar struck me again.

The vicar gets thrown into the emotional cauldron of the parish in a way that I have not experienced and in part have been protected from by the vicar [and my computer screen if I am being too honest]. Whether the vicar has any emotional ties or investment in a particular family, person or situation is completely besides the point. Since they are invited, largely, into the very centre of the stirring cauldron by the people at its centre and those stirring it.

This morning was enormously sad: giving thanks for the life of Diana, who leaves a husband, three children now married and six grandchildren, countless friends and fans. To meet with the family, lead the funeral and a thanksgiving service without joining in and feeling the emotional temperature would be dishonour the family and, I think, God. I felt it and I was a complete outsider sitting at the back being distracted by all sorts of irrelevant thoughts and occurrences.

How does this fit into the current cornerstone of my priestly understanding of “reflecting the Priesthood of Christ and serving the priesthood of all believers? This Michael Ramsey quote goes on to say “to be one of the means of grace whereby God enables the church to be church.” So what do we mean by church? Is it a place that celebrates and laments, sings and weeps, caught up in the complex weave of human emotions, which in themselves must be caught up in the glorious image of God in which we are made. If it is, then being thrown, or politely invited, into the emotional cauldron of the parish life is exactly where the vicar should be.

I was with David, the vicar, this morning talking through the diary for the next two weeks considering the fixed points and what I might be able to attend and get involved in. As an aside David tells me a little about the administrator. Quite apart from who she is, her name is Kim, the amazing job she does, and David’s appreciation of her, the point that grabbed my attention was that the post of administrator had become a priority appointment for the PCC.

In my own experience it is very easy to fill the diary with things that need to be done and leave the things that should be done for another day. Anecdotally, there are plenty of parishes where the priest has become lost behind a sea of paperwork, co-ordination needs and the computer screen. Another aside perhaps tells it all. In the interview process for David’s appointment here, he tells of a moment when an older chap from the town came up to him and without so much as an introduction says something of the likes of this; “What we need here is a Vicar who comes out from behind his computer screen.” When later asked about his computer skills David, without distorting the truth, declared himself to be a bit of a dinosaur in this area!

Hiding behind the computer screen is something I have been guilty of more often than I would care to confess. Some words of advice from the Senior Pastor of a previous church have often come to mind. “Given the choice of sitting in the study and getting it done yourself and leaving it to go out visiting, you should go out visiting every time. It is in visiting that you are more likely to find the help you might need. It is in staying at home that you withhold the help they might need.”

Part of my hope about the blessings that two years training bring, is the chance to break old habits. Hiding behind the computer screen is one of those habits. But here comes the practical reality, finding administrative help becomes a priority. Kim says that her main role is to do the things that need to be done but that do not need a vicar to do them, thus enabling the vicar to be the vicar. With larger parishes and benefices, more forms and paperwork and ever increasing communication needs, this need will only get bigger and therefore perhaps more important.

Well, today begins my placement in Chipping Campden. Two weeks now and two further weeks in September will satisfy the Ministry Division training requirements. Partly chosen because this is the town where my parent-in-laws live, thus providing the necessary family accommodation. Partly chosen because of the incumbent, David Cook, and the wide spectrum of regular ministry that goes on here.

Many questions and concerns will no doubt receive a dose of wisdom along the way, but the main question, one that may be the make or break of me is this; “What difference does being ordained make?”

This morning, after arriving, was the 9:30 at St.Eadburghas with dedication and 11:00 at St. James with baptism, all fairly standard stuff. In the journey between services came the thinking point for today: being public property.

We have some experience of this of course: when moving into a new job and thus area, community, and house. We have done this three times now and each time it is strange when everyone knows your name and you hardly know anyone; when people know when you have redecorated the lounge and when you go to the doctors. More positively, my experience of doing assemblies in the local infant/junior school means that I often heard my name called as I walked around the estate and supermarkets: “that’s Graham over there”, says the little kid to his parent. Of course this often resulted in little chats in the shop aisle with non-church families.

But it strikes me that being the vicar, the one with the collar, can only add to the public property effect. Michael Ramsey says that being a Priest is about “reflecting the priesthood of Christ and serving the priesthood of all believers.” [The Christian Priest Today, p-111] How does being public property resonate with this understanding. You could say that Jesus is public property and so being public is just part of that reflection. Public property sounds quite functional and degrading though. Does being a vicar mean submitting to the control and inspection of the parish? Or is is it reflecting both the inclusive and welcoming nature of Jesus?

Is being public property part of serving the priesthood of believers because in serving there is a huge element of being available? Servants, in days of old, lived in the house of service and were totally available day and night to their Gents and Ladies. I recently heard a house-for-duty incumbent say it like this; “If someone wants to talk with me as the vicar then these are my hours, if someone needs a priest, then I am available day and night.” Sounds like public property to me!

This custom has been one that has puzzled me for a while, since arriving at Rippon College, Cuddesdon for my ordination training. Coming from low evangelical background, these body movements were a puzzle and in fact boarder on idolatry. My first thoughts were “Well they seem no more crazy than sticking your hands in the air during singing.” This obviously has more meaning you might say, but even casual observations show that some songs do it better than others and generally you have to wait until the chorus or the second verse before it is appropriate to ‘lift them high’.

My second thought concerns an observation made by at fellow staff member at my last job [Holy Trinity Hazlemere]. He, Alan, observed that we more often than not fall into worship. We move straight from notices to full blown intimacy without as much as a by-your-leave.

In reaction to these I have been developing a practice of pausing an lowering my head when entering a pew and when leaving it. Not because I am not worshipping in my whole life nor because I think there is any more ‘real’ presence at the altar or reserve sacrament than any other particular place. It is more to do with what is going on in my heart: I am here, in this building in this pew, intentionally to listen, pray and acknowledge God’s grace in my life. It is to mark the beginning and end of this intentional time of becoming aware of God’s presence.

Now I come to Conrad’s observations. This tradition, that I have picked up from other people playing the same game as I am, indeed encourages and entices me to both acknowledge the grace shown to me and respond in an appropriate thankful way acknowledging the Godhead behind it. And in a BTW, showing other people that I am aware of what I am doing in the pew.

Long time no blog – but essay is in and interviews for MPhil and RDP successfully negotiated.

For both my interviews (with Andrew Walker for place on MPhil/PhD at King’s, and Judith Maltby for Ministry Division permission and money for said MPhil) I was sure that I would be asked: how would you describe yourself now in terms of church-person-ship? [my changes]. So after a little pondering I came up with these descriptions of my journey.

Charismatic Baptist Evangelical describes where on the spectrum I was converted into. 1992-1994
Doctrinally Disillusioned Evangelical is how I felt when I realised you needed to go to bible college to discover who Jesus is and the resultant belief-melt-down that follows. 1994-1996
Post Post Evangelical is how I described myself at the public debate with Dave Tomlinson after seeing how scattered and in some places obvious his arguments were. 1997-1998
‘Edge of the World’ Evangelical as opposed to Open Evangelical. That place where you are at the edge of the ‘flat’ world, since flat is how the doctrine felt, and wanting to take a step to get off or out, and yet finding nothing to step on to or in to. 1999-2001
New Kind of Evangelical after reading book of similar title and seeing that it might just be degrees of perspective and there might yet be some life left in the old girl yet! 2001-2004
Cosmopolitan Evangelical since God’s call to Anglican Ordination; being neither Anglican or thinking about ordination up until that point. Cosmo because I know where I come from and don’t want to desert or abandon that past, despite trying to previously. But also wanting to be not just comfortable but actually at home in foreign places; to be able to encounter God, minister, lead, teach and live in a culture that is not my home. “To be ready to find God in the unexpected places.” To quote my selection application papers.

So there we are I am a cosmo evangelical ordinand still having culture shock episodes in a college with liberal catholic history and tendencies.

Picture btw is just dreaming!

Went to my placement, New College Chapel (NCC), for the Ash Wednesday Eucharist and Imposition of Ashes.

NCC has a coral foundation, which means it has a choir, one of the best in the country it appears (see). So the service is imbued with beautiful singing, which given the right posture can do something to lift you, or transport you, or just open the veil a little for a glimpse at God.

So what is it about music, and in this case a male (small and older boys) choir, that enables this momentary thinning of the veil? Why in fact, in whatever, tradition or culture, is music so linked with access to the transcendent?

My other experiences have largely been in the evangelical wing of the church, part of which was standing in a cow shed, or more latterly in a large tent, with thousands of others singing songs, which on the face of it have very little meaningful content, but nevertheless have the same thinning effect! To the extent that we were falling over ourselves to experience this thinning, or more precisely who is on the other side (as it were)

Oh, I also had a black cross on my head, which at first looked like I and the others belonged to some cult that you might encounter in a work of fiction; a cult that was either guilty of some conspiracy or there for laugh material only.

I did however, amuse myself thinking about a contextualised version of this very ancient practice that involved permanent black flipchart markers?!?!

I have been wondering recently about eye contact in church services; particularly during the Peace and when receiving Communion. I struggle with eye contact too, so maybe I am the wrong person to be writing about the lack of eye contact during these aspects of our community life. Is this just reflective of the level of discourtesy that we are prepared to accept in public life? Or is it a give away to something much deeper, and our understanding of ourselves and the ontology of the community. It is eye contact during the Peace in particular that I focus on in this piece. But eye contact during services would be a v.interesting enthological study; anyone up for it! . Peace be with you.

This current ISW is on Health and Healing and we have Rev Chris Mackenna from St Marylebone Healing and Counselling Centre.

It has been a fairly full week since my particular course has only 2 sessions a week normally and this ISW means I need to attend doctrine, OT, NT etc etc.  Aside from that it has been a thought provoking week in all kinds of ways.  The low point and high point was watching a recording of a series that I think was broadcast on TV a few years back.  This documentary followed a two people who claim that miracles of healing occur in their ministires; Benny Hinn and Reinhard Bonnke.  Showing these videos in a college of students primarily from liberal / catholic / low evangelical churches was a brave thing to do and it took the student body the best part of 24 hours to debrief themselves and calm down. I am sure there will be some long term damage for some of us!!

For myself; even though I have seen this kind of ministry before, although have never been to either a Hinn or Bonnke rally / service, I still found the experience quite disturbing.

The parts of the video that we watched concluded by showing that the 5 people they had names and addresses for from the Hinn meeting had not actually been healed as was claimed on stage. In many ways this affirmed our groups belief that this sort of ministry ought to be legislated against.

However, my question is what if one, even one of those claimed to be healed on stage were in fact healed!! As was said by Chris Mackenna; I am sure there are people who have been blessed greatly at such meetings.  My point is that grace does not justify.  Even if someone was healed at such a meeting it does not justify the way Benny or Richard conduct their meeting or ministry. In the same way that it would not justify mine or yours either!

God, it seems to me, does not wait for us to get it right before he visits in his sovereignty.

More reflections about this ISW week of health and healing later.

We there was just me and the chapel sacristan (person who prepares the room and looks after everything). At 10 I was ready to say ‘O well’ and make it an early night. But Paul the sacristan beat me to it and said ‘Just you and me then brother!’

There followed Paul and I going through the service, (which included a song that we elected to say since neither of us were that comfortable about singing). During this I glimpsed closer the privilege of praying on behalf of the community.

Praying for God’s peace throughout the night, for rest and protection, praying on behalf of the community; giving thanks for the mission work of the church and offering to God our thanks for his grace and mercy during the day knowing that I was there to do that and that no-one else could come was ok.

Perhaps there is a priest in me after-all!