reflections on institutionalised religion

i wrote the following about 4 years ago following a visit to an anglican church in the suburbs of london. i think that even after all that time, it still sums up where my heart is.

My reflections

The church seems to have an underlying, and perhaps unconscious theology of pastoral care and maintenance, which doesn’t find creative, risky, thoughtful, and proactive ways of getting the congregation to engage with the local community.

It is good at having social clubs, is very welcoming to new people who come, and is probably characterised by a ‘belonging before believing’ approach. This does seem to produce some fruit.

The high church ritual is done well, and so is attractive to people who want that sort of worship. The teaching was very short, unimaginative, thin on content, and designed for an encouraging feel-good factor - more along the line of moralising, and of how to live a good life than grappling with the alternative vision of the Kingdom of God here on earth now, as it is in heaven.

I felt that the church was very much stuck in the Christendom paradigm – particularly around the idea that ‘being a good Christian means being a good citizen.’ So in their context, church was a place to come to be encouraged and confirmed in maintaining the treadmill of their middle-class mediocrity. There didn’t seem to be an inherent theology of mission at the heart of the church.

I couldn’t stand it.

In reflecting on what that experience means for my own future ministry, I could only pray that I don’t end up in that kind of situation. It looked like a treadmill that would slowly grind me to death.

It confirmed to me that I’m interested in exploring non-traditional forms of ministry, though I’m not sure I can adequately articulate what that might look like in practice.

What I do know, is that at base level there must be at least 3 core values:
1. a theology of mission that actively engages in creative, organic, and contextually meaningful praxis;
2. a prophetic heart that is willing to speak of the Kingdom of God to both church and world;
3. an active pursuit of spirituality that is given time and space to explore my relationship with God at a mystic level (without wanting to sound pretentious).

I want to find a community of people who are willing to explore these values and who encourage one another in their exploration of ‘life in all its fullness’.

I know that I’m good at conducting the ‘hatch, match, and despatch’ ceremonies that non-religious people want the religious community to perform for them. I know from what people say, that they sense God when I shepherd them through those times.

But I don’t want to walk on a treadmill.

I know that in church my teaching and preaching is able to articulate for people the joys and pains of life, and my stories connect with their story so that they are unsettled, comforted, challenged, and intrigued enough to want their lives shaped by the Jesus I speak of.

I love to administer the sacraments, and watch the ancient story come to life in people’s responses as they partake in God’s goodness to them.

I enjoy the exploration of new and different forms of living the story; of working with others who are different and far more creative than me; of seeing the untamed wildness of God in people when they realise that being who they are is what freedom actually means; of listening to the poetry and art of those who seek God outside of the forms of mediocrity which says, ‘but this is the way its always been done.’

I want to live in commune with the rhythms of nature’s seasons, and feel the movement of the ancient Christian story as it swells and ebbs with its own seasons. I want to see people’s lives shaped and re-shaped year by year as they connect their life story to the Jesus story, and allow their own lives to be moulded by his.

But I don’t want to walk on a treadmill.

I want to be involved in the unstoppable mega-swell of the ocean of God’s change, and be swept up in the waves that will sweep the beach clean of the edifices humanity has erected, leaving only driftwood, pebbles, sea-weed, and sand…and children to play in the gently lapping wavelets under an early morning sun.

I don’t want those children to be oppressed by the weight of faceless committees, to be denied the fruits of their forefathers’ stewardship, to be abandoned like unwanted babies by a mother who knows she is dying but who lives in self-centred denial. So I want to be in a position where I can help the children acquire the resources they need and which are their rightful inheritance.

I want to listen to the children as they speak of God, and watch how they play as his Spirit bubbles up in them. I want to speak into the halls of power to ensure that the children have the resources of their inheritance that their Spirit-bubbling requires. And I want them to feel the freedom and encouragement from a changed mother to explore new forms of living the gospel.

So I can’t walk on a treadmill. My heart is restless, yet aches for rest. My history shows that I am constantly moving, yet I yearn to settle and put down roots.

I live in the tension of the ‘here, but not yet.’

I am a traveller.