Richard McCallum, Evangelical Christian Responses to Islam: A Contemporary Overview (London: Bloomsbury, 2024)

reviewed by Tom Wilson, Leicester

This is an invaluable resource for academics and students who are seeking to understand evangelical Christian responses to Islam. It is divided into three parts. First, McCallum builds on the work of Habermas, Fraser and others to argue for an “Evangelical micro-public sphere”, one of many “that together form a global network of spheres making up broader transnational macro-public spheres” (p. 15). McCallum establishes the nature of the evangelical micro public sphere on Islam, documenting the issues, participants and texts that are discussed. In the second chapter of part one he explores typologies of encounter, outlining the breadth of what it means to be evangelical and how those who identify in this way respond to Islam.

Part two dives into the issues of: Allah, Muhammad, Qur’an and Hadith, Sharia, Islamisation, persecution, violence and Israel–Palestine. Various evangelical responses to each issue are set out clearly and the subtleties and nuances of the differences between them are explained. At the end of each chapter is a helpful one- or two-page discussion, where McCallum draws together the threads of the argument and poses questions and challenges for the reader. The chapters range broadly across the globe. White men from the US and UK do dominate but other voices are present. A real strength of this book is that McCallum has gone beyond the “usual suspects” to ensure a genuine plurality of voices are heard. The final chapter outlines the range of different answers that evangelical writers give to the question “What is Islam?” The answers given are a religion, a heresy, a political ideology, a conspiracy, the enemy, demonic, an essence, diverse, Muslims and a social construct.

In part three McCallum explores how evangelical Christians talk to and with Muslims, as well as methodologies for evangelism and conversion, friendship and dialogue, and apologetics and polemics. As in part two, a wide range of strategies, approaches and global contexts are discussed. McCallum does not shy away from the difficult issues, raising the question of the ethics of any outreach or evangelism for example. The final chapter discusses types of evangelical response to Islam. As with any typology, it presents a series of theoretical constructs that may not map to real life but are nevertheless useful for opening up conversation.

In his conclusion McCallum recapitulates his argument to date and draws together the threads of his discussion, including issues such as convert care, geographical difference, race, gender, sexual orientation, and climate and environment. He sets out for the directions of future activity including the importance of education, research, hospitality and humility. He ends by suggesting Christianity is at a crossroads both in terms of what it means to be Christian and what it means for Christians to engage with Islam.

Evangelical Christian Responses to Islam is a meticulously researched and lucidly written book. Not just the discussion, but also the lists of references, make this a go-to resource for all students of Christian responses to Islam in particular, and mission studies in general. Since it is currently only available as an academic hardback, sales may be limited for the moment to libraries, but once the more affordable paperback edition is out, I would urge anyone with serious interest in Christian-Muslim relations to buy a copy of this book.

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Elizabeth Phillips, Apocalyptic Theopolitics (Eugene, OR: Cascade Books, 2022)

reviewed by Wing Yin Li, PhD student in Theology at Princeton Theological Seminary

Apocalyptic Theopolitics is a selective collection of academic essays and sermons by Elizabeth Phillips, the public engagement fellow for the Woolf Institute in Cambridge. This book comprises 14 chapters organised into four major parts. Each part encompasses the author’s scholarly analysis of specific subject matters, alongside corresponding sermon(s) delivered on various occasions. Within this slim volume lies a dense yet profound exploration of the intersection between eschatology, Christian ethics and political theology.

In part I, Phillips offers a compact survey of the notions of eschatology and the apocalyptic in Scripture, Augustine, Aquinas, early liberation theologies, millennialism and postmillennialism. While acknowledging the value of the historical turn in Reinhold Niebuhr’s eschatology, Phillips argues that the shift away from the apocalyptic is a misguided one. Despite the dangerous employment of apocalyptic rhetoric and ideology in some sociopolitical movements, Christian Zionism for example, such usage bears “no direct relationship to the overarching contents and functions of apocalyptic texts, nor necessitate[s] any connection whatsoever with them” (p. 19). Therefore, to reject the apocalyptic as dangerous because of some erroneous use of the apocalyptic is a syllogistic fallacy. One of the central objectives of this book is to reclaim the value of the apocalyptic, drawn from the apocalyptic texts, as a normative resource for political theology. In this section, the author also critiques the existing conceptual, disciplinary and methodological separation between theology and the political and between theological ethics and social ethics. Engaging with the political theology of M. Shawn Copeland, Phillips contends that the theological engagement of discourses outside the ethical (problem-solving) frame can help broaden our political considerations, which are deeply ethical in the sense that they have a direct influence on our concrete political praxis.

In part II, the author presents her ethnographic study of Christian Zionism, which she conducted in an American congregation in 2007. According to her observation, eschatology plays a key role in shaping the theopolitical imagination of this congregation, where eschatological language is often invoked at worship, prayer meetings and other church events to express a hope of militant victory of Israel as a nation-state. However, contrary to the common assumption that Zionism is offering support to Israel simply for the sake of hastening the second coming of Christ, Phillips discovers that this congregation exhibits a more complex understanding of divine revelation and eschatology. To these Christian Zionists, the militant victory of Israel, as promised by God to Abraham in Gen. 12 and prophesised by Ezekiel to the dry bones (Ezek. 37:3), is a sure reality that will be fulfilled in the near future. This military success, including not only the establishment and expansion of the state of Israel but also the failure and fatality of Israel’s “enemies”, is not a means through which Christ shall return but the ends itself that occurs at the second coming of Christ, a time when the sovereignty of God is revealed to the world. Their political activism in funding Israeli settlement and war in the land of Palestine is, therefore, understood by the community as a participation in carrying out God’s ultimate will for humanity and all creation. As Phillips rightly points out, this literal interpretation of biblical texts as predictions to be fulfilled through nationalist militarism, disregarding “Scripture’s own critiques of militarism, nationalism, violence, and injustice,” is highly problematic (p. 72). Notably, the grave consequences yielded by such dangerous theology is now tragically unravelled in the genocide taking place in Gaza against the Palestinians.

In part III, Phillips compares Christian Zionism and its dispensationalist eschatology with the theology of John Howard Yoder, whose eschatology and view of a political Jesus rest not on the militant triumph but on the very suffering of the Lamb slain by the imperial regime. Concurring with Yoder’s analysis of the deconstructing function of the apocalyptic, Phillips argues that definitive forms of the apocalyptic should manifest in 1) deconstruction – disclosing the possibility of a different reality, 2) proclamation – proclaiming the sovereignty of God against oppressive power and 3) empowerment – enabling the community of faith to speak truth to power. In this section, she discusses the doctrines of “The Two” with a creative approach to put Yoder as an interlocutor with Augustine, examining the boundary between the sacred and secular, public and private, church and world, and church and state. Regardless of the numerous insights present in Yoder’s academic contributions, Phillips makes note of Yoder’s sexual misconducts and discusses the complicated legacy left by Yoder in shaping Anabaptist theopolitics in the twentieth century.

In part IV, Phillips engages with the work of Herbert McCabe, Anathea Portier-Young and Judith Herman to explore the element of hope as a theological virtue in the apocalyptic. She argues that an apocalyptic imagination and praxis that “emphasizes the integration of the political, linguistic, narrative, and bodily essence of our human nature and morality” (p. 149) can not only provide comfort to a people who are undergoing great suffering but also empower them to reclaim their agency and resist the domination and hegemony of the oppressive powers with a counter narrative grounded in God’s providence and sovereignty. The Eucharist, the author proposes, is one of such apocalyptic practices that allow the participants to see “how the depth of catastrophic human oppression is met and overcome by what Herbert McCabe called the ‘revolutionary depth’ of our future in God and how it impinges on our present life” (p. 156). While Phillips asserts that the Eucharist is not a “moral magic… [that can] make us more moral and make social ills disappear” (p.157), it does make one wonder if the apocalyptic hope expressed through this Christian liturgy might resonate with those outside the Christian community who are experiencing suffering.

Apocalyptic Theopolitics is a rich and timely read that provides invaluable and constructive insights into the apocalyptic and its relation to political theology. It is particularly relevant amidst the ongoing genocide carried out by the Israeli–US coalition with a Zionistic tone. While this book warns us of the perilous use of apocalyptic eschatology in Christian Zionism, it advocates for a reimagined apocalyptic that takes roots in the textual–historical analyses of the apocalyptic texts and centres in its function of unveiling the oppressive narratives in the world. Bringing together intellectual depth and pastoral and homiletic wisdom, this volume stands as a visionary resource for scholars, church leaders and Christians wrestling with the apocalyptic literature in the Bible and seeking to embody their faith in response to the contemporary sociopolitical complexities and challenges.

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Olivia Jackson, Uncertain: A collective Memoir of Deconstructing Faith (London: SCM, 2023)

reviewed by James Butler, CMS

This book is a detailed account of the stories of “deconstruction” of faith. Like the author of the book, I’m not so keen on the language of deconstruction, but it does seem to be the term most commonly used to describe the increasingly common and widespread experience. Broadly stated, this is a process of finding an increasing dissonance between what they have been taught and encouraged to believe in church, and their experience of life and the world. For some this is a crisis, for others a gradual process. The book describes this as “intentional examination of one’s core faith and beliefs, leading to a profound change in, or even loss of, that faith” (p xvi). Jackson wrote the book based on 400 people completing a questionnaire with a further 140 follow-up interviews with people across from around the world.

The book is split into three parts. The first part has 19 short chapters telling the stories of people’s experiences of the churches they were part of and the broadly evangelical faith they were encouraged to embrace. The second part has six longer chapters which go into more depth about people’s experience of broadly evangelical teaching and doctrine that they have found harmful, difficult and have “deconstructed”. Part three contains three chapters and looks at where people have gone next. For some this has meant finding freedom in leaving the Christian faith behind. For others they have found God in different places, traditions and religions.

The book is written as more of a memoir, reporting people’s experience and the ways in which they have made sense of it, rather than trying to draw out any larger theological learning. Although, early on, Jackson is careful to state that she knows people have positive experiences of evangelicalism (some would challenge her broad definition of evangelicalism), she does, in places, end up talking in generalities and a few times makes sweeping statements about “the church”. The book is definitely at its strongest when sharing people’s accounts and telling their stories. 

Approaching this as someone interested in how faith is lived, how church and mission are changing, and the theological wisdom that is emerging from such experiences, I would love to have dived more deeply into the theology emerging. If this had been a practical theology text, the accounts shared would have given ample opportunities to explore the nature of God, salvation, church and the work of the Spirit that people were discovering. This is where I often found thoughts going; however, they are not in this book. It seemed to me it was primarily written for people going through similar experiences, and Jackson’s commentary often opened up these kinds of reflection. This meant that there were a number of times when the discussion felt a little heavy-handed and a little more precision might have helped the points to land more clearly, but these criticisms are perhaps to miss the point of the book. Jackson is giving a raw account of the experience of deconstruction, and is more focused on telling the story than analysing it.

I’m sure that those who have experienced something similar will find comfort in being able to hear similar stories, and discover their experience is shared. There is no judgement and there is wisdom here about ways ahead. This book is also a gift to churches and church leaders if they are willing to listen. For some the tone will be too harsh and difficult to hear. There will be a tendency to be defensive, or to distance themselves from the accounts of harmful teaching. However, I think that for those who are willing to pause and listen, it is a gift, telling the stories of people who found their faith no longer fitted with their experience; people who had been committed to church and to God, yet in the process of deconstruction ended up feeling abused, or no longer able to stay in church. It shows how things that might have been intended for good have been warped and misshapen, and it brings into the light ways of leading and being which have always been toxic and need to be named as such. I would encourage people to listen carefully to these stories, not because they are “right” necessarily, but because they are a witness to, and against, churches and leaders which deserve to be taken seriously. 

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Jose Mario Francisco SJ and Jayeel Cornelio, People’s Christianity: Theological Sense and Sociological Significance, (New York: Paulist Press, 2022) 

reviewed by Tom Wilson, Leicester

This interesting read from two Catholic scholars is a useful addition to the library of any theological or Bible college. The main stimulus for writing comes from Pope Francis’ exhortation that pastors must “smell the sheep”, that is, they must get up close and personal, discovering how Christians actually live out their faith. 

Part one, “smelling the sheep,” is divided into two chapters. Chapter one discusses the authenticity of the popular. That is, that lived religion is still an authentic experience of Christianity, even if it contains elements that religious authorities disapprove of. The authors are at pains to point out that there is no hard and fast distinction between institutional and lived religion, but rather a continuum, for institutional religion is practiced by people. They also outline their four key themes: worship, liberation, agency in tradition and the ability of the faithful to discern the things of God (p. 19). Chapter two explores the diversity of lived Christianity, which begs the question are there “correct” and “incorrect” expressions of faith, and if so, how are they distinguished? Another key point is that lived religion is primarily communal. The authors argue for four elements of lived Christianity: authenticity, the location of the sacred, the presence and meditation of sacred power, and practical rationality (p. 34). 

Part two concentrates on reading between the lines, discussing lived Christianity as worship and promotion of liberation. The chapter on worship begins with a discussion of the Vatican’s “Directory on popular piety and the liturgy,” a strategic document which seeks to control and regulate lived Christianity. In the authors’ view, it does so with limited success. The chapter also explores the controversy over Chinese rituals related to veneration of ancestors. It discusses whether these are compatible with Christianity. The chapter on liberation concerns two streams of thought: the Spanish-language writings, primarily from South America, and the specifically Argentinian theology of the people. The interrelation of these two streams is explored and the question of who exactly performs liberation theology is discussed. 

Part three is devoted to “sensing the people’s faith,” combining theological reflections with ethnographic interpretations of observed lived religion. Chapter five gives the theoretical framework, arguing that lived Christianity has always had a place within Christian tradition because it is the manifestation of divine self-disclosure. The faithful are actively working out the nature and purpose of this revelation. Chapter six then gives a practical outworking through discussion of devotion to Mary across different times and places. The authors argue this demonstrates the Holy Spirit disclosing the nature of God to the faithful. Chapter seven rounds off the discussion through an exploration of sensus fidei, referring both to the sense for the faith and the sense of the faith. The authors concentrate on a 2014 document, Sensus Fidei in the life of the church. This is a liminal and marginal activity, where those who live faith on the edge have much to contribute. 

Part four focuses on “journeying with the sheep.” Chapter eight draws together theology and sociology, arguing for symbiosis not dissonance. The authors’ shift to “living religion,” is particularly interesting, as is their argument that sociology is a form of theology because everyone operates from a worldview. Their exploration of pastoral sociology and public theology are both very stimulating. The final chapter draws the threads together, arguing for dynamism and creativity as we all travel together. They conclude that the people of God need courage, but also to love and serve on another, to imbue the Christian life with hope. 

People’s Christianity is an engaging read. The book was more technical and academic than I was expecting but it was, for me personally, an easy read.  

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Ash Barker, No Wastelands: How to Grow Seedbeds of Shalom in Your Neighbourhood, (Birmingham: Seedbeds Communications, 2023)

reviewed by Jonny Baker, CMS

Ash and Anj Barker have done several cycles of a decade or more living in urban neighbourhoods where there are multiple issues of deprivation. The latest is Winson Green in Birmingham. I have taken groups of pioneer students to visit them over the last seven years and they always come away challenged and inspired. The reason is simple – they are living out the gospel in their neighbourhood in ways that are bringing visible change, visible good. Ash’s word for that is shalom – life flourishing in a place.

In No Wastelands Ash distils the wisdom of that experience, practice and theology into one accessible volume. It’s a mix of inspiring stories, gritty honesty, practical ideas, advice and frameworks, spiritual practices, theology and missiology. It combines into an amazing handbook to guide anyone wanting to follow in this direction.

The book is structured in five sections around the notion of seedbeds – beating the weeds, sowing seeds of shalom, the soil we need, sustainable roots and branches ready for fruit, and work with the seasons. Each chapter has some questions for reflection and each section has some suggestions for practices to try. This creates a good frame for the book. It is rich and deep and runs to 400 pages. There is a lot here.

There has been a push in mission circles, inspired by Sam Wells, to focus on “with” in the last few years, i.e. to see mission as with a community rather than something done to or for them. Ash pushes this on a step, suggesting that transformation really happens when it is “by” local people. Ash’s passion for enabling innovative leaders and changemakers from inside those neighbourhoods shines through so that community transformation is led by them. That’s the thing that has grabbed me personally the most. This is drawn from Ash’s experience and nous about community development and organising, which is refreshing and I think could help a lot more ministers and pioneers.

The church (I can certainly say this for the Church of England anyway) has not found it easy to inculturate the gospel in neighbourhoods with people experiencing poverty. But there seems to be a renewed concern and stirring and hopefully investment in this direction. The book is perhaps timely in the UK. It is ideal for anyone who is ministering or senses a call to work in neighbourhoods with people experiencing poverty. It should inspire you, but also be a handbook that will get very worn at the edges. I will be coming back to this again and again and passing it on to others.

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Stanley H. Skreslet, Constructing Mission History: Missionary Initiative and Indigenous Agency in the Making of World Christianity (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2023)

reviewed by Steve Taylor, Director AngelWings Ltd, Aotearoa New Zealand

Missionaries. Are they saints of God? Or agents of colonisation? Stanley Skreslet begins Constructing Mission History with two common understandings of mission history. One places foreign missionaries at the heart of the story as heroes of God’s expanding empire. A second understanding emphasises the colonial aspect of modern missions, implicating missionaries as agents of empire in the destruction of cultures.

Uneasy with the way that both understandings centre on the missionary, Skreslet outlines a third approach. Constructing Mission History argues that speech-act theory offers a fresh account of mission history that respects indigenous agency and the complexity of interactions across cultures. 

Speech-act theory, developed by J.L. Austin and J.R. Searle, treats language as an action. It analyses what is said (locution), as well as the intentions (illocution) of those who communicate and the consequences (perlocution) of what is communicated. Applying speech-act theory to mission allows Skreslet to recognise multiple sources of agency. He looks for surprises, including unanticipated consequences and how political, social and economic forces shape the entangling of cultures.

Having introduced speech-act theory, Skreslet develops the implications over seven chapters. Three chapters explore illocutionary intentions. Missionary motivations are grouped in chapters on salvation, knowledge-sharing and benevolence. Of particular interest is how Skreslet works with Aquinas’ writing on charity and sketches a Catholic missiology of social concern. A question for further research is whether these historic motivations will provide adequate resources for the contemporary challenges of climate change and global injustice. 

Four chapters explore perlocution, the performance of mission in history. A chapter on power encounters explores the political forces within which missionary activity is always unavoidably entangled. A chapter titled “Constructing Christianopolis” analyses the nature and shape of intentional Christian communities in America, Africa and Asia. A chapter on vernacular Christianities charts the impact of translating not only Scripture but also art, artefacts and architecture. A chapter on subversive witnessing considers how missionaries and indigenous communities creatively drew on Christianity to resist imperialism. Of topical interest is a close reading of the Christianities that emerged in the United States as enslaved people exercised agency as they responded to Christ.

Constructing Mission History offers significant resources for church leaders, mission partners and those interested in fresh expressions, pioneering and cross-cultural ministry. First, it affirms the value of archives and the potential of archival research to uncover ethnographic data that can be illuminated by multiple academic fields, including material cultures, the sociology of religion and the history of science and medicine. Indeed, the book is of value for the footnotes alone.

Second, locating mission as action provides ways for the past to enrich the future. In Aotearoa New Zealand, a Māori proverb, “Ka mua, ka muri”, affirms the wisdom of looking back to move forward. Constructing Mission History provides new ways to look back and, in so doing, offers wisdom to those sharing in God’s unfolding mission. What can those who pioneer in fresh expressions learn from historic mission performance patterns in areas like the vernacularisation of Christianity, particularly when the most dynamic outputs emerge not from those sent but from those embedded in local cultures? How will the church today respond to what Skreslet calls the “uneven impacts” of mission in which external cultural shifts are more influential than the work of individuals? These questions demonstrate the possibilities emerging from Skreslet’s argument that mission is a verb, a set of past performances able to inform those willing to act forward. 

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Luke Bretherton, A Primer in Christian Ethics: Christ and the Struggle to Live Well, (Cambridge: CUP, 2023)

reviewed by James Butler, CMS

Luke Bretherton is on top form in this book. While the idea of a primer might lead you to expect a shorter volume, don’t let the fact it runs to over 350 pages put you off. It does get a bit technical in places, but the vision it paints for ethics and human flourishing is bold and persuasive. I found myself very much drawn to the account, and agreeing with so much of what is written. Rather than beginning with exploring different approaches, Bretherton carefully articulates a particular approach to Christian ethics and living well, albeit one that draws on a wealth of different accounts, sources and approaches.

I was particularly taken with the close listening encouraged in Part I, which offered an integrated account of listening to creaturely life, Scripture, strangers, cries for liberation and ancestors. The chapter on Scripture is particularly helpful, reflecting on how to take the Bible seriously as the word of God and as an authority for faith, without having to subscribe to a doctrine of inerrancy or literalist readings of the Bible. In fact Bretherton suggests that to do this is actually a less faithful engagement with Scripture. Listening to this variety of voices enables the world to be described well and provides a good starting point to discerning and judging well. This is where Part II comes in, looking at acting well and exploring moral agency. This is a more technical section, and some will feel it is rather dense in its writing, but its brilliance is in the way it is able to draw from a multitude of sources without getting bogged down or side-tracked. Many will want more on each of the topics dealt with in Part II, but with each chapter ending with suggested readings there are plenty of opportunities to explore these themes further. Many of them are also explored in more depth in Bretherton’s other works, particularly Christ and the Common Life. 

Part III, entitled “living well with others”, seeks to draw out some of the fruit of the process so far, to explore the common life. Bretherton is clear that ethics is not just about individual action, but about living life together, and for this reason in the last three chapters he looks at social, economic and political life. Again, there is much here which is rich, informative and based in a wealth of wisdom and experience. However, I couldn’t help feel that it remained a somewhat big picture. Perhaps this is the nature of ethics needing to take place in a context, and be worked out in a particular place with particular people, but at times I felt that the church he talked about felt a bit distant from gritty everyday life. I think there might have been ways to draw more clearly on the kinds of voices Bretherton drew attention to in Part I to land it more clearly in everyday life. The chapters seemed to move towards the church being a contrast community and I wondered whether a clearer sense of church as people scattered through the world and engaging in the messiness of life, work, relationships and politics could feature more centrally in the account. That said, overall I found it compelling, speaking both to the ways in which I think about the Christian life and the way I live as a Christian.

I also think it is a rich text for thinking about mission and pioneering. While Bretherton’s lens is Christian ethics, his vision for living well through attentive listening, moral formation and exploring a common life is a rich source of inspiration for missiology and for pioneering. I think the invitation, and indeed challenge, to make the connection to living well and the common life is one that is underexplored in missiology. As Christians our approaches to economics and politics can often be too simplistic and end up maintaining the status quo rather than engaging in complex ways to challenge and change. For this reason, I think pioneers and mission workers will benefit greatly from following Bretherton’s thinking and challenge, particularly given the clear starting point of attentive listening. 

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Mekdes Haddis, A Just Mission: Laying Down Power and Embracing Mutuality, (Downers Grove: IVP, 2022)

reviewed by Cathy Ross, CMS

Mekdes Haddis is Ethiopian and has been living in the USA since she went there to study at college. She now lives with her family in South Carolina. Her book really is about what the title states and is a searing critique of Western missions. Her goal is to move mission from a transactional relationship to one of relational mutuality that is engaged with by everyone in the global church, not just Westerners. 

She offers a powerful judgement on white Saviourism, which she sees as a great threat to the gospel. She debunks the idea of Africa as the “white man’s graveyard”, a 19th century concept but still quoted as recently as 2017. She counters this with a powerful rewriting of this narrative, “Colonialism is known at the ‘black man’s graveyard.’ After white people stepped foot on the beautiful continent of Africa, death and desolation followed” (p 25). She demonstrates how often mission has been harmful and destructive in the way it has been carried out from the West to the rest. She claims that our faith must be divorced from imperialism, that we must stop creating dependency and become genuine disciples. She links this discipleship beautifully to the necessity of seeing how God has already revealed Godself in local cultures and that this is the beginning of a journey towards mutuality and serving together.

Perhaps her most hard-hitting chapter is her analysis of short-term mission. She claims that estimates put two million people on short term mission trips every year and spend about four billion dollars – the same as Haiti’s budget for the country! She challenges the very premise of short-term mission and believes that it benefits the goers much more than the receivers. She wonders why so many people are willing to travel on these trips overseas but are strangely reluctant to get involved with people from some of these countries who are just down the road. There may well be immigrant communities from those countries and yet no effort is made to learn from them before visiting those same countries. She offers some helpful questions and concludes with some best practice suggestions to ensure best practice in short-term mission.

I found her emphasis on discipleship as being filled with the Holy Spirit to witness and being prepared to suffer a helpful corrective to much of our institutionalised mission engagement. This is a theme that keeps recurring and is something that the West can learn from the Majority World church – a focus on the infilling of the Spirit, an expectation that discipleship may incur suffering and hardship, and the importance of prayer. She reminds us that there are disenfranchised people all around us and that mission can happen at home.

This is a book that is not afraid to face the tough issues – race, justice, money, power, the danger of dogmatic theology and how these issues have distorted the practice of mission in the hands of the West. I heartily recommend this book – it is not easy reading for anyone but it unmasks so much of our hubris around mission: the vested interests, where the power lies, the focus on money, metrics and strategies and especially how we in the West have so often made mission into a transaction rather than a relationship of mutuality, imbued with the Holy Spirit, and lived out in a discipleship that calls us to a life of witness and suffering.

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Autoethnography presentation

by Maddie Thorp

• Read more about autoethnography (studying culture and beliefs through examination of your own story) in Anvil vol 36 issue 1.

I’m three years old and in the hospital
Holding my brother
The warm yellow light of the lamp is highlighting us
On the armchair of this room
As I look down at this baby sleeping in my arms
We are equal and there is nothing different about us
Made of the same flesh and genes

I’m five years old and at the kitchen table
My brother is nearly two
I sit teaching him what I learnt at school
Just an infant, he doesn’t understand the letters I do
But it’s okay because he’ll learn
And I’ll keep teaching him until he can spell our names the same way I can
Because there is nothing I can do he won’t be able to
We are made of the same flesh and genes

I’m nine years old, my brother is six
We both play the same sports and fight the same fights
We are equal and there is nothing different about us
Made of the same flesh and genes
We talk in unison, and I teach him how to play the games us older children are playing
I teach him how to dodge the ball better
How to throw the ball better
And he teaches me patience

I’m fourteen years old and at my karate class
My brother is eleven and one of the seven boys I’m trying to teach
They’ve all started getting taller than me now
But they still listen when I speak

I’m eighteen now
And the boys I teach now spread across ages
I teach a seven-year-old how he should curl his tiny fingers to make a fist and his first instinct is to try it on his twin
I teach a fourteen-year-old his next kata
I teach the nineteen-year-old what it’s like to fight someone smaller, quicker
Someone who can duck the punches and kicks and get him to the floor before he’s even blinked
The adults listen in as I share what I’ve been doing for the last ten years
They’ve only just started and want to know more and don’t mind that it’s coming from me
Even my fifteen-year-old brother listens when his sister teaches
Because we are equal, there’s nothing I can do that he can’t
We’re made of the same flesh and genes

On the weekends I’m at church
My friends invited me, and I found God or really he found me
And this messed up eighteen-year-old knows
That God sees her and knows her
That God created her
And gave her gifts and words to do all these wonderful things
And I sing, and I teach, and I learn, and we engage together and it’s good
And still, there is nothing here I can’t do that my brother could
Because we are made of the same flesh and genes

I’m nineteen and at university
Trying out churches my youth workers helped me find
But they don’t feel like home, and I don’t really understand why
The congregation doesn’t feel right, my voice isn’t always heard
When I’m asked what I think the pastor sometimes shrinks
And tells me we’ll speak over coffee when it’s quieter and we can both think

I’m twenty-three and working in ministry
The pastor of my friend’s church that I’ve visited a few times
Invites me for coffee “so we can talk theology”
We meet in the city that is the centre of the Anglican community
Go into a small bar that’s recently been done up
I came here with my parents six years ago
As I sought to learn more and grow,
I’m still here, seeking to learn more and grow
The green walls are new but the sticky arms of the chair I’m on aren’t
The paintings around us feature people whose eyes never leave us
Lying in wait and I think of the Hebrew of Genesis
Qavah lying in wait, like the waters at the beginning
Waiting to teem with life

But it’s not a fair comparison when the words spoken
For thirty excruciating minutes
Are not teeming with life, but make some God-given part of me shrivel and die

And it’s like time has slowed
Whilst I listen to the words
Unravelling twenty-three years of life and encouragement and nurture
But God has called me to teach I try to speak
The words feel clunky in my mouth in a way they’ve never felt clunky before
I’m stuck in the chair and can’t move my feet
My mind goes back to all the words of affirmation
That these words “spoken in love” are sledgehammering down
And it’s like the words of affirmation are now covered in a shroud
I can’t remember a single good thing anyone has ever said
And I’m terrified that I’ve made God angry and mad
That I ever had the gall to think
That my brother and I were the same, there was nothing he could do that I couldn’t
“We may be made of the same flesh and genes
But it is not permitted for a woman to teach”

I’m twenty-four and sat on my living room floor
Trying to find it in me to forgive this man
Who reads the Bible differently and is convicted differently than I am
And I pray for his daughters
Who won’t grow up with parents or a church that tells her she can do anything her brothers can
Because they are not the same
They may have the same flesh and genes
But the X signifies a cross unpermitted to speak
Whilst the Y of her brothers signifies, he may, always, preach.

About the author

Maddie Thorp is a youth ministry coordinator near Southampton and is currently undertaking the pioneer MA in Theology, Ministry and Mission.

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Exploring the “Africanisation” of Christianity and the “Christianisation” of Africa through the life and ministry of Agnes Okoh

by Jessica Swift

Introduction

Agnes Okoh was the founder of Christ Holy Church, an African Independent Church established in 1947 in Eastern Nigeria. Okoh was an exemplary, gifted leader, whose strong sense of calling and supernatural gifts set her apart. She was even more distinctive in that she was a female founder. As Israel Olofinjana highlights:

The patriarchal nature of Nigerian society meant that men dominated the scene; therefore male leadership was a characteristic of Prayer House leadership. However, there were some exceptional women who became leaders of these Prayer Houses.¹

Okoh experienced struggle and success throughout her life. Her priorities and values regarding the Bible, faithfulness and the community are demonstrated throughout her ministry and secured in the succession of her leadership:

She imprinted the fear of God, dependence on God, ecclesial we-feeling, the priority of preaching the gospel, and the need to be responsible to the followers, on the hearts of those she trained.²

Okoh’s relationship with the spirit-world, her approach to the Bible, and her commitment to the wellbeing of the community all illustrate some key factors that developed the “Africanisation” of Christianity and the “Christianisation” of Africa. Nimi Wariboko sets out Okoh as one of the leaders shaping Christianity in Africa in the 20th century:

The competence of African evangelists in translating the message of the gospel into local idioms and worldviews, correlating existential problems to the resources of the Christian faith, brought about remarkable success. In this vein, the names of Garrick Braide, William Wadé Harris, Simon Kimbangu, Sampson Oppong, Joseph Babalola, Walter Matita, and Agnes Okoh, in the 20th century, stand out.³

The life and work of Agnes Okoh

Okoh was born in 1905 in Ndoni. She was the only surviving child of 13 children born to Onumba Emordi and Ntonefu. Although her parents were not Christian, she occasionally went to the Roman Catholic church. In 1924, she married James Okoh, a Ghanaian immigrant sailor. They had two children. Her husband died in 1930, and by 1938 her daughter had also died. This started a period of suffering and ill-health in which Okoh struggled with debilitating migraines. She sought relief in many places, but found healing in a Prayer House where she met Prophetess Ozoemena. Okoh stayed in the Prayer House receiving prayer and counsel; she was completely healed in two weeks. This event was the beginning of her conversion to Christianity and the start of a vocation to evangelism and healing ministry. The circumstances and qualities of Okoh’s conversion would be markers that would shape her entire ministry: healing, strength, compassion and faith.

In 1943, Okoh heard a voice say: “Matthew 10.” A friend suggested this was a reference to the Bible; since both were illiterate, they had to find someone else who could read it to them. “They both sought for someone else who could read Matthew 10 to them and a young boy came to their rescue and read Matthew 10 in Igbo language to both women.”⁴ The opening of this Biblical chapter starts: “Jesus called his twelve disciples to him and gave them authority to drive out impure spirits and to heal every disease and illness.”⁵ Okoh received this as a call on her life, and followed in the same footsteps as the 12. Under Prophetess Ozoemena’s tutelage, Okoh was encouraged not to rush ahead of God, but to wait prayerfully. It wasn’t until 1946 when Okoh felt like God was leading her to take up her vocation to “proclaim the gospel”. On 15 December 1947, Prophetess Ozoemena commissioned and released Okoh. What followed was a period of prayer and fasting asking for direction and empowerment, whereby Okoh was given a dream. This dream was of John 10:10: “The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.”⁶ This became the theme for her ministry.

When Okoh took up her calling, she was an itinerant minister. Her practice was to seek the permission of the elders before commencing her preaching in any town or village. Once it was granted, she would stay until she felt the Holy Spirit prompt her to move to the next place. Although she had a headquarters at Onitsha (the headquarters of Anglicans and Roman Catholics in the region since 1854) that she came back to, she spent many years moving from place to place. Okoh’s ministry was shaped by “word and deed”, she both preached and prayed for healing.

She ended her public preaching by praying with people. People flocked to her with their problems and through her gift of healing many people were healed. Agnes also encouraged people through prophecy and visions.⁷

There is something both pragmatic and obvious about a religious expression that actually helps people. As captured by Laura Premack in Spirit on the Move, “a religion is only worthwhile if it provides material results: health, money, children”.⁸ Therefore, the strength and authority of Okoh was validated in that people were healed and restored.

As more and more people were receiving Okoh’s ministry, she began looking for places to establish Prayer Houses. She asked some local elders to give her portions of the “evil forests” (ajaw-awfia or ajo oshia). “Evil forests” in Igbo culture and religion were places where people that did not receive a proper burial were thrown and therefore these places were considered cursed.⁹ Okoh was cunning because not only did she need space to establish a Prayer House but also it was an opportunity to demonstrate the omnipotence of God. She moved in to the “evil forest”, did not suffer any harm and built a productive commune.

In recognition of her ability to overcome evil forest, turning it into a useful venture, she was called, “Odozi Obodo” which literally means “town repairer” or “nation builder” Agnes Okoh has since been called and known by this name.”¹⁰

Africanisation of Christianity

There are two attributes of Okoh’s ministry that illustrate the “Africanisation” of Christianity: her engagement with the spirit world and demonstration of spiritual authority, and her philanthropy, which exposed her priority for everyone’s wellbeing being tied up in community wellbeing.

Christ Holy Church, as all the African Independent Churches, in themselves are expressions of the “Africanisation” of Christianity. They are indigenous in their formation, their leadership and cultural expression. As Wariboko summarises when concluding the history of Christ Holy Church International:

Pentecostalism has helped to make Christianity an African religion. African Pentecostals, like the rest of African Christians, have appropriated the gospel; adapted the faith to their cultural sensibilities, concerns, and agendas; nudged its worldview to properly align with their indigenous maps of the universe; and contextualized its practices. Christianity is a translated religion in Africa.¹¹

The key facet of this contextualisation and interpretation of African Christianity is the relationship with the spirit world. The understanding and experience that the spirit world and the physical world are inextricably interwoven, where each is influencing and informing the other, is a baseline African world view. African Christianity brings an experiential doctrine and theology of pneumatic charism shaped by this worldview. Okoh and other founders between 1900 and 1960 as indigenous evangelists are a part of the wave of prophetic figures who emerged “at the heels of the missionaries, engaging the indigenous worldview with charismatic elements of the Christian canon and symbols”.¹²

Attention and priority are given to being filled with God’s Spirit. This not only gives focus to the experiential expression of faith, but opens the spiritual experience to be available to everyone.

The role of the priestly class is challenged; individuals can approach God directly without going through licensed clergy. In turn, the Holy Spirit may speak directly to believers, unmediated by a priest or pastor, with religious experience valued over tradition.¹³

Okoh’s sense of calling in its origin was based in Matt.10, where the Christian call includes driving out spirits and healing. As is exemplified in Okoh’s vocation, engagement with the spirit world is the Christian calling.

Numerous theologians comment on the democratisation of Christianity within African Independent Churches and subsequently Pentecostalism. Faith is primarily experiential and participation universally available because the Holy Spirit is omnipresent. As Ogbu Kalu summarises in describing the Pentecostal movement, “scholars have argued that instead of lacking a theology, the movement is defined by its theology that privileges a personal spiritual encounter with God”.¹⁴ By the same token, leadership is exercised by anyone who demonstrates spiritual authority, namely in the expression of supernatural gifts, like those of healing, miraculous powers, prophecy and speaking in tongues (1 Cor. 12). Okoh was an illiterate widow; her authority came from her strong sense of calling and how this was backed up with gifts of healing and prophecy.

There is a pragmatism as well as a valuing of community wellbeing demonstrated in the Africanisation of Christianity. Kalu notes that in Africa, among three listed characteristics of revivals, the third is:

an effort to reshape the interior of a prevalent religious tradition by redirecting the core message to deeply felt needs within the community and thereby provide an answer to socioeconomic, political needs and restore moral order by appealing to supernatural intervention and anchor.¹⁵

Faith must be the lived experience of the “proof is in the pudding” – does faith in Christ bring healing, solve problems, indeed make life better? And is it true for the whole community? Okoh was as much known for her philanthropy as anything else expressed in her leadership. Hand in hand with evangelism was the engagement with the real needs and problems of the community, both natural and supernatural. As well as a healing ministry, Okoh helped establish farming communes, and built roads, schools, and maternity clinics.¹⁶ Everyone’s wellbeing and health was tied up in the community’s wellbeing and health. The “new life” preached from John 10:10 was caught up with the “Odozi Obodo”.

Christianisation of Africa

Similarly, the “Christianisation” of Africa is seen within the spirit world view and experienced in the community. This is illustrated in Okoh’s complete faith in the power of the Holy Spirit, and how the life received in Jesus is restorative and affirming.

Like other founders, Okoh “recognised the powers of the indigenous worldview but confronted these with the power of Christ”.¹⁷ For her it was exemplified when she approached village elders over the evil forests. “Agnes Okoh was noted for her disregard of traditional beliefs that were inimical to the spread of the gospel and to development of human potential.”¹⁸ This is the Christianisation of Africa in that there is the recognition of the power and influence of the spirit world, and this is then seen through the lens of the Christian world view where Christ has conquered all (Rom. 6:9). Allan Heaton Anderson describes this as continuity and discontinuity that accounts for the growth of Pentecostalism in Africa –

scholarly studies about the rapid expansion of Pentecostalism in different regions worldwide have not explored thoroughly what I consider to be a principle [sic] reason for its popularity – the extent to which Pentecostalism, through its experiences of the Spirit, often unconsciously taps into deep-seated religious and cultural beliefs. Pentecostalism draws from these ancient sources in continuity with them, while simultaneously confronting them in discontinuity. In doing so, it uses a biblical rationale for its beliefs and practices.¹⁹

The emergence of African Independent Churches was fuelled by and occurred during national journeys to independence. Okoh’s original preaching was borne from the inspiration of John 10:10, the new life Christians are given in Christ through the Holy Spirit. The theme of her message and the basis of the ministry she led was new life in Jesus, giving emphasis to repentance, righteousness and holiness.²⁰ Identity and status given in Christ provided a foundation for regaining African pride and restoring human and cultural dignity. Churches like Christ Holy Church:

were seen as committed to taking seriously and honouring indigenous life and cultures in communicating the gospel. This signals the heightened sense of pride in race, nation or tribe on the basis of which these churches sought to purge themselves of foreign influences.²¹

Okoh’s own journey of leadership and prominence mirrored this experience of regaining dignity and status in Christ.

About the author

Rev Jessica Swift grew up on the east coast of Canada; her background is in forestry. She came to the UK as a student and was ordained in the Church of England. She has been a parish priest for over 20 years and is currently in a church in Tottenham, as well as studying on the African Diaspora MA with CMS.

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Notes

1. Israel O. Olofinjana, 20 Pentecostal Pioneers in Nigeria: Their Lives, Their Legacies, Volume 1 (Xlibris, 2011), 64. ︎
2. Thomas Oduro, “Okoh, Agnes,”, Dictionary of African Christian Biography, 2007, https://dacb.org/stories/nigeria/okoh-agnes/, accessed 4 April 2023. ︎
3. Nimi Wariboko, “Pentecostalism in Africa,” Oxford Research Encyclopedias,26 October 2017, https://oxfordre.com/africanhistory/display/10.1093/acrefore/9780190277734.001.0001/acrefore-9780190277734-e-120, accessed 6 April 2023. ︎
4. Olofinjana, 20 Pentecostal Pioneers in Nigeria, 66. ︎
5. Matt. 10:1 (NIV). ︎
6. John 10:10 (NIV). ︎
7. Olofinjana, 20 Pentecostal Pioneers in Nigeria, 68. ︎
8. Laura Premack, “Bless Us with Children: Pregnancy, Prosperity, and Pragmatism in Nigeria’s Christ Apostolic Church,” in Spirit on the Move: Black Women and Pentecostalism in Africa and the Diaspora, eds. Elizabeth A. Pritchard and Judith Casselberry (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2019), 194. ︎
9. Olofinjana, 20 Pentecostal Pioneers in Nigeria, 69 ︎
10. Ibid. ︎
11. Wariboko, “Pentecostalism in Africa”. ︎
12. Ogbu Kalu, African Pentecostalism: An Introduction (New York: Oxford University Press: 2008), p. 23. ︎
13. Donald E. Miller, “Introduction: Pentecostalism as a Global Phenomenon,” in Spirit and Power: The Growth and Global Impact of Pentecostalism, eds. Donald E. Miller, Kimon H. Sargeant and Richard Flory (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2013), 8. ︎
14. Kalu, African Pentecostalism, 6. ︎
15. Ibid., 28. ︎
16. Olofinjana, 20 Pentecostal Pioneers in Nigeria, 70. ︎
17. Kalu, African Pentecostalism, 36. ︎
18. Oduro, “Okoh, Agnes”.]. ︎
19. Allan Heaton Anderson, Spirit-Filled world: Religious Dis/Continuity in African Pentecostalism (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2018), 3. ︎
20. Oduro, “Okoh, Agnes” ︎
21. John S. Pobee and Gabriel Ositelu II, African Initiatives in Christianity: The Growth, Gifts and Diversities of Indigenous African Churches – A Challenge to the Ecumenical Movement (Geneva : WCC Publications, 1998), 32. ︎

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Spirit-oriented, enthusiastic and charismatic: discovering an African spirituality

by Gowi Odera

Introduction

A truly African Christian must be spirit-oriented, enthusiastic and charismatic. If this essay were to be written 200 years ago, this would have been considered an absurdity. The prevailing thinking then in Christendom had not imagined what we know today of the astronomical growth, expansion and establishment of the Christian faith in Africa. Today, almost 700 million Christians are domiciled in Africa. In 1900, there were only 9 million Christians in Africa. Thus, Africa now has the largest population of Christians in the world, surpassing Latin America at 612 million and projected to almost triple those in North America by 2035. In addition, by 2050, it is projected that Africa will have more Christians than both Latin America and Asia combined.¹ For the purposes of this essay, I will attempt a brief descriptive definition of African Christianity and the African Christian. I will also canvas a few forms and expressions of African Christianity. Lastly I will identify some factors that connect African Pentecostalism to the spirits of African traditional religions.

What is African Christianity?

To speak about Christianity in Africa, we need to look to history and go back to the first 1,000 years of Christianity. Right from the day of Pentecost in the book of Acts, we see Africans from Egypt and Libya present at the onset of the first church in Jerusalem. The Ethiopian eunuch’s conversion and baptism in Acts 8 tells more of the subsequent spread of the gospel into the continent. Simeon also known as Niger and Lucius of Cyrene were African leaders of the mission-sending church in Antioch (Acts 13).

Most telling of African influence in the early days of the church is in Acts 18. Luke, the author of the book of Acts, introduces Apollos, who was a native of Alexandria, saying:

He was a learned man, with a thorough knowledge of the Scriptures… instructed in the way of the Lord, and he spoke with great fervour and taught about Jesus

accurately… he was a great help to those who by grace had believed. For he vigorously refuted his Jewish opponents in public debate, proving from the Scriptures that Jesus was the Messiah.²

There is historical evidence in the New Testament of an already existing and established worshipping community of Christians in Africa. This suggests an indelible footprint of African Christianity on the church then and now. In the book How Africa Shaped the Christian Mind, Thomas Oden delves into more historical evidence of Africa’s influence on Christendom in the patristic era up to the fifth century. He lists evidence of seven ways Africa shaped the Christian mind.³

After considering the historical context of this definition of African Christianity and the African Christian, we can now attempt to define the “spirit-oriented” African Christian. To do this, one will need to appreciate the African world view that has significantly shaped the African Christian. The famous aphorism by the venerated African theologian John Mbiti that “the African is notoriously religious”⁴ helps to unpack this definition. By “notoriously religious”, Mbiti’s thesis suggests that the African is spiritual and in essence his (or her) world view is seen through the lens of the supernatural. For the African, the continuum of life not only exists in the present but also after death; an individual continues to exist as “the living dead”. Death is a process that graduates one from one form of existence to another.⁵ The living African navigates between the now and also those who are departed into the spirit world. According to Mbiti, in the African’s world view, the living dead are spirits that exist in the present world but have lost their humanness. “Man is ontologically destined to lose his humanness but gain his full ‘spiritness’.”⁶ This world view, Mbiti suggests, is enculturated into the African Christian’s present expressions of beliefs and worship. This furthermore orients the African Christian towards the spiritual, thus described to be spirit-oriented.

If we are to be a bit more vivid in expounding on being spirit-oriented, we need to look at one Prophet Samuel Redebe⁷. Though not a Christian, he has all the allusions of it. Take a traditional African religion temple in pre-1900 and fast forward it to 2024. Give it a modern building, a state-of-the-art sound and public address system with a microphone; add technology with high-speed internet and the Old Testament, and you will get The Revelation Church of God of Prophet Samuel Radebe. His spirituality, he says, is of his great ancestors who were there before the advent of the Western missionary enterprise on the African continent. “We were not a nation that did not know God. We knew and worshipped God in our own African context.” He believes he is a descendant of the line of African prophets of his ancestors. This form of spirituality is indicative of the average African.

There is a contrary view of African Christian spirituality that challenges Mbiti’s thesis. In an article, “Africa’s Battle for Biblical Christianity,” Byang Kato dismisses my first definition of African spirituality. In fact, he is opposed to it, arguing that it is “mixing paganism with a smattering of Christianity”.⁸ He sees this as an agenda of liberal theology. He outrightly calls it syncretism. In the end, he pushes for contextualisation where the universal truths of Christianity (and spirituality) are translated into an African context. He defines African Christianity more as a biblical and universal Christianity, expressed in the various existent African languages, symbolism and imagery.⁹ All in all, one thing is not lost in the definitions and contrary positions – African Christianity has a spiritual vibe about it that informs the African experience of God. Both definitions call for a spirituality that is beyond a concept or a philosophy. For both of them, African spirituality is a lifestyle.

The African, charismatic and Pentecostal

If one wants to appreciate or understand the charismatic nature of African Christianity, and how it has evolved over the past decades, it is worth noting some of the influences from the African Independent Churches (AICs). The translation of scriptures into the local African languages by the Western missionaries “had an effect on the literacy, self-esteem, and religious self-determination in modern Africa”¹⁰ observed best among the AICs. This has resulted in giving the African the freedom to express themselves more freely in a language of their own. It has also taken the forms of the respective cultures that the biblical texts have been translated into. Over time, even the export of the African Church to the rest of the world is distinctly spirit oriented, enthusiastic and charismatic. In making a case for African spirituality and its contribution to global missions in the West, Harvey Kwiyani explains that “an African spirituality, because of its understanding of the reality of the spirit world, must be intentional about the spiritual habits and practices of both the individual and the community. Since the Holy Spirit is at work in the individual member’s life as well as that of the community, the habits that increase spiritual vitality will usually be encouraged. Prayer is the most visible of these.”¹¹

The charismatic nature of the African Christian is mainly characterised by fervent and intense prayer because this is how he or she engages with the spiritual realm. This is evident all over the continent. It is not uncommon for churches to have overnight prayer vigils for their congregants; in my country, Kenya, the vigils are known as kesha.¹² Kwiyani notes that on the continent, they attract very large numbers and among the African diaspora in the West, the majority African immigrant churches are known for their prayer meetings.¹³ At the local missionary-initiated church in my village in western Kenya, during the regular Sunday church services, the prayers are guided by a prayer book. However, when they have the keshas (at least once a month), the church comes alive with spontaneous public prayer. The prayers are very loud, audible and collective, not guided by the prayer book. They are rarely led by any one individual; it becomes almost a free-for-all scenario, where one audibly bears their soul to God in prayer. The prayers are peppered with intermittent songs acknowledging God’s sovereignty and the congregant’s devotion to the Lord. It is all spirit-led.

The African Christian’s charisma is also informed by their allure to the spirit and the works of the spirit. There is a connection between the African world view of the spirit world and the works of the Holy Spirit. As noted earlier in this essay, this world view is seen through the lens of the supernatural. For the African, though living in the material or physical world, the continuum of life not only exists in the present but also after death; an individual continues to exist as “the living dead”. The living African navigates between the now and also those who are departed into the spirit world. When the work of the Holy Spirit is introduced, this profoundly resonates with the African’s world view.

The allure of the spirit and the works of the Spirit are indicative, with many attracted to the message of signs, miracles and deliverance informed by the present realities of the African way of life. These physical manifestations of the supernatural endear the African’s Christian faith expression in the almighty. Kyama Mugambi made an interesting observation of the Newer Pentecostal Charismatic Churches (NPCC) in Kenya on how the supernatural pervades the existing structures confounding even the erudite scholar.

African Pentecostalism’s pneumatic approach to ministry thrives within these diffuse environments characterized by spontaneity. The vivacious oral liturgy provides a worship environment where miracles thrive under the Holy Spirit’s impulse. The nature of these communities in Africa creates the impression among some scholars that this unstructured environment pervades aspects of Pentecostal Christianity.¹⁴

To a great extent, this is true where you find the various faith communities more aligned to its leader under the leadership of the Holy Spirit as opposed to the framework of the seemingly tangible systems that established them in the first place. All in all, the charisma of the African Christian is more of an expression of their world view informed and trying to make sense of their present realities.

Forms and expressions of African spirituality in everyday life

To expound more on the opening statement in this essay, enthusiastic worship and celebration captures the endearing elements of an African’s Christianity. The most evident element of this enthusiasm is expressed in its orality and in the use of music, song and dance. Robert Hood makes this observation of African spirituality:

God as supreme deity is acknowledged, even if the acknowledgement is not shaped into words. It may occur in dance or gestures, in sayings, greetings and the praise of names at such ceremonies. God’s sovereignty may be expressed in people’s names, at shrines, in reciting creation legends or idioms recalling God’s attributes… That is the dynamics of everyday culture as well as articulated concepts testify to the varied relationships between God and spirits.¹⁵

The heritage of Africa is passed on from one generation to another in story form. The orality of the African is also part of their spirituality. For instance, among my people group, the Luo, naming of children is a celebrated thing. Names tell a story of the bearer of the name. The name would also tell of the circumstances around their birth: the time, season, family experience, local, national or even global situation, just to mention a few. My daughter is named “Akwe”. Akwe, in Dholuo,¹⁶ is translated as “I am at peace”. For the average Luo, this would suggest a narrative around the parent’s declaration of their state of being with God – that they are at peace with the Almighty. As observed earlier by Hood, this is how the African Christian enthusiastically integrates their spirituality in their everyday life.

Music, song and dance is another form in which the African enthusiastically expresses themselves and can also be observed in their spirituality. In as much as this can be observed in other regions of the world, the uniqueness of Africa’s music can be described as having a strong rhythmic element to it. The accented rhythm in the music gives the music a unique element of vibrance.

Music, song and dance was and is used in the African’s life at most social gatherings, rites of passage and ceremonies, from songs of celebration to songs of mourning. The songs were used to pacify a crying baby or even to convey a message. The songs are part and parcel of the oral tradition acting as a repository of knowledge, passing down folklore, insights and stories for generations to sing long after.¹⁷

The African drum, common in almost every people group on the continent, is at the heart of this vibrancy and enthusiasm. The drum comes in different shapes and sizes around Africa. The Sakara in Yoruba, Isikuti in Luhiya, Moropa in Sotho, among a myriad of other names, play different functions for various African peoples. From centuries back and evolving to modern-day expressions, the syncopated rhythms of the drum mimic the human heartbeat cadence, making music,¹⁸ and giving life and enthusiasm to the rich spiritual experience of the African. Unlike Western hymns written to the accompaniment of instrumentation like the violin, piano or the organ, the African songs’ cadence is derived from the beat or rhythm of the drum.

For the African Christian, one enthusiastically expresses themselves in sung worship and dance. The incorporation of modern instrumentation has not only added but accentuated these forms of worship in different African genres of music: from Taarab and Bongo Flava in East Africa, Kwaito and Amapiano in Southern Africa, to the rhythmic beats and harmonies of Lingala music and Kupe Dekale in Central Africa; from the easy Highlife beat to Afrobeat and Afro Soul of West Africa. All these are enthusiastically fused into the African Christian’s hymnology and dance to bring out a uniquely vibrant spiritual experience for the average Christian from the continent.

Preaching, teaching and testimonials in spoken and sung worship reveal the orality of spirit-oriented African Christian faith expression and capture the essence of the African’s Christians’ enthusiasm.

A triple heritage

To appreciate what African Christianity truly is, using the descriptive words informing this essay – “spirit oriented”, “enthusiastic” and “charismatic” – it would be useful to connect the dots with what I am more and more being persuaded are the roots of where all this came from.

It is suggested that present-day African spirituality has a triple heritage of African Traditional Religion, Christianity and Islam. “This syncretic proclivity can be interpreted positively as a healthy form of religious coexistence and tolerance…”¹⁹ by which the rest of the world can learn a thing or two from Africa. This form of spirituality is rich of which I am partly persuaded, whereas Orobator is fully persuaded that “… the unique spirit of hospitality and tolerance that imbues African spirituality can be a resource for global Christianity”.²⁰

Orobator is forcing us to answer the question of why we believe what we believe as Africans and how this has been informed by this triple heritage. The African spirituality is more of a way of life that is “different from an organized religion of creeds, doctrines and dogmas”.²¹ The Pentecostal persuasion in me wrestles with this assertion because of the heavy Western influences that demonise the African Traditional Religion. This compelling evidence that both Christianity and Islam thrive on the foundation of African Traditional Religion has complicated things. I ask, what was the belief system of the African before the Pentecost of Acts 2? These questions allow us to appreciate the Apostle Paul’s convictions. “For since the creation of the world, God’s invisible qualities – his eternal power and divine nature – have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.”²²

Could the exponential growth and spread of Christianity have to do with this triple heritage? Could the rapid growth of African Pentecostalism all over sub-Saharan Africa have been informed by African Traditional Religion catalysed by the Holy Spirit? These questions remain part of parcel of the deconstruction of my faith formation.

To what degree religion continues to work for Africans will be measured by how we honour a genuine quest for meaning truth, and mystery sustained by our plural religious identities.²³

These words by Orobator will continue to haunt me as I wrestle with the reality that my spirituality, and that of many modern African Christians, may have been in denial. We may have been in denial that we are indeed products of multiple religious identities and are yet to deal with the implications of this.

About the author

Gowi Odera is a researcher on African Christianity and church leadership. He is a church planter and served as a lead pastor with the Nairobi Chapel. He is also an executive leadership coach to entrepreneurs, pastors and business professionals.

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Notes

1. “Status of Global Christianity, 2022, in the Context of 1900–2050,” Centre for the Study of Global Christianity at Gordon Conwell Theological Seminary, https://www.gordonconwell.edu/center-for-global-christianity/wp-content/uploads/sites/13/2022/01/Status-of-Global-Christianity-2022.pdf, accessed 22 September 2022. ︎
2. Acts 18:24–25, 27–28 (NIV). ︎
3. Thomas C. Oden, How Africa Shaped the Christian Mind (Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 2007), 42–61. ︎
4. John S. Mbiti, African Religions and Philosophy (Nairobi: East African Educational Publishers, 1969), 1. ︎
5. Ibid., 24–25. ︎
6. Ibid., 163. ︎
7. “Church Scandals | In conversation with Prophet Samuel Radebe of the Revelation Church of God,” SABC News, YouTube, 13 March 2019, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jr24GiLX73c, accessed 2 July 2022. ︎
8. Byang Kato, “Africa’s Battle for Biblical Christianity,” Moody Monthly (November 1974), 53–56. ︎
9. Byang H. Kato, “The Gospel, Cultural Context and Religious Syncretism,” in Let the Earth Hear His Voice, ed. J.D. Douglas (Minneapolis, MN: World Wide Publications, 1975), 1216–1223, https://lausanne.org/wp-content/uploads/2007/06/1216.pdf, accessed 13 September 2022. ︎
10. Robert E. Hood, Must God Remain Greek? Afro Cultures and God-Talk (Minneapolis, MN: Fortress Press, 1990), 13. ︎
11. Harvey C. Kwiyani, Sent Forth: African Missionary Work in the West (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2014), 161. ︎
12. Colloquial Kiswahili language for “overnight vigil”. ︎
13. Kwiyani, Sent Forth, 162. ︎
14. Kyama M. Mugambi, A Spirit of Revitalization: Urban Pentecostalism in Kenya (Waco, TX: Baylor University Press, 2021), 227. ︎
15. Hood, Must God Remain Greek?, 197. ︎
16. Dholuo is the language spoken by the Luo people of Western Kenya. ︎
17. Mbiti, African Religions and Philosophy, 67. ︎
18. “Do You Speak Djembe? | Doug Manuel | TEDx Hollywood,” TEDx Talks, YouTube, 4 November 2016, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5uB9xzYL1DU, accessed 2 August 2022. ︎
19. Agbonkhianmeghe E. Orobator, Religion and Faith in Africa: Confessions of an Animist (Maryknoll: NY, Orbis Books, 2018), 74. ︎
20. Ibid.,21. ︎
21. Ibid., 164. ︎
22. Rom. 1:20. ︎
23. Orobator, Religion and Faith in Africa, 167. ︎

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We become what we behold: finding an embodied spirituality in the midst of pioneering | ANVIL volume 40 issue 1

by David Harrigan

Over the last few years, I have been thinking about a rule of life. The idea was birthed in the first year of my degree with CMS while studying the Mission Spirituality module. I became aware during that module of how praxis and theology go together and found that what you believe in determines what you do. “We always become what we behold; the presence that we practice matters.”¹ I was, at the time, an ordinand, and I wanted to look at how rhythm of life lived out can impact and can affect those around us and the way we care for creation.

As my Christian faith has matured, I have become aware that I have not questioned my praxis theologically. Instead, I spent time trying to “keep the show on the road” and simply go through the motions. I realised my faith needed to be embodied, it needed to be considerate of everything around me, “others”, the “natural world”. So rather than an embedded “traditional” spirituality that feels like it has stopped asking the pertinent questions, I wanted a spirituality that is deeply embedded in a practice that thinks about mission, justice, others and caring for creation.

I have also, through studying the Justice and Environment module with CMS, realised how our urban lifestyle, and the modern problem of individual autonomy, has allowed us to become disconnected from creation and the land. Lifelong creation care campaigner, and author, Wendell Berry states:

The soil is the great connector of lives, the source and destination of all. It is the healer and restorer and resurrector, by which disease passes into health, age into youth, death into life. Without proper care for it we can have no community, because without proper care for it we can have no life.²

We learned about eco-theology and an eco-spirituality, and discovered this theology is foundational for how we view the whole of creation, the whole of life, and how it informs how we should “be” and “live”. It is a much more rounded and holistic vision than I have ever encountered before. It is about seeing how we are connected to what is around us and how we play a part in the world’s ecosystem – acknowledging what we do and how we live matters. During one of the lectures for this module we were encouraged to look at simple rules of life to think how the way we live could affect our connection with creation. It got me thinking about my own household, and I started reflecting on our own family rituals and rhythms. We already have what we call “habits of the house” and so I set upon reflecting on how they relate to an eco-theology.

Over the years my role within the church has changed, and as I have taken on more responsibility it has become evident that my spirituality was not being sustained through church services. In response, as a family, we created a household spiritual rhythm, something we could all embody. We wanted it to be something we experienced, not simply head knowledge but a lived faith; not simply Christian faith but the lived experience of Christian faith. We called them “habits” to avoid any Christian jargon our children wouldn’t understand and so they could be accessible for people outside the Christian faith to engage with. We wanted to create something that was unique to us as a family and contextually appropriate for where we live.

• Monday – Eating together and encouragement
  A time of eating together, informed by the importance of “the table”, and the importance of food, biblically, spiritually, physically and ecologically. At the shared table we used the time to encourage each other and laugh together. The table was an “event”.
• Wednesday – Non-tech evening
  This is a time of Sabbath from information overload. It was a space to find a new way of living and to do so you have to remove some of the old ways first.
• Friday – “Creative” Friday
  Creativity is important to me for my own wellbeing, but also important for us to allow our children to be expressive outside of their formal education. We use this mainly around prayer so our children can understand that praxis more than just words offering our list of requests to God.
• Sunday – Family walk
  Each Sunday we take a walk together and go wherever we feel led. This could be walking to church or around the block, but we often walk around our local park.

In the light of this module, I have come to see that our habits are interlinked with an intentionality informed by living a life of co-creation, although I did not previously have the language for it. I realised through this module that eco-theology is not just about the environment but is something that is integrated holistically into our theology and praxis.

Creating the dancer

All our habits feel as though they are an experience of environmental praxis “an environmental practice is… a behaviour or experience that inculcates attitudes and perspectives that enhance one’s awareness and appreciation of non-human nature”. ³ Through our habits we have connected with the environment in some way: eating together and thinking about where food comes from and what is enough when we eat; non-tech evenings and turning off all electrical appliances giving ourselves a Sabbath from technology; creatively praying for the needs of the world; and Sunday being connected with creation as we walk, seeing the forest, animals and how the seasons change.

We formed our habits before the module, and so I wanted to reflect on them and introduce practice that can be more intentionally integrated, more holistic with thinking about how we connect with creation. For our creative Fridays we wanted to think about God as the participator, using the idea of “perichoresis of trinity” – God the dancer, weaving through our world. So, the idea came to us to create a dancer thinking about how we connect with creation.

Perichoresis is a Greek word which is formed from two parts: peri, which means “around”, and chorein, which means “to give way”. These very ideas are what we wanted to look for and learn about as we went through the processes of creating a figure from elements of creation. We discussed as we walked through the local landscape about where we believe God would be and we wanted to get out of the way to let God speak through her creation.

This led us to create a picture of God as dancer using elements of “nature” that we discovered from our weekly walks. As we wandered, we allowed creation to speak to us. We realised that the energy we were feeling was not through creation and the plants but our relationship with them and the Creator who made them. “The energy in the universe is not in the planets, or in the protons or neutrons, but in the relationship between them.” ⁴ We didn’t want to harm creation by taking what we wanted but waited to find things we felt were needed. For example, we used bark from a fallen tree for the dancer’s tutu; we used shells from a walk along the beach and pine cones that had fallen from the tree, creating a blanket on the forest floor. As we drew all these elements together, we created what we think is a wonderful mural of “God the dancer”.

Moving forward

We continue to use our “habits” as a form of spirituality and continue to think how we can be more intentional about reintegrating with the story of creation. We still have a long way to go with our spiritual discipline and perhaps in the future it might move and change as we move and change. But it has helped us to let go and find a new way of being and caring ecologically, as well as enculturating ourselves where we are. This process for Stephen Bevans and Roger Schroeder is “persons who want to be agents of inculturation need to practice a spirituality based on the discipline of ‘letting go’ and ‘speaking out.’ This is a spirituality born of the practice of prophetic dialogue.” ⁵I am hoping our dancer will be to us this prophetic voice caring for creation and we will use our lives to speak this prophetic voice into the world through our praxis and embodied lives.

I see now how vital the creative action of our “habits” is in connecting with God. Even though any metaphor we use will take away something of who God is, it is a way of creating something that connects us back with God, the creator of all things. “For in Him all things in heaven and on earth were created, things visible and invisible.” ⁶

I hope the habits are touching points for not only the sustainability of my own spiritual growth, but my family too. I hope our house will be a place to connect with ideas from creation care so we can use our lives/voices to speak prophetically into the community around us to reveal God the dancer. I pray it brings with it justice and shalom for the cosmic temple.

About the author

David Harrigan is a CMS-trained pioneer vicar at St Elisabeth’s, Eastbourne, where he lives out his passion for mission and caring for community and creation with his wife and two children. At the time of writing this assignment he was an ordinand serving at The Good Shepherd Romford, his home church. While there he combined his passion of mission and reaching those on the margins with his love for boxing, and set up a boxing community. Many of its members have come to faith and even been baptised in the “ring”.

More from this issue

Notes

1. Richard Rohr, The Divine Dance: The Trinity And Your Transformation (London: SPCK, 2016). ︎
2. Wendell Berry, The Great Unsettling of America: Culture & Agriculture (Berkeley, CA: Counterpoint LLC: 2015). ︎
3. Sarah Clarke, lecture on Sabbath theology, 19 March 2020. ︎
4. Rohr, The Divine Dance. ︎
5. Stephen B. Bevans and Roger P. Schroeder, Prophetic Dialogue: Reflections of Christian Mission Today (New York: Orbis Books, 2011). ︎
6. Col. 1:16 (NRSV). ︎

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