Books reviewed this issue

1. Biblical Studies

Douglas A Campbell, Framing Paul: An Epistolary Biography (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2014)

James D G Dunn, Christianity in theMaking Volume 3 – Neither Jew nor Greek: A Contested Identity (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2015)

Michael J Gorman, Apostle of the Crucified Lord: A Theological Introduction to Paul & his Letters, 2nd edition (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017)

2. Theology

Kate Bruce, Jamie Harrison, Eds., Wrestling with the Word: Preaching tricky texts (London: SPCK, 2016)

Fleming Rutledge, The Crucifixion: Understanding the Death of Jesus Christ (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017)

Anna-Claar Thomasson-Rosingh, Sigrid Coenradie and Bert Dicou, Re-Imagining the Bible for Today, (London: SCM, 2017)

3. Mission

Michael Moynagh, Church In Life: Innovation, Mission and Ecclesiology (London: SCM Press, 2017)

Todd Wilson, Gerald Hiestand Eds., Becoming a Pastor Theologian: New Possibilities for Church Leadership (Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2016)

Laura Sumner Truaux, Amalya Campbell, Love Let Go: Radical Generosity for the Real World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017)

Stephen Platten, Ed., Oneness: The Dynamics of Monasticism (London: SCM, 2017)

4. Other

Timothy Dudley-Smith, A Functional Art: reflections of a hymn writer (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017)

Thomas Dekker and Robert Hudson (Ed.), Four Birds of Noah’s Ark: a prayer book from the time of Shakespeare, (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017)

Emmanuel Katongole, Born from Lament: The Theology and Politics of Hope in Africa (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017)

Christine Mangla Frost, The Human Icon: A Comparative Study of Hindu and Orthodox Christian Beliefs (Cambridge: James Clarke and Co, 2017)

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Video: Mission is… a conversation with Mike Pears

Mike Pears, director of Urban Life, on mission as creativity and “mission and place”.

And in Part 2, he discusses how Jesus reconfigures place in the Gospels.

Recorded at Church Mission Society’s Pioneer Conversations Day, 7 November 2017.

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Video: Mission is… a conversation with Kyama Mugambi

Kyama Mugambi of the Centre for World Christianity, Africa International University, Nairobi, discusses his definition of mission and the differences between African and British Christianity.

And in Part 2, he tackles the thorny subject of power and reciprocity in mission. 

Recorded at Church Mission Society’s Pioneer Conversations Day, 7 November 2017.

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Video: Mission is… a conversation with Ann Morisy

Ann Morisy, writer and community theologian, discusses Jesus the man and what mission is.

And in Part 2, below, Ann discusses the role of the connector and aspirations of community.

Recorded at Church Mission Society’s Pioneer Conversations Day, 7 November 2017.

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Our Hammyhill: Mission is from the ground up

by Paul Ede, republished and expanded from the White Canvas Collective blog

What creative ways can a church express its mission at the heart of the community, for the benefit of the community? How can the church engage in the ‘new commons’ [1] in such a way as to fulfil the promise of Jeremiah 29:7, that we will prosper if we seek the prosperity of the city to which we have been called?

Churches as midwives as a community births its own vision

Our Hammyhill was a weekend event in April 2017, designed and delivered by a group of local residents from Hamiltonhill, a neighbourhood of Possilpark in north Glasgow. It is an area very near the bottom of the multiple-deprivation indices, but blessed with a few remaining residual assets – a common story in post-industrial Britain. Our goal was to develop a community-led vision for Hamiltonhill from the ground-up. It resulted in a full-colour brochure with a community and spatial vision for our area that has now been delivered to all 1,500 homes in the neighbourhood. [2]  

Supporting and helping catalyse Our Hammyhill was instinctive and natural. We had become deeply entwined in community life and had deliberately cultivated this connectivity to our place over the previous 10 years, having built up rich reciprocal gift-giving connections with our neighbours. The local residents were seasoned like salt by members of Clay Church (Clay) [3] – salt in the sense of fertiliser, not preservative! [4] Ourselves, local residents and members of Clay got involved in different ways, acting simply as citizens and agents for the common welfare of our whole community, a counter-culture in service to the common good.

As a whole group, we were on a budget: just £4,000 from our local area budget. We’ve always been good at being creative on a tight budget in Hamiltonhill. Church members (as citizens and among fellow citizens) can engage with local institutional structures and help secure these types of funds. Those who endeavour to turn up to community (or neighbourhood) planning meetings and community (parish) councils are the ones who can influence how that money is spent.

It takes a community to reach a community: the thinking behind it all

As citizens and neighbours, we wanted to take ownership of our role in the process of establishing a major development of 600 homes on our doorstep. After more than two decades of feeling like the land and built environment had been razed in front of our eyes, and poor community engagement from our social landlord, we wanted to explore what a community and spatial plan for our place might look like.

In collaboration with other local residents and our local community connector, we decided to apply the best principles from both an asset-based community development (ABCD) approach, [5] and that of the Project for Public Spaces, [6] by combining them at a grassroots level. ABCD is a superb framework for any church to embrace that wants to work alongside its community for the betterment of all. It focusses on discovering the gifts and resources of the people and local area, connecting them to one another in associational life for particular, tangibly realised actions, and creating spaces of hospitality where people can meet and share their aspirations and do something about them. It focusses especially on involving the gifts of people at the margins and welcoming the stranger. It asks three basic questions:  ‘what can we do for ourselves?’, ‘what can we do with help from outside the community?’ and ‘what do we need to ask others to do for us that we cannot do for ourselves?’ The order is important – empowerment starts by creating space for the community to tackle its own issues first, even if appropriate and timely outside help is subsequently sought.

ABCD was theorised by a Christian called John McKnight. He has managed to encode within it some powerful theological ideas, without using jargon. [7] McKnight himself was influenced in his thinking by a Catholic priest and philosopher called Ivan Illich. It is a theory readily used by the CCDA (Christian Community Development Association) in America and is applicable to all communities, not just those at the margins. Through ABCD approaches, churches can become abundant communities that can foster and be fostered by abundance in the wider locality. But it starts with churches who become relational before becoming ‘solutional’. To put it another way, it’s about “discoverables not deliverables,” [8] working with the Spirit to discover gifts latent in the community and seeking first its prosperity and wellbeing. The point about ABCD is that citizens and church members can implement it without paid community development or church leaders needing to be involved. Anyone can kick-start the process of building abundant community in their place. [9]

Some context

Over 25 years, disinvestment and planning choices have removed from Hamiltonhill its community centre, three primary schools, a secondary school, two swimming pools, office space for community groups and a community gym. Even our allotments were shut for several years because of soil toxicity (just as plans for houses to be built there were revealed, but never came to fruition because of the 2008 economic crash). Not to mention leaving two huge areas of residential land (now vacant brownfield). Since 2001, Hamiltonhill and its surrounding area has lost over 20 per cent of its housing stock to demolition. A triple whammy of the 2008 crash undermining development, austerity, and ‘residualisation’ has taken its toll. Residualisation is the phenomenon of social polarisation in urban areas which creates “a pattern of movement of people excluded from society from place to place as social problems become sequentially concentrated and then displaced without dealing with the underlying causes of worklessness, poverty or poor housing.” [10] Poverty is often concealed and shifted, but won’t budge until the structural questions are properly addressed.   

Karl Polanyi once suggested that contrary to popular portrayal, laissez-faire [and ipso facto neoliberal] capitalism was and is planned. It is in fact social resistance that is the spontaneous humanising response to damaging market forces, not the other way around. [11] These forces dislocate us in our relationship to others and the land, for example, by monetising previous reciprocal and gracious exchanges between neighbours, or privatising common good land. Drawing on Polanyi, Bruce Alexander suggests that dislocation is the inevitable consequence of a lack of psycho-social (and I posit psycho-spatial) integration. [12] Dislocated communities are rendered more vulnerable to the effects of addictive processes such as alcohol and drugs or online gaming.

Recently local people living around Hamiltonhill have shown that we really love our community and care about its space. We are determined to resist being dislocated from our own context and community by the power of market forces. We don’t claim to be the first to stage this resistance.  We do sense that this is a new wave of the old impulse to re-integrate our neighbourhood. From painting rusty lamp-posts, to a mini-winter festival with a marquee and games; from a DIY football pitch in a wasteland, to a community barbeque; from securing planters to brighten up the area, to the story of the Bench – a place for folks to stop on rest on the way back to the shops, local people have begun to organise resistance. That’s a lot of love considering how battered and neglected the community had been. Clay sensed that this is where the church should get stuck in.

To be clear, the story is not solely one of neglect. There have been two new school sites launched, though now they are outside our area. There is one remaining covered meeting place – Clay Church’s Bardowie Hall. The ‘Back Garden’ community garden behind the new health centre is important to us. And we worked hard to secure Local Nature Reserve status for the Clay Pit between us and the canal, with Glasgow City Council and Scottish Canals support. In 2015 a vision to create a new inner-city eco-village emerged and pre-crash visions of development were dusted off. A new development framework finally came forward from Queens Cross Housing Association and Glasgow City Council’s Development and Regeneration Services which seemed to give the possibility of taking it to the next level, re-stitching our community back together spatially as well as socially. But for the two years leading up to Our Hammyhill, the only meaningful follow-up community engagement about the masterplan for our area had been led by the community (in May 2016). A co-production approach could have further empowered and restored dignity to our battered community using a proper engagement process. But that option was not pursued amidst lack of vision and tax cuts.

Since we’ve always been told that “the plans aren’t set in stone”, one resident suggested we should come up with our own plan. So a small group including local kids put the weekend together. This meant educating ourselves about the planning process from scratch. We received some help in this from the council, but there has been more support from our local community worker Ali Mitchell, as well as retired planning professionals.

No eating, no meeting

We wove many elements into our programme, from community celebrations including a ceilidh and a barbeque to some self-education with a high-profile visiting speaker (we secured Cliff Hague, president of Edinburgh’s Cockburn Association, [13] a charity dedicated to conserving the built heritage of the city, pro bono). We wove food into every element we could. Indeed, Clay Church’s informal motto has long been “no eating, no meeting”, and that held true for Our Hammyhill.

We started by enabling our kids’ vision to emerge and be at the heart of the process. Then we thought about what we could do for ourselves on Friday night, taught ourselves what might be possible with some outside help on Saturday afternoon and then began to think about what we needed other people to do for us only at the end. On the Sunday evening we delivered a ‘guerrilla playground’ on some abandoned land and had a big community barbeque surrounded by our friends and neighbours, which was shalom in action, delivery of immediate change by locals for locals.

In the run-up to the event, we distributed leaflets (hand-delivered by locals) with multi-coloured ribbons that could be tied around people’s favourite places in the area. Not only did this help to publicise the event, but it also helped us to see what the favourite spots already are, and why. We used Clay Church’s Bardowie Hall and open-air sites all over our area. We had an exhibition constructed from insights of local teenagers through the Planning Aid Scotland [14] “In the Footsteps of Geddes” project, using Google Cardboard Virtual Reality technology for panoramic photos and 3D selfie imaging. We held a community-build with the architects Baxendale out on the street, where local folks could stop, build and chat in a colourful timber-framed moveable viewing platform for community conversations called the Hammyhut. And a play engagement from PEEK where local kids were engaged in play spaces all over the area, and asked for their thoughts on community and space while they played.

We used the Place Standard tool for more structured resident-with-resident interviews. The Place Standard tool provides a simple framework to structure conversations about place. It allows you to think about the physical elements of a place (for example its buildings, spaces and transport links) as well as the social aspects (for example whether people feel they have a say in decision making). [15]

We operated a mini-design studio for a central public space after being inspired by Cliff’s Ingredients for Great Public Spaces talk (an Urban Design 101-type class). And we imagined, designed and implemented a community-built play-space intervention in one weekend, creating a tree swing, hopscotch and Twister play-space in ‘Hamiltonhill Park’, as our kids are now calling one of our local brownfield sites.

The end goal

The brochure was produced in time for the development’s pre-application consultation (PAC) with our social landlord, so that our community could enter that consultation empowered, confident and convinced as to some of the key community goals that we have for our neighbourhood, brochure in hand. Otherwise the PAC will be done ‘to us’ rather than ‘with us’. This forms the small-p political dimension of this collective act of resistance to neglectful powers.

Probably my most precious moment was finding a photo of a local lady we know well (and who has had a tough time and often finds herself at the edge) with big smile on her face, having climbed a local tree and tied a rope swing around it for the kids. This was a local idea, which was made to happen with local resources by local people for local kids, and put in place by our neighbour with real joy! This is ABCD in action…with church in the mix. It is seeking the prosperity of our place in a tangible and simple way, as an end in itself.  And yet it also paid off for us as a church.  Even more than before, we have discovered our calling at the heart of our community and now have the brochure to turn to as we go on to discern how we should apply ourselves to mission in our community over the next season. Our peace and prosperity is discovered by first seeking it for others: seek first the Kingdom and the rest will be added unto you. Mission is from the ground up. We start with the gifts the community has and the relationships we have built, assuming that what is best for our community’s wellbeing is what is best for our wellbeing. In this way, Clay offered its own gifts into the mix and helped generate a rich experience of reciprocal gift-giving and community envisioning for the whole of Hamiltonhill and we all had a lot of fun doing it.

About the author

After 15 years living and working in marginalised communities in Scotland as a non-stipendiary incarnational pioneer and community development worker, including 10 years as a founding church planter, Paul and his wife Esther have moved to Fife where he is retraining as a town planner. He holds an MTh in theology and urbanism and has taught Christian Mission at the Scottish Baptist College. He also curates White Canvas Collective, a collaborative blog giving voice to pioneers in Scotland.

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Notes

[1] Sparks, P. et al., The New Parish : How Neighborhood Churches Are Transforming Mission, Discipleship, And Community, Downers (Grove, Illinois: InterVarsity Press, 2014)
[2] “Our Hammyhill” (PDF, 2017)
[3] Clay Community Church website 
[4] Kreider, A. Salty Discipleship: Bringing New Worlds to Life (online 2008) available at: http://www.anabaptistnetwork.com/node/291
[5] McKnight, J., Block, P., The abundant community: awakening the power of families and neighborhoods (Chicago, Ill: American Planning Association, 2010)
[6] Project for Public Spaces website
[7] For a theological exposition of the principles of abundance that McKnight draws on, see Sam Wells’s lecture to the Church of Scotland GA in 2017 entitled Catalysing Kingdom Communities. It builds a missiology out of the framework of John 10:10.
[8] Asset-Based Community Development: Sustainable development is about discoverables; not deliverables, What Works Scotland website
[9] For a further article co-written by the author arguing that churches can develop abundant community in their places through environmental mission, together with practical examples and theological reflection, see ‘Understanding the Environmental Realm’ in Mission in Marginal Places (Vol.2) ed. Pears M. and Cloke P, (Carlisle: Paternoster, 2016)
[10] McCartney, G., Hearty, W., Taulbut M., Mitchell R., Dryden R., Collins, C., “Regeneration and health: a structured, rapid literature review”, Public Health 148 (2017): 69-87
[11] Polanyi, K., The great transformation (Boston Mass.: Beacon Press, 1957)
[12] Alexander, B.K. The Globalisation of Addiction: a Study in Poverty of the Spirit, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008)
[13] The Cockburn Association website
[14] PAS website
[15] Place Standard website

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Pioneering Mission is…a spectrum

by Tina Hodgett and Paul Bradbury

This article has grown out of recent conversations surrounding the use of the term of ‘Pioneer Minister’. Initially an overview of the terminology is given before the ‘pioneer spectrum’ is offered. The pioneer spectrum invites a broader means of understanding pioneer ministry and in particular encourages a deeper appreciation for those pioneer ministers working in innovative ways to see ‘the future emerging in the present’.

Pioneer definitions

The search for a definition of the word ‘pioneer’ in a Church of England vocational context began over 10 years ago. I (Tina) remember a debate at theological college over a draft proposal made by Dave Male, now National Adviser for Pioneer Development. It has taken much of the intervening period to arrive at the current definition, approved by the Ministry Council:

Pioneers are people called by God who are the first to see and creatively respond to the Holy Spirit’s initiatives with those outside the church; gathering others around them as they seek to establish new contextual Christian community. [1]

Meanwhile other definitions have gained currency in other contexts. Jonny Baker’s succinct description of pioneers as people with ‘the gift of not fitting in’ [2] grew out of his contact with pioneers on the CMS Pioneer Mission Leadership Training course. The apparently paradoxical term ‘loyal radicals’ [3] used to describe those who were totally committed both to the inherited church and to missional change, was welcomed as a defence against the accusation that pioneer work was superficial and uninformed by theology and tradition. George Lings develops a typology of pioneer ministers that identifies the differences in individual charism and character which led some to be serial initiators and others to sustain what has already been started, and helpfully addresses the frequently-posed question, ‘Isn’t everyone a pioneer?’ [4] Most recently Dave Male has made the distinction between parish-based pioneers and fresh start pioneers. [5]

It seemed presumptuous to begin work on an additional typology for defining the pioneer vocation, but fresh in post in a diocese which had put pioneer work at the centre of its new diocesan strategy, I was regularly involved in conversations where participants were working with their own personal interpretation of the word ‘pioneer’ with all the risk of miscommunication that entailed. In a situation where policy depended on engaging everyone to move together towards a shared destination, it seemed vital that all participants were sharing the same interpretative framework when they spoke of pioneers. I began to sketch out a diagram I could use with colleagues to give context to our discussions, developing it in dialogue with representatives of different constituencies.

Toward a spectrum of pioneer vocations

The roots of the Pioneer Spectrum (see Figure 1) lie in a conversation I (Tina) had with a member of a diocesan committee. A fellow pioneer minister who specialised in a form of church planting he endearingly called ‘bish-bash-bosh-bouncy-castle’ [6] asked me and a colleague (also pioneer ministers, engaged in what I would call ‘exploring spirituality on the edge’) how we saw our call and ministry. It was clear he didn’t fully understand what we were about, and was, I suspect, concerned about our orthodoxy.

The generosity of his question allowed us to explain, and he was reassured and subsequently encouraging of our work. However, the conversation made me realise that even within the ranks of people who self-identify as pioneers there is potential for significant misunderstanding, and for insecurity and suspicion to creep in and undermine what God is doing.

Sometime later through contact with the CMS pioneer community I was given a document entitled Best Guess Typology of Current Approaches to Church by Richard Passmore. [7] This typology spanned a range of ecclesiologies from traditional through modal/sodal[8] to what Passmore terms ‘missional sodal’, or ‘sobornostic’ (from the Orthodox Russian concept of sobornost). This latter category describes an approach to church which foresees the possibility of venturing off the edges of the existing ecclesial map into unchartered territory. This may appear threatening to the more orthodox mind, but it may also represent the route the church has to take into the future in order to be the most contextually appropriate means of gospel transmission for subsequent generations, and to be the deeply enculturated expression of church needed in the coming world.

Innovators, adaptors and other pioneers

Independently I (Paul) was reading Gerald Arbuckle’s Refounding the Church and finding it a rich resource to help clarify the particular vocations of pioneers. Arbuckle makes the distinction between innovators and adaptors:

Both are creative persons and needed, especially the innovative and refounding type; both threaten the group because they dissent from the acceptable ways of doing things, but it is the innovator that particularly endangers the group’s security… [9]

What we term ‘pioneer innovators’ are therefore these deeply committed sodal or ‘sobornistic’ pioneer leaders who with their teams venture out beyond the edges of the church’s structures to explore the creation of faithful expressions of Christian life among people of a new context. Their innovations, which provide an initially disturbing influence on the inherited church, in some cases become welcomed by the broader church in time. It is important to affirm, however, that the length of ‘time’ may well be unknown, certainly significant, a time in which the church needs to protect the vocation of these pioneers, trusting that the fruit of their ministry may be a generation or more in the making.

It is ‘pioneer adaptors’ who have the creative gift to adapt these innovations to their own contexts. In addition, ‘pioneer adaptors’ are also skilled in adapting in the other direction, as it were, taking tropes of the established church’s ritual and rhythm and adapting them into new environments.

These distinctions map closely onto a growing experience in the pioneer ministry community: that a number of innovative pioneer projects have now been adopted, adapted and applied by others. Messy Church, as one example, was an innovative piece of pioneer ministry when it was first created by Lucy Moore in Portsmouth, and continues to innovate in new areas such as among the elderly and armed forces. Those who have applied the model may be ‘pioneer adaptors’, faithfully listening to context and shaping the model to fit their own context. Meanwhile the many iterations of cafe church are a good example of ‘adaptors’ working in the other direction.

There are also contexts in which replication is applicable, where a context is seen to be sufficiently comparable so that a successful model of church can simply be repeated. There is a risk in replication without sufficient reflection on context, or openness to the innovative influence of local culture. Some models by their very nature leave little room for adaptation. They are freighted heavily with the culture of those leading it and may struggle to engage deeply in cultures disconnected from inherited forms of church. We term the leaders of such initiatives ‘church replicators’.

There are also those we call ‘pioneer activists’, whose gift and vocation is to shape place in ways that seek to align a community, network or industry with the values of the Kingdom. Seeing themselves as missionaries, but without the express intention of planting a church, these pioneers are nevertheless creating highly innovative Kingdom responses to the pressing issues of our communities. Theirs is an important vocation which deserves recognition and support.

Cultural distance

The spectrum has helped positively identify the particular charism of a variety of pioneers and church planters. Furthermore, we began to realise that it did so in ways that mapped onto a spectrum of ‘cultural distance’. Cultural distance is a concept that tries to assess how far from any meaningful engagement with the gospel a subculture or people group is. [10] It visualises the reality of our post-Christendom context where issues of race, language, history, religion/worldview create a complex and diverse cultural landscape in which mission takes place. The cultural distance from, for example, a rural village in Wiltshire to an urban housing estate in London is immense. Culture is also no longer purely about place, as neighbourhoods become increasingly diverse and people identify with networks more than neighbourhoods, as well as form significant strands of identity on the internet. Hence at one end of the spectrum is a culture similar in character to that of the missional team; at the other end is a culture with significant barriers of language, worldview and attitude to those engaging with it.

Conclusions

In the confusion around our use of language for pioneers and with the competition for resources that is the reality in many denominations (and certainly in our own Anglican structures) we believe the pioneer spectrum is helpful. It says to the pioneer innovator who is working slowly in an incarnational mode among, say, poor urban young adults, that their vocation and ministry is very different and yet equally as valid as the resource church [11] leader up the road. These two pioneer leaders may be only a mile apart, but they are ministering in very different worlds, something this spectrum makes visible. Mapping these vocations onto an axis of cultural distance also lends weight to the argument that the particularly precious vocation of many pioneer innovators must be given space and time. Our cultural context has not settled into some kind of post-Christendom consensus. The only given is that of continuous change. The experience and learnings of our innovators, in failure as well as success, are the seeds of a significant element of the future of the church.

As well as ensuring an understanding of the range of pioneer vocations that the Holy Spirit has conceived, the pioneer spectrum protects the possibility of a broader range of ways of being church than those we have already imagined and begun to see emerging. In particular it is vital to draw the attention of all those concerned with the future of the church to the concept that there may be more radical, exploratory, imaginative ecclesial communities than we have yet seen, and to give space within our structures and systems for these embryonic churches to be implanted and take shape.

The pioneers who carry the responsibility of bringing these God-ideas into the world will need understanding, encouragement and support as they work in a prophetic way to make them visible, a sign of the future emerging in the present.

About the authors

Tina Hodgett is Evangelism Team Leader in the Diocese of Bath and Wells and Paul Bradbury is co-ordinator of the South Central RTP Pioneer Hub.

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Notes

[1] What is a Pioneer? Church of England Pioneer Ministry website, https://www.cofepioneer.org/pioneermeaning/ (since updated to https:// churchofengland.org/pioneering)
[2] Baker, J. and Ross, C. (eds) The Pioneer Gift: Explorations in mission (Canterbury Press Norwich, 2014)
[3] Loyal Radicals, Anglican Church Planting Initiatives website
[4] Lings G, Looking in the Mirror; what makes a pioneer? in Male, D. ‘Pioneers 4 Life’ (BRF, Abingdon, 2011) p30-47.
[5] What are the types of Pioneers? Church of England Pioneer Ministry website, https://www.cofepioneer.org/types/ (since updated to https:// churchofengland.org/pioneering)
[6] This refers to the process of gathering people through community events with the aim of building bridges with unchurched people and having opportunities to share the gospel
[7] Richard Passmore’s typology is adapted from Gerald Arbuckle, Refounding the Church, (London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1993)
[8] Winter, R.D. The Two Structures of Redemptive Mission, based on a paper given at the All-Asia Mission Consultation in Seoul, Korea, in August 1973
[9] Arbuckle G, Refounding the Church, (London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1993),109
[10] For an explanation and exploration of cultural distance see Hirsch A, The Forgotten Ways, (Baker, Grand Rapids, 2006), 56-63
[11] ‘Resource church’ is an increasingly common term in the Church of England for church plants that tend to replicate a Sunday service and program-based congregational model of church. They have emerged as a concept from the Holy Trinity Brompton network of churches and are rapidly becoming a significant element of the church planting and mission strategy of many dioceses.

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Mission Is… Good Question

by Thomas Fowler and Debbie James

We both like asking questions. In a world (and a church culture) that is often seeking to present the answers, we think there is room for asking questions that catalyse personal journeys of discovery. That is why at New Wine, Big Church Day Out, Greenbelt and other Christian festivals during summer 2017, Church Mission Society designed an exhibition stand, not to talk overtly about what CMS does, but rather, to ask a big question.

The people working at the stand asked as many people as possible what ‘mission is’ through a six-question survey. ‘Mission’ has become one of those words that is often bandied about, but really, what is it? We ended up asking over 2,000 people at festivals, events and online. The survey results and some candid video responses can be found on the CMS website. [1]

What you won’t necessarily see there however is the impact of asking the question. Nervous laughter, stunned silences, tears and stories of hurt, loss and failed dreams as well as tales of amazing encounters, wonderful leaders and beautiful human connections all surfaced at our stand. We were taken aback by people’s frequent acknowledgement of being called to God’s mission, but the dissatisfaction at being unable to put that call into action. Indeed, the results showed very positively that 91 per cent of the people surveyed believe everyone should be involved in mission, yet 45 per cent struggle to identify their call or to put it into action.

Reasons why many people aren’t living lives of mission are varied. Some don’t know what their specific call is; for others lives are so stuffed with work, family and church that there’s scarce time and resource to think about anything else. For some, stepping out and sharing their faith fills them with fear. Others are confused by what mission means for them in their community and the wider world – where does it fit with their church activity and what has been modelled to them? So many people had never been asked or asked themselves what mission is or considered the implications for their lives. All these things highlight to us that there is work to be done in helping people discover the breadth and depth of God’s mission call.

Busting myths about mission

As a result of people’s responses and as the Mission Is campaign continues, we have produced some online free resources to help people do just that and to bust some myths about mission. These include some videos where a range of people reflect on mission. CMS pioneer student Kerry McLeish reflects on how she has changed from seeing mission as going to Africa, running an Alpha course, putting on a church event or talking to a friend about her faith, to now understanding mission as being what God is doing in the world. She says: “He is at work in the world all the time throughout creation and in every aspect of life and it’s about us joining in with what he’s is already doing, not us going and doing something or organising to do something and praying that he’ll come along with us and bless it.” Luke Larner, self-described ragamuffin chaplain in Luton, similarly reflects that mission is “not so much about strategising, our clever ideas, our agendas; it’s really discovering what God is doing, finding the glimpses of glory, finding the places where God’s kingdom is out-breaking” and he offers practical tips – essentially focussing on the importance of listening, looking and waiting. [2] It’s so helpful to see that mission doesn’t belong to us, or even the church. Rather, God is already on a mission in every community and is simply asking us to join him in it. Perhaps taking time to notice God’s activity around us is the biggest step we can take towards living out a life of mission. In so doing, we are released from any mission myths or baggage that might suggest mission is about us – about us saving the world or fixing things.

Both Luke and Kerry reflect on how they’ve been surprised by God’s activity outside of the church. Luke describes how he found people on the Alcoholics Anonmyous 12-step programme were discovering Jesus through their recovery journey. In handing their life over to God they were encountering Jesus and having powerful encounters with the Holy Spirit, yet no paid missionary or minister had been sent to them. Says Luke: “It was just happening”. Tanas Alqassis, CMS regional manager for Europe, Middle East and North Africa shares how many Muslim-background believers experienced Jesus appearing in a dream, without anyone first preaching to them. He comments that God is not “taken” to other places, but is in fact “already at work” in those places, if only we will notice. In order to live a life of mission, we don’t have to carve out a specific hero-type call or develop a strategy or fit ‘another thing’ into our already busy lives – these are myths we can dispense with. Our challenge is to discover where God is working and how we can be part of it. We hope that this perspective of mission releases people to discover the breadth and depth of God’s call.

Also in the videos, Levi Santana, CMS mission partner in Brazil, challenges any idea that mission might primarily be a Western thing – a myth that the rapid growth of Christianity in the global South has exposed. He says: “If we are partakers in [God’s] mission then we all share a part in that mission, so then it has to be something that belongs to everyone. So it’s western, it’s Asian, it’s African, it’s Latin American.” Levi and his family are an example of multi-directional mission; sent by their church in Brazil to engage in mission in the UK, they have recently been sent back to Brazil by the UK church to continue in mission there. Harvey Kwiyani, lecturer in African Christianity and theology and director of Missio Africanus, is also featured in the resource and speaks of the importance of migration for mission. There is a big reversal of mission now happening as many Christians from other parts of the world that were once evangelised by Europeans are now migrating to Europe. He issues the challenge that “the West really has an opportunity to engage non-Western Christians living among them” which raises more questions about mission. What is God doing through the gift of the global church in Britain and how are we joining in?

Another question arises in the wake of economic austerity and increasing privatisation. How do churches engage in mission in local communities that feel increasingly marginalised? Is mission, in this instance, about doing stuff “for” people in need? Or is that also a myth that needs busting? Johnny Sertin, CMS pioneering mission adviser, presents an alternative view that shifts the emphasis from us doing things “to” and “for” others to being and doing things “with” them. He says: “It’s really important to work alongside people… it recognises that everybody in a very inclusive way has stuff to offer, share and give.” Johnny noticed the significance of this when he went to help at the “Jungle” refugee and migrant camp in Calais before it was shut down, where he met a group of Sudanese men. He had taken a number of items to distribute and was struck by the exchange of gifts that took place. Having received the gifts from him, the men invited Johnny and those he was with to sit down and share coffee with them, “treasure” that they had carried on their arduous journey from Sudan and which they prepared over a small fire in the squalor of the camp. What does mission look like if it is “being with” people? What does mission look like if we are the guest and not always the host?

Mission Is… more questions

As the Mission Is campaign continues, we still have plenty to do to liberate ourselves, our mission community and the church we are called to serve, to put our call in action: to join with God to see a world transformed by Christ. That’s why, whatever mission is, we’re not ready to stop asking the question.

About the authors

Thomas Fowler project managed the first stage of the Mission Is campaign. Debbie James is director of church and community mission at Church Mission Society.

More from this issue

Notes

[1] churchmissionsociety.org/mission-is
[2] churchmissionsociety.org/resources What is Mission? A Myth-busting Bible Study, session 1

Some content originally published in The Call, Issue 7, p22, used with permission.

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Lament and Hope

by Cathy Ross

“There are things that can be seen only with eyes that have cried.”

++ Christophe Munzihirwa, Archbishop of Bukavu, 1994-1996. [1]

Introduction

Recently, I have been thinking about lament and how this seems to be such a common theme – both in world events as well as in our own lives. Some reading that has begun to open this up for me has been the work of a Roman Catholic Ugandan theologian, Emmanuel Katongole. His latest book is entitled Born from Lament, The Theology and Politics of Hope in Africa. [2] This is a book that looks squarely at the truly terrible, evil, cruel violence and tragic suffering in Congo recently and reflects on how and why this has happened. He details the trauma and the depth of loss experienced – the loss of community, the loss of humanity and more tragically, the loss of future. I am sure you know some of the horror and suffering – children taken from their villages and told to kill their relatives. A 2011 study indicated that 1,152 women were raped every day during the recent conflict – a rate of 48 per hour. An American study shows that 12 per cent of all Congolese women have been raped at least once. [3] I won’t elaborate further – the stories are truly chilling. So Katongole asks, how does one live with this? Can there be a future and if so, what kind? And, where is God? He finds the clue to the future in the power and hope of lament.

Katongole believes that in the face of such pain and trauma, the church in Africa (and everywhere!) needs to learn how to lament. He suggests that the African church tends to focus on a powerful God, a God who performs miracles, who is mighty to save and who reigns supreme – all of which is true of course, but that we also need to know how to lament in the face of suffering, trauma and pain. And that the counterpoint to our almighty God is the crucified God, seen in Jesus Christ on the cross, who continues to suffer with and among us – as Paul says in 1 Corinthians 1:23 “a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles”.

So with his insights and an example from Burundi, I would like us to consider lament in three ways: lament as complaint, lament as resistance, justice and innovation and lament as newness and hope.

Lament

Katongole reminds us that for Israel, their safety and security are not found in military might and strength, nor in wealth or cyber-security that we might want today, but in their covenant relationship with Yahweh. Yes, the Israelites praised God but they also protested at God, railed against injustice and pressed God for deliverance. We see this especially in the psalms. Of the 150 psalms, 60 of them, or 40 per cent, are known as psalms of lament. There are psalms of praise, psalms of thanksgiving and royal psalms but the largest category is lament. This meant that the core of Israel’s life – social, religious and community was framed by lament.

There is a generally recognised structure to these psalms of lament with five elements. Let us take Psalm 13 as an example:

Psalm 13

1 How long, O Lord? [ADDRESS – prayer directed to God]
Will you forget me forever? [COMPLAINT – description of the problem]
How long will you hide your face from me?
2 How long must I bear pain in my soul,
and have sorrow in my heart all day long?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?

3 Consider and answer me, O Lord my God! [REQUEST – they ask for a specific response from God]
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep the sleep of death, [MOTIVATION – articulates the reason God should help]
4 and my enemy will say, “I have prevailed”;
my foes will rejoice because I am shaken.

5 But I trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
6 I will sing to the Lord, [CONFIDENCE – confession of trust in God’s help]
because he has dealt bountifully with me.

These elements of address, complaint, request, motivation and confidence do vary, as they are not all found in all psalms of lament, but they do signify a kind of turning to God which reflects a deep intimacy with God. A relationship of trust, intimacy and love is a necessary precondition for genuine lament. When the biblical writers lament, they do so from within the context of a foundational relationship that binds together the individual with members of the community of faith and that community with their God. [4]

Katongole states that biblical lament is not a kind of unrestrained whining at God, nor a kind of angry venting, but rather it is a structured and complex language of complaint, protest and appeal directed to God. [5] So this makes it a distinct faith language with its own vocabulary and grammar for those intimate and difficult conversations with God when we are hurting.

Another important facet we notice is that lament often moves into praise – the laments and songs of thanksgiving belong together in Israel’s worship. They have the confidence to express the entire range of human emotions before God – doubt/faith, sorrow/joy, fear/trust, life/death – such is the confidence born out of the covenant relationship and a sign of the depth of this relationship with their loving God. What kind of relationship is it if we can only express our joy and faith but not our need, our sorrow, our pain, our trauma, our complaints even?

Lament as complaint

When Father Gerry Arbuckle spoke at Church Mission Society in 2014, he had some pertinent things to say about lament, mourning and grief. You can hear them here.

Complaint is also a key component of lament. Expressions of complaint in the psalms range from concern, to utter desperation in the face of illness or before one’s enemies, to protestations of innocence.

To complain seems risky and almost improper. However, I think it shows that the relationship with God is alive, dynamic and open. To complain is to refuse to accept things the way they are; it protests God’s silence and presses God for deliverance. One requires courage to protest in this way against God – but we see it again and again in the psalms and in the prophets such as Jeremiah. It may also be a way forward into newness. In the psalms of lament, while the writers draw on memories of God’s saving actions in the past, there are always the risk and possibility that God will act in totally new ways as a result of this present suffering, so we may see and learn something totally new and unexpected about God. This suggests that Israel understood complaint as an essential part of their covenant relationship with God. “It is not those who lack faith who complain, but those recognised for strong faith who bring their most honest and passionate feelings to God.” [6] It ensures that the relationship is alive, dynamic, negotiated, contested.

It is risky – because complaint is a form of protest. It challenges God – “How long, O God?”, “Why do you hide your face?” It puts God on the spot. The psalmists say some outrageous things such as “you are the one who has done this, Remove your scourge from me; I am overcome by the blow of your hand” (Psalm 39:10). And what kind of God remains silent to his people’s pleas? Perhaps God is silent not because God is unmoved – but because God himself laments and suffers with us. Jesus’ incarnation and his cry of dereliction on the cross – based on Psalm 22:1, “My God, my God why have you forsaken me?” – testify to this.

African-American gospel songs, the slave spirituals, are a powerful expression of their belief that God was with them in their suffering, even while they were living in their whirling vortex of God-forsakenness. The slave songs are drenched in pain and sadness but they also express a spirit of resistance, confidence and hope. What gave them this confidence was the Exodus story – that ultimately God would save or rescue them, and also their identification of their own suffering with that of Christ’s forsakenness on the cross. I am told that during the apartheid years in South Africa, the most popular services were Good Friday services because they could identify with Jesus in his pain, suffering and desolation.

Jesus understood the slaves, the oppressed, the anguish of apartheid, because he too knew misery, anguish and forsakenness – this resonance gave them the ability to endure and to hope. And ultimately it was these spirituals that gave birth to the freedom songs of the American civil rights movement. Martin Luther King Jr commented: “The freedom songs are playing a strong and vital role in our struggle. They give the people new courage and a sense of unity. I think they keep alive a faith, a radiant hope, in the future, particularly in our most trying hours.” [7]

What about us? How do we engage with lament? Walter Brueggemann and others have highlighted the absence of lament in our churches. Brueggemann connects it with the inability to face suffering or to embrace negativity in our Western world. Glenn Pemberton suggests that the church, as a middle-class institution, has become increasingly embarrassed by the earthy and gritty language of lament. He writes,

… we have chosen to live protected lives in insulated communities, whether our community is a middle-to-upper class neighbourhood or a church with a fortress mentality. Our lack of solidarity with those in need is what causes us to wonder why these prayers are in the Bible and question who would ever need them.” [8]

Another writer comments that it is because of our increased prosperity and identification with the mainstream. Lament sounds dreary and negative to those who do not wish to be reminded either of their own vulnerability and suffering or that of those around them.

Ellen Davis offers some hard-hitting and challenging insights. She suggests that when we read Psalm 109 we need to turn it 180 degrees so that it is directed towards us and ask ourselves: “Is there anyone in the community of God’s people who might want to say this to God about me/us?” We are active participants in a rapacious industrial economy, regularly consuming far more than we need of the world’s goods. She then projects this idea onto our great grandchildren’s generation – to say nothing of the present majority world – who might cry out and lament to God:

Let their memory be cut off from the earth
because they did not remember to act in covenant faith
but hounded a person poor and needy,
crushed in heart, even to death (Psalm 109:14-16). [9]

Brueggemann concludes:

A community of faith which negates lament soon concludes that the hard issues of justice are improper questions to pose at the throne, because the throne seems only to be a place of praise. I believe it thus follows that if justice questions are improper questions at the throne… they soon appear to be improper questions in public places, in schools, in hospitals, with the government, and eventually even in the courts. Justice questions disappear into civility and docility. [10]

A loss of lament signifies a loss of passion for social justice.

Lament as resistance, justice and innovation

So we forget that lament can be a form of resistance and can ultimately bring about newness and hope. We have already noted the African-American slave spirituals are a form of resistance. Lament is also a form of agency. A cry of anguish is not only a way of naming and mourning what is lost but is also a way of standing in the midst of the suffering. And so lament deepens our engagement with the world of suffering and invites us into more active social and political engagement.

Let me offer you a dramatic example of this now by telling you Maggy Barankitse’s story. Maggy is a Tutsi and was caught up in the ethnic massacres in Burundi in 1993. In October 1993, she hid in the local bishop’s residence as soldiers attacked, stripped Maggy, tied her to a chair and then massacred 72 people, including one of her best friends. Amazingly, her seven children all survived the massacre by hiding in the sacristy. Katongole narrates her story:

After the massacre, Maggy crawled into the chapel. She prayed as she cried, “My mother taught me you are a God of love. She lied to me. You are not love… God, why was I not killed? Why am I here? Why O God? As she prayed and cried, she heard Chloe… The children had escaped by hiding. Bribing the militia with money, she managed to save another twenty-five children from the burning and building…and as night fell she sought refuge at the home of a German development worker. [11]

Maggy set up Maison Shalom – houses for children, farms, businesses, a swimming pool, a cinema, a hospital, a nursing school, a micro-credit finance union and even a university. You can see a short clip of Maggy’s story on the Opus Prize YouTube channel.

In 2016 Maggy won the Aurora Prize. The Aurora Prize for Awakening Humanity is a new global award that is given annually to individuals who put themselves at risk to enable others to survive. It is a pioneering global initiative seeking to express gratitude to those who put themselves at risk to save Armenians from the genocide one hundred years ago. [12]

There are some important things to note about Maggy in the context of lament. After the massacre she experienced an incredible energy, determination and anger – all of which she turned into setting up Maison Shalom. But the key driver for her was love – she operates out of an excess of love which is a basic theological principle for her. It was love that made her an innovator. In her words, “Love made me an inventor”. In the face of all this trauma she improvised and innovated so the children could survive, and not only survive but flourish. She invented a new community – not solely Tutsi or Hutu, but a community beyond tribalism. She came up with very practical ideas for the children. Her love was deepened through her grief and lament.

There is something about pain and suffering that are at the heart of love. “There are things that can be seen only with eyes that have cried,” said Archbishop Christophe Muzihirwa, Roman Catholic Archbishop of Bukavu from 1994-1996. In the midst of civil war in Eastern Congo he worked for peace and to build structures of justice, forgiveness and love. He experienced the war, the ethnic violence, the refugee crisis and the destruction of Bukavu. He was a prophet for a new vision of society but after two years as archbishop, he was assassinated – shot dead at a checkpoint.

“There are things that can be seen only with eyes that have cried.” Out of pain, intense suffering and anger, Maggy found the courage to take risks and to innovate. She was determined that death and evil would never have the last word because she innovated something which offered newness and hope. Because love wins.

It is vital to remember this; that love wins because I need to offer a sad postscript. In 2015 President Pierre Nkurunziza decided to run for a third term. This plunged the country into crisis; thousands fled, hundreds were arrested and many were killed. Maggy had spoken out strongly against the third term, was targeted and she fled into exile where she still is, living and working in Rwanda. The government has shut down all the Maison Shalom programmes, including the schools and hospital in Ruyigi, closed their bank accounts and confiscated all their assets. They have also killed some of the children. These events have obviously deepened Maggy’s lament.

This is not a “they lived happily-ever-after” story yet somehow, this makes Maggy’s story more poignant for me. We do what we can with the resources we have, the knowledge and energy we have and we act according to what we know.

Katongole states that these events call for “a closer exploration of the interconnection between lament and martyrdom in order to highlight the (strange) hope that the death of the innocent…offers to Christians in their struggle for peace in Africa.” [13]

Maggy’s story is also an example of someone who resists the scarcity narrative. We need to resist this culture of fatalism. We need to reignite creativity and innovation, have honest conversations about vulnerability and fear of failure, be attentive to the resources we do have and draw on those. Perhaps we just need to look again, or look in new places for the resources that are already available in our communities and passionately resist the myth that we don’t have enough, aren’t good enough, don’t know enough.

One way to resist this culture of scarcity is to practise gratitude and generosity. In her research on shame and vulnerability, Professor Brene Brown discovered that her participants consistently described both joy and gratitude “as spiritual practices that were bound to a belief in human connectedness and a power greater than us.” [14] This should not surprise us. Practising gratitude is how we tangibly acknowledge that there is enough, that we are enough. This is a deeply Christian insight but also profoundly counter-cultural in our society that preys on our desires to want more, to consume more and therefore to waste more. Gratitude restores our perspective, enables us to be content with what we have and ensures that we remember our generous Creator God.

In the West, we have grown up in a transactional culture which encourages constant accumulation of goods or, when applied to leadership, encourages managerial, command and control-type approaches. What if we lived with more of a gift-culture mentality where we gifted our time, talents, services for the delight of doing so and for the good of the wider community? Surely this is what Sabbath and the Old Testament Jubilee were all about – ensuring that rest, sustainability and ‘enough’ were key values in society. We, however, experience growth as one of our culture’s highest values: greater production, greater consumption, greater commodification and a trust in progress and technology that things will always get bigger and better. What if we thought in terms of stewardship, trusteeship, sustainability, sufficiency and volunteering? We know that volunteering has as many benefits for the person volunteering as for the project In a 2012 report commissioned to review the benefits for volunteers, researcher Dr Rachel Casiday said, “Volunteering can yield as many benefits, if not more, for the volunteers themselves.” [15]

Gift culture fosters generosity and ensures that everyone has enough. Gifting and generous communities support one another, share with one another, want to know “how can I serve?” Just as Jesus claimed that he did not come to be served but to serve (Mark 10:45), so a gift culture delights in service. Gifting sets in motion a cycle of generosity where one gift prompts another and so it becomes a kind of virtuous circle: wanting to serve, wanting to give and desiring to bring out the best in one another.

Lament as newness and hope

We have already noted that lament can have a surprising turn to praise. However, lament and praise are not simply juxtaposed. Rather there can be an unexpected movement which brings about a fresh perspective and new language. So this possibility of lament turning into praise “reflects a transformation and innovation, a novelty that is only possible with the articulation of both pain and belief.” [16] Biblical lament has the potential to bring us to a new place, to a new depth, to a new song of praise which is qualitatively different from the praise that has gone before. It is a new kind of depth of knowledge and experience, only made possible by the experience of suffering and pain. It is a new kind of seeing: “There are things that can be seen only with eyes that have cried.” This is an important insight for pastoral ministry – that there is newness and hope after pain – but it will be different and we will only arrive there because of the pain.

Perhaps Pope Francis’s metaphor of the church as “field hospital” is appropriate here – repairing the brokenness and healing the wounds – not that we are the sole actors in this regard. But we do offer a theological grammar of hope. By standing alongside those who are suffering, by being with (not doing for or to) we participate in the mystery of God’s own suffering, death and resurrection. It is this participation that mysteriously releases hope. Katongole claims that the African church is a unique gift to world Christianity as a laboratory of hope which “provides a living witness of what hope looks like in the context of violence and war.” [17]

Are we able, in our own contexts, to be a field hospital that heals and binds the wounds, stands in solidarity with the afflicted and traumatised, challenges injustice and innovates to offer hope and bring about newness?

Let me conclude with some words from a poem by Denise Levertov:

Beginners

How could we tire of hope?
—so much is in bud.

there is too much broken
that must be mended,
too much hurt we have done to each other
that cannot yet be forgiven.

So much is unfolding that must
complete its gesture,
so much is in bud. [18]

About the author

Dr Cathy Ross leads the MA for Pioneer Mission Leadership Training at Church Mission Society and is tutor in contextual theology at Ripon College Cuddesdon.

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Notes

[1] A version of this was first presented as a keynote address at the Leicester Diocesan Conference, Wed 20 Sep 2017.
[2] Emmanuel Katongole, Born from Lament, The Theology and Politics of Hope in Africa, (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2017)
[3] Ibid., 14.
[4] Ibid, 107.
[5] Ibid., 107.
[6] Ibid., 110.
[7] Ibid., 115.
[8] Glenn Pemberton in Katongole, Born from Lament, 180.
[9] Ellen F Davis, in Getting Involved with God: Rediscovering the Old Testament, (Boston: Cowley,2001), 28-29.
[10] W Brueggemann, “The Costly Loss of Lament” Journal for the Study of the Old Testament 11, no 36 (1986), 64.
[11] Katongole, Born from Lament, 229.
[12] The Aurora Prize Finalists, auroraprize.com, accessed 10 August, 2017.
[13] Katongole, Born from Lament, 242.
[14] Brene Brown, Daring Greatly, How the Courage to be Vulnerable Transforms the Way we Live, Love, Parent and Lead, (Penguin: USA, 2012), 123.
[15] Should I volunteer?, NHS website, accessed 18.08.2017.
[16] Ellington in Katongole, Born from Lament, 109.
[17] Ibid., 264-5.
[18] Denise Levertov, ‘Beginners’ in New Selected Poems, (Northumberland: Bloodaxe, 2003), 137-8.

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Mission is not Western: Kenyan perspectives on identity, church planting, social transformation, and bold mission initiatives

by Kyama Mugambi

The nature of the gospel is to permeate every culture. In the words of Andrew Walls this gospel is “infinitely translatable”. [1] As it enters different cultures it “creates a place to feel at home”. [2] This infinite translatability challenges the notion that mission, which is essential to the gospel, could be defined by any one culture. The growth of the gospel around the world in the last hundred years invites us to consider this. In 1968 Kwesi Dickson and Paul Ellingworth insightfully observed that Africa could only gain selfhood in terms of its expression of Christianity, and be adequate for her mission if she had first, internalized her knowledge of the Lord of the church, and secondly she could express that knowledge of the Lord in clear accents through her own reflection and thinking. [3] Such expression and reflection can be seen in some of the new ways mission is characterized in Africa, as a microcosm of the non-western world. Taking examples from Kenya, I argue that the church worldwide benefits from this broader expression of mission that encompasses non-western elements.

Mission as a concept is difficult to define given the wide variety of perspectives on it throughout history and the large number of unique contexts in which it has been carried out and studied. But it is helpful to map some contours and salient points in the context of this discussion. For this, I find David J. Bosch’s reflections particularly useful. Mission, he said, refers “to Missio Dei, God’s mission,” and missions are “the particular forms, related to specific times, places, or needs of participation in the Missio Dei.” [4] To this end mission is about the dynamic relationship between God, his people and his world. With reference to the Great Commission in Matthew 28:18-20, mission is a response to a “sending” by the “sent ones.” Mission is sanctioned by, and missions are carried out in obedient response to biblical witness. To be Christian is to be a “sent one,” a missionary, in an enterprise that progresses outwards from one context, moving beyond it into all the world. Mission is in this way an enactment of the command in Acts 1:8: “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” All Christian witness is therefore missionary, in so far as it relates to the human condition. Bosch articulated this well, saying that missionary activity is as “coherent, broad and deep as the need and exigencies of human life.” [5]

Mission sees continuity between belief and action, orthodoxy and orthopraxis. As such, mission integrates worship and evangelism with social action that transforms individuals and communities. Vinay Samuel expounds on this transformative nature of mission. When mission is carried out in context, it needs to permeate the very fabric of the community demonstrating the translatability of Christian faith. [6] It does not stop there but continues by engaging the world through its commitment to praxis. This praxis manifests, for example, through commitment to provide freedom and power to those who need it most – the poor. It will also become evident through providing reconciliation and solidarity. [7] Mission builds transformative communities of change. [8] Taken together these highlight the contours we will use in this discussion when we refer to mission, missions and missionaries.

Identity and community in mission

We begin by reflecting on two Kenyan voices from different eras who spoke on mission with authority from their pastoral convictions and who remained committed to engaging these perspectives and their implications for the church. John Gatu, a Presbyterian minister in 1971, famously proposed the voluntary suspension of missionary activity in Africa for five years. [9] His argument was that such a moratorium would enable Africans to learn to rely on themselves and to develop authentic self expression. Gatu made this call at a missionary conference in Wisconsin and repeated it three years later before the third assembly of the All Africa Conference of Churches in Lusaka in May 1974. [10] Gatu challenged the very notion that mission, in perception and practice, was Western. In his view, space should have been availed to allow a redefinition of this concept.

A clean break was necessary in Gatu’s mind, to provide for a rethink about the relationship between the West and the Global South. He said, “The answer to our present problems can only be solved if all missionaries can be withdrawn in order to allow a period of not less than five years for each side to rethink and formulate what is going to be the future relationship.” [11] Thus, the continued presence of foreign missionaries hindered reflection on the issue of missionaries, prevented a reformulation of missions practice and obstructed the development of a new paradigm for missions. [12] In practical terms, for example, Africans could not grow in their leadership and ability to handle ministry with an ongoing presence of foreign missionaries. [13]

Missions activities, as formulated then, were dependent on foreign funds, preventing local missions from developing unique solutions for African problems. In this way, the presence of foreign missionaries was a hindrance to the sustainability of local African missions. [14] On the question of selfhood, Gatu was concerned that the strings attached to foreign resources had implications on the local missions. These strings inadvertently hindered the development of the African church in becoming all God meant it to be. Gatu proposed a hiatus in missionary activity to reflect on responses to these issues which he felt were a threat to the African church. If there is anything Gatu accomplished in his call, it was to highlight the close relationship between selfhood and mission. As the gospel entered the life of the African, the conviction developed to be an active participant in mission from within the context. [15] To give some historical and political context here, Gatu’s call resonated with the continent at the conclusion of the decade of independence. It also came at a time when Christianity grew exponentially on the continent. By the 1980s, the debate had largely subsided, though the pertinent issues that the moratorium proposal raised had not resolved. [16]

The secretary general of the All Africa Conference of Churches (AACC) in the 1970s predicted that when the church in Africa was able to discover itself, then we would see renewed expressions that would relate better with the church global. While making a case for the moratorium, the Rev Canon Burgess Carr said,

“Leave us alone for a while, so that we may be able to discover ourselves, and you, in Jesus Christ. When this has happened you will be able to come to Africa and see churches renewed and empowered by the Holy Spirit to a new consciousness of what Christ means to them and their mission to others; Genuinely self-supporting, self-governing, and self-propagating churches making their full contribution to the whole church in the world; Churches that have found a new freedom to see unity among themselves, and; Churches whose relationships with other churches are based upon equality under the Lordship of Jesus Christ.” [17]

The moratorium did not happen as envisioned by Gatu, but Carr’s thoughts were nevertheless realised. African churches were renewed, empowered and grew tremendously. In the intervening period between 1970 and 2000 the number of Christians in Africa tripled from 115 million to 361 million. [18] Champions of this renewed African church began to emerge.

One of these champions is Oscar Muriu, a Kenyan pastor of the Nairobi Chapel, an evangelical independent church. Speaking to 20,000 young people at a missions conference in Urbana, Muriu raised concerns that resonated with what Gatu raised 30 years before. Muriu, however, proposed a different approach. [19] He argued that Christianity in the non-Western world is fundamentally different and that new paradigms for missionaries must be developed because of this. He suggested that this paradigm for missionary engagement endorsed interdependence, created a new paradigm missionary, and was marked by reciprocity along with respect and humility for other cultures. [20]

In his passionate speech, Muriu drew a model of the relationship between the different parts of the global church. Using the passage from 1 Corinthians 12 about the body of Christ, Muriu crafted a powerful picture of what he saw as the future of global missions. He paraphrased this message thus: “If the American church should say because I’m not an African I do not belong to the body, it would not for that reason cease to be a part of the body…” [21] Using the passage he proposed that partnerships modelled after the body of Christ as presented in Corinthians would the a new paradigm for global missions. [22]

Muriu further pointed out that the ultimate display of maturity in the body of Christ is interdependence. As such, global missions should be marked by this type of maturity which presupposes the inadequacy of each component part to fulfil its own needs. [23] Each church from each region of the world needs input from the church in other parts of the world. He went on to make a case for reciprocity as an essential component of global missions. He suggested that the old model of missions “from the west to the rest” was outdated and inconsistent with a scriptural understanding of the body of Christ. Missions of the future should be reciprocal. Such missions will facilitate missions from the West into the two-thirds world and facilitate reverse missions back into the West. In this way global missions will not be one-sided but reciprocal. Such reciprocity, he suggested, is the antidote to unhealthy dependence. [24] Muriu was agreeing with Gatu that missions, especially cross-cultural ones are not the preserve of the West.

Muriu also appealed for respect and humility among the different regions of the world. He pointed out that the weaknesses and the failings of the churches from the different parts of the world are not an affront to their dignity. [25] Instead he argued that the parts that were unimpressive could well be the most important. Those parts of the body that are unrefined and are perceived to be undignified should be approached with respect and humility. It is through respect and humility that all parts can then contribute to the well-being of the entire body of Christ. Such respect and humility for all cultures does away with patronisation which is inconsistent with what is required from the body of Christ. [26] Here Muriu was offering an inclusive, ecumenical, proposal of how the mission conversation could be carried out.

Looking into the future, Muriu suggested that Christians from the two-thirds world would have much to offer Christianity globally. This Christianity, for example, provides a new starting point for the development of a theology which gives insight into such issues as liberation from oppression, health, and healing, powerlessness, survival, suffering, and hope. This theology has in the past been dismissed by some Western theologians as shallow. [27] If Gatu’s contribution connected mission with identity, Muriu highlighted the interface between mission and the global Christian community.

Both of these perspectives are essential in framing the conversation on mission in a global context where Christianity is more demographically dominant in the Global South. In many ways, Christianity in Africa is representative of Christianity in the world today. [28] Allan Effa states it in stark terms saying “it is fair to say that the very heart of the Anglican community has been transplanted to Africa.” [29] Taking the example of the Anglican church he says, “the Church of Nigeria’s average church attendance is greater than that of the combined Church of England, Episcopal Church of the USA (ECUSA), and Anglican Church of Canada.” [30] It therefore follows that going forward, the mission will likely be expressed through the identity of the dominant Christian expressions across the globe. Mission is no longer just Western. We now consider some ways in which mission is not Western, citing some examples from Kenya.

Church planting and missions

Church planting is one important trend that shapes missions today going into the future. In the 1800s, the number of congregations worldwide were estimated to have been 150,000. That number increased to 400,000 at the turn of the century in 1900, eventually growing to 3.4 million congregations by mid-2000. [31] That represents a staggering growth average of over 80 congregations per day over 100 years. It is expected that the number of congregations in the world will rise to the region of 7.5 million in 2025. [32] This would represent a growth rate over the course of 25 years of over 300 congregations a day. Most of this growth is in the non-Western World: in Africa and Latin America. In Kenya for example there were over 6,000 churches awaiting registration in 2007. [33] Comparatively, between 2000 and 2025 it is expected the number of sending mission agencies will grow but at the rate of about one mission agency every five days. [34]

These numbers, while estimates, paint a picture of what missions may look like in the future. We cannot expect that every church planted in Africa over the next 10 years will be a bona fide missionary sending church. Many churches planted will be small and will not be able to marshal the resources necessary to send individuals or teams to other countries. We also cannot peg our evaluation of the effectiveness of missions by the number of foreign mission sending agencies formed each day or year for that matter. In truth, the presence of a missionary agency does not necessarily mean that they are active or effective in any given area of missions. The quality of the personnel and the efficacy of the service a missionary agency provides may not meet the needs of the target communities. [35]

What we can see however, from the exponential growth of church congregation numbers and the slower growth of mission agencies, is that the local church will increasingly become a crucial actor in missions, in a local-church driven missionary era. This echoes much of what we see in the New Testament, and the Book of Acts in particular. If we take seriously what we see in such movements as the Redeemed Christian Church of God, Winners Chapel and other African movements, we conclude that the church in Africa includes many church planting movements. The “church-planting church” will replace the foreign mission sending agency as the primary agent of growth for Christianity, at least in Africa.

In Newer Pentecostal Charismatic Churches (NPCCs) the pneuma-centric commitment to spiritual gifting presupposes that every believer plays an active part in worship, evangelism and discipleship within the community. [36] Bosch outlines this as one of the emerging mission paradigms where mission is “ministry by the whole people of God.” [37] We should expect to see a shift away from mission in Africa as carried out by foreign missionaries a century ago, exemplified by David Livingstone and others, to the current church-oriented approach of mission by such communities as the Redeemed Christian Church of God (RCCG) from Nigeria. [38] Take, for instance, Prince and Esther Obasi-Ike, Nigerians who moved into Kenya in 1995. All they had was their sense of call to mission, confirmed by their general overseer, and the contact of a Kenyan who they met at their church in Nigeria. They moved their family into Nairobi, without much by way of resources, and presented themselves to the relatives of their Kenyan contact. They were accommodated on the strength of their contact’s recommendation. Their church plant went on to plant dozens of other churches locally and internationally, often using the same model of relationships and connections from the congregation. The local church became both a missionary sending agency and a church planting hub. The Obasi-Ikes refer to themselves as “pioneer missionaries” sent by the movement’s “visionaries.” The “visionaries” are RCCG’s general overseer and his wife. “Pioneer missionaries” is a term that was once the preserve of missionaries of Western extraction. [39]

Christianity has slowly been gaining recognition as an integral part of African cultural consciousness. Indeed the study of Christianity in Africa is now also the study of an African religion. [40] The PEW forum report on the global size and distribution of Christianity shows that the 10 countries with the highest population of Christians in tropical Africa account for 17 per cent of the Christians in the world. [41] Seven of these countries are at least three-quarters Christian. From an ontological perspective, missions, and in this case church planting, is already becoming an expression of African identity. One part of being African could well be, being a Christian! The world view from which future mission initiatives will take place is inherently African and Christian at the same time. [42] Increasingly, we will find that African churches are asserting their identity through mission where church planting therefore becomes a way to engage in mission while expressing at least one or more aspects of African-ness.

One church in Berlin is known by a Kenyan name. Mavuno Church Berlin was launched in 2011 as a German-led, German-speaking church for Germans. [43] A German couple, Daniel and Nancy Flechsig, were commissioned to go back to Germany to plant a church under Mavuno Church from Nairobi where they trained and caught the vision. This couple had attended a three-year cross-cultural training exchange programme with an African church. The elder board of the declining 100-year old EFG Lichterfelde church approached the Flechsigs to lead it. The EFG Lichterfelde submitted itself to Mavuno church’s leadership and vision and was re-launched as Mavuno Berlin under the leadership of the Flechsigs. [44] Its mother-church, Mavuno Church in Nairobi, has launched congregations in five countries in Africa. [45] The church has also sent teams to start church planting work in an additional five countries. [46] Mavuno Church Berlin went on to engage in their social context, specifically among refugees during the German refugee crisis of 2015-2016. [47] Non-western mission in Africa grows through planting new churches. In this process, it also becomes an avenue for the expression of an African identity.

Social transformation and political engagement as mission

African theologians like JNK Mugambi in the early 1990s and more recently, Kwabena Asamoah-Gyadu, pointed to an emerging African Christianity that moves beyond passive piety to social reconstruction. Many emerging churches strive for health and wholeness in society. [48] The pulpit remains their primary communication avenue for these ideals. The theology forged in the mind of the preacher, and informed by their context, is prophetically proclaimed to provoke, stir up and otherwise challenge the status quo. Several large and influential NPCCs have chosen to use their sermons to articulate a cogent theology of personal responsibility for the listener to institute change in their political and social context. [49] In the past, some leaders of mainline denominations in Kenya engaged in provocative and adversarial exchanges with the national leadership in the push for democratic change. [50] Sermons in many African NPCCs are more focussed on urging the individual to act to bring about social transformation. The sermons will hold national authorities accountable; the underlying assumption is the congregation’s greater ability to influence change. Going back to Mavuno church as an example, one of the themes emerging in the sermons is the notion that justice is instituted by individuals within a social system. In his sermon “Restore Justice,” Muriithi Wanjau urged his congregation to, “move away from seeing justice as the government’s or civil society’s responsibility.” He told them to understand that God holds his people accountable for the practice of justice in our nation, and in God’s eyes, justice in day-to-day dealings is even more important than worship and prayers on Sunday. [51] He taught his congregation that one way to effect this justice is to eradicate poverty, not through handouts but by a commitment to economic empowerment. The answer to eradicating poverty in the Kenyan society, said Muriithi, was “to break people out of poverty into a place where they own their means of production – which is what we call the ‘middle-class.’” [52]

These churches also promote social transformation through an economically and intellectually empowered laity who gather in Christian professional forums. Christians for a Just Society (CFJS), was founded in 1998 by a group of Christians who “believed that there was a role for Christians to play in the political, economic, and social affairs of our country and aimed at sensitising and mobilising Christians to get involved.” [53] Their mission is to “mobilize and equip Christians for political engagement.” Their church leaders programme provides information and resources for leaders in churches to use when vetting and engaging with political leaders. They also run training programmes for practicing Christians for women who are aspiring to political office. [54] CFJS hosts town hall meetings for the middle class to interrogate the visions and objectives of political aspirants. These consultative forums encourage and affirm a consensus approach to political issues.

Social media, electronic media and the internet – the new “Roman roads” of mission

The growth of social media, blogging and other internet-based platforms through ICT development in Africa provides unique new opportunities for churches to carry out mission. The internet for example has been used to broadcast the gospel directly to an audience that would not otherwise attend the church. NPCCs maintain websites where they advertise their churches, often presenting profiles of their leaders. [55] Many of these churches also stream their sermons online as part of their evangelistic efforts. Their pastors have large followings in social media platforms such as Twitter and Facebook. Muriithi Wanjau, the senior pastor of the Mavuno family of churches, has over 10,000 Facebook followers, and over 16,000 Twitter followers. [56]

Some churches have launched TV and radio stations to reach beyond their Sunday congregations. Christ is the Answer Ministries for example runs Hope FM, which carries music programming, talk shows and sermons from within the church and outside. [57] Other separate entities have launched Christian radio stations to advance an evangelistic agenda through media and the arts. Kubamba Radio is one such entity. [58] Kubamba Radio was started by young leaders such as Moses Kimathi, with a passion for missions in high schools. After over a dozen years of engaging in high school ministry, and leading Bible studies for gospel music artists, they began presenting large concerts to bring together young people for end of year vigils. The group then launched a radio station focussing on music and topical discussions aimed at teenagers and young adults. The radio station is based in Nairobi. Radio hosts come from several NPCCs in the city.

NPCCs also use other means to present their message as they engage with society. David Oginde, the CITAM bishop, maintains a blog known as the Bishop’s Blog. On the blog he offers a commentary on current affairs giving his considered position on key issues. Oginde’s articles offer a sober critique with none of the provocation and adversarial language common in activist blogs. The arguments are articulate and forceful and he boldly addresses some of the political issues touching on national scandals [59]. Some laity also use the social media platform for activism. Some of them see it as their Christian calling to engage the powers that be. Njonjo Mue for example is a human rights lawyer with graduate theological training. Mue often uses Facebook as his preferred blogging medium, though his articles can be found on other blogging sites. [60] Mue represents a group of laity that has taken activism to the internet, reaching large audiences on a platform that also allows feedback.

Bold mission initiatives

Mission in non-Western contexts has seen the emergence of bold evangelism initiatives meant to take the gospel beyond what was initially done before. One such initiative is a nonpartisan and interdenominational missionary organisation, Sheepfold, founded and run by an Anglican clergyman, Canon Francis Omondi, in 1988. It sent out its first missionaries in 1989. The ministry works in Eastern Africa, the Horn of Africa and the Sahel among the unreached tribes and people groups where there has been little or no impact by the churches. Aside from evangelism the agency mobilises churches, trains missionaries and develops partnerships and networks for mission. Sheepfold combines evangelism and social work. In their own words, their approach to ministry “is with both hands extended – one hand invites individuals to repentance, faith, and eternal reconciliation with God through Christ Jesus. The other embraces the lost’s physical and emotional well-being. This is the hand of social justice, mercy, and compassion which embody the goodness of God’s Kingdom on earth. One is not a means to the other but both are equally significant to life in the eternal Kingdom.” [61] Their initiatives include missionary training, education, medical services, agricultural model farming and entrepreneurship.

Much of their work is in the arid areas, among people who have had very little or no contact with Christians and Christian missionary work. Their centre is in an area with a Muslim majority, facing frequent attacks from Al Shabaab, an extremist Islamic group based in neighbouring Somalia. Sheepfold aims to be relevant in a geographical region that faces frequent, highly unpredictable attacks on Christians. Omondi publishes his reflections on a blog about what it means to be a Christian in his particular context, and in Kenya at large. [62] One of the most tragic challenges to their witness was on Maundy Thursday in 2015 when 147, mostly Christian, students were killed in an Al Shabaab attack on Garissa University. A week after this incident Omondi wrote,

Will the pressure of persecution on Christians curtail their witness? It is the will of God that all the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of God as the water cover the sea. In his prayers, Jesus says, ‘Yet not as I will, but as you will.’(Matthew 26:39, 42) He completely trusted God’s plan, and He knew God’s will would be done. Trusting God doesn’t mean that I will always understand suffering or the reason behind it. But I’ve learned that because Jesus trusted God, my life is forever changed. [63]

Omondi writes with authenticity and authority on these matters while living with constant threats on his life and the lives of those he works with. Sheepfold retains its ministry in a hostile context, where its effective witness is acknowledged by Christians and non-Christians alike.

There are other unique missionary initiatives of different kinds. Some of these initiatives involve reverse mission where Africans move into the West, either for work, or as Christian workers. Cyprian Yobera for example is ordained in the Anglican Church of Kenya (ACK). Before traveling with his family to be a missionary in the UK in 2002, Yobera was a minister in a large church. He had led an effective ministry among the youth in Kenya for years as the director of Youth for Christ. After moving to the UK as a missionary, Yobera began work with the Eden project in inner city Manchester as a full-time CMS mission partner in this area of need. [64] Steve Maina is another Anglican minister who left Kenya in 2009 as a missionary to New Zealand, where he coordinates missions activities with CMS. These bold initiatives in mission by African missionaries challenge past models and stereotypes of missions, while affirming the catholicity of the global church as a mission-oriented community.

Conclusion

The continued growth of the church in Africa challenges the past notions of mission whose reference point has been the West. The prominence of the church in places outside the West is a boon for global Christianity, as the expression of mission encompasses non-Western elements. As we considered Christianity in Kenya, we saw how Gatu’s moratorium proposal highlighted the relationship between selfhood and mission. The establishment of the gospel in the African Christian developed a conviction that they too could be active participants in mission. Muriu’s perspective of a mature Christianity that features interdependence and reciprocity highlighted the role of mission in promoting the interconnectedness of the church globally.

In Africa, the church has emerged as the primary agent of growth for Christianity as well as the primary sending agency for missionaries. The missionary activity of the church has also become an avenue through which an African Christian identity is expressed both locally and internationally. This Christianity is concerned about praxis as much as it is concerned about orthodoxy. It strives for mission into its society by pushing beyond passive piety into social transformation that aims for health and wholeness for all. The church is also actively seeking new ways to engage in mission. Technological advances such as social media, electronic media and the internet have become opportunities for mission to society. Through different kinds of bold initiatives both locally and internationally African missionaries affirm the catholicity of the church and its historical commitment to missions. In these ways then, in responding to the Great Commission, the African church is demonstrating that mission is no longer just western, it is in fact, not western – it is global.

About the author

Kyama Mugambi researches New Pentecostal Charismatic churches, at the Centre for World Christianity in the Africa International University, Nairobi Kenya. He served as a pastor for 17 years, with several of those as a church planter. Until 2016 was the director of mission through church planting initiatives at Mavuno Church, working with teams in 10 countries mostly in Africa. His current research project is the compilation of a short history of the Urban Charismatic-Pentecostal church in Kenya.

More from this issue

Notes

[1] Andrew F. Walls, The Missionary Movement in Christian History: Studies in the Transmission of Faith, 1st edition (Maryknoll, NY; Edinburgh: Orbis Bks; T & T Clark, 1996), 25.
[2] Ibid.
[3] Kwesi A Dickson and Paul Ellingworth, eds., Biblical Revelation and African Beliefs. (London: Lutterworth Press, 1968), 9.
[4] For a more in depth discussion see David Jacobus Bosch, Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission (Maryknoll, N.Y: Orbis Books, 1991), 9–10.
[5 Ibid., 10.
[6] Vinay Samuel, “Mission as Transformation,” in Mission as Transformation: A Theology of the Whole Gospel, ed. Vinay Samuel and Chris Sugden, Reprint edition (Eugene, OR: Wipf & Stock Pub, 2009), 229.
[7] Bosch, Transforming Mission, 229.
[8] Samuel, “Mission as Transformation.”
[9] John Gatu considered himself a Revivalist, a member of the revitalization movement that began among Anglicans, sweeping through the Presbyterians, Methodists among others in the East African region from the 1930’s into the 1970’s. Rev. Dr Gatu would later on become the moderator of the Presbyterian Church of East Africa (PCEA). John G. Gatũ, Joyfully Christian. Truly African. (Nairobi: Acton Publishers, 2006), 163–68; John G. Gatũ, “Jesus Christ the ‘Truthful Mirror’: My Finding Jesus Christ in the Ministry of the East African Revival Movement,” in The East African Revival: History and Legacies, ed. Kevin Ward and Emma Wild-Wood (Kampala, Uganda: Fountain Publishers, 2010), 47–59.
[10] Gatũ, Joyfully Christian. Truly African, 169–76.
[11] Gatũ, Joyfully Christian. Truly African., 167.
[12] Ibid., 166–68.
[13] Gatu cites examples in administration, theological education and medical missions. See Ibid., 172–73.
[14] Ibid., 166–68.
[15] Gatu, points out that unbeknown to him at the time, there were others making the call around the world. On such example was the outspoken Catholic priest Daniel Barrigan, speaking out of Latin America.See John G. Gatũ, Fan into Flame (Moran Publishers and Worldreader, 2017), 130–31.
[16] Mugambi, Christian Theology and Social Reconstruction, 207–8, 213.
[17] Carr, “The Mission of the Moratorium.” [PDF] Published as an occasional bulletin of the Missionary Research Library NY.
[18] Todd Johnson and Peter F. Crossing, “Christianity 2013: Renewalists and Faith and Migration,” International Bulletin of Missionary Research 37, no. 1 (2013): 32–33.
[19] Oscar Muriu was raised an Anglican in Nairobi in the 1970s. He became the pastor of Nairobi Chapel, a non-denominational church in 1989. In the course of his leadership, the church grew tremendously from 6 members to several thousand in a decade. During that time the church shifted from the Plymouth Brethren inspired worship expression of its original British founders, to a Charismatic African expression. Oscar Muriu, Urbana Missions Conference 2006: Interdependence Model of Missions, 2006 [Vimeo].
[20] Ibid.
[21] Ibid.
[22] Ibid., 17:17-18:31.
[23] Ibid., 18:30–20:30.
[24] Ibid., 24:13.
[25] Ibid., 26:11–32.
[26] Muriu, Urbana Missions Conference 2006: Interdependence Model of Missions.
[27] Ibid., 5:30–9:09.
[28] Andrew F. Walls, The Cross-Cultural Process in Christian History : Studies in the Transmission and Appropriation of Faith (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2002), 116–19.
[29] Allan L. Effa, “Releasing the Trigger: The Nigerian Factor in Global Christianity,” International Bulletin of Missionary Research 37, no. 4 (2013): 214–18.
[30] Ibid.
[31] Johnson and Crossing, “Christianity 2013: Renewalists and Faith and Migration.”
[32] Todd Johnson, “The Global Demographics of the Pentecostal and Charismatic Renewal,” Symposium: Global Perspectives on Pentecostalism 46, no. 6 (November 2009): 479–83, doi:10.1007/s12115-009-9255-0.
[33] Stephen Makabilia, “NCCK Asks for Vetting of Churches,” The Standard, September 7, 2007.
[34] Johnson and Crossing, “Christianity 2013: Renewalists and Faith and Migration.”
[35] Gatũ, Joyfully Christian. Truly African., 170–73. These were pertinent issues even at the time of Gatu’s moratorium proposal.
[36] NPCCs are a category of the fastest growing church movements in Africa. They are evangelical churches for whom the power and work of the Holy Spirit remains central to their expression. See Allan H. Anderson, African Reformation: African Initiated Christianity in the 21st Century (Trenton, N.J.; London: Africa World ; Turnaround, 2001), 167; Johnson, “The Global Demographics of the Pentecostal and Charismatic Renewal.”
[37] Bosch, Transforming Mission, 368–510.
[38] Prince Obasi-Ike and Esther Obasi-Ike, Purpose and Promise-Driven Life (Nairobi: Mustard Seed Publications, 2012).
[39] “RCCG Pioneer Missionaries – Solution Centre,” http://www.rccgsolutioncentre.org/index.php/about-us/pioneer-misionaries, accessed August 17, 2017.
[40] Andrew Walls makes this case forcefully in his writing. See Walls, The Cross-Cultural Process in Christian History, 117–19.
[41] Pew Research Center, “Global Christianity – A Report on the Size and Distribution of the World’s Christian Population,” Pew Research Center’s Religion & Public Life Project, December 2011, 54.
[42] Walls, The Cross-Cultural Process in Christian History, 116–35.
[43] Mavuno is Swahili for “Harvest.” The church opted to use the Swahili word instead of the German equivalent, as a way to maintain ties and link its identity to the African church whose vision and mission it subscribes to.
[44] “Mavuno Berlin Launch,” Mavuno Berlin Launch: Facebook Post, accessed January 1, 2016.
[45] These are Nairobi in Kenya, Kampala in Uganda, Lusaka in Zambia, Blantyre in Malawi, and Kigali in Rwanda. See “Mavuno Church Website,” n.d.
[46] These are Addis Ababa in Ethiopia, Johannesburg in South Africa, Gaberone in Botswana, Bujumbura in Burundi and Dar es Salaam in Tanzania.
[47] Kyama Mugambi, “The Refugee Crisis in Europe: The Role of the African Church in a Global Conversation,” in ASET 2016 (ASET 2016, Nairobi, Kenya: Africa Society for Evangelical Theology, 2016).
[48] J. Kwabena Asamoah-Gyadu, “We Are Here to Heal: Revitalisation Movements as Charismatic Communities in Africa,” in Interpretive Trends in Christian Revitalization for the Early Twenty First Century, ed. J. Steven O’Malley (Lexington, KY: Emeth Press, 2011), 272.
[49] I discuss some of these approaches in more detail in my article. Kyama Mugambi, “Elements of Political Engagement in Emerging Urban Pentecostal Movements in Kenya,” 2017.
[50] John Karanja, Paul Gifford and others discuss the role of such clergy-activists as David Gitari, the outspoken Anglican Archbishop, Anglican Bishop Alexander Muge, and the Presbyterian priest, Timothy Njoya. See Stephen Muoki Joshua and Stephen Asol Kapinde, “‘Pulpit Power’ and the Unrelenting Voice of Archbishop David Gitari in the Democratisation of Kenya, 1986 to 1991,” Historia 61, no. 2 (2016): 79–100, doi:10.17159/2309-8392/2016/v61n2a4; Paul Gifford, Christianity, Politics and Public Life in Kenya (London: C Hurst & Co Publishers Ltd, 2009); John Karanja, “Evangelical Attitudes toward Democracy in Kenya,” in Evangelical Christianity and Democracy in Africa, ed. Terence O. Ranger (Oxford University Press, USA, 2008), 67–94.
[51] Muriithi Wanjau, “Restore Justice,” Blog.Mavuno, February 17, 2013.
[52] Ibid.
[53] “Welcome to Christians For a Just Society (CFJS),” accessed February 21, 2017, http://cfjsafrica.org/welcome-to-christians-for-a-just-society-cfjs [no longer accessible].
[54] Ibid.
[55] “Allan Kiuna The House of Restoration,” accessed November 18, 2016, http://www.jcckenya.net/rev%20allan.htm [no longer accessible]; “RCCG Pioneer Missionaries – Solution Centre”; “Bishop J.B Masinde,” Deliverance Church Umoja, accessed January 6, 2016, http://www.dcumoja.org/bishop-jb/ [no longer accessible].
[56] Pastor M, “Muriithi Wanjau: While Calling for Justice & Official Response, Let’s Also Verify and Avoid Spreading Fake News.,” Tweet, @muriithiw, (August 12, 2017); “Muriithi Wanjau Facebook,” accessed August 19, 2017.
[57] “Hope FM | Listen and Live,” accessed September 1, 2015.
[58] “Kubamba Krew (K-Krew),” Kubamba Krew (K-Krew), n.d..
[59] David A. Oginde, “Bishop’s Blog – CITAMBlog,” accessed March 18, 2016.
[60] “Njonjo Mue,” accessed February 22, 2017.
[61] “The Sheepfold Ministries,” Faith2Share, n.d.
[62] His blog is called “Waanglicana” Swahili for “the Anglicans” Francis Omondi, Waanglicana, n.d.
[63] Francis Omondi, “Let This Cup Pass….,” Waanglicana, April 6, 2015.
[64] “Veritas :: Rev. Cyprian Yobera,” accessed August 7, 2017; “Out of Africa: A Kenyan Missionary Sets His Sights on Manchester: Cyprian Yobera,” The Independent, August 10, 2008.

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Mission and place: from Eden to Caesarea

by Mike Pears

‘Place’ is ubiquitous. It seems a truism to say that place is all around us and that indeed all life is somehow an expression of being placed. Yet it is this very everydayness or taken-for-granted-ness of place that is one of its most potent characteristics. The familiar physicality of the natural and built environments present the world to us as ‘normal’, ‘common sense’ or even ‘God given’.

Yet the same familiarity that enables us to navigate through complex social and spatial landscapes without a second thought also functions to hide from us whole worlds of meaning and power. [1] These worlds – which are effectively hidden in plain sight – may be glimpsed when the taken-for-granted, or normative meanings of place are somehow transgressed. This may happen, for instance, in a moment of personal encounter which opens up a fissure or exposes a ‘wound’ in an otherwise normal everyday experience. [2]

Let me offer a few examples of how such a fissure might bring to light an otherwise hidden world of meaning. Consider the familiar phrase ‘a woman’s place is in the home’. You would I suspect react with indignation on hearing such a phrase. Yet this expression was until recently commonplace and moreover taken as a self-evident truth in relation to the design of government-provided housing of the 1930s to justify a small ‘pantry’ (kitchen) being placed at the rear of the house. [3] The cultural norm was expressed in bricks and mortar and in turn the buildings portrayed the ‘truth of the phrase’ as normative or ‘just the way things are’. Similarly, consider a group of women wearing hijabs walking down a street in the London borough of Newham; they would no doubt go unnoticed. Yet the same group of women hiking in the hills of the Lake District may well attract some attention. The sense of indignation or discomfort in each case is not related to the subjects in view, but is rather to do with where they are placed and how they either conform to or transgress the accepted conventions of the place.

Transgressions of this sort can act as indicators of the many layered and complex sets of meaning and constructions of power which inhabit everyday places. They suggest to us that even the apparently safe and familiar places of home and high street are not as benign as we might suppose but are in fact sites where meaning and power are contested. Neither are the values or truths that seem inherent within a place as static and fixed as the solid features of the built and natural environments would have us believe. As in the example of the 1930s government housing, what appears to be a commonsense interpretation of the built environment to one generation can be an anathema to the next.

From Eden to Caesarea

While these associations between place, meaning and power are clearly evidenced within biblical narrative, they remain largely unexplored in mainstream theology. [4] In writing this article I hope to whet the appetite of at least a few readers with the thought that by pursuing a deeper and more thought-through theology of place we might gain significant, helpful insight in relation to the mission of the church in a world where many feel displaced, dislocated and precarious. [5]

The particular theme I will focus on here is the apparent paradigm shift that takes place in the spatial imagination in moving from Old Testament to New Testament narrative, a shift which I am presenting here as a move from Eden to Caesarea. Such a shift should not be surprising to us, given the well-established understanding that the New Testament’s interpretation of the Old involves a simultaneous pattern of both continuity and discontinuity.

I am however suggesting that, on balance, the spatial imaginations (and resultant practices) which currently dominate the church’s mission tend strongly towards the Eden end of the spectrum. My hope is that as we understand why the behaviour of Peter and Cornelius at their meeting in Caesarea was so utterly remarkable, we ourselves might also be awakened to a renewed spatial imagination. I will argue that it is this same spatial imagination, first embodied in the life of the church at Caesarea, which is central to the practical outworking of the Kingdom of God and new creation as envisioned within New Testament texts.

The spatial imagination of Eden

In Where Mortals Dwell, Craig Bartholomew not only takes Eden as a key starting point for his study of place, but argues that Genesis 1-3 is a foundational text for a biblical theology of place. Bartholomew presents a series of key proposals which form the basis of his biblical theology of place; among them are:

• God intends for humans to be at home in, to indwell, their places. Place and implacement [sic] is a gift and provides the possibility for imaging God in his creation. Place is thus a dynamic concept evoking the creative engagement of humans with their contexts.
• Place is never fully place without God as coinhabitant. Place is thus always, in one way or another, a theological concept.
• After Eden the challenge of implacement and the danger of displacement are a constant part of the human condition. Humans remain placed, but displacement is a constant threat. [6]

Bartholomew’s reading of place as a space to be indwelled and co-inhabited with others and with God strikes a deeply evocative note, especially for those who suffer displacement or fear the loss of home. This theological reading of place finds resonance with the work of Walter Brueggemann in his theology of the Promised Land. In an oft quoted paragraph Brueggemman asserts:

Place is space in which important words have been spoken that have established identity, define vocation, and envisioned destiny. Place is space in which vows have been exchanged, promises have been made, and demands have been issued. Place is indeed a protest against all the unpromising pursuit of space. It is a declaration that our humanness cannot be found in escape, detachment, absence of commitment, and undefined freedom. [7]

The theologising of place on the basis of Eden and Land lead to two central observations. The first is about the relational nature of place defined by the key relationship of ‘God-people-place’. [8] The second is the imperative of place-making:

The embodied nature of human beings means that our placedness [sic] is always local and particular; so too will be our primary responsibility for placemaking. Just as the first couple is called to tend to Eden, so we are called to tend to the respective places in which we have been put. [9]

These two key ideas find strong resonance in Christian tradition, especially with ideas of sacred places and more recently with practices of place-making and ‘reneighbouring’ within mission. They are well argued elsewhere and I will not rehearse the arguments again here. [10]

However, serious criticism has been levelled at the spatial imaginations inherent within these Eden- and Land-based theologies. At the risk of oversimplifying the model (but wanting to aid the reader’s own spatial imagination) the spatial constructions of Eden and Land could be represented as a bounded space set apart by walls or rivers which define an ‘inside’ (the territory of the people of God) and conversely an outside (the territory of those who are not the people of God). The identity of the people is based not only on their relationship to God and Land (Brueggemann) but also over-and-against those who are outside. The spatial imagination of Eden and the Land are thus sustained by religious practices of boundary enforcement which both include and exclude. [11]

These ideas were persuasively presented by Mary Douglas in her ground-breaking book Purity and Danger. [12] 

Douglas, who worked as an anthropologist in the field of comparative religion and religious beliefs within primitive cultures (including those of ancient Israel), observed that in tribal cultures dirt was not a matter of hygiene or aesthetics but that pollution and taboo are cultural constructs that relate to the imposition of order on society through categorisation and differentiation. Douglas coined the basic definition of ‘dirt as matter out of place’ [13] and argued that the definition of dirt implies two conditions:

(A) set of ordered relations and a contravention of that order. Dirt then, is never a unique, isolated event. Where there is dirt there is a system. Dirt is the byproduct of a systematic ordering and classification of matter, in so far as ordering involves rejecting inappropriate elements. [14]

In a tribal context peoples were categorised and differentiated as pure or impure: those who were impure or polluted were tabooed; they were socially, spatially and representatively expelled from the life of the tribe.

In the 1990s a group of biblical scholars called the ‘Context Group’ drew on the work of Douglas and other social scientists as a frame for reading scripture. [15] They argued that the purity laws, as held in the Second Temple period, dominated the spatial imagination in Israel and that for Israel spatial representation was organised around degrees of purity according to proximity to the Temple, which itself stood at the centre of all creation. One of the members of the Context Group, Bruce Malina, argues that “the orientational map of Israel consists of two major category sets: the sacred and profane (exclusive and nonexclusive) and the pure/clean and impure/unclean (in proper place/out of place).” [16] Purity laws for Israel prescribed the way of being ‘set apart’ for a God who himself was known as holy, or separate; they defined the ways of moral behaviour required to belong to an exclusive people whose identity was rooted in covenant relationship to an exclusive God. As such, morality in Israel is defined by conformity to purity law – to be moral is to belong.

On this reading, the spatial imagination of Eden and Land are very far from the seemingly benign home-space portrayed by Bartholomew; they are potent geographies of exclusion where those who lack the privilege of birth and commensurate purity are expelled to the outer fringes of the world. Indeed, exclusion is a dominant theme of Eden and Land narratives – Genesis 3 presents us not with a populated garden but with one which is uninhabited by human presence.

At this point I should make a brief qualification. The spatial imagination of Israel was of course much more complex and less ‘fixed’ than has been suggested thus far. [17] Other cultural-religious mappings which are evident within biblical texts suggest that the spatial mapping varied within a community and changed through time. Examples of the ways in which meaning imbibed place in this way are in terms of whether a place was ‘civilised’ or not, [18] as hierarchical male spaces, [19] or as carrying a range of ideological [20] and cosmological [21] readings.

Despite this complexity however, the key point to notice is that each of these mappings serves to establish identities: they make claims about who ‘we’ are in relation to gods/God and territory (and in this sense they are ideological) over and against who ‘they’ are. They not only include but they also exclude. Thus when Jesus declared that all foods were clean, he was not simply making an argument about religious practice. He was deconstructing and undoing the spatial imagination of Israel; he was in effect claiming that the world was being changed and that the whole social-spatial infrastructure upon which all power was predicated was being displaced to make room for a new arrangement. More of this later. First, to be properly prepared for a discussion about the shift of spatial imagination from Eden to Caesarea we should be aware of some of the significant work that has been carried out within the social sciences. While we can touch only briefly on the subject here, I hope that it is apparent that this is one of the instances where cross-disciplinary conversation is much needed.

A brief excursion into social scientific theories of place

It is sobering to see how far theological studies of place have fallen behind the social sciences and it is essential that theology is conversant with the social sciences in this respect. [22] I will reference the work of just two social scientists here which will I hope communicate the sense of the correlation that exists between some aspects of theology and social sciences.

The first is David Sibley who, in his book Geographies of Exclusion, argues that the primary social arrangements of place are based on exclusion such that ‘others’ (such as women, blacks, children, the old, those with alternative lifestyles, gays, the disabled) are placed as outsiders. [23] Thus, in speaking of the home, he sees it not as a place of secure ‘dwelling’ but rather as an embodiment of inequitable power:

Inside the home and the immediate locality, social and spatial order may be obvious and enduring characteristics of the environment. For those who do not fit, either children whose conceptions of space and time are at variance with those of controlling adults or the homeless, nomadic, or black in a homogeneously white, middle class space, such environments may be inherently exclusionary. [24]

A key point we need to notice from Sibley’s argument is that there is no hard and fast separation between the traditional religious ideas of sacred space and modern secular spaces; exclusion is the dominant formative power in all places. So the perception of the “sanctity of space” and the “continuing need for ritual practices” to maintain that sanctity applies not only to religious spaces but to all other places whether they be trendy cafes, shopping malls or railway stations. He asserts:

[These] rituals, as in ancient Israel … are an expression of power relations: they are concerned with domination. Today, however, the guardians of sacred spaces are more likely to be security guards, parents or judges than priests. They are policing the spaces of commerce, public institutions and the home rather than the temple. [25]

For Sibley therefore, place is symbolically important in the construction of ‘deviancy’ where defining what is deviant depends on the process of stereotyping ‘others’ (‘othering’) in terms of dirt. Sibley argues that the broad categorisation of individuals or groups in terms of dirt can be presented in a number of key sub-categories, namely disease (‘we might catch something from them’), nature (‘a swarm’), foreigners (‘go back to where they came from’). You only need to read a copy of any tabloid paper to see a generous scattering of such references applied to the unemployed, those who are homeless or people who have to depend on state benefits.

A second social scientist whose work has bearing on the themes we are exploring here is Tim Cresswell. The first point of Cresswell’s that I want to highlight is that he develops the thesis that ‘place’ combines the social with the spatial and that people act ‘in place’ according to their social standing. As an example of this he cites the case of an ordinary office where cleaners, secretaries and executives all act according to their relation to that particular place. [26] A key part of Cresswell’s thinking is that social space is organised to serve the interests of those at the top of hierarchies (it is thus ideological). Actions or activities that do not conform to the accepted meaning of the place are now seen as deviant or ‘out of place’ – judgements are not made about actions per se, but about the action’s relation to its location or place (secretaries would not sit in the executive’s chair).

The second point, which follows closely on the heels of the first, is to recognise that there is a two-way flow of constructive influence between the physical/material and the social aspects of place. This is to criticise the imagined binary that says that society shapes space (or place) but the converse – that space shapes society – is not the case. Cresswell vigorously rejects this position and drawing on other social sciences (including Robert Sack, David Harvey and Edward Soja) argues that space and society are co-constructing:

[T]hey wish to show that space is not simply formed and moulded but plays an active role in the formation of society. Society produces space and space produces society. [27]

These arguments make some important points about the spatial imagination of Eden and present significant challenges to any form of mission that is predicated on that set of ideas. Unfortunately there is not room here to expand on these and other key insights from the social sciences in the way that they really deserve. [28] But even this very brief snapshot should helpfully prepare the ground for seeing why a shift to the spatial imagination of Caesarea might be so profound. It might help our discussion about Caesarea if, before moving on, I summarise what some of the points are:

• That all geographies, including those of Eden and Land, are exclusionary: power is expressed in the monopolisation of space and the relegation of weaker groups in society to less desirable environments.
• That places are invested with meaning and those who do not conform to the dominant meanings of the place are seen as deviant or ‘out of place’.
• That the nature of place causes these meanings to go generally unnoticed; they are regarded as ‘just the way things are’, ‘taken for granted’, or ‘God-given’.
• That social-space is organised to serve the interest of those at the top of hierarchies (it is ideological).
• That place is not fixed, bounded or static. Rather it is dynamic and open. Indeed the material and social are co-constituting, each acting on the other in the production of place.

The new spatial imagination of Caesarea

This brief discussion of place suggests some interesting interpretive approaches to familiar NT texts and consequent practices for mission. In this instance I will focus on Acts 10 and the events at Caesarea which culminate in the face-to-face meeting of Cornelius and Peter.

This is no ordinary meeting. The boundaries (culturalreligious- spatial) which separate these two men and their entourages are formidable. Indeed, for them, the very idea of meeting is inconceivable, taboo. Yet Luke’s narrative has been inexorably moving his readers to this point. That the gospel would be a light to the Gentiles has been a major theme from the very beginning of the text (Luke 2:32, Isaiah 42:6) [29] and Acts 13 could be seen as the much anticipated moment of fulfilment as for the first time Gentiles are actually being included in the early church (coinciding as it does with the completion of Peter’s ministry and the beginning of Paul’s).

Furthermore Luke has already presented Jesus himself as provocatively disregarding the normal Jewish and Roman social-spatial arrangements. He has with impunity transgressed the norms of religious purity, [30] the hierarchical settlement of ‘male-space’ [31] and the Roman hegemonic space of empire. [32] These dramatic cultural-spatial performances suggest that to see Jesus simply as one who radically crosses boundaries falls far short of Luke’s intent. Jesus acts as if the boundaries did not exist and his declaration of the Kingdom seems to be no less than an inauguration of an entirely new spatial imagination accompanied with a host of social-spatial performances that witness to and embody an as-yetunseen and unknown kind of place – indeed, nothing less than the new creation.

Given all that has been spelled out in Luke’s narrative, the surprise of Acts 10 is that Peter is presented as being so disorientated or unseeing in the face of the momentous meeting that is about to take place. [33] Perhaps this is itself a testimony to the sheer strength of the cultural-religious hegemony of the day that placed such a meeting so far beyond the realms of possibility. As Luke records, Peter “was greatly perplexed” (v17) and it was only through his eventual encounter with Cornelius that he could say “God has shown me that I should not call any man unholy or unclean” (v28). Peter was not the only one among the Jews who was amazed (v45) and he certainly had his work cut out convincing the wider church about what had taken place.

The first movement of the story therefore relates to Peter’s own spatial imagination – his own inner sense of how the world worked. This is a fundamental point of departure for those disciples who wish to follow Jesus into the spatial practices of the new creation; the movement away from the exclusionary spatiality of Eden and Land and towards the inclusive spatiality of the new creation start within the self. There should be no surprise in this focus on self as, with the other Gospel writers, Luke presents Jesus as naming these exclusionary practices – and indeed all exclusion of others – as ‘sin’ (note for example the speck and the log of Matthew 7:1-5). He was, according to Miroslav Volf’s profound exposition of the practices of exclusion and embrace, “no prophet of ‘inclusion’ for whom the chief virtue was acceptance and the cardinal vice intolerance” (Volf, 72-73). Rather he challenged the belief that the source of evil lies outside of a person, in impure things, and identified it as being “in the impure heart” (Mark 7:15). Thus:

The pursuit of false purity emerges as a central aspect of sin – the enforced purity of a person or a community that sets itself apart from the defiled world in a hypocritical sinlessness and excludes the boundary breaking other from its heart and its world. Sin is here the kind of purity that wants the world cleansed of the other rather than the heart cleansed of the evil that drives people out by calling those who are clean ‘unclean’ and refusing to help make clean those who are unclean. Put more formally, sin is ‘the will to purify’ turned away from the ‘spiritual’ life of the self to the cultural world of the other, transmuted from spirituality into ‘politics’ broadly conceived … [34]

This seems a final indictment against the social-spatial practices of the purity codes associated with Eden and the Land. No wonder much of the narrative is caught up with Peter’s dramatic inner experience – surely nothing less than a personal conversion. First through his dream (vv9-16) and then by coming into the ‘Gentile space’ of Cornelius’s house (vv22-35) Peter turns away from centuries of Jewish tradition as he says “God has shown me that I should not call any person unholy or unclean” (Acts 10:28) and that “God is not one to show partiality” (Acts 10:28, 34).

We should not overlook the significance of who is doing the moving in this story, or of who is the guest and who is the host. It is notable that Peter is the one doing the travelling, it is he who moves out of his own world, beyond the social and geographic boundaries which previously fenced him in, and into the unfamiliar world of the Gentile community. Perhaps reflecting in his own physical journey the movement prophesied by Isaiah that the gospel would be a light to the ends of the earth (Isaiah 42:6, 49:6; Luke 2:32; Acts 13:46-47, 26:23). This Spirit-initiated movement was not for him a calling of Gentiles into his space, his ‘pure’ God space, so that they could come to know his God as he knew him and participate in his faith traditions. Rather, by moving into the cultural and faith space of the stranger the story focuses on a graphic exposure of the limitations of Peter’s own faith space and how his construction of his religious space made him blind to the humanity of others (‘I too am a man (human)’ and ‘I should not call any person holy or unclean’(v.26)).

Perhaps one of the most sinister aspects of Peter’s blindness to the humanity of the Gentile-other is the inability to conceive that God is in any way with them (as for example in the judgement of Matthew 25:38- 40: ‘When did we see you a stranger … naked … sick … in prison?). It is the prejudicial conviction that ‘God is with me, but not with you’ that is both a cause and consequence of hard cultural, religious and spatial boundaries such as those around Peter – boundaries which fuel the stereotyping of people such as Cornelius as ‘godless pagan’ (exemplified in the ‘amazement’ of ‘all the circumcised believers who had come with Peter’ 10:45). In moving out of the security of his own cultural space with all its preconceived certainties and into the vulnerability of Cornelius’s home it seems that for the first time Peter’s eyes were being opened to the truth that the God he worshipped might also be found outside of the confines of his own religious tribe (10:34-35).

In his beautiful and persuasive book The Go-Between God, John Taylor describes “the current of communication” between the self and the other as an essential work of the Holy Spirit. [35] He insists that a necessary part of Christian mission is:

[T]he opening of our eyes towards other people. And this also is the gift of the Spirit. A Christian can never be the means of communicating Christ to another until what we might call the current of communication has been switched on. The scales fell from the eyes of the convert in the city of Damascus precisely when he heard one of these whose very lives he had been threatening say: ‘Saul, my brother, the lord Jesus has sent me to you’.

Taylor’s words are as applicable to Peter as they are to Paul. Peter’s journey and the hospitality of Cornelius have dramatically changed the tone of the story. The current of communication has been established. What began as a cultural and geographical distance between the two (a distance which was initially and tentatively bridged by messengers (10:8-9, 17-20)) has moved to an intimate place of face-to-face dialogue where for the first time strangers share personal experiences and stories. As they recognise shared humanity and faith in God each of their lives are changed in ways which just days before had been inconceivable. As Taylor puts it:

This is the gift of the Go-Between God, the Spirit. Just as he opens my eyes in recognition of some other being and generates a current of communication between us, in the same way he can open my awareness towards the reality of myself.

Mission and the spatial imagination

In one sense the actual embodiment of the spatial imagination of Caesarea is so limited to seem at first sight as of little consequence. It is after all only witnessed as a momentary relational space which exists between two men – it is limited in its timeframe as well as in geography. Yet, like the empty tomb on the day of resurrection, once the event has taken place (once the Kingdom has come on earth as in heaven) there is no going back. This is the power of the ‘prophetic imagination’. [36] It is to bring into view that which is not yet seen for in so doing the machinations of the powers are exposed and Lordship of Christ is made known (Colossians 1:13-23).

What then, might we ask, are the practical implications for mission? There is certainly a need for more ‘reflexive space’ within the practices of mission (as with Peter’s experience) and a confession that mission must involve the ongoing conversion of the self as well as the other. There is, I suggest, the need to focus on creative and innovative social, spiritual and spatial practices whose intent is to participate with ‘the Spirit of the Go-Between God’ in opening up ‘new-creational spaces’ in our own mundane, every-day worlds. And finally there is a risky invitation to have the courage to leave behind our safe, self-constructed, Eden-like places and, like Peter, respond to the knock at the door and journey out as a stranger into the social and cultural spaces of others.

About the author

Mike Pears is the director of Urban Life www.urbanlife.org and missions tutor at Bristol Baptist College.

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Notes

[1] Tim Cresswell, In Place / Out of Place: Geography, Ideology and Transgression (Minneapolis and London: University of Minnesota Press, 1996), p.18.
[2] Mary McClintock Fulkerson, Places of Redemption: Theology for a Worldly Church (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007).
[3] Rosamond Jevons and John Madge, Housing Estates: A Study of Bristol Corporation Policy and Practice Between the Wars, ed. Prof. A.M. Tyndall (Bristol: Arrowsmith, 1946).
[4] For examples of these discussions see Eric Stewart, Gathered Around Jesus: An Alternative Spatial Practice in the Gospel of Mark (Cambridge: Clark, 2009; Halvor Moxnes, Putting Jesus in His Place: A Radical Vision of Household and Kingdom (Louisville and London: Westminster John Knox, 2003); T.J. Gorringe, A theology of the built environment: justice, empowerment, redemption, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002); Philip Sheldrake, Spaces for the sacred: place, memory, and identity (Baltimore, MD. 2001).
[5] Steven Bouma-Prediger and Brian J Walsh, Beyond Homelessness: Christian Faith in a Culture of Discplacement (Michigan U.S.A. and Cambridge U.K.: Eerdmans, 2008); Standing, Guy. The Precariat (London and New York: Bloomsbury, 2011).
[6] Craig G. Bartholomew, Where Mortals Dwell: A Christian View of Place for Today (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2011) p.31.
[7] Walter Brueggemann, The Land (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 2002, 2nd) p.4.
[8] Bartholomew, Mortals, pp.2-3, 14-16, 29-31; John Inge, A Christian Theology of Place (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2003), pp.46-47; Brueggemann, Land, pp.1-14.
[9] Bartholomew, Mortals, p.245.
[10] John Inge for example expresses the conviction that Christians should be at the forefront of the recovery of place, and that the focus of such recovery is to rediscover the “dormant virtue of neighbourliness.” Inge, Place, p.135. See also Sparks, Paul, Tim Soerens, and Dwight J Friesen. The New Parish: How Neighborhood Churches Are Transforming Mission, Discipleship and Community (Downers Grove: IVP, 2014); Philip Sheldrake, The Spiritual City: Theology, Spirituality, and the Urban (Chichester: Wiley, 2014); Bartholomew, Mortals, pp. 234-318.
[11] Bruce J. Malina, The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology (Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001), pp.181-184.
[12] Mary Douglas, Purity and Danger. London and New York: Routledge Classics, 2002.
[13] Douglas, Purity, p.44.
[14] Douglas, Purity, p.44.
[15] Jerome H. Neyrey and Eric C. Stewart, The Social World of the New Testament: Insights and Models (Massachusetts: Hendrickson, 2008) p.xxi.
[16] Bruce J. Malina, The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology (Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001) p.171.
[17] For a fuller discussion see published PhD dissertation M. Pears, ‘Towards a Theological Engagement with an Area of Multiple Deprivation’ (Amsterdam: Vrije Universiteit, 2015).
[18] Stewart, Gathered.
[19] Moxnes, Putting.
[20] Norman Habel, The Land is Mine: Six Biblical Land Ideologies (Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1995).
[21] John K. Riches, Conflicting Mythologies: Identity Formation in the Gospels of Mark and Matthew. (Edinburgh : T&T Clark, 2000).
[22] A helpful introduction to the study of place is: Tim Cresswell, Place: A Short Introduction (Malden, MA and Oxford, UK: Blackwell, 2004).
[23] The term ‘outsiders’ is not intended to evoke a simple insider/outsider paradigm. Sibley argues for much more complex and nuanced social arrangement of place and, indeed, the ethnographic research in Chapter 5 of this thesis show that marginalised ‘estate dwellers’ who exclude ‘outsiders’ are also people of power.
[24] David Sibley, Geographies of Exclusion (London and New York: Routledge , 1995) p.99.
[25] Sibley, Geographies, p 72. Interestingly Miroslav Volf expresses a not dissimilar view: “As a power of normalization, exclusion reigns through all those institutions that we may associate with inclusionary civilization—through the state apparatus, educational institutions, media, sciences. They all shape ‘normal’ citizens with ‘normal’ knowledge, values, and practices, and thereby either assimilate or eject the ‘abnormal’ other. The modern self … is indirectly constituted through the exclusion of the other” (Volf, Exclusion, p.62).
[26] Cresswell, In-Place, p.3.
[27] Cresswell, In-Place, p.12. For a discussion on binaries see Paul Cloke and Ron Johnston, Spaces of Geographical Thought: Deconstructing Human Geography’s Binaries (London: SAGE, 2005) pp.1-20.
[28] See Paul Cloke and Mike Pears (eds.), Mission in Marginal Places: The Theory (Milton Keynes: Paternoster, 2016) and —, Mission in Marginal Places: The Praxis (Milton Keynes: Paternoster, 2016).
[29] For the complimentary phrases “a light to the Gentiles” and “the ends of the earth” see Isa 42:6, 49:6; Lk 2:32; Acts 13:46-47, 26:23; for “when the Holy Spirit has come upon you” see Is 32:15; Lk 24:49; and for “you will be my witnesses” see Is 43:10, 12; Lk 24:49. David W. Pao, Acts and the Isaianic New Exodus, p.91.
[30] For discussion see: Bruce J Malina, The New Testament World: Insights from Cultural Anthropology (Kentucky: Westminster John Knox Press, 2001); Jerome H. Neyrey, ‘The Idea of Purity in Mark’s Gospel’. Semeia 35 (1986) pp. 91-128.
[31] Moxnes, Putting.
[32] Stewart, Gathered.
[33] Wright, Victory, 308-310.
[34] Volf, Exclusion, p.74.
[35] John V. Taylor, The Go-Between God (London: SCM, 1972) p.21.
[36] Walter Brueggemann, The Prophetic Imagination (Minneapolis: Fortress, 2001).

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Editorial: Mission is… | Anvil vol 34 issue 1

by Jonny Baker

Over the last six months Church Mission Society has been interviewing people to find out what they think mission is and mission is not. Debbie James and Thomas Fowler discuss some of the findings in their article. This campaign, called Mission Is, prompted us to dedicate an issue of Anvil to reflecting more on this question. We also made it the theme of the pioneer research conversations day in 2017, and two of the articles that follow (Mike Pears and Kyama Mugambi) are developed from presentations they made on that day.

I love how mission is a way of framing, a lens to think about and practise what it means to follow Jesus in today’s world. Mission is what God is doing to reconcile all things and we are invited to participate with God in that healing and transformation as Christ’s body. Mission resists being collapsed into solely evangelism or solely social transformation and it stops the church getting overly introverted or obsessed with itself because its focus is outward towards the whole world.

The energy of the church in mission in Africa is amazing and reading Kyama Mugambi’s article, Mission is not Western, you’ll get a feel for how mission is operating in a new paradigm that involves an explosion of church planting, social transformation and global gift exchange. Mike Pears brings the subject from the global to the local, thinking about the significance of place and geography in relation to mission and Cathy Ross keeps it real with a moving article on mission and lament.

Unlike the church in Africa, the church in the UK faces the challenge of navigating a changing landscape where interest in Christianity has waned and only a small percentage of the population consider church a part of their life. It’s in this environment that innovation and pioneering in mission have been seen as a muchneeded gift to reach beyond the edges of the church and to embrace the future. It often feels as though the church is in two minds about this.

She knows she needs innovation, but she doesn’t quite know what to make of new things that can be seen as threatening to the inherited ways of thinking and practising faith. Paul Bradbury and Tina Hodgett have designed an incredibly helpful map that offers a spectrum of pioneer ministry, which we are delighted to include in this issue and which adds some real insight to mission in the new environment.

Since CMS took on the hosting of Anvil, we have introduced articles that are reflections on practice, which we hope you have enjoyed. Mission is after all about practice and not just thinking or talking! Paul Ede’s piece shows how a local community have been participating in transformation with God and with their locale in a really inspiring fashion. Their approach is very much mission ‘with’ rather than ‘to’ or ‘for’, and mission from the ground up. The CMS interviews and survey with people around the question of what mission is showed that over 90 per cent of people we asked think mission is for everyone, but half the respondents also indicated that they aren’t sure how to get involved in mission. Paul’s article offers a really good example of how a local church community can get involved in ways that are renewing for them and for the community and fun to boot.

There are also three videos on the website edition, featuring Mike Pears, Ann Morrisy, and Kyama Mugambi who kindly agreed to be interviewed around the theme of ‘mission is’ at the pioneer conversations day, so do have a look at those too.

We welcome Isaac Frisby as the new book reviews editor. With the changeover of editor, there were no reviews in the last edition, but we are pleased to say they are back. A big thank you to Tom Wilson, who did a great job for several years as the previous book reviews editor.

We love to hear your feedback on Anvil so do email us at anvil@churchmissionsociety.org to let us know your reactions and thoughts.

CMS took on the hosting of Anvil in 2016 and have now produced five issues. The next three issues will be on the themes of youth ministry and mission, pioneering and missional ecclesiology. We welcome suggestions for articles. Before writing an article, do contact us first. Thanks for reading and we hope you enjoy this issue.

About the author

Jonny Baker is the CMS Director of Mission Education and Pioneer Mission Leadership Training Course Leader

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