Anna Creedon, Do Small Groups Work?, (London: SCM Press, 2021)

by James Butler, MA lecturer, CMS

Small groups seem to be key to many of the models of church planting, discipleship and evangelism that are being suggested as means of church renewal. It is therefore great to see some focused qualitative work being done to ask the question of whether they work. Of course, the question of whether something “works” is an interesting one, and for Anna Creedon “working” means transformation from engaging with the Bible. Her research is based on participant observations and focus groups with three small groups from different Church of England churches.

This book is part of the SCM Research series and is based on Creedon’s doctoral research. This immediately indicates that the intended audience is those engaged in more formal academic work and theological training. As a result, it spends quite a bit of time reviewing the field, defining terms and introducing the methodology. For someone opening this book to explore practical questions of small groups, this will feel like a slow start and they may want to focus on transformation in chapter two before turning to the exploration of data from chapter five onwards.

The first chapter introduces small groups and chapter two examines accounts of transformation through Scripture, biblical hermeneutics and theology. Creedon compares terms such as formation, change and transformation and lands on a definition of transformation as “an ongoing process of change whereby individuals and communities come to more fully resemble Jesus Christ and glorify God by the power of the Holy Spirit, in anticipation of the future transformation of the whole creation” (p.34). Chapter three explores previous research into small groups and chapter four is quite a detailed methodology, which finishes by introducing the three small groups.

Having set the groundwork Creedon turns to her data, beginning with the focus group reflections on transformation identified in chapter two: transformation is a process, the importance of personal choice and openness, the importance of relationships and mutual support in the group, the importance of engaging together and hearing different views, and the way those views brought challenge. What felt lacking from the chapter was examples of change that her participants had experienced. This is clearly a challenge in qualitative work, but it meant that the change talked was often about their understanding rather than her category of change to resemble Jesus Christ.

Chapter six, seven and eight explore the three key themes identified by Creedon in three small groups: expert, challenge and the use of materials. Each chapter engages in careful reflection on where she saw these themes in each group. This is the real strength of the book, and presents issues, questions and experiences which will be familiar to those who have participated in a small group.

The final chapter explores the implications of the research for small groups. She suggests that, given the way relationships and support are often seen as the primary purpose, the groups should be more explicit about their purpose in relation to transformation through engagement with the Bible, and agree this ahead of time. She also notes the importance of expertise, suggesting that careful consideration needs to be given to both the way the groups are led and the material selected. She concludes, “It has become clear that the role of the small group leader is one of significant responsibility and importance.” (p.166) Overall, Creedon’s careful and detailed attention develops key reflections on the practices and leadership of small groups, but the focus seems to move away from the nature of transformation. Too much attention is given to effective Bible study without demonstrating clear connections to her definition of transformation. In fact, if the key question is whether small groups work, it wasn’t clear whether the answer was yes or no.

The strength of this work is the questions it raises about the small group and transformation, and its careful reflection on the nature of small groups. It is therefore an important text for those researching small groups, and for those teaching and training small group leaders.

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Michael Plekon, Community as Church, Church as Community, (Eugene, Oregon: Cascade Books, 2021)

by Revd Katrina Hutchins, Vicar of Mears Ashby and Hardwick and Sywell with Overstone

“Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.” With these familiar Eucharistic words Michael Plekon concludes his book on the death and resurrection of failing parish churches. It is an apt message of hope for those of us who are leaders of small rural (or urban) churches seeking to deepen the connection between church and community. In his introduction, Plekon captured my interest through his reflective analysis of Fr Köder’s painting of the Supper of Sinners. The seven people – a diverse group of guests – are Jesus’ friends, Jesus’ community, Jesus’ church. It is a reminder that church is a community that is part of the wider community, and – like Rublev’s icon of the Trinity – offers a space at the table for all comers. The question that this poses for church leaders is, “How is this church serving its local community?”

For Plekon, the church is both the small body of Christ in this place (its members) and the places where they gather to worship (the buildings). The core part of the book looks at the shrinkage of church congregations, primarily in the US but also touching on Canada, the UK and Europe, and the way that the death of a parish church can lead to its resurrection. Plekon has clearly undertaken extensive research into the exciting Godbreathed ways that parish churches are addressing the critical issue of declining numbers and resources. Many churches have closed or merged with neighbouring parishes. Others, though, have re-imagined their church life and church spaces to offer fullness of life for both members and their neighbourhoods (John 10:10).

While most of the case studies are not directly relevant to or replicable in a Church of England setting, where we have Grade II* buildings to manage and maintain for future generations, these stories of rebirth and new life are truly inspirational. Plekon suggests that small churches are here to stay and can create remarkable results (to which I would add, “in God’s hands”). Small parish churches can be deeply immersed in and be at the heart of local community life, and this can be a two-way blessing. This book speaks to the key missional opportunity and pastoral need for connectedness (koinonia). It evokes such questions as: What does fullness of life look like for this community? How are its needs changing? How might this community of faithful followers serve as Christ came to serve (Luke 4:18–19)? Plekon’s research shows that being few in number can enable rather than hinder community-based projects. Such projects can be a two-way blessing by building up the spiritual life of the congregation. And, whether or not the small congregation is struggling with the upkeep of its over-sized building, how can its sacred space be opened up as a community amenity? What is this village or parish lacking?

Plekon offers a powerful image of a small church’s mission as being “like the horizontal thrust of Christ’s arms on the cross, the movement is out to others, to share what the church and members have… to do the liturgy after the liturgy, not on the sanctuary altar of wood or stone but that of the hearts of the sister and brother in need.” He offers a vision of a small church that is alive to God and working with God within their community. What abundance of life!

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Lynn McChlery, How do you know it’s God? (London: SCM Press, 2021)

by Susann Haehnel, formerly Vocational Recruitment Manager, CMS

This has not been an easy book to review. I am a vocational assessor and discern people’s call to mission in cross-cultural contexts. As such, I came to this book with certain biases and expectations. I was hoping for clear recommendations: how we discern calling, and an ability to evaluate my processes against the research. The book has not offered that. But maybe it never set out to do that.

McChlery clearly roots her research in personal experience as a vocational assessor. Her research is based on case studies, having chosen three denominations in which to watch assessment conferences and conduct interviews: Scottish Baptist, Church of England and Methodist Churches.

She guides the reader through her research carefully and in more detail than I felt necessary, but her format of example, analysis and conclusion was overall a helpful structure.

McChlery then layers her research by drawing on other discernment traditions, such as Ignatian spirituality, communal discernment, and practices both in Ignatian and in Quaker traditions. She also puts her research in conversation with McGilchrist’s brain lateralisation work. In chapters six and seven she takes the reader through a lengthy introduction of Newman and Barth’s discernment theologies.

While I did not enjoy the book and cannot see many pick it up to read, I do want to give credit to McChlery for researching and writing about an area about which very little is known, unless one has experienced it either as an assessor or as a candidate. By doing so she has highlighted the importance of the role of the vocational assessor and actively calls for a recognition of that role by discerning the call to vocational work in the assessors. For that alone she deserves credit and recognition.

McChlery does note some helpful things. She gives language, or borrows language, to explain the notion of “just knowing”, which I think will be beneficial to candidates and assessors alike. She also talks about the importance of creating space for the knowing and sensing in assessment processes and warns against the danger of simply making it a recruitment process, based on tangible facts. She rightfully notes that discerning with candidates is much more than that.

And so, maybe she achieved exactly what this book needed to achieve: a confidence to lean into the knowing and sensing aspects of discerning calling and suggesting a few practical tools to facilitate that better.

With that in mind, the last two chapters and conclusion might be helpful for experienced vocational assessors to dip into and hone their reflective practice. What I can see being useful to assessors, both voluntary and employed, new and experienced, is a user-friendly resource based on her research and recommendations. Let’s hope that gets written soon.

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Gerald A Arbuckle, The Pandemic and the People of God, (Maryknoll, New York: Orbis Books, 2021)

by Tom Wilson, St Philip’s Centre, Leicester

Arbuckle’s argument is that the destruction wrought by the COVID-19 pandemic confronts us with a choice: we can allow the world to drift further into global division and conflict, or we can renew our institutions and common life on the foundations of justice and compassion.

The Pandemic and the People of God has six main chapters. The first outlines the cultural complexities of COVID-19, advancing Arbuckle’s argument that the pandemic has caused “cultural trauma”, by which he means “the sudden collective breakdown of order” (p.3). Arbuckle explores the collective myths of American and wider Western society, noting how they have been manipulated and damaged over recent years, arguing that the pandemic has exacerbated this trend. He briefly discusses the impact of conspiracy theories, before reflecting on the values enshrined in the parable of the Good Samaritan. He has six points: creation is a gift of God, we must commit to stewardship, strive for solidarity, maintain a bias toward the poor, commit to holistic healing and to the prophetic role.

Chapter two does foundational work, explaining the nature of rites of passage. Here Arbuckle is on home turf – his training as an anthropologist clear in his discussion of the role of rites and their three stages of separation, liminality and re-entry. Arbuckle discusses examples of cultural trauma as rites of passage and sets out his “grief overload” model. A particular strength of this chapter is the biblical reflection on the psalms of lament, contrasted helpfully, and distinguished clearly from, the Kübler-Ross model of grief.

Chapter three, which applies the theory of chapter two to his discussion of successes and failures of the pandemic rite of passage is weaker. The broad-brush outlines of the different government responses to the pandemic, taking in the UK, USA, Australia, New Zealand, China, Brazil and Russia, are all accurate enough. But the analysis is simplistic. For example, New Zealand’s swiftly closed borders are good, the UK tardiness to close borders is bad. But what about the child who was unable to get to their parent’s deathbed because of overly strict lockdown rules? What about the fact that New Zealand’s “zero covid” strategy was largely abandoned in the face of the Delta variant? The main issue Arbuckle does not tackle properly is whether striving for low COVID-19 cases should be the only game in town. I found myself with more questions than answers here.

Chapter four returns to Arbuckle’s strength, of macro analysis. The theme is the enduring impact of poverty, and the topic is examined in qualitative and quantitative terms, treating both absolute and relative poverty. Themes discussed include poverty as opportunity deprivation, as patriarchal domination, as violence, loneliness, old age, environmental degradation and paternalism. The scriptural reflections in this chapter range broadly across the New Testament, touching most of the expected places (the Sermon on the Mount, James, the parable of the rich farmer, etc.).

Chapter five shifts the focus to racism, including institutional racism. Arbuckle begins by explaining what he means by prejudice, discrimination, race and ethnicity. The main focus is on institutional racism is the US, UK, New Zealand and Australia, and on suggestions as to why racism persists in society. These include normalisation of evil, cultural learning, popularist anti-immigrant movements, racist humour and the racism inherent within founding mythologies. The third main section details the impact of racism on those who experience it. Arbuckle concludes by citing the example of Jesus as one who challenged the three evils of oppressive structures, the subjugation of women and presumed cultural inferiority, as well as demonstrating nonviolent resistance. As with chapter three, a vast topic is covered quite quickly, and inevitably there are gaps and omissions and simplifications of the argument.

Chapter six is entitled “The Call to Refocus on Christ and His Mission”. Arbuckle argues that the church has been hit by two crises – the cover-up of child sexual abuse and the COVID-19 pandemic. He offers a three-fold response. First, a summary of the teachings of Pope Francis: to work through the liminal moment, in a pastorally creative manner, recovering the calling to be a listening and “refounding” church, which means one that returns “to the original founding of the church” (p.195). Arbuckle’s second point is to advocate four pastoral strategies. First, fostering faith-based intentional communities. Second, challenging institutional injustices such as patriarchy and racism in the church and wider society. Third, understanding and responding to Catholic fundamentalism with compassion for those who hold the views without compromising on the need for change and reform. Fourth, avoiding ministry becoming dominated by a business ethos. This is not to deny the need for financial prudence and wisdom, but rather to argue that a business mindset must be shaped by Catholic teaching. The third section is a reflection on the annunciation to Mary, how she responded with grace and wisdom to the sudden inversion of her life.

The Pandemic and the People of God is a book of a particular moment in history aimed especially at Roman Catholics; it is Arbuckle’s suggestion for how the Catholic Church should collectively and individually respond to the COVID-19 pandemic as we, in the West at least, transition towards a recovery phase. There are some good points here, perhaps for Catholics in particular. The questions at the end of each chapter would start some interesting conversations. Yet despite these strengths, I was left wondering whether the moment for which this book is written is already passing. The focus of the public discussion appears to have already moved on. But if the pandemic has taught me anything, it is that I should not second-guess the future, but leave that firmly in God’s hands.

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Lisa Wilson Davison, More than a Womb, (Eugene, OR: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2021)

by Sue Hart, Warminster

Lisa Wilson Davison’s book, More than a Womb, challenges the trope of women being fulfilled (and fulfilling their divine purpose) primarily through reproduction. The ideal of “woman as mother” is one, Davison argues, that denigrates women who are childless, whether that is through being unable to have children or by choice. Importantly, this obsession with motherhood ignores the crucial role women have played as secular and religious leaders, prophets, warriors, negotiators, diplomats and authorities, all of which may be found in the Hebrew texts.

Davison noticed that there is a dearth of knowledge among theology students about women in the Hebrew Bible, and so the greater part of the book is a thorough excavation of the stories of Old Testament women who demonstrate roles unrelated to motherhood, which, Davison argues, may have resulted partly as a conscious choice to remain childfree.

As well as Miriam, Deborah, Huldah and Esther, Davison also gives colour and voice to unnamed “wise women” who play important parts in Hebrew history. Under Davison’s forensic eye, these women are revealed as so much more than the monochrome characters who never properly mature into multi-faceted human beings that they are so often reduced to in Sunday School stories.

Like the author, I must declare myself to be a feminist theologian who approaches Scripture with a hermeneutic of suspicion. An imaginative reading of the text is not just desirable but critical for a fairer understanding of the roles women may have played in biblical times. Davison uses her imagination to great effect as she interrogates the possible motivations of not just the biblical authors, but those who have interpreted and relayed those stories through the ages with a particular bias.

I found her excavation of language particularly enlightening. She is upfront about words and phrases where it is impossible to say for certain what they might mean. But, instead of viewing this as a blockage, she takes the opportunity to suggest alternative understandings of texts that have, by habit (and, in all probability, to fulfil darker objectives), been interpreted through the lens of patriarchal power structures.

For example, Miriam has been described by scholars as leading the women only. However, a close reading of the language used in Exodus 15:21 suggests that Miriam was a worship leader for all the people – men included.

I imagine it would be fairly easy to criticize Davison’s book for extending her research beyond the canon of Hebrew and Christian texts into the cultic practices of civilisations and cultures contemporaneous with Old Testament contexts. However, given how the voices of women have been silenced, the names of women erased and their words even (possibly) attributed to others (Davison argues that some of Miriam’s words may have been redacted and placed in the mouth of Moses), it seems only fair and expedient that Davison should use every tool and avenue at her disposal to interrogate a narrative that has predominantly benefited men at the expense of women.

Davison does give plenty of space to dissenting voices, particularly those who persist in “motherising” female biblical characters, but is unapologetic in her critique of what she clearly regards as views enculturated by patriarchy.

Davison states that, “The purpose of sharing these stories is to make clear that everyone is shaped by cultural ideals and stereotypes about women and men, despite their best intentions not to be.” In my view, she has done a superb job in at least raising the possibility that women are not just wombs that will only find true fulfilment in marriage and motherhood, but are complex human beings capable of fulfilling their God-given identity in a huge variety of ways and in roles that have largely been colonised in the Western Christian narrative by men.

Sadly, this book is unlikely to change the hearts and minds of those who are fixed on the idea of “normative roles” for men and women (whatever that means). But, for women who long to find ways of reading and recognising themselves in the biblical canon outside of a mothering narrative, More than a womb will be a hugely welcome liberating gift.

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Dan Pratt (ed.), Slavery-Free Communities: Emerging Theologies and Faith Responses to Modern Slavery, (London: SCM Press, 2021)

by Cathy Ross, Head of Pioneer Mission Leadership, Oxford, CMS

This is an impressive book that I would highly recommend. Modern slavery is still an issue (to coin a John Pilger phrase) and this book informs us of the complexities of the issue, and offers some excellent theological reflection and engagement with it, as well as some practical resources. Dan Pratt has gathered a wide range of contributors to inform and challenge us. Dan himself is well placed to do this. He is a Baptist minister and it is out of that experience in his local community in Southend-on-Sea that he was confronted with this issue. Actually, that is the wrong way to frame it – it was not the issue, but rather people he got to know and their stories he heard that confronted him with modern day slavery on his doorstep. As a result of this he founded the Together Free Foundation and is an anti-slavery coordinator for the Southend Against Modern Slavery Partnership. This already highlights an important approach to anti-slavery: that partnerships and cooperation are vital.

The book is divided into six sections. The first section has a chapter by the UK’s first Independent Anti-Slavery Commissioner and this sets the scene for the rest of the book. He reviews the current state of modern slavery in the UK and emphasises the importance of churches and faith communities getting involved. The second section is vital for the rest of the book and frames the articles and responses. This section contains the stories of three survivors of modern slavery, each of whom experienced a different form of modern slavery. These stories are so important to read as they form the basis for the theologising and responses in the rest of the book. This is the lived experience of modern slavery, which we need to hear. The third section has six chapters by theologians and practitioners responding to and engaging with these stories. The fourth section explores wider church and faith community responses. The fifth section offers prayers of response, and the final section lists organisations and resources for further engagement and advice.

The contributors bring considerable experience and theological insight to their articles. These articles are written from a depth of experience and reflection on this painful and complex topic. I will mention just two here. One is a superb theological reflection by Dan Pratt using liberation theology as a framework and the pastoral cycle as a way for the community to see, learn and respond to modern slavery. The article demonstrates that with attentive listening to people’s actual lives and stories, awareness is raised, and with a willingness to partner with others and with some training, ordinary church members can make a real difference to those enmeshed in modern slavery.

The article on a restorative justice response offers a superb explanation of restorative justice, its more relational approach and how it can work for both the offender and the victim. It also offers a challenging analysis of how we understand modern slavery and human trafficking by asking us to consider why the modern slavery agenda falls outside the mainstream modern economy, e.g. nail bars, car washes, domestic servitude, sexual exploitation, and why these are a particular focus. The authors ask us to consider if there is less exploitation in the supply chains that manufacture the goods in our high street stores. No, but here the profits are rising to the top – to the powerful and wealthy who know how to hide and launder their wealth. Those who run car washes and nail bars tend to be of the same socio-economic class as their “workers”. Therein lies the rub for neoliberal economics, the writers argue, because big business is about the upward movement of money and power. That is acceptable – car washes etc. are not. They suggest that the entire governmental response is inaccurately and unhelpfully framed and so their measures are not just unhelpful but actually harmful. I found this to be an enlightening and disturbing article, which challenged my own naivete on so many levels.

So, take the plunge and read this book. You will never be unaware again. You will learn that modern slavery is the second most profitable criminal enterprise globally after the arms trade. It is estimated that around 40 million people are kept in modern slavery today, but it is a hidden crime. Perhaps by being more aware we can pray from the prayers at the end of the book, “Bring people across their path who see them and can help.”

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Anita Maryam Mansingh, Exploring Indigenous Spirituality: The Kutchi Kohli Christians of Pakistan, (Eugene, Oregon: Wipf and Stock Publishers, 2021).

by Tom Wilson, St Philip’s Centre, Leicester

This is a fascinating first foray into a largely undocumented world. Anita Maryam Mansingh, herself a Kutchi Kohli Christian, introduces the faith of these people, their challenges and joys in following Jesus for themselves. The first centre for Kutchi Kohli Christians opened in Pakistan in 1986, so this is a very young spiritual community, and it is probably the first time their Christian faith has been explored in print in English.

Exploring Indigenous Spirituality reads as if it is the author’s master’s dissertation (at less than a hundred pages it is too short for a PhD). This means it has commendable academic rigour, with a clear explanation of the method of research, the mode of analysis and the main argument that is advanced. Academic writing can at times be dry, but Mansingh largely avoids this, especially when sharing the fruit of her in-depth interviews with her fellow followers of Christ. This is her main aim in writing – to ensure that otherwise unheard voices are recorded and available.

The book contains just four chapters: an introduction to Kutchi Kohli Christianity, an explanation of her methodological and spiritual framework, analysis of her research and recommendations for the future. Chapter one, as well as orientating the reader to the Muslim context of Pakistan and the largely Hindu context of the Kutchi Kohli people, introduces the three tools Mansingh uses in her analysis: interspirituality, multiple or double religious belonging and hybridisation. By interspirituality she means the possibilities for spiritual growth that come through studying, encountering and living with the religious traditions of another. Perhaps this is Krister Stendahl’s “holy envy” writ large and lived out in a family that has both Hindus and Christians under one roof? This is why multiple belonging is so important, as all the Kutchi Kohli Christians featured in Exploring Indigenous Spirituality have Hindu relatives; some are the only Christian in their extended family. This in turn results in hybridisation, which focuses on the dynamic interaction between different cultures and religions.

Chapter two, on methodology, is thorough and detailed, and like any methodology chapter is of interest to a specialist but perhaps less attractive to a generalist who wants to get to the meat of the analysis. This is provided in rich detail in chapter three, which is well worth reading carefully. This is the most thought-provoking chapter. Mansingh explores questions of identity and self-perception, of double cultural and religious belonging, of ritual and sacramental practices, of personal relationship with God and prayer, of community and family relations, and finally challenges and obstacles to spiritual growth. One particularly striking example is Joti Parab, a festival of light celebrated by Kutchi Kohli Christians at the same time as their Hindu compatriots celebrate Diwali. It made me think about how Christmas is, and is not, a Christian festival, not to mention the proliferation of “Light parties” as an alternative to Halloween.

Chapter four lists Mansingh’s findings and conclusions, both those that surprised her as well as those which she expected. It is notable that the Islamic context of Pakistan was far less of an obstacle for Kutchi Kohli believers than the Hindu faith of their own families. If everyone around you goes to Bhopas, Hindu healers, when they are ill, can you ignore their belief that all illness has a spiritual element and just go to a (Western) doctor for medicine? Mansingh also calls for the empowerment of women and the need for the development of a “Kutchikohlinized Christianity” which clearly reflects the culture and practices of her people.

Although this specific world, of a particular sub-group of a particular Pakistani tribe, is likely to be of direct relevance to only a few, the general questions it raises are far more widely applicable. Here the brevity of the book is a real advantage. It would be an excellent resource to help someone think through questions of contextualisation, the difference between faith and culture, and what it means to follow Jesus in a setting where he is largely unknown. As such, this book deserves to be widely read by those who want to consider questions of faith and culture.

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Drew Collins, The Unique and Universal Christ, (Waco, Texas: Baylor University Press, 2021)

by Howard C Bigg, Cambridge

When I received this book for review, I was not prepared for the kind of book it turned out to be! As I began to read, I quickly became aware of three things. First, this is an immensely important book; second, a fairly brief review can do little more than offer some idea of its content. Only a review article could do full justice to it. Third, this book is the fruit of the author’s personal quest to find answers to some basic questions, because “these questions nearly cost me my faith”. The preface is a moving account of the author’s intellectual and spiritual journey towards what he describes as a “generous Christian orthodoxy”.

As the subtitle indicates, a major area of enquiry is the modern theology of religions. In a lengthy chapter (60 pages), Collins engages with what has become known as the Threefold Typology of Religions. Here, Collins interacts principally with Alan Race’s use of this typology. The three typologies are exclusivism, inclusivism and pluralism. Race fairly quickly disposes of first two and adopts the third because the others are unable to deal with what he loosely describes as philosophical criticism. This then poses a stark choice: either establish the possibility for theologically affirmative relationships with non-Christians by denying the literal sense of Jesus’ description in Scripture and his status as the incarnate Son of God or affirm this or forsake any possibility of theologically constructive relationships with nonChristians. Simply stated, for Race, philosophy is the final arbiter of theological discourse. Race bolsters his position by his reliance upon the historical method developed by Ernst Troeltsch. Race insists on the centrality of historical criticism. He adopts the principle of analogy in two ways. Negatively, Race uses the principle to limit the possibility of metaphysical uniqueness by insisting that all events occur under universal conditions thereby subverting the notion of divine intervention operating within a Chalcedonian Christology. Positively, the principle allows Race to identify analogical correspondences between the world religions in their orientation toward an experience of the transcendent and ethical transformation. This account leaves Race open to the charge that Troeltsch’s exposition of historical method leaves the validity of religious experience insecure. Collins thus continues his exploration of Race’s theology by bringing in John Hick’s epistemology of religious experience, which Race finds unsatisfactory, and this is followed by an examination of the work of Wilfred Cantwell Smith and his exposition of the phenomenology of faith, which Race finds appealing – but there is no space here to pursue either Hick or Smith, important though they are for Race.

We turn then to the work of Hans Frei, which Collins believes will show that concerns about God’s universal presence can be honoured outside of pluralism in a manner that Race’s typology inhibits our ability to grasp.

Pairing Frei with Race may appear odd, since Frei is only rarely mentioned in the theology of religions discourse, but it can be shown that Race and Frei do have in common some basic concerns. There is no space here to draw attention to the full extent of such concerns, but mention must be made most notably of their common belief in God’s presence to those outside the Christian faith and church, even while Frei insisted that it was a question that could only be addressed after the basic question of the identity of the God who is present.

Frei’s work is sometimes described as postliberal, but, as Collins points out, it may equally merit the description post-conservative. In his approach to the Gospels, Frei’s view centres on what he regards as an error made by both conservatives and liberals, namely that both mistake the Bible in general and the Gospels in particular as texts whose meaning is a function of its external reference over, and often against, it’s syntactical sense. In a word, both decide first to what Scripture refers and then interpret it accordingly. Conservatives tend to locate this reference in the past, in a chain of factual events running through scripture. Liberals locate Scripture’s ostensive reference in the present, in terms of its contemporary relevance. In response to the influence of historicism, empirical philosophy and Deism, Frei shows how conservatives alike sought meaning in something behind or beyond the text, such as historical facts or ethical ideals. Here we come close to Frei’s own mode of interpretation, which Collins calls the narrative option and which is oriented around the plain or literal sense of Scripture. This, for Frei, is not a claim of historical inerrancy. Rather, Frei advocates a literal reading of the Bible in which the interpreter can affirm that an affirmation of the historical reference of the Gospels and crucifixion/resurrection accounts, though an essential component of Christian faith, is nonetheless secondary or subsidiary to their interpretation as realistic narratives. Thus, for Christians who are inclined to believe the resurrection transpired in history, the Gospels can only be said to refer miraculously to such historical events, even while they are acknowledged as necessarily limited accounts. The Gospels are not histories, but they are history-like and give rise to a figural interpretation. By this term derived from Erich Auerbach, Frei means that guided by faith in God’s providential plan for the world, he suggests that what he calls the strange amalgamation of the particular identity and universal presence of Jesus Christ leads Christians into an engagement with the world.

In his conclusion, Collins seems to have resolved, albeit tentatively, his initial question: “How is the uniqueness of Jesus’ identity connected to his continuing presence to creation?” He does so by expressing his preference for Frei’s figural interpretation in its narration of the particularity of Jesus Christ in the Gospels over Race’s vaguer hope in what Collins calls an “existential” horizon of concern.

This is an important book because of its intellectual rigour and honest questioning of standard answers to complex questions. It does however require some acquaintance with the work of modern theologians, especially Hans Frei, but it certainly moves forward the debate concerning Christian engagement with other religions.

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Losing Ground: Reading Ruth in the Pacific by Jione Havea (London: SCM Press, 2021)

by Cathy Ross, Head of Pioneer Mission Leadership, Oxford, CMS

I loved reading this book. Jione Havea is Tongan and, as a Kiwi, I was looking forward to reading a work from my part of the world. It is a fascinating read and such an interesting and challenging way of approaching the book of Ruth. Havea presents the insights that he gleaned from Bible studies conducted with Pasifika peoples in 2019–20 in the Solomon Islands, Ma’ohi Nui (French Polynesia), Aotearoa New Zealand, Nauru, Tonga and Australia. He uses a Pasifika concept of talanoa, which refers to three events: story, telling of stories and conversation. My only disappointment here is that we rarely hear the words of the participants themselves – they are usually mediated and woven into the text through Havea. This is one frame through which the book of Ruth is read. The other frame is our climate crisis. Havea claims that the book of Ruth opens with a climate crisis – there was a famine to which a family responded by migrating to find a better life. Themes of climate change, climate trauma and grief, climate resilience and climate injustice are all present in the narrative.

He decapitalises I, by using i. This may be disconcerting for some readers. However, he is not the first scholar to do this. bell hooks famously did not use capital letters for her name although she did capitalise I in her writings. Havea writes:

I use the lowercase for the first person when “i” am the subject, because I also use the lowercase for “you”, “she”, “he”, “they”, “it”, “we” and “others”. The privileging (by capitalisation) of the first-person singular is foreign to Pasifika native worldviews. (xii)

Maori scholar Jay Matenga has a similar perspective, in that he claims these pronouns reflect a Western worldview dominated by ownership. In his opinion, the indigenous world is much more orientated to belonging and for Maori, such pronouns have an implicit communal meaning.¹ This communal worldview is certainly reflected in the reading of the book of Ruth we find here. Most of the book relates the findings of the 20 Bible studies Havea conducted, and the last two chapters offer some interpretive perspectives and imaginative exercises such as imagining Ruth going into other narratives and places, or beginning to question how we read, remember and understand the biblical narrative.

I found this a fascinating read as, despite coming from the South Pacific, there were so many new angles and different questions from the ones that I would pose the text. I am a white woman, not an indigenous person, so I bring a very different lens to the text. For example, one of the first things the Pasifika readers noted was the question of time. For these islanders a story takes time to unfold. They found the narrative of the family’s departure and border crossing too quick. They wanted to know what kind of family this was, what preparations they made, what food did they carry for the journey. I suspect, as well-fed Westerners used to being able to purchase food whenever we like, this is not a question we would ask. Did they carry baggage? Did they have helpers? Or did they leave everything behind?

Names are important in Pacific cultures. The Bible study participants all knew at least one Ruth but no Orpah or Chilion. This made them sad, and they determined that they would consider these names next time there was a newborn baby in the community. Another interesting perspective is that of colonialism, which meant that some groups were suspicious of Boaz’s generosity. Was he selfless or was he looking for something in return? The participants of Nauru and Ma’ohi Nui wondered this, as these islanders are familiar with extractive mining on their land. These participants knew that Boaz was a plantation owner so he may well have had profit in mind.

I recommend this book because I think it will introduce you to other worlds: the worlds and perspectives of island nations in the South Pacific. Moreover, the overarching frame of climate change and climate grief is not only highly relevant but also highly contextual for these nations who face ever rising sea levels. Havea has cleverly woven this theme of losing ground into this study of Ruth. He does this by exhorting us to realise that it may well be the questions that we ask that are as important as the answers we discover. He reminds us to have the courage to let go of plans, to let go of control and ultimately not to be afraid of losing ground.

1 https://jaymatenga.com/pdfs/MatengaJ_IndigenousEcologies.pdf

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Notes

Footnotes

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Luke Timothy Johnson, Constructing Paul: The Canonical Paul Volume 1 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2020), Interpreting Paul: The Canonical Paul Volume 2 (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2021)

by Tom Wilson, St Philip’s Centre, Leicester

I have always enjoyed reading the work of biblical scholar Luke Timothy Johnson. When commencing postgraduate New Testament studies, I found it useful – and comforting – to read his commentary on the Pastoral Epistles because he holds firm to his conviction that they actually were authored by the apostle Paul, a controversial opinion in some academic circles. More recently, reading about the history of Jewish–Christian relations, his article on first-century polemic is an often-cited – if not always agreed with – defence of what appear to modern ears to be the some of the more shocking words on the lips of Jesus (notably in Matthew 23 and John 8). I was therefore very interested to read his two-volume study The Canonical Paul. The first volume is a modest 385 pages, and the second a somewhat heftier 598. I will not be able to do these excellent works of scholarship full justice in a review, but my headline recommendation is simple: these are volumes any serious student of the New Testament would do well to read.

Constructing Paul

Volume one focuses on Constructing Paul. At the outset it is important to note that Johnson’s focus is on the canonical Paul, not the historical or intellectual figure. Constructing Paul engages in the foundational work of establishing Johnson’s views on the critical questions for the academic study of Paul. It is divided into three parts: preliminary scaffolding, the materials and the elements. In the first part, Johnson assesses the sources, both canonical and apocryphal, for details of Paul’s life. He then examines Paul’s life and apostolic ministry. There follows an overview of Paul’s writings. For Johnson, Paul is the author, although not necessarily the writer, of all the letters that bear his name (some were, Johnson proposes, written by an amanuensis). Finally, Johnson defends his view of Paul as a “creative thinker within a broader movement” rather than the sole founder of Christianity (p.99).

There are three chapters in part two. Johnson considers the nature of Paul’s Jewish faith and identity, arguing Paul is both a Hellenistic Jew of the Diaspora, but also someone clearly invested in, and shaped by, both Palestinian Pharisaic thought and the Essenes in Qumran. Johnson describes Paul as a prophetic Jew, who considered “the spirit of prophecy to be active and powerful in himself and in others because of the resurrection of Jesus” (p.143). Paul is also someone whose thoughts and worldview are rooted within the scriptural narrative, albeit one that is being redefined and reinterpreted in the light of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. Johnson plays down the influence of Greco-Roman culture on Paul, as well as rejecting the use of post-colonial theory in New Testament studies, arguing that it anachronistically imposes practices common in the eighteenth and nineteenth century European (especially British) empires onto the firstcentury Roman empire.

The third part of Constructing Paul, “the Elements”, has four chapters. Johnson argues that Paul writes at length about his experience, particularly his encounter with the resurrected Jesus and the Holy Spirit, in each of his letters. Chapter nine discusses four further elements: convictions, myths, symbols and metaphors. Chapter ten examines Paul’s letter to Philemon, “a fine vantage point for viewing Paul,” in detail (p.248). Johnson proposes there is a close connection between Philemon, Colossians and Ephesians, suggesting all three were delivered by Tychicus when he returned the slave Onesimus to the household of Philemon in Colossae. By reading these three texts together, Johnson argues we can appreciate both Paul’s theological and pastoral ministry, while Philemon provides a more personal touch. Chapter eleven, the final chapter of volume one, is a spirited defence of Paul, whom Johnson argues should be seen as a liberator, sharing a message that is radical and challenging, but neither oppressive nor dominating. It is the nature of that message which part two examines in great detail.

Interpreting Paul

The second volume of Johnson’s project consists of 23 essays, some of which are written specifically for this book, while others have been published previously. It is a deliberately eclectic collection, based on Johnson’s view that any study of Paul should produce not a neat and tidy codified system, but a “deconstruction” that treats the letters as texts in their own right, while also exploring the connections between them and their relationship to contemporary concerns. Johnson has not set out to write a “theology of Paul” because he believes to do so is a flawed enterprise that seeks to control and reduce what should be left free and full. Therefore his “deconstruction” is not after the way of Derrida or the postmodernists. Rather it is a resistance of any single way of reading Paul, combining breadth of enquiry with attention to detail. Ultimately, Johnson’s aim in writing is to free the Pauline corpus from the constraints of academia and encourage pastors and teachers of the faithful to engage with all the texts as spiritual food for the church.

The subjects of the essays follow the broad sweep of how Paul’s letters are arranged in the New Testament, beginning with Romans and ending with Titus (Philemon is discussed in volume one). They range far and wide: for example, the first essay is a discussion of how pistis is used in Romans 3:21–26, understanding Paul’s argument to be primarily about the faith of Jesus rather than faith in Jesus. For Johnson, the Christian’s faith, by the gift of the Spirit, can become like (one with) the faith of Jesus. Two essays engage with specific scholars: NT Wright’s argument that the NT writers understood salvation as the restoration of God’s people here on earth and Bultmann’s Theology of the New Testament (which Johnson finds a highly problematic piece of scholarship, shaped more by assertion than argument). The topic of glossolalia is explored in chapter six, beginning with the Corinthian context and ending in the modern day. Elsewhere, in an essay focused on Ephesians, Johnson discusses issues of sex and gender. Johnson’s two convictions are to take both ancient and modern voices seriously and second, that the primary issue should be not matters of sexuality and gender, but whether we are growing in maturity in Christ. Johnson argues that Paul was conservative on matters of sexuality, but for his day liberal in his attitude to women. He examines the case for a revised reading of Paul (and other biblical texts) on the issues, arguing that if homosexuality is innate, not chosen, then the prohibitions of Scripture have less cogency. Johnson’s primary concern is for holiness and purity whatever one’s sexuality or gender.

Limitations of space preclude a detailed discussion of each essay; I will instead make five general observations about Interpreting Paul as a whole. First, Johnson follows where he believes the evidence leads, not where scholarly consensus resides. A clear example is found in chapter 20, which discusses the divine ordering of creation as expressed in 1 Timothy. Johnson begins with some orientation regarding his views on authorship and provenance before turning to his main focus, the theology of the letter. This chapter began as a paper for an SBL seminar on Pauline theology in 1996. It was critiqued by Professor Margaret Mitchell, and in this revised version, Johnson provides a response to Mitchell, both in defending his view that Paul was the author of 1 Timothy and also his translation of 1 Timothy 1:4. His continued insistence in other essays that the whole corpus is genuinely Pauline further emphasises this point.

Second, Johnson’s main concern is to read the letters as letters – his description of Romans as primarily a fundraising letter rather than a systematic theological treatise is an insight I will consider at length. Third, Johnson is writing primarily for the church, not the academy. He says as much in the introduction and the conclusion, and his conservative take on academic issues supports this approach as well. Fourth, there is an impressive range of topics and levels of focus; between them, the 23 essays move from detailed analysis of a single word to a grand sweeping overview of the Pauline corpus in its entirety. This is also deliberate – Johnson wants to encourage up-and-coming scholars to be similarly versatile. Fifth, this book is an easy read, at least by the standards of hefty tomes on Paul. Johnson is clearly a master of his material, and although his writing is technical at times, it is never obtuse.

In his conclusion Johnson states he feels his task has only just begun. He reaffirms his commitment to read Paul’s letters as letters and to avoid constructing a systematic theology of Paul. His main concern is the gap that has appeared between the academy and the church since the rise of critical biblical scholarship. His argument is that just as the Gospels, not the results of an academic quest for the historical Jesus, nurture the church, so the “canonical letters ascribed to Paul shape the character of Christian identity” (p.500). His hope is that other scholars might follow his lead and read the whole of Paul’s corpus, not just a selection of it.

The two-volume series The Canonical Paul is essential reading for serious students of the New Testament. It will be particularly valued by those, such as myself, who have always been sceptical of the “scholarly consensus” that has rejected Pauline authorship for a significant portion of the Pauline corpus. But even if you disagree with either his foundational premises or the details of his arguments, Johnson’s work is an outstanding piece of scholarship that deserves thorough reading and evaluation.

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Mission, disability and creativity

by Emma Major

Mission?

Jesus said to them, “Go into all the world and proclaim the gospel to the whole creation.”

Mark 16:15 (ESV)

This is the crux of mission for me: it is to GO into the world and join in with what God is already doing in ALL of creation. “Go”; mission is going into the world, whether that’s the local community, a far-flung country or an online community. “All” of creation; mission is not just being with those who look like you or act like you, not just those in church or known to church, but every single person, especially those you don’t see in church.

What might God be doing that we are called to join in with? Jesus tells us to care for the poor, feed the hungry, stand up for the downtrodden, protect the weak and guide the lost. That seems like a good list to start with; or, to put it more succinctly, share the love of God with everyone.

I know that in the past I have put God in a box called “church” contained safely in church because that’s where it’s easy to find God, talk about God and share God. Even when I spoke about church being the people not the building, I was still limiting God to those who were part of that wider definition of church. I knew that God is everywhere in life, in every place, every activity, every silence, every question. God is at home, work, leisure, health, politics, justice, illness, recovery, life and death. I couldn’t contain God safely; God was waiting for me wherever I went to join in with God’s work of loving everyone.

Then I lost my sight overnight and my mobility within months. I became disabled. Going into the world was literally almost impossible, but before I get into that, let’s define disability.

Disabled?

You’re disabled “if you have a physical or mental impairment that has a ‘substantial’ and ‘long-term’ negative effect on your ability to do normal daily activities”.¹

I’m disabled; I’m a blind wheelchair user with long Covid. However, my impairments aren’t the greatest disabling factor in my life, society is; and my disability doesn’t define me, my gifts and talents do.

We all have gifts and talents, experiences and knowledge to be valued; we must celebrate everyone for their gifts as well as knowing each person’s needs. However, if we can’t get into a room, no one will ever even know about our gifts, skills and talents. That’s the most disabling part of being disabled.

An example. A church meeting is arranged in London to start at 9 a.m. in an old building. Most people can jump on a train early in the morning, get the Underground a few stops and bounce up the stairs into the building. I know that’s true – I used to do it all the time.

As a wheelchair user, I have to pre-book my place on a train and the assistance (ramp) to get on and off it. Most of the Underground network involves steps, which makes it inaccessible. I need to catch a taxi but most of those aren’t truly accessible. The taxi drops me near the building but not quite close enough to avoid the blocked drop curb. Those steps into the building are interesting; how do I get someone to tell me where the accessible entrance is without going up them? (I’ve spent hours sorting this out and know who to ring.) Eventually in the building, I realise I can’t get around the room and no one knows where a disabled toilet is. I could go on.

What happens now I’m disabled? I stop going to meetings; there are no disabled voices in the room, because it’s too exhausting and depressing, especially with fatigue in the mix.

The Bible is full of Jesus healing people – much has been written around how those accounts are more about healing spiritually than healing physical or mental disabilities.

Instead, I want to briefly share two passages:

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you.”

Jer. 1:5 (ESV)

God knew us and knows us and knows what will be in our futures. Everything we are throughout our life is loved and blessed by God, no matter what disability we might have.

“Look at my hands and my feet; see that it is I myself. Touch me and see; for a ghost does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.”

Luke 24:39 (NRSV)

Jesus was disabled when he was resurrected; he still had the physical damage from the crucifixion. As Nancy Eiesland writes:

… the resurrected Jesus is revealed as the disabled God. Jesus, the resurrected saviour, calls for his frightened companions to recognise in the marks of impairment their own connection with God.²

The biggest barrier I had to overcome when I became disabled was the one in my mind that said I could no longer live fully, I could no longer do… just about everything. And it’s true; life became extremely challenging, as you’ve read in the example above, because the inaccessibility of the world is placed on disabled people rather than on the barriers to full inclusivity.

But just because I couldn’t “go” or “do” as I did before didn’t mean that I could no longer “go” or “do” – it would just be different. In fact, it would be better, more out of the God box, more available, more creative.

Creative?

Relating to or involving the use of the imagination or original ideas to create something.³

Everyone is creative; yes, even you. We overcome obstacles by being creative: we speak and that’s creative, we draw and paint and garden and sew and photograph and tell jokes: we are all creative. Creativity is an integral part of human life and a central part of being a Christian.

Creativity is right there at the very beginning of the Bible:

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.

Gen. 1:1 (ESV)

So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.

Gen. 1:27 (NIV)

Then let’s hear from Paul’s letter to the Ephesians:

For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

Eph. 2:10 (NIV)

If God is creative, which we know to be true, then so are we. Creativity is literally a God-given gift.

Can creativity be missional?

These two verses from Colossians speak to me about the mission of creativity:

And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.

Col. 3:17 (ESV)

Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.

Col. 3:23 (NIV)

Mission is about finding where God is working and helping out. God is the initiator and we respond. Jesus told us: “Without me [Jesus], you can do nothing.”⁴

God created me. God created me with gifts of creativity that have come to the fore artistically through my disability. God has grieved with me and healed me through all the challenges I have faced, and God has guided me to new ways of living and new ways of being a minister.

Hardly anyone would think someone almost entirely blind could paint as I do, but thanks to technology and the whisper of God to keep going, I do. Then, when I share my creations, I am sharing my faith and the blessing of God in my life; that is mission.

I don’t mean sharing just the church and faith-related creativity, but all of it – because my life is inspired and energised by God and therefore so is everything I create.

Here are three examples.

• Pentecost painting⁵: I painted this for Pentecost and shared it online; it was picked up by church leaders and Christians who asked if they could use it for prayer or in services. This is clearly mission.
  
• Caring for creation⁶: These abstract paintings and associated poems were created in prayer about the climate emergency. They talk to people, no matter what their faith, about the importance of caring for God’s creation. They might point to God or they might not, but they are inspired by God – and this is mission.
  
• Landscape paintings⁷: I miss going into the woods and the hills; I miss the wild places of the world. But I have learned to paint digitally and I have learned to travel to wild places through my painting, and that gives me freedom. These paintings aren’t explicitly about faith, they are just paintings that I have enjoyed creating; when I share them they speak to people, they spark conversations, they form connections and they inspire other people to see what is possible in their lives. This is mission.

Can sharing the day-to-day realities of my life and faith through my creativity be missional?

Seek the Lord and his strength; seek his presence continually!

1 Chron. 16:11 (ESV)

I share my weakness and strength, my pain and joys, the reality of my life as a woman, as a disabled woman, as a disabled disciple, as a disabled minister seeking and following God every day.

I live differently, I am called differently. I bring a different view of humanity and this is an important reflection in the world. By sharing my life creatively online I have a ministry of presence, recognisable as a person of God bringing people together.

I creatively share who I am, honestly, openly about how God is at work in my life. I write, paint and share knowing that God is in every moment of my life, in every word I write, in every colour I paint. But even more than that, I know that God will be with whoever engages with my poetry and art: a constant presence waiting to be found, a still small voice waiting to be heard. God inspires me and leads me and then leads others to receive what I give. If that isn’t mission, then I don’t know what is.

This is a poem I wrote in June 2016, which is just as relevant today as it was then; this is my ministry, my mission, to share creatively.

Such a week of awful news
TV full of doom and gloom
Fifty dead
Shot in a club
MP shot
Doing her job
Added to the wars non-stop
And inequality that drops
The weakest in the darkest place
Without water
Without a home
All across the world they roam
And no one wants to take them in
They are blamed for everything

Why?

What has our world become
I do not know what can be done
But surely
One thing we should see
Is that it’s real for you and me
All this grief
All this loss
My heavy heart
Removes life’s gloss
Today I want to shut it off
To close the door
Switch off the phone
Makes me want to be alone
And cry
And rant
And shout so loud
God of mine
Why do you allow?

And yet I know
That my dear God
Is crying too
Through all this loss
Seeing our world
Feeling our pain
Seeing the evil
Repeat again
God must despair
At our lack of care

It’s overwhelming
What can I do?
I’m just one person
As are you
But together
Joined with many more
Surely we can do
What’s been done before
To make a change
Improve our world
To heal the sick
And warm the cold
To feed the hungry
Save the damned
We can’t give up
Let’s make a stand
To shout out loud
Put down the hate
Love each other
Gay or straight
Enemy, neighbour
Near or far
Evil cannot win this war
Love must open every door
So together stand
Together say
We’ll help each other
Come what may
Through prayer and action
Donation
Petition
THIS is our God-given mission
With hopeful heart
I impart this vision
Can you make the same decision?

About the author

Emma Major is a pioneer lay minister, blind wheelchair user, artist and poet. Her poems have been included in numerous books and she has written her own collections of poetry on miscarriage, mental health and climate change. In 2020 her first book combining both poetry and art, Little Guy: Journey of Hope, was published by Wild Goose Publications. In 2021 Emma’s first exhibition of paintings and poems, “Caring for Creation”, was exhibited around Berkshire; it was hosted at COP26 in Glasgow in November 2021. She currently has paintings in two other exhibitions and has five books of poetry and paintings in various stages of publication. You can find Emma online at LLMCalling.com or on social media @emmuk74, where she shares her artwork and poetry to encourage, bless and affirm people.

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Notes

1 “Definition of disability under the Equality Act 2010,” GOV.UK, https://www.gov.uk/definition-of-disability-under-equality-act-2010.
2 Nancy L. Eiesland, The Disabled God: Toward a Liberatory Theology of Disability (Nashville, TN: Abingdon Press, 1998), 100.
3 “Meaning of creative in English,” Lexico, https://www.lexico.com/definition/creative.
4 John 15:5 (RGT).
5 https://www.llmcalling.com/post/pentecost-1?fbclid=IwAR3prmd5Msnpl4c7hPQKOHG8C3vP4cuor71lsprzcQLoUf7YgT9iX2lpy2o
6 https://www.llmcalling.com/caringforcreation
7 https://www.llmcalling.com/contact

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Mission and disabled people

by Tim Rourke

In 2013 I attended a course called Self-Management of Long-Term Health Conditions. There were people on the course who lived with a range of different impairments, from Parkinson’s disease to spinal conditions and ME. We had different conditions but shared many of the same experiences of living as disabled people in the UK today.

Having shared with the group a prayer activity that I use on my bad days, a discussion about church began. I discovered that since we received our various diagnoses, every member of the group had been to a church. Twelve people searching for help in a time of hurt and pain had tried to connect with God through various Christian communities. I also discovered that from that group, I was the only person still going! As a disabled evangelist this shocked me and made me wonder why, and what can we as disabled and non-disabled Christians do about it?

According to the research we carried out in the Derby diocese in 2020, an estimated 11 per cent of church members are disabled, using the definition of disability from the Equalities Act 2010.¹ This compared to a national average of 15 to 20 per cent in the general public and over 40 per cent for 65-year-olds.

Interestingly the number of common adaptations made to a church building did not directly correlate with the number of disabled people in any given church. On reflection, the Disability Inclusion Working Group (Derby Diocese) felt that adaptability and willingness to listen to disabled people’s stories increased the likelihood of them being a part of a church community. Disabled people in decision-making bodies and leadership were also fairly uncommon.

Disabled people are among the most isolated groups in UK society. Sixty-seven per cent of people feel uncomfortable when talking to a disabled person (according to a report by SCOPE in 2014).² Disabled people are more than four times as likely to feel lonely, “often or always”, and more than twice as likely as to experience domestic abuse than non-disabled people.³

This potentially has huge implications for disabled people and the church’s mission and evangelism across the UK.

Often churches aim to grow through engagement with people we meet through social interactions outreach and connecting with our communities. As disabled people are often find themselves excluded by those communities and beyond the edges of society, these methods will struggle to engage.

Pioneering among groups who are not engaged with the church might prove more successful, one might think. However, because these communities congregate around pre-existing groups, there is a need to consciously reflect on how many disabled people live in these groups to begin with. In my experience meeting with pioneers, this is rarely done.

The diagram highlights some of these challenges. The church (in green) tries to influence and encourage people in the wider society to respond to Christ, but it is more likely to meet people who are from “easy-to-reach” groups. “Harder-to-reach” groups, in this case disabled people, need to be engaged with in specific and intentional ways.

At the same time, disabled people who are already within the church need to be seen as important, valued and flourishing. Christianity needs to be Good News to them, and listening to their experiences needs to inform and shape the engagement for the future.

Over the course of a year, a team of disabled Christians from churches across the Diocese of Derby looked into ways that church structures and local churches can engage with disabled people and become more receptive to their needs. Together we wrote a report called “The Disabling Church… and what to do about it”. At Diocesan Synod in October 2021 the report was received and these three challenges for the diocese were accepted:

Attitude

Challenging the assumptions and attitudes of a community is the most influential way for inclusion to take place. Churches, like all communities, have set ways of operating that are often not reflected upon or written down. These were probably not shaped by disabled people and therefore don’t often accommodate disabled people who need to do things in a variety of different ways.

Christians also have quite a history of making judgements of disabled people and using inappropriate methods of prayer. The experiences have damaged many in the disabled community. Most visibly disabled people have at least one story of being singled out for prayer, often without their consent. This makes the church a challenging place to engage with in the first place.

However, with a flexibility and a willingness to listen, simple changes can build bridges instead. In one example, a church had an unusual way of reading the psalms antiphonally between the reader and the congregation. It was joined by an older teenager with learning disabilities who asked to read in the service. The church changed its practice immediately to only have one response at the end of the reading, so that he could be included!

Access

Often the barrier to thinking about access is that we have many old buildings and few funds to make them accessible, with ramps, toilets and hearing loops costing money that we don’t have.

However, there are things that can be done very cheaply. For example, including photos and a description of your building on your website so that people know what they will face when they enter enables people to plan their way in before they arrive. Also, make sure the signs in your buildings are clear, readable and correct.

If you can’t do everything (and you probably can’t), then do something! Get advice from organisations or advisors, or even better, invite a group of local disabled people into your church and ask them what would be most useful for them to know so that they can get around in your building. You have experts locally, so use them.

And please stop saying “everyone welcome” on your posters! While you are probably open to anyone who wants to come, that doesn’t help disabled people know if or how they can come. There is little more demoralising than turning up to discover that the event that everyone is welcome but that can’t include you!

In Derbyshire, a new church group was forming around the joy of nature and meeting God while spending time outside. The group knew that the planned walk was flat. In the first session, a scooter user came along to test it. Now all the publicity says “wheelchair accessible”. Knowing things in advance helps disabled people to know that they are “welcome” too!

Agency

Representation of disabled people in the leadership of the Church of England is hard to judge. As far as I am aware, no bishop has stated that they are disabled, although by the definition used in the Equality Act and the age profile of bishops, they probably are.

Disabled people often face extra challenges to other forms of ordained or lay leadership, and because they are disabled, they may never be given the opportunities to serve in the first place. This lack of involvement leads to sidelining and othering of disabled people. This is often seen when our intercessions pray for the ill and the sick as them, rather than us.

A pioneer Christian community were writing their prayers and liturgy, which included disabled people. Disabled people were involved in the creation of the prayers, which affirmed everyone as they were and encouraged everyone to respond to God’s call. The “us and them” prayers that churches often use didn’t need changing or adapting, because they were never written in the first place. Involvement of disabled people in all we do in our churches informs our inclusion more than anything else.

So, what is Jesus’ Good News for those people on the “long-term health conditions” course who joined and then left the church?

Maybe it is to be loved as they are. To be listened to as they are. To be included as they are!

Not because God will take away their symptoms and conditions (a cure) to make them acceptable to others, but because in the church, the disabled and resurrected body of Christ, together we can find hope, peace, love, healing and belonging.

About the author

Tim Rourke is a disabled Church Army evangelist developing a pioneering community with others in Chesterfield in Derbyshire. The community consists of three groups: disabled adults, disabled children and carers. For the last two years, Tim has been leading a disability inclusion project to produce a report to help disabled people to flourish and be accepted better across Derby diocese. He is studying for an MA in Theology and Transformative Practice at The Queens Foundation, focusing on the experiences of disabled people. Tim’s hobbies include playing board games, cooking and watching sport.

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Notes

1 You’re a disabled person under the Equality Act 2010 if you have a physical or mental impairment that has a “substantial” and “long-term” negative effect on your ability to do normal daily activities. “Definition of disability under the Equality Act 2010,” GOV.UK, https://www.gov.uk/definition-of-disability-under-equality-act-2010.
2 “Brits feel uncomfortable with disabled people,” SCOPE, 8 May 2014, https://www.scope.org.uk/media/press-releases/brits-feel-uncomfortable-with-disabled-people/.
3 “Outcomes for disabled people in the UK: 2020,” Office for National Statistics, 18 February 2021, https://www.ons.gov.uk/peoplepopulationandcommunity/healthandsocialcare/disability/articles/outcomesfordisabledpeopleintheuk/2020.

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