Jorge hadn’t studied for 25 years. Luis only completed the first year of secondary school. Both needed training to confidently serve as deacons of indigenous congregations in the Diocese of Northern Argentina.

Thanks to your support, a new centre in Ingeniero Juárez is equipping them. The diocese is vast, containing 187 churches among five people groups. Since missionaries first shared the gospel with the Wichí people in 1911, many people have become Christians.

But in the last four years, 80 older pastors have died, so training younger, indigenous leaders has been identified as a priority by a CMSsupported Indigenous Mission Congress that brought people groups together to plan a way forward. Vicar General Daniel Lescano says: “Training is needed for good biblical teaching… biblical knowledge and understanding is necessary. Furthermore, widespread drug use and alcoholism are demanding relevant pastoral responses.”

The new Centro de Formación Anglicano (CEFA) offers training designed for students like Jorge and Luis. Trainers like CMS local partner Marcos Humacata understand the leaders have limited formal education, are studying in their second language, Spanish, and come from oral storytelling cultures.

The leaders in training travel great distances to study at the centre (co-ordinated by CMS local partner Mirna Paulo), staying for two weeks, followed by a week at home – so families needn’t be uprooted.

The 10 students at the centre focus on cultivating character and growing in knowledge and abilities. Coming from different cultures means students learn to resolve conflicts and collaborate.

Confidence is building among the newly trained leaders – Luis comments: “When I first got here, I was fearful… now I trust the other students and I enjoy all that we are learning.”

Jorge adds, “Through this training we realise that we have strong foundations, our faith has a firm base and a structure….”

Pray together

Please pray for students to be strengthened and equipped as they take learnings back to their communities.

Pray for safe travels for students between home and the training centre, and pray for their families while the students are away.

Pray for good relationships between students, and that this will help them to build bridges in their ministry.

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The post New centre for new indigenous leaders appeared first on Church Mission Society (CMS).

When you think of eastern Congo, what is the first thing that comes to mind?

I guess it will have something to do with war, violence around tribal differences and natural resources. The latest BBC stories about this region are describing the fight between the M23 rebels and the government army around the city of Goma. But, this is not the whole story of the region. Next to the loud voice of violence and conflict there is a voice of human solidarity, courage, faith and hope.

Critical questions

In February, I had the privilege of visiting the Anglican University of Congo in Bunia again, working with 22 students on intercultural theology and Christian education.

The conversations, shared reflections and critical questions that helped us think through the theological subjects within the context of eastern Congo were fascinating as well as inspiring.

Would it be too much to say that together we discovered more of God’s story in our own lives and in the lives of our communities?

Negative images

During such a visit, several words of welcome and thanks are spoken. The one thing coming back in all these speeches was the fact that I must be very courageous, since all the negative stories about eastern Congo did not keep me away. The former archbishop, the Most Rev Henri Isingoma, said in his speech that if people from Kinshasa find out that you come from Ituri province, from Bunia, they will say “Pole, we are very sorry for you!”

I wonder, how painful must it be to be confronted with such a negative view of your home? Will this affect your own view? Will it be internalised? The many times that this view of Bunia as a place of violence was repeated in the speeches seems to suggest this.

But then, in meeting the people, in eating together, in sharing our joys and questions, our histories and hopes, I have also seen a very different side of eastern Congo.

Glimpses of beauty

I have seen so many people who are just doing what they think needs doing, without much talk about it, but who for me are signs of strength, beauty and God’s goodness.

I see women of the Christian community working in a field to cultivate vegetables in order to support the House of Prayer and the sick people who are living there.

I meet a woman who, next to her three own children, adopted four orphans into her family.

I hear of other families welcoming former child soldiers into their homes in order to nurse them back into a healthier life in society.

I see a young man singing in the choir in church and hear that he has a deeply traumatising past with psychiatric problems as a result. Now he is studying again. The church community had welcomed him and prayed with him for deliverance and currently are supporting his studies financially.

Getting on with life

I am struck by the fact that in my class students coming from warring communities are working together. They are neither hiding this fact nor highlighting it, it just seems to be part of life. They are brothers and sisters in Christ living by grace and enjoying each other’s company.

I enjoyed the shade of the trees that are planted in a reforesting project, as well as the commitment of the students to this project on their campus. I came across a group of boys, so absorbed in a game with bottle tops that they did not even notice me watching their game.

Reality of violence

It is true, the other story also came close to me during these weeks. A bomb was placed in a school building connected to the university. We are grateful for the janitor who realised something was wrong and decided not to open the door that turned out to be booby-trapped. We thank God for the MONUSCO soldiers who were able to safely defuse it, without any destruction.

The last day of my class, the nephew of one of the students was abducted by a group of rebels. As I am writing this, the army is still looking for him. There seems to be no trace of him, and people fear that he is killed. We prayed with three members of staff at the university who have children studying at the university in Goma. They are worried about their safety and about the lack of food coming into the city.

The reality of violence came close. It is a real story that cannot be denied or diminished. But I have heard so many stories of courage, perseverance and acts of reconciliation that I am convinced the story of violence is only one story. And I wonder, which story will have most power?

Which story will we listen to?

I know the voice of violence seems the loudest and most repeated. But could it be that the voice of the other story will have a more long-term impact, and sustain communities in the midst of ruins, be transformative, even though it seems to speak with a softer voice?

Maybe the question should not be which story has most power, but to which story will we give most attention? Which is the story that reflects the whole of reality? And ultimately, which is the story that reflects God’s reality and presence in this place?

Next time I am invited to go to Bunia, I do not want people to focus on my so-called courage, but on the beauty, hope and faith that continues to shape the people and their communities in the midst of a broken world – by the grace of God

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The post Voice of violence, or voice of hope? appeared first on Church Mission Society (CMS).

More stories of Jesus empowering people at the edges

The post Sarah and Simon Cawdell, Uganda appeared first on Church Mission Society (CMS).

By Suzy Wilson

They lined up behind the wooden and splintered cross, priests from all over the Gambella region and further still, among them those who have understood first hand the meaning of the symbol they walked behind – their lives entwined with the brokenness and beauty that comes as Christ followers, knowing they must walk the narrow way. And as they processed they sang a song of praise, low and loud.

It was the day of the Covid-delayed graduation of the third-year students from St Frumentius’ Theological College in Gambella, Ethiopia. What a gift to at last stand among their family and friends and celebrate them.

During the ceremony I quietly wept as I listened to a much loved Anuak student describe the significance of his experience at the college – of walking with his Nuer brother and sisters across town to ensure them safe passage when for those long, tedious months tensions had been high. He spoke of his mind transformed as these other students of different ethnic groups became his friends; in a region too often marked by animosity and suspicion, it’s hard to comprehend just how significant this is.

I listened to my husband telling these graduates that he was proud of them and loved them, and exhorting them to continue to love each other.

There is almost nothing here in the eyes of the world, only these six students in a remote area of Africa. But in a place scarred by generations of ethnic conflict and deadly expectations of loyalty, they are choosing Jesus first; the seeds are scattered, and that is everything.

I didn’t know we had fallen in love

Watching the graduation, reuniting with friends and students, and clearing out our house was a little more like closure than I had anticipated, and it wasn’t easy – I didn’t prepare myself that it was actually going to feel quite hard. I grieved.

I didn’t know we had fallen in love with this hot and dusty place.

I didn’t know until we arrived and sat outside our house with our Anuak family chatting, laughing, and drinking coffee while the kids dashed around quickly covering themselves in Gambella sand.

I didn’t know until sweet Grace, who had been a new-born baby last time I held her, wandered in and out of our house just as though it was her own.

I didn’t know until we drove through the town and there was vibrancy and life and colour, and as we passed over the mighty Baro river, which in its distinctively lazy yet compelling way dominates the landscape whilst town folk bathe and wash cars and play in its sluggish murky depths.

I didn’t know, because the water here often runs out, and for the week we were there ran brown out of taps.

I wouldn’t have known because it is often difficult and malarial and hot, and there are no easy playmates for our children. But as our visit there drew to an end the kids didn’t want to leave, my daughter suggesting we use the little money she had gathered from the tooth-fairy and various chores to make it possible to stay in Gambella.

Hardship and dying, life and beauty

But we had to go, of course we did; tears fell, carving a way through the dust that had gathered on her face as we drove away from those who had congregated to wish us well, and we made our way back to the airport, back to Addis.

Perhaps she is discovering this secret too, because as I walk and age on this earth I am learning there are no short cuts to beauty, and it looks to me that at its most authentic it can only be appreciated and understood in the fragility of living and the reality of suffering.

Gambella is profoundly marked with hardship and dying, and daily toil. This is true, and it matters. Gambella is also compelling and beautiful, it teems with life and beauty – when I am there it wakes me up, and I see and move and live in a way I don’t experience anywhere else. It draws me in, and I find a freedom.

We now live in Addis, and we are happy here. We live in a compound with space and families, with flowers and trees. If you’re going to live in a huge African city then this is a great way to do so, and we are very grateful.

We are learning Amharic and slowly we’re enjoying meeting others in the neighbourhood that live and work here. The kids and I spend our days homeschooling, reading, playing sport, sitting in little food souks and falteringly trying out our new language. But Gambella is never far from our minds, and will always be a part of our lives. Our time and experience there is imprinted on us, it has moulded us. We want to continue walking with those students who have become friends, we want to continue sitting with our friends who have become family.

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places, indeed I have a beautiful inheritance.

Psalm 16:6

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The post No short cuts to beauty appeared first on Church Mission Society (CMS).

They hail from diverse locations: England, Kenya, South Africa and the US – but they’ve come together on CMS’s latest course offering, a new MA pathway that focuses specifically on African church history, Pentecostalism, African traditional religions and apt themes such as race, colonialism and migration.

By Jenny Muscat

At the beginning of this academic year the pathway launched with 10 students, led by Dr Harvey Kwiyani, who grew up in Malawi and has spent the best part of the last 20 years exploring the work of African Christians in the diaspora.

We asked four students to share what motivated them to pursue this area of study and their experience of the course so far.

Fertile ground for growth

Angela Rena Collins Itzstein returned to studying after a long gap. An African American living in the UK, in mid-2021, she was still dealing with her emotions from the events surrounding the unlawful killing of George Floyd in her home country. She felt challenged in her understanding of the motivations of such hatred and racism towards a group of people based on their skin colour. While digging deeper into Black Christian history on another course, she heard about CMS’s new MA pathway.

Intrigued, she signed up. According to Angela, the diversity of the student cohort in thought, experience and background makes fertile ground for growth.

As children and families team leader, Angela is the first person of colour in leadership at her church, which is predominantly white. The importance of this isn’t lost on her. Her desire is for the Africa MA pathway to help build her background knowledge and confidence, and give the Church tools for healing, change and revelation of the love of Christ to help bridge the gap between races.

Crucial contextualisation

One of Angela’s classmates is Rachel Karanja, a CMS local partner involved in holistic mission and community transformation through a variety of projects in Kenya.

Rachel was interested when she saw the new MA pathway on CMS’s website, but she didn’t think she would pass the entry interview, nor could she afford the fees. But she stepped out in faith and applied.

She passed her interview and God provided the money – before she knew it, she had begun her studies, joining online from Kenya.

Rachel finds CMS’s African MA pathway, unique in its African contextualisation, is a good fit for African-background learners, having been designed specifically with them in mind. This makes it easy for students to apply what they have learned to their own contexts on the African continent and across the diaspora. Starting at the beginning, the first module addresses the foundation of African Christianity, belief and practices – something Rachel would love both established and up-and-coming African theologians to be grounded in.

“Isn’t Christianity the white man’s religion?”

Rosie Hopley was asked this question during her former work with women in prostitution in Bristol. She signed up for CMS’s new MA pathway in part because she feels she needs the tools to build a compelling response.

Like Angela, Rosie is also returning to formal study after a long gap. For over 30 years, Rosie has been receiving teaching from Western and European-/US-focused teachers and contexts. However, based in Bristol, where almost 200 different countries of birth are represented and close to 100 different languages are spoken, she recognises a need to hear more Black, African and Middle Eastern voices and allow them to shape her theological learning too.

A journey of discovery

Gowi Odera, currently involved in church planting, heard about the course from Harvey himself.

For six years, Gowi and Harvey had already been in conversation about gathering people who have been serving and leading Christian movements and inviting them to share their experiences. As the MA pathway took shape and became a reality, Harvey kept Gowi informed and encouraged him to apply.

Now, a couple of months in, Gowi finds his studies have stirred up a curiosity that has started him on a journey of discovery and reflection on African expressions of Christianity past and present.

For Gowi, the best things about the course are the varied content, the teaching and the class interaction – people who are serving in African contexts now have a space where they can share and learn together.

Perhaps best of all, Gowi is already applying what he has learned in his own context.

Could CMS’s pioneer training be for you?

If God has called you to do something a bit different, we can offer a dynamic, supportive learning community (in person and online), where experienced practitioners are ready to help equip you for groundbreaking and sustainable mission.

Pioneer website

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The post A starter for 10 appeared first on Church Mission Society (CMS).

At the end of September 2021, I started my MA in theology, ministry and mission with CMS, following the African Christianity track. Standing on the threshold of academic learning, finding my place within the African Christian diaspora in Britain and wanting to broaden the voices I’m hearing in the church, I’m excited to be here.

By Rosie Hopley

Why have I chosen to return to formal study, after being in the world of work, volunteering and pioneering mission for the last 30 years?

For several years, I’ve been observing the impact of racial division in British society. Until the end of January 2021, I was CEO of a Christian charity I founded called Beloved,¹ which works with women in prostitution in Bristol. While on outreach visits to women working in brothels and massage parlours across the city, I’d get asked the question: “Isn’t Christianity the white man’s religion?”

I don’t believe it is, but I understand why someone might ask this question. There is a need to be able to come up with a compelling response for those who are curious, as well as those in the church who are also grappling with this nagging doubt. I want to get a broader, wider and more global understanding of Christianity through the eyes and ears of non-western teachers.

Seeing the context of mission in Bristol, with the city’s historic links to the transatlantic slave trade and legacy, it seems all the more pressing to have a better insight into global theological teachings. This will help me, and I hope others like me, to speak into these doubts and to offer a compelling, authoritative answer.

Discerning opportunities in times of rapid change

It is an exciting and challenging time to be embarking on study, at an important juncture for the church. With the movement of people globally, and increasing diversity in the UK, our teaching, theology and witness would do well to reflect these changes. In Bristol, the largest city in the south-west, where I’m based, a growing number of our nearly 470,000 residents belong to a Black or minority ethnic group.² For many years, as a church we have asked for the Lord to send us to the nations. Well, the nations are here! According to local data:

The population of Bristol has become increasingly diverse. The proportion of the population who are not “White British” has increased from 12% to 22% of the total population. In Bristol, there are now at least 45 religions, at least 187 countries of birth represented and at least 91 main languages spoken.³

So what does this mean for us as believers in the city? And further afield in cities and towns across the UK? Surely, this represents a massive opportunity. To welcome the stranger, to clothe the needy, to be places of hope and transformation. Yet we’d be making a mistake to stop here.

I believe there are hidden gifts – treasure, you might say – among us, whether it’s long-term neighbours, or new arrivals to the city. I’m convinced there are hidden talents among the body of Christ, which we need to unearth and make the most of. The African diaspora in Britain has many gifts to offer to churches, as well as to our wider communities. Indeed, churches founded by those from the African diaspora have been serving, reaching the lost, preaching the gospel and reinvigorating the UK’s Christian witness. I’m looking forward to exploring and discovering more from fellow believers and being blessed by their giftings. For years, we have been praying, “Lord, send the workers.” Praise God – he’s been sending workers to us from many places, including African nations.

Missing theological voices

For over 30 years, my learning and teaching has been western and European-/US-focused. Not necessarily a bad thing, per se, as I can truly say I have flourished under the teachers I’ve had over the decades, and I thank God for them. They have been wonderful.

But given the statistics quoted earlier, I need to hear more Black, African and Middle Eastern voices, to allow them to shape my theological learning too.

Last year, due to the opening up of events through Zoom I was able to be part of Meachum School of Haymanot’s inaugural gathering of the Society of Gospel Haymanot (SGH).⁴ With teaching from some of the leading Black US theologians and scholars, I felt I had stumbled into a banquet, and I emerged so well nourished! It was a joyful and worshipful gathering, and I’m excited to be joining the Society of Gospel Haymanot again this October presenting a Practical Theology paper on Isaiah 61 and God’s mission call.

I also recognise my own part in this challenge – to take responsibility for broadening my diet of spiritual nourishment. Which churches am I visiting? For example, there are plenty of majority Black churches in the city. Which books am I reading? Which lectures am I tuning in to? Which conferences am I attending? I have agency and choice in this, and it’s up to me to exercise it, and wisely broaden my diet.

Taking steps into this vast globalised pool of theological voices, there’s the challenge of being overwhelmed by the myriad of choices! I look forward to being guided by people like Harvey Kwiyani and Cathy Ross at CMS, as well as local church leaders who have been serving faithfully on the ground in Bristol for decades.

I’m particularly excited to be joining my fellow CMS students on the MA course, several of them joining from a variety of nations via Zoom. It feels like a whole host of vistas has suddenly opened up before me, and there are nuggets and treasures of learning and wisdom to discover.

Being willing to be repositioned

Last year was a tumultuous time for millions as the pandemic began to grip the world. It was also a time of protest and lament, following the shocking murder of George Floyd. Many people were horrified by the scenes of a man’s life taken at the hands of a police officer, all caught on camera.

A personal challenge for me was that while I was leading a pioneering work among women in Bristol massage parlours and brothels, I also grappled with the wider societal conversations, or the silence as people were scared to step into awkward conversations around race, racism and whether we truly are a post-racial society.

Over a period of time, I had a sense that God was calling me to pass on the baton of leadership of the Beloved charity to others, and that handover was completed at the start of this year. At times it was an uncomfortable process, but being obedient is always better than being comfortable!

I’m immensely grateful for the other seasoned and wise leaders who gathered around me and helped me to discern the Lord’s leading. It’s a delight to see Beloved continue to flourish in its mission among the precious women in the parlours, seeing them come to know Christ’s transforming love and freedom.

As that door of leading has closed, other doors of learning and writing have opened up. Being out of my comfort zone is something I can see I’ll need to get used to, and that’s not a bad thing.

Humility to work together

When I hear reports of church leaders and church congregations coming together to share what they have to bless communities around them, seeing the work of Christ as he builds his church, it makes me hopeful. Whether it’s two long-standing leaders from different cultural backgrounds joining together in missions into prison work, or churches opening up the pulpit or preaching platform to leaders from other nations, it causes me to rejoice. Or people from churches in one area of the city, praying faithfully together for years for their community – what blessing there is.

The Lord in his infinite wisdom has caused us to need one another, to bring gifts that we will find through each other and alongside each other. Is it going to be hard, and will we make mistakes along the way? Yes, there will be challenges; as God disturbs our comfort, it will be hard at times, and of course we’re bound to make mistakes. But what joy there is to be found as we seek the kingdom of God together, preferring one another, listening to one another in love and humility.

I’m excited that from what I can see, the Lord has been sending in his reinforcements for the local church in the guise of those who we mistakenly think are the least, the lost or “not like us”. It’s my prayer that God will open our eyes to what he is doing, that we will discern the opportunities around us and listen to a more diverse range of Christian voices. May we be humble, rejoice and be obedient to join in with the work of the Holy Spirit.

A fuller version of this article will be published in the upcoming edition of Anvil, which explores the contribution of African diaspora churches to the Church and mission in Britain. To be notified when Anvil is published, be sure to join our email list.

Notes

1 Beloved is a ministry that supports women working in prostitution, in particular those in commercial massage parlours and brothels. Outreach teams are recruited from local churches, trained and equipped to share the gospel, support women to exit the sex trade, and provide support and comfort. For more information see https://beloved.org.uk.
2 “The Population of Bristol – September 2021,” Bristol City Council, 4, https://www.bristol.gov.uk/documents/20182/33904/Population+of+Bristol+September+2021.pdf/e6cb7ac8-278c-c351-9dcc-07a83fb4fe23?t=1632843439676.
3 Ibid.
4 Meachum School of Haymanot’s inaugural gathering of the Society of Gospel Haymanot (SGH). Meachum School of Haymanot (Ge’ez word meaning faith, or theology) exists to “bring biblical, graduate-level theological education to African-American, ethnic minority and low-income communities in a contextualized and affordable manner.” While the centre of teaching resides in St. Louis, Missouri, USA, all classes and programmes are available online. Find out more about the Society and their conference, which took place on 22-23 October 2021, at https://meachum.org/annual-meeting

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The post Finding my place appeared first on Church Mission Society (CMS).

As Church Mission Society launches a new study route focusing on the African Church and its impact as part of our Pioneer Mission Leadership Training, Jenny Muscat from the communications team caught up with Harvey Kwiyani, who will be programme leader for this route.

Jenny: What is the new MA route launching this year?

Harvey: It’s a Master’s focusing on world Christians in Britain, starting with the African diaspora. We bring three modules focused on African Christianity, and African Christianity in the diaspora, together with modules already in the pioneer Master’s. Our students get the best of both worlds: to understand Africa and African Christianity better, but also to understand mission and leadership in the UK context better.

Jenny: Can you say something about the context of African diaspora Christianity in the UK? My understanding is it’s pretty vibrant.

Harvey: Yes, African Christianity in the UK is the growing part of the Church. If there’s church growth in the UK, it’s mostly the African Church and the African Church is growing because of migration, still, mostly. That also reflects the growing influence of African Christianity in world Christianity. We know that Africa has more Christians than Europe at the moment and there’s a shift in the centre of gravity. That shift has missiological implications – now Africans have to engage in mission in ways they have not done before. And the growing presence of African Christians in the UK and Europe becomes part of that story of Africans engaging in mission.

Jenny: What excites you about the course?

Harvey: Oh, quite a few things. I grew up in Africa, so I know what an empowered African church can do. And therefore, I hope this Master’s will help empower and equip the African church in Britain, and that will help in the reevangelisation of Britain.

But I’m also excited that we are creating an intentional space within CMS where African and British students can learn together and learn from each other. I believe that theologically, we are always enriched when we have crosscultural discourse. Africans have some things to learn from Europeans and Europeans have some things to learn from Africans. And when we put them in a room together, to learn together, we expect that the conversations that come out of there are going to be very important for the wider body of Christ.

Jenny: Can you tell me a bit about the new modules?

Harvey: The modules are African Church history, African Pentecostalism and African traditional religions.

African Church history is designed to help both African and British students understand that Christianity has been in Africa for a very long time. Christianity reached Africa before it reached the UK. And Africans have been involved in mission in Europe before – during the first 600 years of Christianity, one of the strongest hubs was in North Africa, and missionaries would come from North Africa and work in Europe.

The module allows us to go through the 2,000-year history and pick up themes that show the continuity and the changes that happened in African Christianity. This helps the British students to appreciate that church history is not necessarily European history. And for the African students, it helps them get an identity that connects them back with African Christians.

African Pentecostalism is important because chances are, if there is an African church somewhere in your neighbourhood, it’s going to be an African Pentecostal church. If British Christians want to learn about African Christianity, they have to learn about African Pentecostalism. For the African students, that module allows them to again claim their identity and be confident that it’s not wrong to be a Pentecostal. Let’s own this and figure out how this can help us be good evangelists in Europe.

Now, to understand African Pentecostalism, you also need to understand African religion. To understand an African, you need to understand the African worldview. And so, the third module, African traditional religion, goes after that question: What makes the African an African? What’s their worldview? What’s their culture?

Professor Andrew Walls said, “If you want to learn something about Christianity in the 21st century, you have to know something about Africa.”

And I am adding to that, if you want to learn about Africa, you have to learn about African Pentecostalism. And to learn about African Pentecostalism, you also have to understand African traditional religion.

Jenny: Beyond CMS, what do you hope might be the impact?

Harvey: The world of mission is changing. Fifty years ago, a typical missionary would be a white European working somewhere in Africa. Today, a missionary can be anybody from anywhere working anywhere in the world. That change has happened so fast that we are just beginning to catch up with it. And part of the catching up will be organisations like CMS being intentional about working with the diaspora.

So the hope is that with this Master’s, putting together Africans and British Christians, we create a movement that will be able to articulate what’s going on for the wider body of Christ. People who will be able to work together across cultures, British and diaspora, to show what mission looks like in the 21st century.

We’re hoping to create a movement of post-colonial missionaries who will be able to work across cultures and races.

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The post Post-colonial pioneering? appeared first on Church Mission Society (CMS).

A first-of-its-kind Master’s programme led by a renowned African academic is the first step towards a movement of post-colonial missionaries, where mutual learning across cultures is embedded from the start.

“I grew up in Africa, so I know what an empowered African church can do,” says Dr Harvey Kwiyani, who has been officially announced as programme lead for the MA in Theology, Mission and Ministry with a focus on African Christian Diaspora at Church Mission Society.

This new MA pathway, part of CMS’s Pioneer Mission Leadership Training, brings together the unique mission focus of CMS training with the fastest growing part of the church in Britain – the African diaspora. Ten students have joined the new African MA pathway, alongside 23 other starting new courses with CMS this year, from undergraduate-level study to doctoral research. Specialised modules will take these students on a journey through African church history, Pentecostalism and African traditional religions.

“I hope this Master’s will help empower and equip the African church in Britain,” says Dr Kwiyani, “and that will help in the re-evangelisation of Britain. But I’m also excited that we are creating an intentional space within CMS where African and British students can learn together and learn from each other.”

The widely recognised shift in the centre of gravity of world Christianity towards the global south has clear implications: “Fifty years ago, a typical missionary would be a white European working somewhere in Africa,” says Dr Kwiyani. “Now Africans have to engage in mission in ways they have not done before.”

Dr Kwiyani is himself an example of this: a Malawian missiologist and theologian who has lived, worked and studied in Europe and North America for the past 20 years. His new part-time role as programme lead at CMS goes alongside another new part-time role, as CEO of Global Connections, the UK network for world mission, cementing his place as a key figure in the global mission conversation.

Jonny Baker, director of mission education at CMS, said: “We’re really excited about this new programme of study and the mix of students it will bring. We hope and expect that it will change us, as well as equip a wider range of students for pioneering mission.

“We are dreaming that in the coming years we will be able to introduce similar pathways with an Asian and a Latin American focus, to create the broadest possible inter-cultural conversation about mission today.”

Dr Kwiyani underlines the ambition of the project: “The hope is that with this Master’s, putting together Africans and British Christians, we create a movement that will be able to articulate what’s going on for the wider body of Christ. We’re hoping to create a movement of post-colonial missionaries who will be able to work across cultures and races.”

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The post Start of a new movement? appeared first on Church Mission Society (CMS).

Prayer and mission: entering into the ways of God

by Adrian Chatfield

The essential foundation of missionary spirituality is prayer and contemplation since Christian mission does not depend on human resources… Redemptoris Missio strongly emphasises the point: “The future of mission depends above all on contemplation. If a missionary is not a contemplative he cannot proclaim Christ in a credible manner.” [2]

Christian spirituality is a gift and a task. It requires communion with God (contemplation) as well as action in the world (praxis). When these two elements are separated, both the life and the mission of the church are deeply affected. Contemplation without action is an escape from concrete reality; action without contemplation is activism lacking a transcendent meaning. True spirituality requires a missionary contemplation and a contemplative mission. [3]

These two assertions, one Catholic, the other Protestant, serve as a useful starting point for an assessment of the relationship between prayer and the missio Dei. They share the insight that prayer in all its forms – including wordless ones – is the expression of a living relationship between God and God’s people: God with me, God with us. That relationship necessarily results in mission because God is a missionary God, but prayer is not primarily the instrument of mission. We pray because of who we are, not because of what prayer might accomplish. Indeed, as Jean Daniélou implies, “prayer [is] the mission of the church.” [4] That is what we are called into: our “primary purpose is to glorify God, and to enjoy him forever.” [5]

Why pray

We pray, first of all, in acknowledgement of the sovereignty of God and our own creatureliness and dependence. “He who comes into the presence of God to pray must divest himself of all vainglorious thoughts, lay aside all idea of worth; in short, discard all self-confidence, humbly giving God the whole glory, lest by arrogating anything, however little, to himself, vain pride cause him to turn away his face.” [6] Calvin’s emphasis here is a salutary reminder that prayer does not in the first instance turn us outward, as crusaders called to demolish strongholds with the tools of prayer. It turns us inward, in the primary act of obedience, to a relationship restored by God in Christ. This is the true worship (weorðsciper) demanded of the disciple: ‘follow me’ means first of all, ‘return to me’. Prayer is a converting action.
Ian Randall has rightly drawn attention to the tension between divine initiative and human activity implicit in the conversionist language of much evangelical spirituality. [7] However, from the perspective of prayer, the ‘new birth’ demands both a recognition of the gracious, uninvited action of God and our reception of that grace, through faith. We pray because we have been ‘converted’ to Christ, and we pray that we may be daily and fully converted.

We pray, secondly, in order to remember these fundamental truths. Prayer is the central act of memory, and the rehearsal of the good news of Jesus Christ in the liturgies of the church builds on that premise. The quasi-sacramental nature of Deuteronomy 6:8-9 reinforces this outward expression of the inner truth: “Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.” The prayer of remembrance is indeed both word and action. Conversely, the wicked in Psalm 34 will be eliminated from God’s memory [8] because they are no longer in active relationship with him.

If prayer is response to God’s grace and remembrance of a restored relationship, it also reshapes us. We are reformed by the truths which we have apprehended – through acts of confession and of thanksgiving.

It has become fashionable in recent times to criticise the language of the 1662 Book of Common Prayer for overplaying our failures and our shortcomings: ‘the remembrance of them is grievous unto us, the burden of them is intolerable.’ Matthew Fox’s Original Blessing [9] is an extreme version of this liberalising tendency, with its sideways swipe at ‘original sin’, and reminds us how easy it is for the church to collude with postmodernity’s dislike of any admission of fault or failure. The classical Christian tradition of confessing one’s sins, whether in Catholic sacrament or Protestant solitude, reminds us that there is no reshaping without repenting. The struggle to be holy – sanctification – is predicated upon the honesty of our prayer, and those who would be transformers must themselves first be transformed.

Similarly but less contentiously, those who remember what God has done for them in Christ respond to grace with gratitude, which results in generosity. Paul’s impassioned plea for the collection for the saints in Jerusalem in 2 Cor. 8 is the classic example of this. Thankful prayer bears fruit in changed lives.

The ecclesial character of prayer

Whether we pray as individuals or congregationally, we pray ecclesially. Karl Barth says that “[o]ne cannot ask whether it is the Christians who pray, or the church. There is no alternative, for when the Christians pray, it is the church; and when the church prays, it is the Christians.” [10] Jean Daniélou comments

That we do not say “My Father” is of fundamental importance. There is nothing individualistic about the Our Father: it is a prayer in which we embrace all other people, a prayer that is at the same time an expression of love. We go to the Father only with our sisters and brothers. [11]

Behind the claim that prayer is primarily ecclesial lies a set of theological premises. The Holy Trinity is a unity of persons with a single will, in perfect harmony and in constant communication. Because of this, the creation of humankind in God’s image and likeness bears a deep Trinitarian imprint: the same harmony, will and communicating relatedness in creaturely form. The fact that we have fallen from the divine intention does not invalidate this truth; what makes us human is our interdependence and mutuality. All sin makes us less than human; our redemption in Christ restores our essential relationship with the Father and our potential relationships with other human beings. This is why the metaphor of reconciliation in 2 Cor. 5 is fundamental for understanding not just what we might become in Christ but also what it means to be human at all.

That is why God calls people together: not simply because we are stronger or better or more loving or more useful, but because the gathered people express a fundamental truth about the created order and its restoration through God’s redemptive action. The people of God in the Old Testament – Israel – and the new and enlarged Israel of the New Testament are called together as a sign of the imago Dei, expressed interiorly as worship to God and exteriorly in the missio Dei.

The ecclesial character of prayer has over the centuries been worked out in both monastic and mystical theologies. Both these streams have much to teach the contemporary church about its vocation to enter into the ways of God, and it is to elements of these two streams that we now turn.

Ancient disciplines and monastic traditions

This is not the place to sketch a history of the monastic movement, but it is worth reminding ourselves that its growth coincided with the acceptance and adoption of Christianity as the imperial faith: Christendom. White martyrdom [12] replaced red martyrdom, as the faithful saw a rise in conventional faith and reacted adversely to it.

That said, I will now highlight key themes in Christian monasticism as they help to elucidate the missional character of the prayer of the church.

The eremitic tradition, the radical withdrawal from society which we associate with Anthony of Egypt, bears witness to the fact that there is an inherent conflict between a life lived towards the world, and a life lived towards God. Whether we understand Anthony’s demons as internal or external, spiritual or psychological, we recognise that there is a stark choice to be made between worship of the true God, and the many idolatries offered by the world. Today we pose the choice in terms of counter-cultural faithfulness to the gospel. The eremitic tradition reminds us that we withdraw to pray because it is only in that withdrawal that we bear witness to absolute and uncompromising surrender to a God who brooks no rivals. This surrender the Radical Reformers of the 16th century called Gelassenheit. [13]

The Desert Mother Amma Sarah said it more simply: “For 13 years she waged warfare against the demon of fornication. She never prayed that the warfare should cease, but she said, “O God, give me strength.” Although Sarah may have been a deeply passionate woman, keenly aware of her sexuality, fornication principally meant anything that possessed her heart and separated her from God. A part of our being belongs only to God and can only be satisfied by God. Replacing God with anyone or anything is idolatry.” [14] To pray is to turn away from idols to the pursuit of the living God.

Paralleling the rise of eremitic Christianity was the coenobitic [15] tradition, often linked with Anthony’s near contemporary Pachomius. If the former privileged the single-minded pursuit of God to the exclusion of all rivals, the latter gave the early church an architecture for the praying community. The Rule of St Benedict [16] sketched this out as demanding stability, obedience and conversio or conversatio morum. To this we can add the disciplines of the daily office, [17] of accountability and of hospitality.

There have been times in the history of monasticism when the religious community has been over-identified with the Kingdom of God, but this theological excess need not detract from the essential emphasis on a people gathered together and organised for the express purpose of faithful corporate prayer that the will of God may be fulfilled on earth as in heaven. The office frames the whole; the community is formed by its common prayer, and it is unsurprising that Benedict dedicates many chapters to what can seem trivial detail. To him, a community fit for purpose is a community that prays. Out of prayer arise hospitality, service and mission. The Prologue describes this praying community as a dominici schola servitii, [18] a ‘school of the Lord’s service’. At its heart, it is a disciplined school of prayer, a school of disciples.

When Dietrich Bonhoeffer established a semi-monastic discipline at Finkenwalde to secure the Confessing Church against the predations of National Socialism, he drew on the revived monastic traditions of the Church of England, at Kelham, [19] at Mirfield [20] and in Oxford. [21] The strong implicit Benedictine spirituality that he found emerges in the early pages of Life Together:

According to God’s will Christendom is a scattered people, scattered like seed ‘into all the kingdoms of the earth’ (Deut. 28:25). That is its curse and its promise. God’s people must dwell in far countries among the unbelievers, but it will be the seed of the Kingdom of God in all the world. [22]

Here, as in the declining years of the Western Roman Empire, we have a people with no city to sojourn in, exiled, a spiritual diaspora, for whom their scattering is both terror and vocation, terror because of the loss of any homeland, vocation because in that diaspora they are called together to witness to a new kind of community that may transform the world. This is a community which looks away from the world to structure, regulate and authenticate itself, prays to the Father in order to orient itself, prays in the name of Jesus to identify itself, prays in the power of the Spirit to dispel the powers of darkness, and then is reseeded back into the world to witness to a better way.

Much of what Bonhoeffer writes in Life Together is scandalous to our ears. In explaining that Christian community is a spiritual, not a human reality, he observes that “within the spiritual community there is never, nor in any way, any ‘immediate’ relationship of one to another… Because Christ stands between me and others, I dare not desire direct fellowship with them.” [23] But it is precisely in the scandal of his writing that the monastic spirit is identified. The only valid community, the only community that bears within itself redemptive and Kingdom possibilities, is the community which is a gift of God. And it keeps that character only as long as and insofar as it is true to the Christic character of that community: τὸ ζῆν Χριστὸς, to live is Christ. [24]

In the current fascination with hospitality as one of the key opportunities for the church’s mission, Bonhoeffer’s point needs to be attended to carefully. We are not in the business of presenting the church as a good place to make friends, reach the lonely, home-make or model good social skills. Rather, we are called to form authentic community, clearly and unapologetically built into Christ, on prayer, and yet utterly open and vulnerable, welcoming and spacious for all who will come. Let this alone be the good news.

The emergence of ‘new monastic movements’ since the Second World War is testimony to the missional potential of this radical, disciplined and uncompromising attempt to follow Jesus together in the face of threatening cultural challenges and an often compromised institutional church. These movements have recognised the power of the monastic stream, both eremitic and coenobitic, to locate the primary action of the church in its relational axis with God the Holy Trinity, and the consequent impact of this in forming resilient, resourceful disciples under orders, ready for battle. In this, they echo the spirituality of the Carolingian church, which at a synod at Metz in 888 observed that ‘we should seek Christ’s piety, by which the pagans will be kept out.’ [25]

What the newer movements have done, very much in the spirit of the 16th century Society of Jesus, is to recognise that what they have, the world needs. The looking in demands more clearly than before a consequent looking out. The inward action of prayer and contemplation enables the outward action of mission, the ‘battle’. The message that new monastic movements are wanting to send out is that when we are who we ought to be towards God, we are enabled to be who we ought to be towards the world, a people of God acting as a sign or sacrament of the coming Kingdom.

One of the key texts of this new stream of thinking about monastic spirituality is Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove’s New Monasticism. [26] In his chapter on ‘God’s plan to save the world through a people’ he says that though personal conversion and faith are significant, the church is key: “If the Bible is a story about God’s plan to save the world through a people, then my salvation and sanctification depend on finding my true home with God’s people. Apart from the story of this people, I can’t have a relationship with God.” [27] His 12 marks of new monasticism [28] strongly emphasise the foci of the third and fourth marks of mission, [29] which have been somewhat lacking in evangelical Christianity since the middle of the 19th century. It is most important, however, to note that his attempt to recover this missional focus lies in ‘nurturing common life among members of intentional community.’ [30]

Graham Cray regards new monasticism as key to the missional process which is at the heart of fresh expressions of church. In New Monasticism as Fresh Expression of Church, he offers a missional trajectory based on communities of prayer:

• community demands commitment
• commitment forms disciples
• disciples stand firm against contemporary cultural temptation, together
• such disciples stand a chance of ‘sustaining the long haul in planting church’

And so “[n]ew monasticism offers the possibility of important frameworks of support for those deployed on such mission.” [31] To juxtapose this with the monastic “pray much, and that God would count you worthy, for the Will of God is known only to him to whom God will reveal Himself” [32] is to demonstrate the congruity of monastic discipline with missionary commitment so desired in the contemporary church.

Ancient disciplines and the mystical quest

The use of the terms ‘mysticism’ and ‘mystic’ tend to put off evangelicals, worried by any suggestion that there is available to us an access to God independent of or superior to the Holy Scriptures. James Wiseman helpfully draws a distinction between the contemporary use of the term, in which ‘a special state of consciousness surpassing ordinary experience through union with the transcendent reality of God’ [33] is intended, and a historic, more orthodox approach, in which mysticism is about presence and immediacy: “the mystical element in Christianity is that part of its belief and practices that concerns the preparation for, the consciousness of, and the reaction to what can be described as the immediate or direct presence of God.” [34]
Here, two examples will have to suffice: the Eastern tradition of the Jesus Prayer, and the allegorical use of the Song of Songs.

Jesus Prayer

This prayer, whose deep origin lies in the cry of blind Bartimaeus [35] and in the semi-formulaic ‘in the name of Jesus’ of the Acts of the Apostles, is described by the Pilgrim as ‘the abbreviated form of the Gospel.’ [36] It aims to develop the remembrance of Jesus, to make the invocation of Jesus spontaneous and ‘self-acting’ so that we call out to him even in sleep, keep guard over the intellect or heart and reach out beyond language into the living silence of God. It is a unitive prayer which is “a way of unifying the inward attention, stripping the mind of images, and so attaining hesychia.” [37] To the mind unfamiliar with the seemingly esoteric, detached and apparently mechanical repetitiveness of this prayer, it is easy to discount it as an individualistic journey away from the things of earth.

The truth is entirely other. The Pilgrim’s search for the way of unceasing prayer leads him not away from the world, but into it. Praying the Jesus prayer opens the door to life-changing encounters with others, new ways of looking at the world, a heart broken in intercession, and the exercise of spiritual power. This last we will return to later in touching on the rise of Pentecostalism. À propos of life-changing encounters, we need only observe that the pilgrim is both recipient and giver, of grace, of goods, of spiritual insight. His journey is one of profound interdependence, in which his search for ‘true prayer’ gives him back God, other people and himself.

Similarly, this prayer helps him to see the world as far more alive, both to itself and to others, more, not less real: “When I began to pray with the heart, everything around me became transformed and I saw it in a new and delightful way. The trees, the grass, the earth, the air, the light, and everything seemed to be saying to me that it exists to witness to God’s love for man and that it prays and sings of God’s glory.” [38]

The intercessory character of the Jesus Prayer, which must surely lie at the heart of any missional prayer, is best illustrated by Simon Barrington-Ward’s response to his early encounter with the Franciscan Brother Ramón: “I had already had the feeling when I was praying with him of a further pull, flowing underneath all our talk and laughter, of a profound, far-reaching compassion for all those for whom he would intercede… Within that intercession was an immense, almost lonely hunger and thirst, on behalf both of himself and of our world, a longing in the depths of his being for the living God. This was the driving force behind his quest for solitude.” [39] It is remarkable though unsurprising that the quest for solitude is the journey that took Ramón – and takes many mystics – right into the heart of the world.

Song of Songs: Lover and Beloved

In 1547, the reformer Sébastien Castellión was driven out of Geneva by Calvin for claiming that the Song of Songs was a “lascivious and obscene poem… As it dealt merely with earthly affections, he deemed it unworthy of a place in the sacred canon and demanded its exclusion.” [40] For most Christians in the Middle Ages and beyond, and for many still today, the book’s presence in the canon of scripture invites a multi-layered interpretation which at its heart contains an invitation to intimacy with God. Bernard of Clairvaux first wrestled with the text in convalescence, and from 1135 till 1153 preached on it in a now famous series of sermons.

The second sermon, ‘On the kiss’, reflects on ‘the ardour with which the patriarchs long for the incarnation of Christ’ and the privilege which is ours of letting Christ speak to us, by way of a ‘kiss’, an encounter. In the third sermon, the kiss is divided into three: the kiss to the feet, in repentance; the kiss of the hand, in receiving Christ’s grace for growth in holiness; and the kiss on the mouth, in intimacy. “And now what remains, O good Lord, except that now in full light, while I am in fervour of spirit, you should admit me to the kiss of your mouth, and grant me the full joy of your presence.” [41]

400 years later, John of the Cross wrote a series of poems, several of which pick up on the same theme. and relate it to the dark night of the soul in which nothing is known but God:

En mi pecho florido,
Que entero para él sólo se guardaba,
Allí quedó dormido,
Y yo le regalaba,
Y el ventalle de cedros aire daba.

I gave him there
My thought, my care,
So did my spirit flower.
Love lay at rest
Upon my breast
That cedar-scented hour. [42]

Both Bernard and John are mystical activists whose desire for intimacy can be dismissed as erotic displacement, or more seriously as a theological dualism in which mission is regarded as secondary or inferior, because it deals with the evanescent things of this world, while ‘in your presence there is fullness of joy’ (Psalm 16:11). The truth is that both were busy men engaged in reaching out to the communities around them with deep vocational commitment. The end of Bernard’s Third Sermon has him interrupting his reflections in mid-flow, saying “These guests whose arrival has just been announced to us oblige me to break off my sermon rather than bring it to an end.” [43] This is no navel-gazing, but an intimacy with Jesus which drives us out to ‘kiss’ others with the kiss with which we ourselves have been kissed. To change the metaphor, in order to love with Kingdom love, we must daily know ourselves loved.

For John’s part, apart from his exhausting and often harrowing ministry in a conflictual era, it is worth remembering that the first 31 stanzas of his Spiritual Canticle were composed while he was in prison, in filthy and severely deprived conditions, yet another testimony to the deeply engaged and world-affirming resilience which intimacy with Jesus has brought to many saints of the gospel.

New languages and a new Pentecost

Having addressed monastic and mystical traditions as sources of missional prayer, I turn to the Pentecostal movement of the past century for my third and final example of the interface between prayer and mission.

Ronald Knox’s idiosyncratic study of religious movements: Enthusiasm [44] has fascinated me for many years, not least because of its dismissive perspective on ecstatic forms of religious experience as ‘ultrasupernaturalism’ in which “the first fervours evaporate; prophecy dies out, and the charismatic is merged in the institutional. ‘The high that proved too high, the heroic for earth too hard’ – it is a fugal melody that runs through the centuries.” In his chapter on ‘Some Vagaries of Modern Revivalism’, he mocks glossolalia interminably: “When men and women got so carried away as to be frankly unintelligible, you could see… that they must be actuated by some Force wholly out of the common.” [45]

It is neither my task here to show (though I could) that Ronnie Knox’s argument is driven more by intellectual prejudice and snobbery than by academic rigour, nor to argue the opposite on the basis of the extraordinary way in which Pentecostal and neo-Pentecostal movements have embedded themselves in the mainstream of Christianity in little less than a century and a half. My aim is rather to suggest in this final section that the rise of Pentecostalism, from a missiological perspective, gives the church back its gospel voice, and that this voice is given back primarily through prayer.

Velli-Matti Kärkkäinen says that “the key to discerning and defining Pentecostal identity lies in Christ-centered charismatic spirituality with a passionate desire to ‘meet with Jesus Christ as be is being perceived as the Bearer of the ‘Full Gospel’. [46] Stephen Land summarises this spirituality as ‘worship and witness in the light of the End’. [47] As Pentecostals give voice to their spirituality primarily through testimony, I will use an early Anglican Pentecostal narrative to further elucidate the point that in Pentecostalism, as in our examples from the ancient church, it is in “returning and rest [that] you shall be saved” and “in quietness and trust shall be your strength”. [48] The missionary imperative is rekindled in the Holy of Holies.

Alexander Boddy, vicar of All Saints’ Monkwearmouth in the Diocese of Durham, went to Oslo in 1907 and found his ministry transformed by the new Pentecost to which he was introduced by TB Barratt, ‘Apostle to Norway’. In a pamphlet published the same year, he describes the impact on his own congregation and wider church context. [49]

He begins by describing a vision of Jesus blessing the world, a particular act of God in mission: “An earnest ‘Seeker’ whilst kneeling before the Lord in one of our meetings suddenly saw Him with outstretched hands – as if blessing the world. The great world in darkness was below Him, and from His fingertips slowly fell drops of living flame… So she saw many little fires kindled in this country of ours.” [50]

He goes on to explain that “Pentecost’ is a ‘life of union with the Lord Jesus”. This union is experienced in prayer, which is key to new life in the church: “We were tarrying until we should be endued with power from on high. We were praying for revival, and we did not know how God was going to answer our prayer, but we were sure He would answer, and the answer has come. And the answer is from Him. [51] In the prayer meetings of the Pentecost-touched church, power is given. When that power is given, then we can validly pray, with Boddy, “Open today doors of service and of confession, and give me boldness to enter in, in the power Thou hast given me.” [52]

The tract is pietistic, simplistic, and not much suited to contemporary tastes. In one or two places, it smacks of the prosperity gospel, though it does not shy away from speaking about suffering. [53] The most remarkable thing about it, however, is that it is above all else an extended prayer and paean of praise, in which Boddy simply gives glory to God for the wonder of new life and growth that come when ordinary people pray without restraint. For Boddy and his contemporaries, the continuum is a simple one: repent – receive – rejoice – respond.

The first Assemblies of God church that I worshipped in was in a former mining town in Nottinghamshire. I was struck as a young undergraduate by the easy confidence with which these miners and generally working class folk spoke of their Jesus, their faith, their mission. It was as if this mysterious ability to speak in tongues had given them many more tongues: to story-tell in their personal testimonies of lives that were radically changed; to preach, even on soapboxes in Nottingham’s Market Square, without shame, simply yet articulately; to proclaim Jesus and a vision of the Kingdom of God without inhibition, in the local idiom; and to pray with conviction, knowing that God was an active, healing, life-changing God.

Prayer as Mission: some concluding thoughts

The link between prayer and mission is a simple one. Prayer leads us deeper into an active relationship with a missional God, and the inevitable consequences are worship, service and mission, the three marks of the church. [54] When I launched the Simeon Centre for Prayer and the Spiritual Life in 2007, I said in my address that “I keep reminding myself that the energy of a centre for prayer is a listening ear, an obedient heart, and a driving passion to rediscover daily what it means to be friends with God – and to help others who cross our threshold to do the same.”

I then went on to say that the “passion of the Simeon Centre is to find people who are hungry for prayer, whether or not they know Jesus in a personal and intimate way yet, pray with them, and introduce them to Jesus. Let’s find out where God is at work in the people around us who don’t know him, and join in with God’s work.” In other words, if prayer is the language of our ongoing encounter with God, then inviting others to pray with us, whether or not we deem them to be disciples yet, must necessarily be at the heart of our missional task. Prayer makes disciples; in prayer disciples are transformed; and an apostolic church emerges.

‘I’m not religious, but I am spiritual’ is one of the enduring clichés of our age, a strapline of postmodernity. Suspicion of institutions of all kinds abounds, political and social, economic and ecclesial. In the face of difficulties about believing anything with a degree of assurance, and resistance to most forms of committed belonging, the surprising persistence of prayer ‘to an unknown God’ is surely a reminder to the church that prayer is one of the few contexts within which meaningful spiritual engagement and evangelism remain possible. The offer of prayer is rarely refused by the unchurched.

Let me end with a personal testimony, slightly adapted to preserve anonymity. Some years ago I went to a baptism in a Pentecostal church in the Midlands. It had been a small, struggling, prayerful, inward-looking fellowship for many years. A few faithful women (and they were mostly women) had kept it alive. There’s no formula for what happened next, but faithfulness in prayer and faithfulness to God’s work were somehow central. Now, the church having grown to a respectable 100 or so on a council estate, four people were to be baptised. One was a young man with Down’s syndrome and a deep fear of water. The second was a middle-aged man with a failed marriage and a recovered faith. The third woman was a survivor of the Rwandan genocide, and the last had come into the church in a wheelchair, been prayed for, got out of her wheelchair and never returned to it. I wept my way through their four testimonies and baptisms. I often wish that I could belong to a church like that.

But I’m not sure that I have it in me to belong there. I’m too impatient. I want quick results, and I suffer from the temptation to dismiss churches that don’t seem to be missional. This church in particular for so long seemed to have lost its way, and I thought little of it. Now that I’ve been privileged to see the end of this part of their story, I’ve learnt yet again that prayer whose primary aim is to achieve results is of little worth. It has to be enough that I pray because of who God is. God is faithful and his mission will be done. In prayer, I too will be part of it.

About the author

Adrian Chatfield is a fellow of Ridley Hall Cambridge and a mentor/spiritual director in the East Midlands.

More from this issue

Notes

[1] With acknowledgement to Jean Daniélou, Prayer: The Mission of the Church, (Edinburgh: T & T Clark, 1996), 9.
[2] Sebastian Karotemprel, (ed), 1995, Following Christ in Mission: A Foundational Course in Missiology, (Nairobi: Paulines, 1995), 135.
[3] C Rene Padilla, Spirituality in the Life and Mission of the Church (Edinburgh 2010 Study Group 9), 1
[4] Daniélou, op.cit.
[5] Opening of the Shorter Westminster Catechism of 1647.
[6] John Calvin, Institutes of the Christian Religion, Chapter 20, Section 8; 1536.
[7] Ian Randall, What a Friend we have in Jesus: The Evangelical Tradition, (London: DLT,2005), 37.
[8] ‘Remembrance’ in the NRSV and ‘name’ in NIV but ‘memory’ in John Goldingay’s translation. See John Goldingay,  Psalms Volume 1, (GrandRapids, Baker Academic,2006),  Kindle loc.9702-9704.
[9] Matthew Fox, Original Blessing: A Primer in Creation Spirituality, (Rochester VT: Bear and Company, 1983)
[10] Karl Barth, Prayer: 50th Anniversary Edition, (Louisville KY: Westminster John Knox, 2002), 5.
[11] Daniélou, op. cit. page 26
[12] This is martyrdom without blood or violence such as strict asceticism.
[13] For example, in the Tract on the Supreme Virtue of Gelassenheit by Andreas Bodenstein von Karlstadt, in (Furcha EA, 2013), Fifteen tracts by Andreas Bodenstein (Carlstadt), (Scottdale PA: Herald Press, 1995).     
[14] Laura Swan, Forgotten Desert Mothers, The: Sayings, Lives, and Stories of Early Christian Women, (Mahwah NJ: Paulist Press, 2001), 37.
[15] κοινόβιον or ‘coenobium’ from κοινός (common) + βίος (life).
[16] 6th century.
[17] ‘officium’ or work of the people in relation to the worship of God
[18] Luke Benedict and Dysinger, The Rule of St Benedict: Latin & English, (Santa Ana CA: Source Books, 1996), Prologue 45.
[19] Society of the Sacred Mission.
[20] Community of the Resurrection.
[21] Society of St John the Evangelist.
[22] Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Life Together, (London: SCM, 1954), 7.
[23] Ibid, pages 20 & 22.
[24] Phil. 1:21.
[25] Canon 1, quote in S Coupland, ‘Rod of God’s wrath or the people of God’s wrath? The Carolingian theology of the Viking invasions’, Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 1991; 42. 
[26] Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove, New Monasticism: What it has to say to today’s church, (Grand Rapids MI: Brazos, 2008).
[27] ibid, 58.
[28] ibid, 39.
[29] [3] to respond to human need by loving service, [4] to transform unjust structures of society, to challenge violence of every kind and pursue peace and reconciliation
[30] ibid, 39, Mark 6.
[31] Graham Cray, et al (eds), New Monasticism as Fresh Expression of Church, (Norwich: Canterbury Press, 2010), 6.
[32] Herbert Kelly, Principles: Society of the Sacred Mission¸ (Kelham: SSM, 1909), Principle vii.
[33] James Wiseman, Spirituality and Mysticism, (New York: Orbis,2006),  9.
[34] ibid, page 10, quoting Bernard McGinn, The Foundations of Mysticism, (New York: Crossroad, 1991), xvi.
[35] Mark 10.46ff.
[36] Helen Bacovcin, The Way of a Pilgrim and The Pilgrim continues his Way, (New York: Doubleday, 1978), 23.
[37] Bernard McGinn, John Meyendorff  & Jean Leclercq, Jean, Christian Spirituality: Origins to the 12th Century, (New York: Crossroad,1993), 406. Hesychia (ἡσυχία) is quietness or stillness in the Orthodox tradition.
[38] Bacovcin, op.cit,  25.
[39] Brother Ramón, and Simon Barrington-Ward, Praying the Jesus Prayer Together, (Oxford: BRF 2001), 23.
[40] John Baildam, Paradisal Love: Johann Gottfried Herder and the Song of Songs, (Sheffield: Academic Press, 2009), 140.
[41] G R Evans, Bernard of Clairvaux: Selected Works, (New York: Paulist Press, 1987), 223.
[42] Kathleen Jones, tr., The Poems of St John of the Cross, (Tunbridge Wells: Burns & Oates, 1993), 20f.
[43] Evans, op.cit, 224.
[44] R A Knox, Enthusiasm: A Chapter in the History of Religion with special reference to the 17th and 18th centuries, (Oxford: Clarendon, 1950), 1.
[45] ibid, page 554.
[46] Velli-Matti Kärkkäinen, ‘The Pentecostal Understanding of Mission’, in  Wonsuk Ma, Velli-Matti Kärkkäinen, & Kwabena Asamoah-Gyadu, eds (2014), Pentecostal Mission and Global Christianity (Oxford: Regnum, 2014), 34.
[47] Steven Land, Pentecostal Spirituality: A Passion for the Kingdom, (Sheffield: Sheffield Academic Press, 1993), 95ff.
[48] Isa. 30.15 NRSV.
[49] Alexander Boddy, (1907 republished as ebook by Full Well Ventures, 2012), A Vicar’s Testimony: “Pentecost” at Sunderland.
[50] ibid, Kindle locs.41-44.
[51] ibid, Kindle locs.183-185.
[52] ibid, Kindle loc.392
[53] It is worth noting that though “for the last sixteen years of her life, she [Mary Boddy] was an invalid… she still ministered healing to others.” Stanley M Burgess and Gary B McGee (eds ), Dictionary of Pentecostal and Charismatic Movements, (Zondervan: Grand Rapids, 1988), 91.
[54] I often use these as the three marks of the church, and often wonder why the Lambeth Conference of 1988 gave us five marks of mission but has never seen fit to give the prior marks of the church. I would be interested to know if any readers have similar lists!

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