The Call to Inclusion

As I was preparing to leave the UK last Friday, I felt a certain sadness. I felt sad leaving behind both family members and new friends. I felt sad that I wouldn't be meeting more interesting people and discovering new ministries. But I also felt sad about my overall experience of the UK. I had arrived at an interesting time. It was the height of the refugee crisis and there was much talk about how best to respond. There was media coverage about what the British government should be doing, the offer of space for 20,000 people paling in comparison to the hundreds of thousands being welcomed by Germany. There were calls for people to do more but equal comments about terrorists pretending to be refugees, welfare tourists, and "too many Muslims". I also arrived during the race for the Labour leadership. The discourse was "Old Labour" versus "New Labour", the question of electability versus authenticity. Was Jeremy Corbyn too far left or was he injecting new energy into the party? There was some talk about social justice and the desire for Britain to be compassionate again, but I often felt surprised by how far right Britain has tilted in recent years.  

Now there was a sense of hope as I got ready to leave. I recalled my first weekend when I visited a Quaker meeting and a woman spoke of going to Calais to deliver clothes and toiletries to refiugees. I remembered my experience of authentic welcome at Luminous and Order of the Black Sheep, and of Tina working with the hard to house in Southport. I thought of Archbishop Justin Welby ready to offer space in Lambeth Palace for refugees. And I thought of the community Glen and I visited in our last week.

"Somewhere Else", also known as the Liverpool Bread Church, began in 1999, and was one of the communities first highlighted in "Mission Shaped Church". The Bread Church is a faith community which worships through making bread. It seems odd at first but it is an amazing experience as longtime participants  and newcomers gather around the table to make bread and create community. I was struck by how Rev. Ian and the volunteers made everyone feel welcome. One of the key principles of the Bread Church is creating a space of inclusion. It is a diverse group who comes together, with a significant number of people with cognitive challenges kneading dough beside moms with children, folks who are unemployed, and the occasional visitor from overseas. One of the ways they do this is by making the Bread Church a mobile phone free zone. The policy is there to keep people from being distracted by outside calls but I suspect it also offers a sense of safety when people know they aren't being talked about or photographed.

We need more Bread Churches and ministries like it. The gap between rich and poor seems to be increasing in the UK with much talk about being tough on people abusing welfare and a focus on needing to create a more aspirational culture. An example of that is seen in the Olympic Village that Glen and I were able to see just before we left. It was built in a part of East London that was formerly Industrial and lay empty and before the Olympics there was a lot of talk about it being a catalyst for renewal in the area. I wonder how much this has happened. We were staying near the site and it didn't seem that renewal was spilling over the railway tracks from the site to East Londoners but instead there were two worlds, with the people of the area continuing to struggle while wealthier folks move into the new apartments being built near the sports facilities and shops of Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park.

Now I have returned to Canada at the tail end of the election. As I follow media coverage I am struck that I see many of the dynamics I saw in the UK playing out here. But here I have a voice. I pray that as we cast our votes we will do so seeking a more compassionate and inclusive Canada.

Into the Woods

As I've shared since returning from the Greenbelt Festival two years ago, one of the highlights for me was the prayer and worship led by various Forest Church groups, so much so I wanted to start a group in St. Albert-Edmonton. What held me back was experiencing a Forest Church gathering in its true context. After all festival and conference activities don't always translate. This past week my hope was fulfilled as Glen and I drove to a farm outside of Llangurig, Wales to join Bruce and Sarah and Mid Wales Forest Church.

It was simple but profound. We began by going for a walk in the hills, and because we were reflecting together on Autumn were invited to find a natural item that spoke to each of us personally. We took time to share with each other and then walked further and took time reflecting on the call to be in balance as we lay down under a grove of conifers.

I was caught up by the sense of deep connection as I looked up at the web of branches. I knew I was being invited to further simplify my life as Bruce invited us to ponder what helped us maintain balance as well as what threw us out of balance.

We returned to the farm to share food and drink, including teas brewed from local herbs and medicines. The magic of the Welsh evening was made complete as a few people brought out fiddles and mandolins while we chatted about finally starting a group back home.

Our Forest Church experience was rounded out as Glen and I visited with Simon and Allie, two leaders of Ancient Arden Forest Church. They live in a bit more urban environment but still gather outdoors to pray and reflect together. Their group is more ritually based as they draw on older rhythms of the Celtic calendar. They spoke passionately of how reconnecting to G-d in nature was keeping them grounded. Their group was also a place of nurture for Christians who had left church but still wanted to honour Christ, as well as people who were walking the pagan road. They were creating a profound interfaith space.

I was struck by the simplicity of both groups, each honouring G-d in nature in different ways but knowing that doing so was a lifeline of spiritual sanity in a world so disconnected from creation. Sharing this with Glen was very meaningful as we both pondered what it would take to start Sturgeon Valley Forest Church. Anyone interested in joining us?

Life lessons...

This past week saw me returning to England for a couple of days with Mark and Sarah of Order of the Black Sheep then back to Scotland to meet up with Glen and journey north to the Orkney Islands. Surprisingly, both journeys brought valuable lessons about life and church.

Having experienced an OBS worship service at the Greenbelt Festival two years ago, I was intent on spending time with Mark and Sarah to learn what I could. I shifted my schedule to make sure I could attend. I wasn't disappointed. Mark and Sarah were welcoming. The service was relaxed, many people simply lounging on black bean bag chairs. The prayers were rooted in the context of the younger adults who were present, some from the alternative community but equally not. Being a black sheep means different things to different people. The sense of welcome in the midst of uncertainty and doubt is what keeps some coming. The inclusiveness and non-churchy vibe is what draws others. The willingness to engage people where they are at is a touchstone for others - including parents with children.

This is the part of OBS that surprised Mark the most as the community has evolved. Before becoming a vicar, Mark was a musician with a heavy metal band. The ministry was initially formed with teens and adults connected to that scene but over time it has morphed from one thing into another. Mark and Sarah are willing to try one thing and if it fails to try something else. I think OBS works because they are willing to learn from their mistakes. In the process they have created a space where families feel welcome, not because it's a family focused ministry but because it's a people where they're at focused ministry.

This is what connects this experience to the Orkney Islands for me. I wanted to go to the Orkney Islands because they are known for the high concentration of Neolithic sites like the Standing Stones of Stennness and the village of Skara Brae. What I didn't know was that amongst these sites there were also Pictish, Viking and Medieval Scots ruins as well, often at the same places. Over time in this archipelago one culture has been integrated into another rather than one displacing another. As climate changed or new political circumstances arose the people adapted. You hear it in the accent as people speak with a Norse as much as a Scottish accent. They are quick to tell you they are Orcadians, proud to have thrived in a remote and harsh environment.

This adaptability is captured by two contemporary sites beside each other on Lambholm, a small island linked to the "Mainland" by a causeway. The first is the Italian Chapel, built by Italian POWs interned in Orkney during the Second World War. Missing home, they asked if they could have a chapel for services. What they did with the space is extraordinary. They sourced all the materials themselves, turning two quonset style buildings into a work of art. When I walked in I thought the walls were tiled. Everything is plaster or cement, painted to look like tile, wood, marble, and the like. They used what they had a created a masterpiece.

Equally impressive is the Orkney Wine Company housed right next door. No grapes grow at 58° latitude, but blueberries, rhubarb, cranberries, etc. certainly do. They are making amazing fruit wines. They even make Tattie Wine - wine from potatoes. It's quite good with a slight whiskey finish.

What did I learn about life and church from these experiences? The importance of resilience. When changes come you can moan and fret, or you can try new things, adapting as necessary. In a time of change as a church we need to be willing to experiment as needed. We may not always succeed but we just may create something amazing in the process.

Following the Coastal Path

When I was planning my sabbatical, several colleagues reminded me that my time away was to be rest and renewal as much as research and reflection. When the plans for this past week unravelled, my first instinct was to find alternate study options, but then settled on extending my visit with my aunt in Scotland. It meant a long trip to Sheffield for a presentation at the Wilson Carlile Centre (I spent more time on the train than at the Centre.) but it was worth it.

I decided to follow the Fife Coastal Path beginning at Kinghorn and heading west toward the Forth Rail and Road bridges. Ambitiously I pondered walking all the way back to my aunt's but that would have been 30 km. As it was, I walked all the way to Inverkeithing for a total of 20 km.

It was a glorious day and for once warm enough for me to don my shorts. The journey from Kinghorn to Burntisland was rugged as I walked along the rocky and sandy shoreline.

Burntisland was a bit more frustrating. I checked the map on the post board to see where to pick up the next section. I thought it would be clearly marked. There were long distances between route indicators and I would have expected additional posts saying to carry on. Instead they were only present if you needed to change direction. I was viewing it as a Canadian but needed to see it through a Scottish logic. When I finally did it became easier. I started to worry that I may not find the next bit when along came someone walking her dog. She pointed me in the right direction. A few more times along the route someone came along when I needed to get my bearings.Burntisland was a bit more frustrating. I checked the map on the post board to see where to pick up the next section. I thought it would be clearly marked. There were long distances between route indicators and I would have expected additional posts saying to carry on. Instead they were only present if you needed to change direction. I was viewing it as a Canadian but needed to see it through a Scottish logic. When I finally did it became easier. I started to worry that I may not find the next bit when along came someone walking her dog. She pointed me in the right direction. A few more times along the route someone came along when I needed to get my bearings.

The experience was a gentle reminder about fresh expressions. First, these new types of faith community are ideally to be rooted in a (sub)cultural context. They begin with intentional listening and relationship building. Only when you have taken time to live into a context, to be with people and listen to the needs of the area, will you be able to understand the signposts and discern way to walk. Second, you can't create a new church expression without engaging with people as potential leaders. In my reading I saw references to finding "people of peace" - local people who are open to hearing the gospel. Speaking the "language" of the focus group, these people become translators of the message. Without them you may never find the way to your destination.

As part of my time in Sheffield, I had the opportunity to meet with George Lings, chief researcher with Church Army for fresh expressions. He offered some good advice regarding the emergence of new faith communities in Canada. As we shared about the importance of not simply starting alternative worship services but forming truly contextualized communities, he spoke of the need to be bicultural. Thinking about our history in evangelizing, he pointed to people like St. Paul and St. Columba, Vincent Donovan and Leslie Newbiggin, people who though raised in one culture, were open to the culture of the people being evangelized. They were able to express the message in new ways rather than impose culturally fixed forms of Christianity like we did in the 18th to 20th centuries. In thus century, we're being offered a chance to reclaim an older wisdom and begin to follow the way of Jesus in culturally open ways.

Along my way, I saw an old church. St. Bridget's Chapel had fallen out of use when the travel route to Edinburgh changed and people no longer frequented the area. The ways people travel have changed. We can bemoan that people have stopped travelling to our area and slowly fall into ruin, or we can move to the new route and find new ways to express timeless truths.

I'm voting for the latter.

Coffee anyone?

I began last week in Dundee, visiting with Kerry and taking part in a cafe style worship service. I was welcomed warmly, offered coffee and cake. I had a chat with a young man who was surprisingly knowledgeable about Canada. I'm so used to people assuming I'm American, I was momentarily flummoxed.

The church space had been reconfigured on the horizontal axis, pews taken out, chairs, tables and sofas put in, the chancel even being glassed in as a children's  area. Talk about commitment to a new worship style. The theme of service was hope. We were even grouped into teams for a quiz on hope. Overall it was a very good service - relaxed, engaging, welcoming.

The following day I met with Stuart to talk about "Sweaty Church". I was not going to be able to come to the service on the following Sunday in Arbroath, but he graciously drove to Dundee to share with me the ins and outs of planning these energetic worship services with children. It was nice to hear how this monthly service was complementing the Messy Church service also held in the congregation, especially with it being an avenue for young dad's to connect with church.

In both cases, Kerry and Stuart shared how they were reaching out to families who wouldn't other wise connect with church, and engaging with folks who were still members but also wanted a more appealing worship experience.

On Wednesday in Sheffield, I participated in a presentation being offered by researchers in fresh expressions to a group from Austria. They shared the results of a recent report on fresh expressions. It turns out the two most popular types are cafe church and worship with children and families. Given what I've learned about fresh expressions ideally being an inculturation of church, how much are these services truly fresh expressions or simply alternative worship? It's early days. Should they be the primary faith community for people, then fresh expressions they are. Time will tell.

Big tents and Tidal flats

This past Friday I journeyed to Kettering to take part in the Greenbelt Festival, a gathering exploring faith, justice and the arts. Having attended two years ago, I was curious how it would compare to my previous experience, especially since its move from Cheltenham Racecourse with its open spaces and built amenities to Boughton House, a large manor house set in a greenfield. The festival was intentionally smaller because of the more constrained space and the need for everything to be in tents. Even as a smaller gathering it was impressive at 10,000 people attending talks, concerts, book readings, worship services, and of course the pub (in a big tent).

Even more than last time, I found myself drawn to the worship services and talks in "The Grove" where much of the focus was on the intersection of faith and ecology. With Forest Church as one of my stops while in the UK, this was a good place to meet leaders in this fresh expression of church. More importantly, in "The Grove" I was able to pray authentically as one who often experiences G-d in nature. I also attended a few talks and worship services with either a social justice or LGBTQ focus.

I followed my heart and sought out experiences rooted in my own personal story. The draw towards these kinds of experiences makes sense as I reflect on fresh expressions. The more I experience (grounded in my reading), the more I am struck by the significance of authenticity in this movement. As I read when I was in Sheffield and emphasized by Jonnie and Mel, fresh expressions have to be indigenized, emerging from and speaking to the context of the people they are for.

This insight has been reinforced in my last few days in Southport. On Tuesday I participated in "The Living Room", a social gathering and prayer time with the hard to house. An extension of a soup kitchen, this gathering is church for those who attend. What they do feels right for who they are.

As Tina, the fresh expressions minister here, shared the success of this ministry, she also shared her disappointment in the lack of traction for the other ministry I was coming to see. After the first couple of go's, people had stopped coming to " Franky's Pizza". She wondered aloud if it was too modelled on the Bread church in Liverpool and not something that was an authentic response to the culture of people right here.

Perhaps. But these things also take time. 340 leaflets handed out door to door by me on Wednesday, we had 4 people come out this evening to make pizza and build community.

Despite that success, I ponder the contrast between "The Living Room" and "Franky's Pizza". One feels more authentic than the other, more natural to its environment. I was struck by this as I took a day trip to Formby Pinewoods yesterday. A protected area for red squirrels, the forest was planted to help stabilize the dunes that run along the coast here. It's a beautiful place with great pines, open fields, sand dunes and the Irish Sea.

It was low tide and I decided to walk out on the tidal flat. I noticed holes in the packed sand as well as small piles of sand like extruded rope. As I walked further I noticed what looked like sand covered straws. It was clear that beneath my feet were various types of sand worms. I thought about how they had evolved in this environment, were natural to it.

As I walked back through the pinewoods and saw some red squirrels, I paused to give thanks but also felt sad because they are a rare sight, being pushed out by the grey squirrels from North America, foolishly introduced to the UK in the 1870s. I couldn't help but think about church history, how the indigenous British church was pushed to the margins by the stronger Roman church. That version is now floundering as the church here experiments with expressions that are rooted in the culture as it is evolving.

As I pray for the return of the red squirrel, I equally pray for the growth of a church that is truly authentic to the present culture and context.