The poor, and so on

It is easy to be glib and romantic about the poor, disadvantaged and socially outcast from the theological ivory tower. In principle - and it's more than a principle - yes, it is disgraceful that churches perpetuate the social alienation of the economically disadvantaged, the unemployed and so on. James tells us to show the poor man to the pride of place, and so we should.


The reality of life for church communities is that overcoming the factors which cause social exclusion is far more complicated. Economic disadvantage is (in the welfare state) rarely just economic disadvantage; social exclusion is rarely just social exclusion. These things often come with a raft of other problems. In my pastoral experience I have encountered some people who, while wanting to members of the church community, were really, really difficult, for whatever reason. They came with alarming or disturbing or deeply unpleasant personality traits. (Sometimes this was the result of a mental illness, though not always; and, it must be said there are those with mental illnesses who do not exhibit these anti-social behaviour patterns.) There were those who frightened off other church members, or who were inappropriately attentive to members of the opposite sex. There were those who told lies and took advantage of the charity of the church - in one case, to the tune of several hundreds of dollars. There were those who feigned serious illness in order to get attention.

And, anti-social behaviour, it turns out, is well named: people like this can drain the resources of a community and sap its growth. As a young pastor, several times I poured my heart into people who were difficult, trusting that my naive trust would be rewarded. It rarely was, I have to say (not with any bitterness).

So what is the way forward? How does the community of God's people take seriously the teaching of the NT and yet do so with wisdom? How have others - especially in inner city ministries - dealt with this issue?

More on the Second Chair

The Leading from the Second Chair book I was talking about lists three paradoxes of second chair leadership:

Subordinate-Leader - because assistant leaders are leaders, but also followers at the same time. There is responsibility given, but it is given according to set boundaries.

Deep-Wide - the assistant leader often has a specialty, but is often also called to be a utility player in the church organisation. And so, the assistant pastor has to be able to think in terms of his/her contribution to the whole church or organisation as well as develop his/her own patch. In fact, the demands of the whole might mean that the patch become overgrown or untended somewhat.

Contentment-Dreaming - the second chair leader can feel that their dreams are now continually being frustrated because they are subordinated to the dreams of another. And yet, without that freedom to dream, the second chair leader can become stale.

I wish the book had addressed some of the more tricky (and believe me, real, from what I hear) situations. How can the assistant minister help the senior minister who is underperforming, or depressed, or evidently lazy? What if he is treating the laity poorly? What about when you sense that the senior minister is feeling threatened? How can the second chair leader 'manage up'? To what degree is our obedience actually a spiritual discipline, as opposed to merely a matter of being an employee?

And, furthermore, how can senior ministers get the most out of their assistants? What does it take to lead a team of ministers? Why are we so bad at it? Who is actually good at it, and why?

Leading from the Second Chair

Now, as one who is returning to the task of preparing other for ministry, I was intrigued to read recently a book called Leading from the Second Chair. It was put into my hands by my friend Ed Vaughan from Crinken parish in Dublin.

It is a very annoying book in several ways. It uses Joseph as a kind of model 'second chair' leader, which is just an annoying way to use the Bible in my book. It is based on interviews with American ministers, who tend to give very sunny and pragmatic descriptions of their ministries.
But I think it really touches on an issue for many ministers I know of: and that is, working as the assistant or the second in charge is really tough, and it is increasingly hard to find a leader-assistant relationship that works really well (in my experience). And they do have some good (and not just practical) advice.

Why is this relationship so fraught? Is it the pride thing? Is that leaders expect to be popes-in-their-own-parishes? Are we unable to live out submission in practice? Is there too much expectation of independence? Is it because the model we have was worked out when assistants were regularly in their early 20s, whereas now assistant ministers are often 30+ (and would be getting increased responsibility in secular work?)

Personal testimonies warmly received, but be careful with names and identities please.

Sin in the Life of the Believer - 3

But ... don’t forget that Paul is stern with the sinful believer, too. In 1 Corinthians 6 he reminds the Corinthians that the Kingdom of God does not belong to the rampant sinner. Ephesians 5:5 is equally strong: “For of this you can be sure; no immoral, impure or greedy person…has any inheritance in the kingdom of Christ and of God.” The message for the sinful Christian is not, “well, we all sin sometimes, but “stop it and repent!”

Hebrews is even stronger. On the one hand, the author enthusiastically explains how the Christian has absolutely free access into the presence of God himself through the sacrifice of Christ on the cross. There is every reason to be confident of our salvation. But, he is also uncompromising about sin. “If we deliberately go on sinning” writes the author, “no sacrifice for sins is left!” To the Christian who said “I sin all the time”, he would say “Don’t!” 1 John backs him up: “I am writing this so you will not sin” he says, “but if anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father.”

Not bad advice, actually. Christians (well, I, at least) do love to wallow in guilt. But maybe that’s not good enough. If I am to think more biblically I might instead remember who I am on account of Christ. And I might have courage to tackle my sin (with the Spirit’s help) and kill it off. It has no place in my life, after all.

However, I still live in a warzone, for the time being. I still live life in the weak flesh, I still live under the effects of sin, I still live (for now) on the wrong side of eternity. In Romans 8, Paul tackles exactly this state of affairs. (Before you read it, cross out “sinful nature” in the NIV and replace it with “flesh”.) The Christian continues to live in a sinful environment – even in a weak and sinful body – but is now controlled by the Spirit. The Christian experiences first hand the rot of the sinful era: but also yearns with the Spirit for the future redemption of the body. Most reassuringly of all for the overwhelmed believer, there is no condemnation for those in Christ. If God is for us, who can be against us? We are more than conquerors…

Sin in our lives is a contradiction of our very identity: an absurdity, given our destiny. It isn’t who we are any more.

Sin in the Life of the Believer - 2

So, what to do then?

One favourite strategy of Christians down the centuries has been to take a minimal definition of sin. “Lowering the bar” in other words. You define sin using a set of rules or behaviours, and then you design your life so to avoid transgressing. Live in a nice tree-lined suburb. Talk to nice people about nice things. Work hard, never offend anyone. Keep away from attractive members of the opposite sex. Go to church, pay your taxes, recycle. Do not count as sin the more alarming topography of your inner world. Thank God that you are not like other people. Neat, huh?

There are two problems with minimalism. Firstly, Jesus seems to have a maximal definition of sin. His Sermon on the Mount convicts me on the basis of my intentions as well as my deeds; and it also urges me to take radical action against sin. True righteousness is not a matter of merely avoiding sin. It is active.

Secondly, if I am to pursue the path of love commanded by Jesus, I will risk sin in my interactions with other people. Other people are so hard to love, but you can’t be loving without them! No wonder the monastics used isolation in their quest for purity.

But how does the Bible address sin in the life of the believer? It is good to remember the robust conscience of the New Testament writers on the one hand; and the severe warnings they give against sin on the other. Paul does not write to “the sinners in Corinth” but to the “church of God…to those sanctified in Christ Jesus and called to be holy”. He calls the church the “temple of the Holy Spirit”, and “the body of Christ”. His strategy for handling sin in the life of the believer is to remind Christians of their radical change in status. “ Your life is hid with Christ”; “ You are dead to sin, alive to Christ”; “ you are all sons of God”; “now you are light in the Lord”; “you are not your own…you were brought at a price”; “you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified”; “we…have the firstfruits of the spirit”. The Christian is a home for the Holy Spirit and lives by that Spirit.

Do we doubt the power of God’s Spirit to change us?

Sin in the Life of the Believer - 1

Sin is a remarkably persistent feature of the Christian life.

At least, it is of mine.

Despite of all the thousands of sermons, the stirring songs, despite all the evenings spent in bible study groups, the private prayer and bible study, the encouraging words of other Christians, the evident work of God in and around me, the conventions and conferences – I still look into my heart and find there envy, lust, anger, pettiness, selfish ambition, meanness and greed. Quite a collection, isn’t it? And I have become used to seeing them there, and resigned to it. They do not shock me at all. “After all”, I tell myself, “we will always sin this side of Jesus’ return.”

But in the life of a Christian, sin is an absurdity. In the unbeliever, sin is a symptom of rebellion against God’s authority. But the Christian has submitted to God’s authority, and received new life and has a life hid with Christ in God, and faces no condemnation. The Christian is no longer a slave to sin. Yet, sin still rides on the Christian like a stowaway. We live within a world-wide-web of evil; and despite the call to be different to it, we still log on. We still suffer the effects of sin; and we still transmit them.

Even more than suffering, the absurdity of sin leads to spiritual despair. “ I know it’s wrong and I know Christianity is true” said the high school student in my office. “But I just can’t handle life as a hypocrite and I don’t think I can give up going to parties and drinking too much. Life with a conscience is too hard.” The presence of those creeps in my own heart causes me to despair ever of overcoming them and so I give way to their power. They make everything so complicated. I feel like a drowning man.

So, what to do then?

The Pastor's Wife - an observation in the age of professionalism

The role of the minister's wife is in a state of flux, it seems to me (at least in the Sydney diocese with which I am most familiar). Back in the day, it was obvious (ok I am simplifying) - Rev and Mrs were in it together. A parish was more like a small business than a profession. If you went to the corner store in Sydney, you might get Con or you might get Tula (back in the 70s anyway). Both of them were in the business together. This went without saying. Over at St Bloggs, it was pretty much the same. I worked for one minister and his wife for whom this was exactly how it was: Mrs was in charge of all ministry to women in the parish and had input on all decision making at every level pretty much.

Nowadays, we expect our pastors to be professionals. If there's a ministry to be done, we pay for it. So, we have a women's pastor and a youth worker to do what was previously done by amateurs. And this means team meetings and five year plans and training and all the rest. Frequently now the pastor does not work from his study at home but goes out in the morning to an office with a secretary and his colleagues.Often, the pastor's wife is in an odd situation then: is she part of the team or not? She and her husband may have planted the church: now it is bigger, is she still given input in decision making? Does she 'outrank' the young tyro curate fresh out of college and full of ideas? What should her role be now that we have a women's pastor who has a theological degree? He is trained after all, and a professional. She is merely amateur. Also, because most of our ministers and their wives come from the professional classes, she may be pursuing her career outside the parish, and we have come to accept this as her right since she is not the one being paid, and so we don't even inquire.

The negative results have been: trouble on ministry teams where it was felt the minister's wife was interfering, when all she was doing was expecting the kind of input that she formerly had when the church was small; or, an increasing dislocation from the church felt by ministry wives.

However: looking at some websites of Charismatic churches, I noticed a real difference. Time after time you are welcomed to the church not by the pastor but by the couple: Brian and Bobbie for example, or Phil and Chris. I don't think that this churches have a particularly egalitarian theology, so it is not merely a case of a difference at that level. But I have yet to find the Sydney Anglican church where this is done: inevitably you are greeted by the professional - the man, in other words. The contrast is quite marked: you are left in no doubt that the charismatic church is a family affair, with a ministry shared by male and female (whatever view of headship is expressed).

Office politics - a musing

- vis a vis nothing in particular:

I have worked in several institutions, Christian and secular, and none it seems to me have been free of what we call 'office politics' - of which I have sometimes been an active participant, I confess. Which is to say, office politics are fairly ubiquitous feature of working life - and are often experienced with a high degree of unpleasantness and frustration. Especially, this is difficult when it occurs in a workplace which is explicitly Christian, because the expectation of a different set of working relationships can be set much higher, and thus the crash much greater. In addition, Christians have, I am afraid, a tendency to justify the office-political means by the spiritual ends.

Now, in one sense I think office politics are just a necessary feature of working with other people and needn't be always a bad thing per se. There is a strain in Christian piety which condemns politics of all kinds - but this seems to me rather gnostic, a denial of the body politic.

But, as a pastoral and spiritual issue: what can be said to and by Christian workers about office politics? Here are some further questions:

- To what extent is loyalty to the boss an absolute requirement of workplace virtue? over against, say, loyalty to the values and history of the organisation?

- Why are Christians so blind to workplace bullying in their own organisations? How can we change this? How can we be self-aware about our own personal tendencies to manipulative behaviour at work?

- How can we address the souring of workplace relationships, and prevent it?

Testimonies welcome.

Demonic influence - a pastoral issue

Can people who have become Christians still suffer the lingering effects of demonic or occult activity from their past lives? Certainly this is a real issue for many pastors.

I have traditionally said that the victory of Christ on the cross over the powers was so absolute that Christians have no reason to fear demonic influence or even to inquire after it. Additionally, I think the charismatic movement has had a disastrous and disgraceful influence in evangelical Christianity on this very issue, causing people to fear quite unnecessarily and to doubt the power of the cross of Christ and to become fascinated with the very things that they should not become fascinated with (with all due and sincere respect to my charismatic brothers and sisters many of whom would acknowledge these kind of excesses anyway). My goodness, some of the silly things I have heard about ancestral spirits and the freemasonry etc etc!

BUT: is this really all there is to say? Let me take an analogy: Christians are not to fear sickness and death anymore because of their hope in Christ. And yet of course we still experience sickness and death and have to deal with them. Or: I know several Christians who have depression. Becoming Christian did not alleviate them of their depression though in some ways it has helped them to be better at managing it and more determined to and they do have assurance that they won't carry their mental illness into the resurrection body.

Now: can we make a parallel with demon possession here? Is it possible that merely being reassured about the victory of Christ over the powers and principalities does not mean freedom from the influence of malignant spirits of whatever kind? Is there a place for the Christian to seek deliverance from a certain kind of influence in their life just as they might go to counselling in order to help them with an addiction they have brought with them into the Christian life? And: what kind of action would help?

Foucault and pastoral power

A friend and I were having one of those late night discussions - this was about the use of power by pastors in a manipulative way to have control over people. We weren't talking about a context of any actual abuse or sexual seduction - though these things happen too. Rather, for some of us pastors, just the thrill of having the keys to someone's life is extremely hard to let go of. Noticeably, people without strong father figures are extremely vulnerable to this kind of relationship - they tend to hand over control of themselves to a strong male figure, and a pastor often fits the bill..


It struck me that, of all people, Michel Foucault had been most insightful at this point. Foucault invented the term “pastoral power” to describe what he saw as an extremely influential view of government which it inherited from Christianity. This very special form of power is a concern for the salvation of the individual, and seeks to care for the individual; it is not merely a form of power that commands, but is also prepared to sacrifice itself (as opposed to, say, royal power); and it demands that people reveal their innermost secrets and so is therefore is linked with the production of truth – the truth of the individual.[1] In its transferral to use outside ecclesiastical institutions, the concern for salvation has become this worldly and therefore taken up in terms of (to list some examples) health, well-being, security, wealth and sanity. The function of truth-production led to the proliferation of the human sciences, whether as a population or as an individual.

Why do we demand that people confess to us? Or, press them to tell us the details of their inner lives? Is it not because it is exhilarating to have that kind of power over someone? At least, that was my temptation in pastoral ministry...

Reflections anyone?


[1] Foucault, “The Subject and Power.” p.333-4

O'Donovan on the gay issue: a daring hope?

Oliver O'Donovan has caused some huffiness amongst conservatives because of this paragraph:

The old-style liberalism that used to preside over the church’s dilemmas in a confident spirit of practical compromise began from the assumption that everyone was divided from everyone else by recalcitrant disagreements. The Lord, the liberals prophets announced, had sent a perpetual famine of his word. We should stop asking questions of one another and hoping for answers, and eat the dry bread of commonsense compromises. Those who remember Pentecost may reasonably doubt that this was ever the wisest counsel for the church. But at the very least we cannot know whether and how much of a famine of the word there is in any disagreement until we submit it to the disciplines of patient common enquiry. No disagreement refuses to be analysed, and its constituent elements sorted out according to size and shape. No disagreement does not lure us on with the hope, however distant, of a genuine resolution. Can we promise ourselves, then, that if the churches would only discuss homosexuality long and fully and widely enough, they would end up agreeing? Well, we are not entitled to rule out that possibility. But suppose it were not true; suppose that after careful exploration and a search for common ground, there was an agreement-resistant core at the centre of the issue – a problem about how modernity is viewed, for example, or about the ontological status of self-consciousness - it might still be possible to set the residual disagreement in what the ecumenists like to call “a new context”, and (who knows?) learn how to live with it. We have a parallel in the difference between indissolubilist and non-indissolubilist views of marriage, a traditional point of tension between Catholic and Protestant. That disagreement has not gone away; but if today it bulks less threateningly than it once did, that is because we are so much more clear about the extent of the agreed ground all around it – God’s intentions for marriage, the pastoral desiderata in dealing with broken marriage etc etc. It no longer evokes threatening resonances. It is a problem reduced to its true shape and size.

Is it possible to imagine this? I don't think that O'Donovan is himself making the gay issue a second-order issue as is claimed by the Anglican Mainstream commentator. O'Donovan is rather standing against the liberal belief in the famine of God's word, which means that true reconcilation is impossible...

Gurus and growing up...

OK, a little bit more of a pastoral discussion: but no smacking!

As a young Christian, as I suppose is true of any young person, I was quite actively on the lookout for gurus. I was hungry to be someone's disciple: to find someone who had the bigness of vision and insight and wisdom so that I could latch on to them. There were two or three people who filled this role especially. I remember hanging on their every word, hungry for a little attention ("a shoe, a shoe! It is a sign...") and ready to do what they said to the letter.

But of course, it never lasts: because as you grow older and get to know the person better you get to see them as an ordinary fallible person - that they make mistakes, that they are guilty of faulty logic, that they have character flaws. This can be quite a traumatic period I think - especially as some people invest far more than I ever did in their gurus. It can be devastating to realise that the person isn't what you thought they were, especially if you have incorporated a great deal of their way of thinking into your own decision making about your life. But, it is also extremely liberating - the moment when you realise that the guru's advice is not right and make your own decision! At best, you then become friends with the guru ... i would have to say that by and large the guys I held up as gurus have now become my genuine friends: the dynamic has shifted.

What do we make of this phenomenon, especially within the church? Especially as a pastor, is it in the best interests of the other person to cultivate these kind of relationships? It is an incredibly powerful feeling to have people attach to you and to offer you the keys to their life! I think a crucial thing is if the pastor has the capacity to release the person from this kind of attachment by exposing the real them. It is unhealthy for these relationships to continue into adulthood - they may be useful for a time, but they do not allow the person to grow in to a mature and responsible Christian person capable of discerning the guidance of the Holy Spirit in their own life. And yet, I have seen pastoral relationships where this is the case: where people have real difficulty in breaking this dynamic with a pastor and moving on to maturity, even well into mid-life. At its worst, the pastor has become instead of a witness to Jesus, an alternative to him, grabbing more than a little of his limelight.