Is Church Planting a One-Sided Game?

In the natural world of nature, beasts grow by dropping seeds or sprogs, or by sending roots through the dark earth. I am not sure that I believe in magical storks or pink pudgy babies falling from stars, so I am left with this clumsy biological fact. And it works. Just look out of the window - life everywhere, all born of an older life elsewhere. 

Now that I have earned a PhD in the natural sciences, I can make a pronouncement or two about the life of the church.

I live in the heartlands of what is affectionately known as Aitchteebee - a super-church in the City that gave birth to that rarely seen thing, the Alpha Course. You speak to Christians around here, you fast discover that a great number of churches in this part of the world are Aitchteebee Plants. Frankly, they are almost without exception successful, growing and thriving places - and good for them. Someone has to be. 

Sometimes, I lose heart. I lose heart because as a catholic kind of Christian, it feels (even if it only a feeling) that our 'end' of things is well into terminal decline, with half our people leaving to be what they would now term as 'proper Catholics'. This means that there are precisely eight Anglo-Catholic priests in the whole of Britain, and so I lose heart when I see my brothers and sisters of the evangelical wing having it away with new churches, world-famous nurture courses and growth beyond all measure. 

In trying to work out why this is, I have to ask what might be going on. Is evangelicalism the only expression of faith supported by God? Nope. Is it about money? Possibly. Is the whole world evangelical except for the eight of us who like to faun over thuribles for a living? Nope. So what is it then?

It has to be a heart to church plant. Like every organic being in the whole of God's creation (and we could argue that a perfect model exists for us right there), big things emit little baby things that grow into the next big things. Yet we Anglo-Catholics just don't seem to want to bother. The sad thing is, we are easy transplants - all we need is a Mass Set, and a Bible and we are a liturgical body. I do not believe that my friends in the evangelical wing of the church have the only successful plant-model - they simply have the only plant-model (and cash, which helps, of course). 

I know that there are successful catholic communities that could plant a church (and if any of us simply waited for enough cash then we would get nowhere fast). I am not advocating a fight-back on the part of the catholics, because I believe that the world needs all of us. But it needs us by balance. For this to happen, people like me could learn a lesson from those who seem to know better, to look beyond the stylistic issues (or even celebrate the differences) and get on and grow as nature intended. 

Being in A New Diocese

As many of you may have gathered, I am now working in a new Diocese. I was formerly in the Diocese of Oxford, an organisation that sponsored my vocation, trained me, ordained me and gave me my Title - and for all of that I will hold the Diocese, and its people, close to my heart.

Sadly, for priests of my particular breed (more especially those of us at an earlier stage in priestly ministry or those of us with no sense of calling to rural ministry - or both) there are few/no incumbent's jobs to speak of. That is the way of things, whatever my thoughts and feelings - and I was required to make my own luck.

So here I am, happily in place in a new Diocese. It is a strange transition, mostly because it is unexpected. In the context of parochial ministry, one learns the lay of the land, the names of the right people to talk to. This happens by osmosis rather than deliberately, and so it is that a new set of people and processes needs to be learned. 

Yesterday proved to me what a wonderful diverse diocese London is. Within the one working day, I was sat at one point next to a (very amusing and entirely decent) priest from the Cathedral Church of The Holy Trinity in the Archdiocese of Brompton;  later the same day I was seated next to the (equally amusing and entirely decent) Incumbent of All Saints Margaret Street, a liturgical Mecca to those of my disposition. Both were normal things to do in a normal day in the Diocese of London. Furthermore, at one end of the day I was sharing a room with a man whose voice I have heard on Pause for Thought for years; the other end of the day I was exchanging pleasantries with another man whose voice is heard on television and radio (and who has an interest in media, including blogs I was delighted to learn). Just a normal day.

In every sense - be that ministerially, personally, emotionally, socially, geographically and also through the lens of my children's eyes and those of the fragrant Mrs Acular, I am daily reminded of the rightness of moving here to west London. I am surrounded by priests and Christians of such breadth and of all shades of tradition. Frankly, it is breathtaking what a difference it makes to life. The price was paid mostly by my amazing and supportive wife who had to suspend her career, and perhaps in a few decibels of aircraft noise. 

One of my greatest fears for the Church is that it becomes the same - that the monied organisations feed off of the cadavers of the dead (broke) churches and make them all the same. Breadth, variety, difference, dialogue, less corporate image, more quirkiness - all of those things will see the Church live on. A few months ago, I feared becoming a marginal Christian of a bygone age. Now, I am still a marginal Christian of a bygone age, but now I am but one of the necessary shades of priestly expression that makes up the remarkable tapestry that is the Diocese of London.