When my youth leader invited me on a trip to Taizé, I had never heard of the place. But, it was France. It would be my first time abroad, and I was excited, thinking I would see the Eiffel Tower.
The one dampener was that we were going by coach and ferry (for £35, an amazing price even then!), but the unfortunate Zeebrugge ferry disaster had taken place months earlier, causing ferry travel to experience heightened public scrutiny. But I and other young people went with the youth leader, other church leaders from the area, and some of their young people.
When sharing the gospel, we seek to contextualise without compromising, so that people can better understand concepts of sin, salvation and Messiah without being waylaid in unfamiliar ‘Christianese’. But we also remember that it is God who works through these interactions, and only He can save.
People bring their own attitudes into gospel interactions, ranging from hostile to friendly, and while their response is beyond our control, our commitment to godliness remains unwavering as we strive to make Jesus known. In fact, when people get mad with us it means something in their heart is moving.
Apart from its more major achievements, the Congress produced a staggering number of photographs chronicling the event, and browsing through them it is hard not to be encouraged by the sheer breadth of those attending and the evident joy. It is worth taking a moment to flick through some of those pictures online.
'I don’t know how to say, "I’m lonely," without sounding like I’m saying, "I’m a loser,"' a middle-aged man said to me not long ago. 'And I don’t know how to say it without sounding like I’m an ungrateful Christian.'
After all, this man said, he’s at church every week—not just there, but active. His life is a blur of activities. But he feels alone. In that, at least, he’s not alone.
Repeatedly, almost all of the data show us the same thing: that the so-called 'loneliness epidemic' experts warned about is real. We all know it’s bad, and we sometimes have a vague sense of why it’s happening. The answers that some come up with are often too big to actually affect any individual person’s life. Smartphones aren’t going away. We aren’t all moving back to our hometowns. We see a kind of resigned powerlessness to change society’s lonely condition. So why can’t the church fix this?
Robert Putnam: Bowling Alone
The answer lies partly in a book published a near quarter-century ago: political scientist Robert Putnam’s famous Bowling Alone: The Collapse and Revival of American Community. Earlier this summer, The New York Timesinterviewed Putnam, asking him whether, since he saw the loneliness crisis coming, he saw any hope of it ending.
Putnam reiterated that the answer is what he calls 'social capital,' those networks of relationships needed to keep people together. Social capital comes in two forms, Putnam insists, and both are necessary. Bonding social capital is made up of the ties that link people to other people like themselves. Bridging social capital consists of the ties that link people to those unlike themselves.
The first time I was on set with a television talk-show host who, like me, grew up Southern Baptist, he turned to me before we went on the air and said, 'Pop quiz: What should always be the first song in a hymnal?' I immediately responded with the right answer ('Holy, Holy, Holy'), and we high-fived. No one else on that set knew what we were talking about. The secularist in the producer’s chair might have thought, 'What’s "Holy, Holy, Holy"?' The churchgoing evangelical behind the camera might well have thought, 'What’s a hymnal?'
That little detail of shared tribal memory, though, represented more than trivia. It was a way of recognizing one another—the same sort of church background, from the same sort of time period, the same sort of shared experience. We knew in that moment that, even if no one else in New York City knew the names of Lottie Moon and Annie Armstrong, we did, and, even if no one in that television network building could say what words would follow 'I pledge allegiance to the Christian flag,' we would. All of us experience equivalent moments of bonding social capital.
Putnam makes it clear that one form of social capital is not 'good' and the other 'bad.' When you’re sick and need to be taken care of, usually that comes from relationships made with bonding capital. That’s good, but—when taken too far—really dangerous. Putnam notes that the Ku Klux Klan is 'pure social capital' of the bonding sort. Bridging capital, Putnam argues, is much harder, but both are needed for a person or a society to escape isolation.
For evangelicals in the Church of England there is one key question in the current crisis about blessings for same sex couples: How do I stay faithful to God in mission and ministry in the local parish church as the majority of the House of Bishops continues to reject the Bible’s teaching, contradict the foundational doctrine of the denomination and abuse power?
We are united on the importance of that question, but we not united on the answer. That is not a criticism, because there are a variety of answers depending on context, calling and conscience.
Just over 12 years ago, on 9 November 2012, I walked down the wooden stairs from the Archbishop's flat, towards Lambeth Palace’s largest function room, the wood-panelled Guard Room, which was heaving with journalists. We were about to announce who would be the 105th Archbishop of Canterbury.
With me walked Justin and Caroline Welby. Justin made his oft-repeated joke, that he felt like the eyes of the figures in the paintings on the Palace walls were somehow watching him. He was full of energy, enthusiastic, almost tigger-ish at the task ahead of him. And he was evangelical.
In the four years of writing for Evangelicals Now, the published responses to my articles have been few and far between. The responses sent by post to me (c/o Beacon Church Camberley) have been even rarer.
Black History Month originally sprang out of African American joint celebrations of Abraham Lincoln and Frederick Douglass’s February birthdays. 'Negro History Week' began in February 1926 to recognise African American contributions to society and raise awareness to the prejudices they had and continued to face.
This week for designated learning emphasis was well established by 1976, when the United States celebrated its bicentennial, and the week expanded to a month. To mark the inaugural Black History Month, President Gerald R. Ford said, 'We can seize the opportunity to honour the too-often neglected accomplishments of black Americans in every area of endeavour throughout our history. I urge my fellow citizens to join me in tribute to Black History Month and the message of courage and perseverance it brings to all of us.'
Justin Welby’s resignation as Archbishop of Canterbury is truly unprecedented. No archbishop has ever, in the history of the Church of England, resigned - not even in 1621 when the primate of all England shot and killed a gamekeeper with a crossbow while hunting.
Some are still defending him, either praising the good aspects of his ministry, or even (like Charles Moore in the Spectator) saying that he should not have resigned.
In what was expected to be a narrowly won election, former US President Donald Trump declared victory Wednesday morning after securing crucial ground in the states of Pennsylvania, Georgia, Wisconsin, and North Carolina.
Speaking from Florida, the 47th US president addressed supporters promising to deliver the golden age of America over his next term in office. 'Many people have told me that God spared my life for a reason and that reason was to save our country and restore America to greatness, and now we are going to fulfil that mission together,' the President said.
Keir Starmer’s political honeymoon didn’t survive the summer. His new government started with a gloomy message of ‘buckle up, this is going to hurt’, while floating tax rises to tackle the public finances.
Then it was revealed that he and some of his colleagues received gifts worth large sums of money in the form of clothing and hospitality. They did not break the rules, but neither did they help to restore the trust in politicians that has been seeping away in recent years.
Bishops are supposed to be pastors and guardians of the Christian faith, teaching truth and refuting error, winsomely and compellingly if possible; by applying discipline if necessary.
They should be examples of godly character, leading people in worship and mission, selecting, training and ordaining clergy, promoting unity, and managing essential administration for a group of churches over a wide area.
Google’s Ngram Viewer is a fun way to waste time online. You can search Google’s book database and discover how common a word’s usage has been over time.
If, for example, you searched for the word ‘depression’, you will see two peaks, one in 1934 and another in 2011. ‘Shell shock’ peaks in 1919. Type in the word ‘trauma’, and you will see its usage rise on a continual uphill graph from almost nothing in 1900; similar happens to the word ‘triggering’. The term PTSD rose from nothing in the 1970s to a sharp peak today.
You may have heard mention of a ‘de facto parallel province within the Church of England’ over these last few weeks.
The announcement of the Alliance to the commitment of its construction has been met with widespread appreciation within the evangelical constituency, but with various questions being raised. Let's look at two of those questions now.
Amid all the difficult conversations taking place across the Church of England on sexuality and Living in Love and Faith (LLF), requests for greater transparency abound. We all want to make sure that our views are heard 'in the room where it happens’ – whether that is General Synod, meetings at Lambeth Palace, or residentials in Leicester.
Snippets of information trickle out: who has been invited to what, who was there, what was said or promised. Trust appears to be at an all-time low within our national church – but attempts are being made to rebuild it.
It is the season when supermarkets and Ikea are filled with young adults and their parents doing ‘the university shop’.
Journalists begin rehashing their annual articles: '24 tips for starting university', filled with sage advice about starting freshers with plenty of cold remedies and bringing chocolate brownies to share with new housemates. Parents are advised to 'let go and remember that their child is an adult'.
On Wednesday, King Charles delivered the Labour government's first King's Speech in the House of Lords. Part of the State Opening of Parliament, the speech set out the new government's priorities for the months ahead. This was a speech designed to demonstrate that the new government means business. Themed around Labour’s five key missions, there are a grand total of 40 Bills, with four of these being draft ones.
Labour’s missions are as follows: secure sustained economic growth, make Britain a clean energy superpower, build an NHS fit for purpose, make Britain’s streets safe, and break down barriers to opportunity at every stage.
‘What strengths do the younger generation have?’ The youngest person in the group asked this question in a meeting of church leaders, exasperated at the negative tone of the conversation. It was an appropriate rebuke in the middle of a discussion about the apparent reduction of younger people seeking to serve full-time in gospel ministry.
It is easy to feel despair at our times. Anyone who has read Jonathan Haidt’s book The Anxious Generation or Abigail Shrier’s Bad Therapy will be aware of the increase in diagnosed mental health issues among young people. Both books raise valuable matters we need to consider – issues around smartphone technology, outsourcing childhood to experts and counsellors, creating a climate of fear and anxiety among parents in the ‘real’ world, and yet ignoring exposure to harm in the ‘online’ world.
I don’t mean, where it is or what kind of building and programmes you have. Or even why you exist (something perhaps you capture in a mission statement). All these reflect the individual context of each gathered congregation.
What’s your church like? I mean who makes up the congregation. Each of us might answer that question differently, and there will be large variations, but for the most part our churches are – to a greater or lesser extent – intergenerational.
Yet another proposal in the continuing crisis about the blessing of same-sex couples was debated in July session of General Synod.
It had to be substantively different from the previous proposal, but it had a similar pattern to the one before that. It passed by a narrow margin, with, as Vaughan Roberts insightfully surmised, those in favour of change voting for it and those against change voting against it. Despite chummy overtures, it did not garner the unity it sought to inspire.
'Thin places' is a Celtic Christian term that describes areas where people feel the distance between heaven and earth collapse. Poets, writers and travellers make grand claims about the power of such spaces to transform us.
This summer, I found the perfect candidate for such a place in the North West of Scotland at the isolated Sandaig Bay, otherwise known as Gavin Maxwell's 'Camusfearna' in his book The Ring of Bright Water.
Although I encourage my congregation to exercise their right to vote in good Christian conscience, I do refrain from bringing politics into the pulpit. I would hate to alienate anyone from the gospel over something so trivial as my political views. I make no exception in this article; my favoured choice remains a secret between me and the ballot paper! So the piece below is written as a mere commentary from a position of neutrality.
It is fair to say that many in our country have suffered in recent years. We have endured five Prime Ministers under the last Conservative government, as the party struggled to navigate the nation through Brexit, the pandemic, the passing of our late Monarch and a return to trench warfare on our continent in Ukraine. The popular axiom 'Christ is King' has got me through the electoral fatigue.
On 4 July 2024, the people of Great Britain went to the polls and cast their vote for change. Labour won an impressive majority with 411 seats in Parliament promising 'stability and moderation.' But I fear that this election outcome is unlikely to change much in Wales. Labour has won every Assembly and Senedd election since 1999, and the constituency where I serve as Pastor, Torfaen, is a Labour stronghold.
The global shape of the Christian church has seen a paradigm shift in recent years. Churches in the global south, originally planted with much sacrifice by missionaries in partnership with early indigenous converts, have multiplied exponentially. In contrast, Christian affiliation and influence and church attendance in the formerly Christian global north and west continues to decline rapidly.
In the more economically developed countries, mainline historic denominations have seen catastrophic collapse in attendance, despite retaining economic assets, while newer churches are holding their own or growing slightly. There is an undeniable close link between this decline and failure to hold on to and communicate the apostolic gospel.
Churches, mission agencies and the modern missionary movement have been used greatly by God to expand His kingdom and fulfil the great commission. They have reached new generations across the world with the good news, planted churches among the least-reached indigenous groups, and helped support local communities by providing education, healthcare, and aid.
But what churches and mission agencies should consider is engaging with communities in a way that demonstrates that they understand the fullness of the Kingdom of God. That is, seeking transformation in all areas of society. For example, missions have rarely engaged in business, despite benefitting from it, and most are not equipped to speak into these areas, or even to connect local Christians to other believers who operate in these areas.
Where are our missional youth leaders?
When my youth leader invited me on a trip to Taizé, I had never heard of the place. But, it was France. It would be my first time abroad, and I was excited, thinking I would see the Eiffel Tower.
The one dampener was that we were going by coach and ferry (for £35, an amazing price even then!), but the unfortunate Zeebrugge ferry disaster had taken place months earlier, causing ferry travel to experience heightened public scrutiny. But I and other young people went with the youth leader, other church leaders from the area, and some of their young people.