Showing posts with label Fleming Rutledge. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fleming Rutledge. Show all posts

03 November 2019

What does it mean to be an evangelical Anglican today?

 

Historically…

The evangelical movement in the Anglican Communion traces its roots back more than 250 years, to the era of the famous brothers, John and Charles Wesley in the middle to late 1700s. By that time, for more than a century the church had been falling into increasing corruption, doctrinal error and spiritual torpor. There were bishops and clergy who rarely or never set foot in their dioceses or parishes, choosing to indulge in a life of idle luxury. Socinianism (or what we now call Unitarianism—the denial of Christ’s divinity and the power of the Holy Spirit) was becoming increasingly commonplace in the pulpits. The poor and working classes were at best ignored if not despised. And (little surprise!) church attendance had sunk to abysmal levels.
Into this dark and seemingly hopeless scene stepped men such as the Wesleys, with their fiery preaching of a message of salvation through repentance and personal faith in Christ. But they were not alone. Though not nearly as famous, there were others such as George Whitefield, who is estimated to have brought the message of the Great Awakening to more than ten million hearers in the British Isles and the American colonies. There was John Newton, the former slave ship captain turned hymn writer; Charles Simeon, who influenced hundreds of future church leaders through his fifty-three-year ministry at Holy Trinity Church, Cambridge; the father and son Henry and John Venn, who together with William Wilberforce, Hannah More, Granville Sharp and others worked to abolish the slave trade, reform the penal system and establish child labour legislation, to mention only a few of their endeavours.
In the course of their lifetime they also witnessed the transformation of the Church of England. Through practical biblical preaching, the introduction of lively hymns and consistent pastoral care, the people came back. And Christian faith and values permeated society in a way they had not for generations. From its beginnings the movement was not limited to the British Isles. Through organizations such as the British and Foreign Bible Society and the Church Missionary Society the message was taken abroad—not least to Canada, where many of our western and northern dioceses find their roots in the evangelical movement.
Sadly, within the space of a couple of generations the movement began to harden. In the 1850s a new spirit had begun to arise within the church that came to be known as Anglo-Catholicism. With it came the introduction of customs and practices that had not been seen in the Church of England since the Reformation: candles, coloured stoles and vestments, incense and processionals, to name a few. Evangelicals saw these novelties as a dangerous distraction from the gospel.
Coincidentally another challenge was coming from a different direction. We could summarize it as Darwinism, although it was much broader than that. Suffice it to say that there were those who thought they could use the findings of contemporary scientific research to undermine the credibility of the Bible.
As though that were not enough, there was a third challenge in what came to be known as the “social gospel”, which saw the emphasis move away from personal transformation to concentrate on societal change (both of which had been emphases of the original evangelicals of en earlier generation). The result was that by the beginning of the twentieth century it seemed as though evangelicalism had taken a purely defensive posture. Evangelicals became defined more by what they didn’t do than by the vigorous proclamation of a life-saving, world-changing gospel.
Today the situation has become even worse, where in the United States and increasingly in some other parts of the world, the once honourable name “evangelical” has come to be associated with a particular narrow, mean-spirited and negative political ideology—to the point where some are asking, Have we reached the point where we need to toss it out altogether and find another name for ourselves?
To strike a more positive note, on the other hand, the negativity and insularity of some evangelicals is balanced by a refreshing openness and desire to work together for the gospel on the part of others. Ministries such as Inter-Varsity Christian Fellowship and Scripture Union and missions like the Overseas Missionary Fellowship and World Vision have always involved evangelicals from a wide variety of backgrounds, with evangelical Anglicans not least among them. And it is now twenty-five years since a group of leading evangelical and Roman Catholic scholars in the United States came together to produce a document entitled “Evangelicals and Catholics Together”. I see these as hopeful signs.

Theologically…

So what do we mean by “evangelical”? It’s important to realize that the name traces its lineage back to the New Testament, to two Greek words: eu, which brings with it the meaning of “good” or “excellent”, and angelia, which means a message or an announcement. Put them together and you get the word euangelion or evangel, meaning “good news” or “gospel”. So who are evangelicals? At heart we are gospel people, women and men and children with good news to share. We think of the words of the apostle Paul in Romans 1:16, “I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes.”
Where does this take us in practical terms? Here is where the four hallmarks or pillars of evangelicalism come in, and they are these:
First among them is the need for a personal relationship with Christ through repentance and faith. This relationship can come by many different means and take many different forms, depending on our background, culture, upbringing, education and a host of other factors. Yet at the core there is that personal walk with Jesus. With Paul once again we affirm, “I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him…” (Philippians 3:10). And so evangelicalism is not following a tradition (although traditions are important). It is not being a member of an organization (although participation in the Christian community is vital). More than anything else it is my personal decision to trust in Jesus as my Saviour and to live my life in obedient response to him as my Lord.
That brings us to the second hallmark, which is the centrality of the cross. We believe that by his death and resurrection Jesus has once and for all, unequivocally and irrevocably defeated the powers of evil and death. Nothing that you or I can do can add to that or take the place of it. Jesus has done it all. The old Prayer Book put it well when it referred to Jesus’ “full, perfect and sufficient sacrifice, oblation and satisfaction for the sins of the whole world”. It is because of Jesus’ sacrifice and Jesus’ sacrifice alone that we can come to the Father and receive the life that he has to offer.
Thirdly, there is the unique, divine authority of Scripture. That is, that through the prophets and apostles of the Old and New Testaments God has uniquely spoken—and continues to address us today. Some people like to refer to the three-legged stool of Scripture, reason and tradition as the basis for our authority. For evangelicals it is more like a tricycle, with Scripture as the front wheel with the pedals. It is Scripture that is always the final arbiter and that provides both the power and the direction to the other two. But there is more to it than that. Evangelicalism involves not just an acknowledgement of the authority of Scripture. It also involves a love of Scripture. Evangelicals aren’t people who merely own Bibles. They are people who, in the words of the Prayer Book, “hear, read, mark, learn and inwardly digest them”. They study them, ponder and discuss them because there they find the words of life.
Finally, but far from least, there is engagement in mission. This is an act of obedience to Jesus’ great commission to be his witnesses and to make disciples (Acts 1:8; Matthew 28:20). Just as much, however, it arises from an unquenchable desire to share the good news of what God has done for us in Christ and is doing in our lives. In the words of the great Sri Lankan preacher, D.T. Niles, it is “one beggar telling another where to find bread”. Of course mission is far more than words. It is seeking to be as Jesus in the world, in whatever context to live out his command, “As the Father has sent me, so I am sending you” (John 20:21).

Currently…

This brings us to evangelicalism in the world today—and I’d like to give specific attention to our Anglican setting. First of all, although we may not see much evidence of it in our little corner of the world, we need to recognize that we are the exception. The Anglican Church of Canada, along with most other Anglican bodies in the western world, is declining at an alarming rate. A recent report commissioned by our House of Bishops suggests that if the current trajectory continues, there will be no Anglicans left in Canada by the year 2040.
Meanwhile, in other parts of the world, where Anglicanism is fired by an evangelical spirit, there is exponential growth. Where is the largest Anglican population by attendance in the world? Nigeria, with more than twenty million members. Nigeria is followed by Uganda, with eight million, and then Kenya, Sudan and India, each numbering five million. More than half the world’s Anglicans live in Africa—and with few exceptions they are evangelical. In many cases, particularly where they border with Islam and in countries where corruption and violence are endemic, theirs can be a costly faith. Yet the church grows—and they look with sadness and horror at what they see as the spiritual deadness of the church in the west.
However, there are signs of hope, even here. Allow me to name a couple. One of them is the Alpha Course. That ten-week programme, which continues to bring faith and renewal to a widespread constituency, began in an Anglican congregation, Holy Trinity Brompton, just over forty years ago. By the latest count it has engaged more than twenty-four million people around the world. Curiously, it has been taken up with enthusiasm by the Roman Catholic Church in Nova Scotia, where it has been the source of powerful renewal. Yet it is largely unknown or ignored by Anglicans.
Secondly we need to recognize evangelical Anglican scholars and writers. A generation ago men like John Stott, J.I. Packer and Michael Green were among the best-selling Christian authors in the world. Through their books and their teaching they called their readers to a serious engagement with an intellectually honest, spiritually challenging evangelical faith. Today their place has been taken by people such as N.T. Wright, Alister McGrath and Fleming Rutledge. We should be grateful for Wycliffe College in Toronto, too. It has an international reputation for academic excellence and is the largest Anglican seminary in North America.
Thirdly, while there are numerous thriving evangelical Anglican congregations across the country, you need to look to the north if you want to see a whole evangelical culture—to dioceses like Saskatchewan, the Yukon, Caledonia and the Arctic. I have been privileged to visit a couple of them and I have been humbled by the depth and sincerity of evangelical faith that I have found there.
Yet let me say that I think that the battles that once raged over stoles and candles have only served to divert us from what it means at heart to be evangelical—and I am grateful that by and large those issues are in the past. If we are to be true to our evangelical heritage (and far more importantly, true to Jesus and his mission) then we need to go back to those four pillars: to engage in a daily walk with Jesus, to recognize that our only hope is through what he has accomplished for us through his cross, to absorb his word into our practical everyday lives, and to engage in his mission, seeking to live as Jesus in the world.

19 February 2017

“What does he mean?” (John 16:16-24)


I wonder how many of you may have seen Martin Scorsese’s film Silence when it was showing earlier in the year. Sadly, it has received far too little attention and was a failure at the box office. Yet I believe it is one of the most profound films to have been released in years. I won’t tell you too much about it, except to say that it is based on a novel by Japanese Christian author Shusaku Endo.
The story takes place in the late 1600s, with two Jesuit missionaries, Fathers Rodrigues and Garupe journeying to Japan to try to find their former mentor and fellow priest, Father Ferreira, who is rumoured to have abandoned his faith in the heat of the vicious persecution unleashed against Christians. Suffice it to say, the film is gruelling to watch, as the situation becomes bleaker and bleaker for the two priests, not to mention the Japanese peasants and villagers who have embraced the Christian faith.
Here at First Congregational you have been making your way through what are almost Jesus’ final words, spoken to his disciples as they shared their last supper together in the upper room. I can’t help but think that, as in the film Silence, there must have been an overpowering, almost palpable, sense of foreboding, indeed of bewilderment, as Jesus donned a servant’s towel and washed the disciples’ feet, as he warned that there was one among them who would betray him, as sent Judas Iscariot off into the night, and not least as he used the bread and wine of Passover to speak of his own body being broken and his life’s blood being shed for them.
No wonder, then, that the evening was filled with confusion and questions: “Lord, are you going to wash my feet?” “Lord, who among us would ever betray you?” “Lord, where are you going that we cannot follow?” “Lord, how can we know the way?” “Lord, why do you intend to show yourself to us and not to the world?” And now, in this morning’s passage, “What does he mean? We can’t make head or tail of what he’s saying.” (Notice that at this point the disciples’ confusion has reached the stage where they don’t even bother to address their questions to Jesus any longer, but to one another.)
So it is that into the midst of this gloom and confusion Jesus speaks once more: “In a little while you will see me no more…” “You will weep and mourn…” “You will grieve…” Hardly words to instill confidence and hope! Yet I believe that as we look into them, as we take time to examine them, we will find that they are words bursting with a richness that is scarcely possible to fathom. So let’s turn in our Bibles to John 16, verses 16 to 24.

The Wonder of the Cross

The passage begins with Jesus saying to his disciples, “In a little while you will see me no more…” As I’ve suggested already, these words must only have added to their confusion. Twenty centuries later we have the advantage of hindsight. It is clear to us that what Jesus was speaking to them about was his death on the cross. Within a few short hours Jesus would be forced away from them to be humiliated in a series of mock trials before the religious council and the secular authorities. He would be savagely beaten and then subjected to the cruellest form of execution the Roman Empire had managed to devise—the slow, painful process of hanging exposed on a cross gradually to asphyxiate to death. By the time it came to that, however, all but one would have left the scene. Both through the wicked actions of the authorities and through their own weakness, the time was swiftly coming when the disciples would indeed see Jesus no more.
In my mind’s eye I can picture them on that first Good Friday going back to the places where they were staying or possibly to the upper room, their bowed heads and stooped bodies bearing silent witness to the profound dismay and utter bewilderment that filled their hearts. “You will weep and mourn,” Jesus warned them. “You will grieve…”
Yet little did they know that as their hearts were being ripped apart, so too was the veil of the Temple, the thick curtain that separated the Holy of Holies—revered as the very dwelling place of God—from the rest of the Temple. So holy was this place that only the high priest could enter it, and he only once a year, on the Feast of the Atonement (Yom Kippur). He would have a rope tied around his waist, so that if he happened to die or become incapacitated while performing his duties he could be dragged out and nobody need enter to rescue him.
What happened that day on a physical level, dramatic as it was, was only a sign of what was also taking place on a cosmic level. Through his sacrificial death on the cross Jesus had breached the separation between God and humankind that had been a reality since the days in the Garden of Eden.
Centuries before, the prophet Isaiah had proclaimed, “Your iniquities have separated you from your God; your sins have hidden his face from you…” (Isaiah 59:2) Now, because of Jesus’ death on the cross, the church can proclaim, “Therefore, brothers and sisters, since we have confidence to enter the Most Holy Place by the blood of Jesus, by a new and living way opened for us through the curtain…, let us draw near to God with a sincere heart and with the full assurance that faith brings…” (Hebrews 10:19-22).
Clearly all of this was far beyond the grasp of the disciples. Indeed theologians today still ponder over it with amazement. American preacher Fleming Rutledge spent eighteen years working on her more than 600-page book The Crucifixion. New Testament scholar Tom Wright, who himself has just published a book on the crucifixion, has written, “I am under no illusions that, even if I were to write a thousand pages on the subject, I would never exhaust it.”[1] Surely in the end our response to Jesus’ death on the cross can only be one of amazement and praise. In the words of Isaac Watts,
Were the whole realm of nature mine,
That were an offering far too small;
Love so amazing, so divine,
Demands my soul, my life, my all.

The Wonder of the Resurrection

However, back to the disciples in the upper room… Jesus had warned them that their hearts would be filled with sorrow. But he also promised that they would be filled with exultation. “In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me… You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy.” And so the scene shifts from Good Friday to the first Easter morning, from Calvary to Joseph of Arimathea’s garden. If those first disciples could not come to terms with Jesus’ crucifixion, how were they to handle his resurrection?
It was only with great difficulty and after considerable persuasion that they came to believe the reality of Jesus’ resurrection after it occurred. They dismissed the women’s reports of the empty tomb and the angels as old wives’ tales. When Jesus appeared before them in the upper room, they at first assumed he was an apparition. So no wonder Jesus’ words about their sorrow being turned to joy and about not seeing him and then seeing him only left them befuddled and confused! I know for certain that I would have been.
Yet within a few short weeks they would be proclaiming, “You … put [Jesus of Nazareth] to death by nailing him to the cross. But God raised him from the dead… Therefore let all Israel be assured of this: God has made this Jesus, whom you crucified, both Lord and Messiah” (Acts 2:23-24,36). The resurrection points to Jesus as an individual utterly unique in the course of history. And that alone would have been enough to blow the disciples’ minds—or anyone’s mind for that matter. But dare I say that that is only the tip of the iceberg?
Look at what Paul writes in his famous chapter on the resurrection in 1 Corinthians 15: “But Christ has been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep” (1 Corinthians 15:20). You see, Easter was only the beginning. Because of Jesus’ resurrection we can look forward to that day when, as Paul again writes, “the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious liberty of the children of God” (Romans 8:21).
It’s Jesus’ resurrection that assures us that all the injustices, all the seemingly pointless suffering, the atrocities and the horrors that human beings are subject to will one day be gloriously, mysteriously redeemed. Climatologists warn us that human existence may come to an end when our pollution of the environment reaches the point where human life is no longer possible. Astronomers warn of a collision with a comet of the proportions of the one that wiped out the dinosaurs sixty-five million years ago. Still others see us all being sucked into the oblivion of a black hole. None of them is a pretty picture. But Jesus’ resurrection tells that there is more, that God has greater plans for his creation than we could ever imagine—in Paul’s words, “that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us” (Romans 8:18).
Now that does not mean that we are not to seek justice, to minister to the downtrodden, or to care for the environment. Quite the opposite: Jesus’ resurrection calls us to be outposts of that new creation that is to come, to be glimpses, even if ever so weak and glimmering, of the light that is to be revealed.

The Wonder of Communion

If all of that were not enough, Jesus reveals a third point of wonder for the disciples. The first is the wonder of the crucifixion; the second, the wonder of the resurrection; and I was going to call the third the wonder of prayer. But on reflection I think it is better to call it the wonder of communion. Listen to Jesus’ final words in this morning’s verses:
Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. In that day you will no longer ask me anything. Very truly I tell you, my Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete.
On the surface it almost seems like some magical formula—the kind of thing we read about in fairy tales: “Make a wish and all your dreams will come true.” Yet I suspect that all of us have had enough of an experience of prayer to know that that just isn’t the case. Nor is it what Jesus is speaking about here. For prayer, as we all know, is not some mechanical formula—put a loonie in the slot and down slides a candy bar. No, prayer is a conversation, and like all conversations it is an expression of a relationship.
When we begin to see it in this way, we also begin to recognize that asking something in Jesus’ name is not just a matter of tacking those words onto the end of a petition—“… in Jesus’ name. Amen”—as though that makes our prayer valid in a way that it wouldn’t be without them. No, it seems to me that to pray in Jesus’ name is to pray the prayer that Jesus himself would pray. And that in turn means that a significant element of prayer is seeking his will. It means coming to him and allowing him to come alongside us, and to be with him in the Garden of Gethsemane as the disciples soon would be, where they would hear him utter, “Father, not my will, but yours, be done.”
In that gift of prayer, that gift of communion, of being able to come into his presence, of knowing that he is with us even when we are not conscious of it, Jesus has given us something again that we will never fathom, never understand, yet to those of us who have entered into its mysteries, a gift more precious than words could ever express.
The disciples asked, “What does he mean?” And like them, our minds will never fully grasp the mysteries into which our faith in Jesus leads us. But more importantly he who has died for us, who is the first-born from the dead, and who is ever-present with us—he has grasped us, and he will never let us go.




[1]     “The Cross and the Caricatures”, Fulcrum, Eastertide 2007, https://www.fulcrum-anglican.org.uk/articles/the-cross-and-the-caricatures/