<Previous Edition | Volume 26 Numbers 3 & 4 2009

Read Abstracts of the Articles in this double edition

Anvil Volume 26 Numbers 3 & 4 2009

Editorial

This issue marks a significant transition point in the history of Anvil. We've come to the end of our silver anniversary and are aware that, whatever the future holds, it will be different from that which has gone before. We are actively pursuing a possible partnership for print publication in the future and exploring how to make more material available online. At such a point it seemed timely to reflect a little on what Anvil has represented in its first twenty-five years and the emphases that I hope will continue to characterise it as it develops.

From the beginning, Anvil has described itself as 'An Anglican Evangelical journal for theology and mission'. It is those twin identity markers – Anglican and evangelical – and dual primary concerns – theology and mission – which have been and will continue to be at its heart. They are, of course, all very broad categories but what is distinctive about Anvil is not just its combination of these four features but also the ethos and approach which it seeks to embody and cultivate in relation to each of them.

Perhaps inevitably, given its birth in controversy and apparent reaction to a more conservative brand of evangelicalism that was becoming predominant in Church Society, Anvil has often been identified simply with 'open evangelicalism'. In reality, however, in both the composition of its editorial board and the content of its issues it has consistently sought to give a voice to the full range of evangelical Anglicanism (I was pleased to see that one of the contributors to this issue – Peter Sanlon – has also written in a recent Churchman).

Personally, I've always been rather ambivalent about the 'open' designation (and the broader tendency to develop a range of adjectival qualifiers to distinguish, and often sadly to divide, varieties of evangelical). And yet it is clear that there are important differences among evangelicals which the 'open' label is seeking to articulate, particularly in relation to ethos and approach. While wrestling with some of these issues a few years ago I discovered, through the important work of Simon Walker on leadership, a term which immediately attracted me as an alternative descriptor for the type of evangelical that I would seek to be: undefended. Simon Walker's 'undefended leader trilogy' unpacks this idea both theoretically and practically in relation to leadership.1 It refers to an approach which has faced and so is not controlled by the fears and insecurities which so often produce a defensiveness out of a (often sub-conscious) need for self-preservation and justification. In leadership it is, he says, marked by such qualities as 'giving away of trust', 'being free to receive or not receive', 'taking risks', 'joining in the up-and-running movement around us' and 'being vulnerable'.2 That latter quality links Walker's account of 'undefended' leadership with that of Vanessa Herrick and Ivan Mann in Jesus Wept: Reflections on vulnerability in leadership. There they define vulnerability as 'an openness to being wounded (physical or otherwise) which is motivated by love of God and is the outcome of a voluntary relinquishment of the power to protect oneself from being wounded'.3

It is, of course, important to clarify that to be 'undefended' or 'vulnerable' does not mean to be undefined or undifferentiated. This is not, as we shall see, an excuse for dissolving all differences (the point, after all, is that there are things we may feel the need to defend ourselves against, there are forces before which we make ourselves vulnerable). Nor is it an appeal to be incoherent or uncritical. The description seeks, rather, to capture a way of being, a tone of voice, a style of engagement, especially in relation to those who are different and who do not accept, perhaps even strongly oppose, the stance we are taking. An 'undefended' approach can and should be marked by confidence, trust and security but these are ultimately placed not in that which we are qualifying by the term 'undefended' but rather in God. For something to be self-consciously undefended is for it to recognise that it is still a work in progress and that transformation only comes through vulnerability and humility. What then might it look like to apply adjectives such as these two – 'undefended' and 'vulnerable' – to the four features of Anvil?

Anglican

Few would dispute that defining what it means to be Anglican has in recent years been (and will continue to be) a major area of conversation and controversy to which John Corrie's article in this issue makes a significant contribution as it offers a vision of 'Transforming Anglicanism' focussed on integral mission. The question of Anglican identity is obviously an important one for the Church of England, for the worldwide Communion and for our ecumenical relationships. But the danger is that, fearful of threats and aware of confusion about identity, the definition will become a 'defended' rather than 'undefended' one.

Archbishop Rowan Williams made clear in his important June 2006 reflection, 'Challenge and Hope', that 'There is no way in which the Anglican Communion can remain unchanged by what is happening at the moment' and that warns us against simply defending what we value in the present situation. Even more seriously, in his opening address to the 1988 Lambeth Conference, former Archbishop Robert Runcie reminded the gathered bishops that they must not make the survival of the Anglican Communion an end in itself. He then famously said, 'Anglicanism has a radically provisional character which we must never allow to be obscured'. This 'undefended' self-understanding is shaped both by an ecclesiology which recognises that the Anglican Communion is only a part of the one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church and by an eschatology that recognises the continued imperfection of any church and the need for the church to be semper reformanda.

At the heart of the current moves to clarify Anglican identity is the Anglican Covenant and some are concerned that it is far from presenting an 'undefended' Anglicanism. At the recent Inclusive Church conference, Bishop Peter Selby offered a critique of it as, effectively, a 'defended' vision of Anglicanism. He portrayed it as arising from and giving expression to the current state of the Communion (particularly in its response to gay and lesbian Christians) as one of 'panic' and 'pervasive fear' leading to avoiding contact out of 'self-preservation'. He warned of an attitude that seeks to 'shore up the defences of our communion against the incoming tides that threaten' by means of a covenant that will 'make it clear who the proper members are and who may speak for us in our name'.4

There are undoubtedly 'defended' forms of Anglicanism at present, some of them very vocal (both in 'conservative' and in 'liberal' and 'inclusive' circles), but it is I think wrong to paint the covenant in those terms. The text of the three sections approved by the ACC presents a generous, non-defensive statement of Anglican identity with its preamble clearly stating its missional purpose in aims that reiterate the ecclesiological and eschatological reserves noted above: 'we do this in order to proclaim more effectively in our different contexts the grace of God revealed in the gospel, to offer God's love in responding to the needs of the world, to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace, and together with all God's people to attain the full stature of Christ'.5 While clearly reaffirming traditional Anglican beliefs in matters of faith and order – for, as noted above, being 'undefended' is not the same as being undefined – what the covenant offers is an agreed framework for ongoing discernment and development among ourselves as Anglicans. That framework is rooted in Scripture – we commit ourselves 'to ensure that biblical texts are received, read and interpreted faithfully, respectfully, comprehensively and coherently, with the expectation that Scripture continues to illuminate and transform the Church and its members, and through them, individuals, cultures and societies' (1.2.5) – and acknowledges the need for the church 'to discern the fullness of truth into which the Spirit leads us' (1.2.8). This focus on looking to Scripture not simply in order to confirm and defend our existing beliefs and practices but as part of receiving God's ongoing illumination and transformation is a key feature of any 'undefended' approach. Furthermore, in another element of this approach, this crucially requires no one part of the Communion to assert its own judgment of God's will unilaterally but rather, in a trusting commitment, to (in words that capture much of what I understand by being 'undefended') to

spend time with openness and patience in matters of theological debate and reflection, to listen, pray and study with one another in order to discern the will of God. Such prayer, study and debate is an essential feature of the life of the Church as it seeks to be led by the Spirit into all truth and to proclaim the gospel afresh in each generation. Some issues, which are perceived as controversial or new when they arise, may well evoke a deeper understanding of the implications of God's revelation to us; others may prove to be distractions or even obstacles to the faith. All such matters therefore need to be tested by shared discernment in the life of the Church (3.2.3).

Even the more controversial fourth section, referred back to the provinces for further consultation by the ACC, is not about putting up barriers in order to exclude or instituting a defensive, centralised controlling body. Rather, it asks Anglicans to commit themselves to a pattern of mutual accountability and dispute resolution. Here again, just as being undefended is not the same as being undefined so it does not mean being undisciplined or incoherent. The proposals do not cut people off, repel threats or exclude but provide a clearer institutional shape to enable the Communion to be what it famously described itself as being back at the Lambeth Conference in 1930 but which it has struggled to be in recent years – 'a fellowship, within the one Holy Catholic and Apostolic Church...bound together not by a central legislative and executive authority, but by mutual loyalty sustained through the common counsel of the bishops in conference'.6 Despite the protestations of some, the covenantal Anglican Communion that is being born will not inevitably be a more 'Roman', centralised body but will enable the Communion to continue to develop and remain much more of an 'undefended' and 'vulnerable' ecclesial body (characteristics perhaps exemplified in the generous official response to the Vatican's recent offer to disaffected Anglicans).

Evangelical

It was primarily as an alternative to the phrase 'open evangelical' that I was first attracted to the designation 'undefended' and it cannot be denied that for much of the twentieth century evangelicals in the Church of England were a defensive minority, for example defending the Book of Common Prayer against Anglo-Catholic revision through Parliament in the 1920s. A different attitude began to take shape following the first National Evangelical Anglican Congress at Keele in 1967. However, following the next NEAC at Nottingham in 1977 and even more the Caister Celebration of 1988 (in the aftermath of course of the Anvil-Churchman split of 1984) and the vote for the ordination of women in 1992, doubts began to be raised about 'the Keele strategy'. This has led at times to a more 'defended' approach developing in parts of evangelicalism.

It is usual to treat this defended approach as synonymous with those 'conservatives' who questioned the effectiveness of the post-1967 approach and certainly it is evident in some of the attitudes of some opposed to women's ordination. The recent encouraging appointment of Donald Allister as Bishop of Peterborough (to follow Ian Cundy whose death we marked in the last issue) has led to concerns being expressed about an article he wrote in Churchman in 1993, in the immediate aftermath of the vote on women's ordination. In it he referred to 'difficult and dangerous times' in which the Church of England was 'under attack' and explained 'I am going to include all the attacks on the church under the single heading of liberalism'. Although welcoming Anglo-Catholics as allies in the battle against liberalism he was also clear that 'the day must come when we need to fight against the ritualism and the sacramentalism which they have introduced to the Church of England in the last hundred or so years'.7 These short quotations capture well the mindset of a defended evangelicalism. It was therefore both fascinating and encouraging to see the quite different, overwhelmingly positive and 'undefended' attitude expressed by Donald Allister just over fifteen years later in the press release announcing his appointment:

He admits that his views have changed over the years and that, like all Christians, he is on a faith-journey. He remains conservative in matters of doctrine and ethics, but finds labels "unhelpful", partly because they mean different things to different people. "I'm happy to be described as an evangelical if that is understood as someone who prioritises evangelism and the Bible," he explains. "But liberals and catholics can do evangelism and read the Bible as well! I try to listen to and engage with other views," he adds. "I will sometimes disagree with fellow Christians but all my instincts are to disagree in love and to remain or become united. I find the harsh intolerance of some church people unpleasant and embarrassing." 8 Notwithstanding this example of Donald Allister and his move from a 'defended conservatism', it would be wrong to suggest that all conservative evangelicals are 'defended' or that conservative evangelicals have a monopoly on being 'defended' in their approach to evangelical identity. Just as there are often highly illiberal liberals so there are 'open' evangelicals whose openness does not always seem to extend to their more conservative fellow evangelicals, in response to whom they present a firmly 'defended', unflinching and invulnerable stance even as they are 'open' to other traditions within and beyond Anglicanism. Perhaps the best summary of an undefended evangelicalism is that of Ridley Hall's strapline – 'roots down, walls down, bridges out'. The 'roots down' is again a reminder that, as with being Anglican so with being evangelical, undefended does not mean undefined. For Anvil, that evangelical definition comes from the CEEC Basis of Belief (approved by the Anglican Evangelical Assembly in 1986). This is structured around grace for its doctrinal content and this should therefore engender an ethos of grace – one of the hallmarks of an 'undefended' and 'vulnerable' approach – in the way those doctrines are expressed. We will return in more detail below to 'bridges out' when we turn to mission but the 'undefended' aspect of the image is seen in the way that bridges build connections. This appreciation of bridges and the vulnerability they represent is perhaps best captured by means of a contrast with the 'defended' approach to identity vividly expressed by Ian Paisley's comment – 'What do a bridge and a traitor have in common? They both cross to the other side'. If 'roots down' is the key to being an undefended evangelical, 'walls down' is the key to being an undefended evangelical. As we have just celebrated the twentieth anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, it is timely to remind ourselves that rather than being wall-builders who seek to separate evangelicals off and protect them from the risk of contamination by those outside the camp, 'undefended' evangelicals need to be wall-breakers who long to be ecumenical and connected evangelicals. Simon Walker's website defines 'undefended' in relation to leadership as 'being free enough as a leader to be fully available for the situation in hand, without being compromised by fears, doubts and the need for self preservation'.9 It is such a free, full, fearless and, at times, fragile availability for and engagement with others, including with those who are our enemies, that mirrors God's approach to us in Christ at the heart of the evangel and so should be at the heart of genuine evangelicalism. Such an undefended, vulnerable evangelicalism must feel uneasy about some of the recent developments in both of the axes of evangelicalism identified by Rob Warner's recent book (reviewed in this issue with a response from Warner).10 The 'conversionist-activist' approach (which Warner amusingly labels 'hyper-Calverism' in honour of the former Evangelical Alliance leader who embodied it) risks seeking to establish an increasingly invulnerable evangelical power-base in order to defend evangelicalism in church and society on the basis of claimed numbers of supporters in the games of worldly power. The 'biblicist-crucicentrist' approach, as Warner shows, risks becoming more and more defensive in its statements of faith and leading to what his article here labels 'conservative hardening'. What is needed to counter these dangers is not an abandonment of these evangelical emphases or of the 'evangelical' label – sad realities which can in turn provoke a more 'defended' reaction. Rather, we need a much less defended identity which displays greater self-critical awareness of how aspects of evangelicalism can, like all social and ecclesial movements, become captive to forces which lead to the betrayal of what lies at the heart of the movement. One of the greatest means of cultivating such an identity and resisting forces that might lead to betrayal is to make both theology and mission central to evangelicalism (and Anglican identity) and to acknowledge that each of them, properly understood, are clearly 'undefended' practices.

Theology

Perhaps the best way to understand what might be meant by an undefended theology and why true theology should be undefended is through the imagery regularly attributed (in various forms) to Charles Spurgeon. On being asked about defending the Bible he reportedly remarked that he would sooner defend a lion – unchain it, let it out and it will defend itself!

Theology – our human speech about God – is dependent on the God who acts and speaks. The God who acts and speaks in Christ and by the Spirit does not seek those who will defend him but those who will worship him, follow him and bear witness to him; true worship, faithful discipleship and genuine witness require us in turn to be undefended and vulnerable. Because the truth is not an inert idea but the living God and his Word which is living and active, sharper than a two-edged sword (Heb. 4:12), the theologian must ultimately trust God to make the truth known by revealing it and not believe that it is the theologian who can reveal the truth by stridently defending it. That understanding about the nature of the theological task will in turn produce a humble theology which will know itself always subject to divine judgment. An undefended theology will thus be content to rely for its persuasive force not on the rhetorical or political or other powers of its adherents but on the convicting power of the God of whom it seeks to speak. This is not, of course, to say that theology refuses to name and challenge error as error. This, however, is not a theologian's primary purpose and whenever a theologian is called to this task she must do it aware that all our theologies fail the inerrancy test and that ultimately God alone can defeat both our own theological errors and those errors we see in the theology of others.

Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!
How unsearchable his judgments,
and his paths beyond tracing out!
'Who has known the mind of the Lord?
Or who has been his counsellor?'
'Who has ever given to God,
That God should repay him?'
For from him and through him and to him are all things.
To him be the glory forever! Amen. (Rom 11:33-36).

The basis for such an undefended theology is, however, not simply our confession of a living, transcendent God who reveals himself rather than asking us to defend him or the truths he has given to us. Even more significant is that God has revealed himself in his Son as one who comes to us vulnerable and undefended. In the Christmas season we celebrate the truth of the Incarnation in words such as those of Graham Kendrick's modern classic – 'From heaven you came, helpless babe'. At Easter we celebrate the truth of the crucifixion, remembering Jesus' words – 'Do you think I cannot call on my Father, and he will at once put at my disposal more than twelve legions of angels?' (Matt. 26:53). Because at the heart of the gospel is this undefended, vulnerable God, any theology which seeks to speak faithfully of this God must itself also be undefended and vulnerable.

Finally, this understanding of God as undefended and vulnerable arises because of God's mission and so we reach the fourth feature of Anvil which lies at the heart of an undefended and vulnerable Anglicanism, evangelicalism and theology: mission.

Mission

'As the Father has sent me, I am sending you' (John 20:21). These words of the risen Christ (apparently the favourite text of missiologist Lesslie Newbigin whose centenary we mark in this issue11) point to the fact that just as God's mission in Christ was undefended and vulnerable – climaxing in the cross – so our mission too must be undefended and vulnerable: 'I am sending you out as sheep among wolves' (Matt. 10:16). This is what marked out Paul's mission (perhaps most notably recounted in 2 Corinthians, for example, 2 Cor. 4 and his 'boasting' in 2 Cor. 11) and stood in such contrast to his earlier mission when he was zealous for the traditions of his fathers and persecuted the church. It has also marked out so much of the church's history of mission. Recently at Trinity College some of our Korean students shared something of the stories of the nineteenth century missionaries who took the gospel to Korea. People like Robert Thomas from Wales (the first Protestant missionary martyr killed in 1866 when only in his late twenties and who reportedly gave his Bible to his executioner) or Miss Ruby Kendrick from Texas (whose grave – with the words – 'If I had a thousand lives to give, Korea should have them all' is in the Yanghwajin Foreign Missionaries Cemetery as she died in Korea at the age of 24 only eight months after arriving in the country).

As we increasingly acknowledge that our own country is now a mission field (and Korea is now reported to be the country that sends the second largest number of Christian missionaries abroad – including to the UK) it is some similar form of 'undefended' or 'vulnerable' mission that we will have to discover. This is, however, a feature of mission that we find difficult to accept as we move from being a significant, powerful social force in 'Christian Britain' and face the challenges of vulnerability in a pluralist, post-Christian, post-Christendom society.12 In this situation it is clear that there are many challenges to Christian faith and witness and some Christians are particularly fearful of a range of forces – such as secularism, Islam, 'the gay lobby' (on which the interview with Andrew Marin in this issue makes for challenging reading) – they see as threatening Christians in the workplace and public square.

The danger is that the response to these and other threats to Christian faith and mission will not embody the 'undefended' life of Jesus for such a pattern of response is, quite simply, un-natural. It can only arise from lives shaped by two other great Christmas and Easter words – the command 'Fear not' and the comforting assurance with which Jesus prefaces his commissioning in John 20:21 (and which appears also in v19 and v26): 'Peace be with you'. Undefended, vulnerable mission, representing the mission of God in Christ, is only possible when it flows out of the peace which we receive from the Jesus we rejected and crucified but God raised from the dead, the peace which we wish to share with others, especially our enemies. Mission that flows not from this source but out of a concern with our rights as Christians or with defending Christian values or combating error and denouncing sin will rapidly cease to be an expression of God's mission to his enemies. Here, as in so many other areas, we have much to learn from the experience of Christian mission and Christian communities down through the ages and across the world today who have had to learn how to engage in undefended, vulnerable mission and often shown the truth of the saying that 'in the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church'.

Although it is impossible to explore in detail here, we will inevitably find that any understanding and experience of mission is both shaped by and shapes our identity as Anglicans and evangelicals and the substance and method of our theology. A 'defended' theology or evangelicalism will struggle to participate in 'undefended' mission but engagement in such mission will, thank God, help to erode defendedness and challenge our apparent invulnerability as we build 'bridges out' and find our theology and our identity being reshaped by God as we deepen our understanding of him through sharing his gospel with others who are different from ourselves. To give just one example, the Anglican Covenant connects its undefended, vulnerable and provisional vision of Anglicanism to the church's mission as it invites churches to affirm (2.1.5):

that our common mission is a mission shared with other Churches and traditions beyond this Covenant. We embrace opportunities for the discovery of the life of the whole gospel, and for reconciliation and shared mission with the Church throughout the world. We affirm the ecumenical vocation of Anglicanism to the full visible unity of the Church in accordance with Christ's prayer that "all may be one". It is with all the saints in every place and time that we will comprehend the fuller dimensions of Christ's redemptive and immeasurable love.

There is here no sense of being driven by a need to defend a particular identity or theology or culture or approach to mission but rather a call to co-operation across divides and discovery together of more of the depths of the gospel as we 'answer God's call to undertake evangelisation and to share in the healing and reconciling mission "for our blessed but broken, hurting and fallen world"' (2.2.1).

Conclusion

For the last quarter century, Anvil has always been clearly evangelical and clearly Anglican but it has not understood these designators of identity as boundary markers it needs to police or possessions it owns and must defend. Nor does it look down upon those Christians who have different labels or treat them as 'beyond the pale'. Rather, it celebrates Anglicanism and evangelicalism as gifts which God in his mysterious and gracious providence has given to his church and which we are called to steward and use for the upbuilding of the body as a whole. The developing traditions that have these labels are defined in large part by their theological positions (particularly as expressed in the classic Anglican formularies) and the church undoubtedly needs the nourishing food of good, biblical theology developed within Anglican evangelicalism if it is to grow and be renewed. Indeed, one of the most encouraging features of both the Church of England and the Anglican Communion in the last twenty-five years has been the fruitfulness precisely of evangelical Anglican theology and mission.

Ultimately, however, it is not our responsibility to insist such theology is welcomed and received – 'neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God, who makes things grow' (1 Cor. 3:7). Our calling is rather to offer it humbly for discernment, dialogue and, where necessary, correction within the wider body, praying that together we may all 'test everything and hold on to the good' (1 Thess 5:21). Above all, the test of any such theology, of these two traditions and of Anvil is how faithfully they are able to equip the Church in her mission and so find themselves privileged to be servants of God's undefended, vulnerable mission to redeem his whole creation.

In this issue

The editorial has already given some pointers to the content of this issue which is effectively a double issue, combining issues 3 and 4. The opening articles (five in total but grouped together under two headings) relate to the two anniversaries we've noted. Firstly, on the centenary of Lesslie Newbigin's birth, Krish Kandiah highlights some of the key insights he gained for evangelism and mission today from Newbigin's work and the Chair of Anvil's Editorial Board, Paul Weston, offers a brief guide for those wishing to explore his work further. Secondly, as our twenty-fifth anniversary draws to a close, we explore the most important study of modern English evangelicalism to appear in recent years, Rob Warner's Re-inventing Evangelicalism, 1966-2001: A Theological and Sociological Study. Two different perspectives on his work are provided by church historian Andrew Atherstone (author of the history of Anvil's origins published by Latimer Trust) and Bishop Pete Broadbent (Assistant Editor of Anvil in its early years) and Rob Warner then provides his own reflections on their review articles and other issues raised by his book and reactions to it.

Anvil is always eager to publish good biblical scholarship, especially when it seeks to engage with questions of mission and Andrew Angel's study of recent debates concerning the eschatological son of man sayings in the gospels meets both those criteria. It is followed by two much more practically focussed pieces – Peter Sanlon's stimulating study of the role of the emotions in Christian ministry which draws lessons for today from four giants of Christian history and John Williams' call to take seriously congregational studies as we seek to develop fresh expressions of church oriented to mission.

The final two articles are focussed on mission but with a different focus in each. John Corrie, in an article based on a recent lecture at the Oxford Centre for Mission Studies, describes a new Anglican mission paradigm which he argues is vital for our Anglican future. Finally, we have an interview with Andrew Marin in which he shares something of his challenging 'undefended' and 'vulnerable' mission to the gay community in Chicago and more widely and offers a fresh missional perspective to debates about homosexuality and the church.

Andrew Goddard

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