How the Light Gets In

Reflecting on the wounds of Christ - surprisingly still visible after his resurrection. He heals wounds without removing scars. Makes us whole but does not perform plastic surgery. Wrestles with Jacob but leaves him limping the rest of his life. Refuses to remove St Paul’s ‘thorn in the flesh’. Promises us brand new resurrection bodies without denying or deleting the past.

My friend Charlie was round our house one day, shortly after we’d fitted a new worktop in our kitchen made from thick Spanish oak. It was our pride and joy and I’d been oiling the wood diligently, while Sammy had been asking everyone to use mats and coasters to protect the wood. But already someone had put a hot pan down on the pristine surface leaving a deep, dark circle burned into the wood.

“Like our new kitchen?” I asked while making Charlie a cup of tea. “Spanish oak.”

Charlie picked up the magazine we had carefully placed to conceal the circular burn.

“So annoying,” I said. “We ruined it already!”

“That doesn’t ruin anything,” Charlie smiled. “That gives it character. Makes it lived in. Real. You need a few more.”

( I M ) P E R F E C T

A few years later, when Charlie wrote and drew his best-selling book ‘The Boy, The Mole, The Fox, and The Horse’, he left paw prints on the page from his dog Barney, and a circular stain from a cup of tea in another of his beautiful illustrations.

And after that conversation we never again bothered placing the magazine over the burn, and never again lost our cool if one of the kids made a mark with a pen or a plate or a pan on a piece of wood.

Charlie reassured me that day that it’s my imperfections which can make me interesting, real, ‘lived-in’, human, approachable, and I don’t need to try so hard to hide them.

There is no shame in a scar on your skin or your soul, because it speaks of the journey you have walked, the pain you have endured, and the authority you have gained from suffering well enough to be simply still standing here today. Scars are medals. Wear them well.

“Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in.”

(Leonard Cohen - Anthem)

ON COCKERELS AND GEESE

When the winter winds rise and the wild geese migrate overhead, domesticated cockerels become restless, flinging themselves flapping frantically into the air, sensing some long-forgotten ability to soar.

When we meet certain people, or when the seasons change in our lives, something similar may stir within our souls. Forgetting what we aren’t, we remember something very ancient about what we could once have been. Old dreams flutter to life and, in spite of ourselves, we imagine another geography for our domesticated lives.

When the respectable Pharisee Nicodemus came to find Jesus one night, wrapped in the cover of darkness, he was flapping like one of those cockerels, sensing in Jesus the call of the wild.

“The wind blows wherever it pleases,” confirmed Jesus. “You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.”

Wild Goose

A mark of those born of the Holy Spirit, according to Jesus, is spontaneity; the wildness of wind.

Perhaps this is why Celtic traditions represent the Spirit as a wild goose instead of a dove.

When the first disciples were born of the Spirit on the day of Pentecost they found they could fly. A deep, migratory impulse overwhelmed the rest of their lives. Peter quoted the Prophet Joel predicting that the outpouring of the Spirit in the last days would be marked by an era of imagination. In every walk of life, he said, there would be a release of fresh vision, new dreams.

A kind of blasphemy

In the light of such Biblical depictions of the Spirit-filled life, it’s disappointing - to say the least - that we as Christians tend to be so tediously unimaginative, so predictable and stubbornly resistant to change. All too often our default position is one of suspicion towards the disruption of new ideas, unfamiliar language, or any kind of edgy artistic expression.

And it’s actually a travesty - a kind of blasphemy - when people who claim to be filled with the Creator Spirit, animated by the imagination which made 25,000 species of orchid, are some of the least creative, most innocuous souls on earth.

Maybe Marx was right and we’ve been opiated by religion, conned into conforming with the tyranny of social liturgy.

It’s embarrassing. Like domesticated cockerels we strut around pecking in the dirt. Utterly unlike the wind we are entirely predictable. Earthbound we have forgotten how to fly.

It hasn’t always been this way. Surely the Spirit stirred when Julian of Norwich inspired by visions wrote the first book by a woman in the English language, when Palestrina sought to capture the polyphonic sounds of monks singing in tongues, when Martin Luther nailed his 95 theses to the door of All Saints church in Wittenberg, when Isaac Newton began asking questions and refused to stop, when Amy Carmichael set sail for India, when Gaudi started sketching his basilica in Barcelona, when John Coltrane picked up his trombone in Dix Hills on Long Island.

Where, we must ask, are those in our day born of the Spirit who will rise up on eagles wings, blowing wherever He pleases, going wherever he carries them, showing the world a wilder and more wonderful way to be fully alive? And where are the communities willing to innovate, pioneering today as a prophetic minority with spectacular inefficiency for the sake of the world to come?

Communion

I think maybe my favourite thing about being a pastor is watching people take communion. It is the unspoken privilege of sitting quietly studying the faces of individuals you love - whose stories you know - as they come forward to take the bread and the wine. Every single one is a walking talking prayer. Some are smiling. Some are deeply serious. Some are inevitably weeping. A few are only there by the skin of their teeth - it’s a kind of a miracle they’ve even made it.

I love the mixture of solemnity and mess. I love the way that in our tradition absolutely everyone gets to participate including the kids. I love the deep sense of belonging to something so much bigger.

I remember one Sunday leading a homeless guy to the Lord and taking him up to the communion table immediately afterwards.

He took the bread and literally threw it in the air, caught it in his mouth and grinned at me.

‘Would you prefer the non-alcoholic wine?’ the server asked him thoughtfully. ‘You kidding me?’ he replied, took the alcoholic cup and nearly drained it. “Hallelujah” he muttered.

“Maybe some morning, instead of solemnly passing these trays, we should dance for joy, Maybe we should sing every born-again song we know. Maybe we should tell our “homecoming” stories and laugh like people who no longer fear death. Maybe we should ask if anyone wants seconds and hold our little cups high to toast lost sisters found and dead brothers alive.”

~ Lee Eclov, in a Sermon entitled The Sinner’s Feast

The Dying Dogs of Oz

Could Australia actually, weirdly be building towards a major move of God?

Look, I realise it seems like a ridiculous question. Smacks of naivety. Whiffs of hype.

But as I reflect on our recent time in Melbourne (helping launch 24-7 Prayer Australia), and then on #TheGoldCoast (at the inaugural Exponential Australia church planting conference) I’m surprised to find myself wondering if revival might indeed be stirring Down Under.

I’m surprised because, well, let’s be honest, this isn’t the way we think of Australia. Beaches, blokes and barbies? Yes. A nation primed for revival? Not so much.

And of course the signs of rampant secularism and systemic church decline are easy to observe.

‘POST-CHRISTIAN’ CHURCH

For instance, in Melbourne my friend Mark Sayers, a brilliant cultural apologist, took Sammy and me to a splendid, old ecclesial building in which a community is busy synthesising its own new religion blending secular humanism (all the usual stuff), with eastern mysticism, and a seasoning of those bits of the Bible which they (currently) wish to retain. Worryingly this self-confessingly ‘post-Christian church’ in the heart of Melbourne retains its membership within one of Australia’s largest denominations.

Walking a little further into the city we came upon Foundry Lane and ‘Wesley Place’, where Methodists once ministered to the urban poor, preached the gospel, and worshipped the Lord Jesus Christ. Their former buildings - a church, a manse, and a school-house / dispensary - have become immaculate monuments to truths no longer held. Perfect punchlines to long-forgotten jokes. In this place the iconography and history of Methodism have been meticulously preserved, but the beliefs that burned in the heart of its founder (who stands in stone outside) appear to have been meticulously expunged.

Seeing such signs of decline, is it really even remotely tenable to think that such a secular nation could turn again to Christ?

THE DOGS THAT DIED

Writing at the end of the 19th century, when Wesley Place was in full swing as a centre of dynamic Christian witness, G. K. Chesterton observed wryly that -

“On five occasions in history the Church has gone to the dogs, but on each occasion, it was the dogs that died."

Could it actually, counterintuitively, be the dogs and not the Church that will take a turn for the worse in Australia?

There is increasing evidence that Westerners, far from becoming more secular, are becoming spiritually hungry. Research commissioned by Alpha discovered that one in four Australians would willingly come to church if invited. Let that sink in! One quarter of the population - more than 6 million people - await a half-decent, reasonably friendly invite to church.

What’s more, a whopping 70% of this supposedly secular nation freely admit that they regularly talk to the God they’re no longer supposed to believe in. (This is higher than the UK and many parts of America.)

“70% of this supposedly secular nation pray.”

— Alpha Australia

Meanwhile, in spite of such extraordinary opportunity, another study has discovered that only 2% of Australian churches have any kind of vision for growth and multiplication.

I’m reminded of Jesus’ words: “The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few.” (‭‭Mat‬ ‭9‬:‭37‬).

Turns out that the challenge we’re facing in Australia (and, I suspect, in many other Western nations too) is not at all what we’ve been told. The problem we face is less spiritual apathy in society than spiritual complacency in the church. Like Wesley Place, we have buildings and history without the faith and the fire of our forefathers.

Jesus continues: “Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field.” (38‬) Before we turn in blind panic to plans, programmes and projects, looking for a solution, Jesus says that we must return to the Lord of the Harvest in prayer. We must ask because, as John Wesley himself said, ‘God does nothing in the earth save in answer to believing prayer.’ And as the late, great New Zealander Joy Dawson said, ‘Anything not born in prayer, is born in pride.’

SUPERNATURAL COMMISSION

It was in response to this specific challenge that a group of senior Australian leaders approached 24-7 Prayer, asking us to help mobilize a fresh movement of prayer in their nation. We are acutely aware that many others have been praying for many years, and that we are just a small part of something much bigger, but it certainly felt timely to be holding our first National Gathering last week in Melbourne.

Our new National Director, Trudi Sayers, had literally journeyed through cancer and chemotherapy to make it to this moment, and we were blown away by the response. So many people came from all across Australia and New Zealand that we couldn’t fit in our original venue and had to move to a larger space which was also filled.

The hunger and the stories amongst those gathered were incredible. I talked to a young Indian man called Johan who is studying in Melbourne. He explained how God had spoken to him several weeks ago, calling him to mobilise 24-7 Prayer on his university campus before he knew anything about us or our launch! Over the years I’ve learned to pay attention to signs like these; indicators that the Lord is going ahead of us.

MULTIPLICATION

From Melbourne Sammy and I flew up to the (distinctly sunnier) Gold Coast for the first Australian Exponential Conference. Exponential is a proven and powerful ministry with which we’ve partnered elsewhere in the world, committed to catalysing effective church multiplication. Their thrilling vision in Australia is to grow the number of multiplying churches from just 2% to 10% over the next ten years.

One of the other speakers was Melinda Dwight who said that Alpha in Australia expects to welcome one million guests this coming year. This means that one in every 26 Australians will explore the gospel in the coming year through Alpha, not just once, but over an eleven week journey. (To put a grid on this, it’s like 13 million Americans doing Alpha in a single year.)

SOBER HOPE

Clearly a couple of cool conferences can’t change the world! I don’t want to overstate their significance. The challenges are vast and we are very small. And of course many others have been at this far longer and far better than us. Millions of Australians in many different denominations are reeling from public scandals, whilst weeping over loved-ones who’ve abandoned the Family of God. For them the church still seems very much to be going to the dogs and if anything the dogs seem healthier and more numerous than ever.

But these two conferences do at least represent something bigger than themselves: a new ambition in the nation; a willingness to conspire cross-denominationally to serve existing networks and ministries with new spiritual and strategic resources at a time of increasing spiritual hunger. They are at the very least a Wesleyan ‘method’.

These initiatives are not everything we’re praying for, but they are certainly something.

It’s something significant when prayer is growing again in Australia, and when churches are being mobilised in new ways to multiply. It’s something significant when the vast majority of Australians are actually praying, and one quarter of them are interested in attending church. And it’s certainly something significant when one million Australians will soon, God willing, be exploring the gospel through Alpha.

There is good reason for hope, but none for hype. Many parts of the Australian church do indeed seem to be ‘going to the dogs’, but Jesus insists, “I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.” (Mat‬ ‭16‬:‭18‬)

Perhaps Chesterton’s right and it’s the dogs of secular humanism that really need to worry!

C’mon!

The Space Between Lives

85% of my time as a pastor (maybe more) is invisible. It’s spent behind the scenes building teams. Not preaching. Not counselling. Not studying. Nothing worth sharing on social media. Not even praying.

Most of my waking, working day is spent quietly choreographing the space between lives, noticing, listening & over-communicating, trying to preempt problems. I’m aware that this is not the public perception of leadership (Note to self: if my profile pic ever shows me holding a mic what does this actually say?)

In the natural world we know that seeds germinate & fruit forms whenever the soil is healthy. As in nature so in super-nature: whenever teams are healthy, culture thrives, life reproduces life, fruit forms in season.

But when relationships go wrong everything swerves to rot. It’s exhausting & demoralizing. Businesses, charities & churches alike quickly become driven & machine-like whenever their leaders start prioritising productivity above people, results above relationships. They are held together internally only by an outward display of results.

I wish they spent longer on these soft skills in seminaries & business schools. I wish we looked for EQ as much as IQ in those who aspire to be our executives, our politicians and our pastors. I long for leaders who understand that being relational & nurturing healthy relationships is not just a desirable part of the job. It is the job.

In the famous words of the late, great Peter Drucker: “Culture eats strategy for breakfast.”

And in the even more famous words of the greatest leader of all time (addressed to his own disconcertingly unimpressive senior team): “I have called you friends.” (Jn.15:15)

Dawn Chorus

“Faith is the bird that feels the light and sings when the dawn is still dark.”

~ Rabindranath Tagore

Most mornings these days I leave the window open at night to welcome the wild, ecstatic hallelujah at the start of each new day. The song thrush first - actually a while before any light at all appears, and then the full orchestra: blackbird crescendoing with wren, robin riffing with chaffinch.

Birds sing before sunrise, I’m told, not because they are happy but because they have been woken by the cold and it is not yet light enough to hunt for food or a mate. They sing when they are constrained, cold and desperate - in anticipation rather than celebration. Once satiated they fall silent.

We are communicants in this mystery. Participants in this moment when the sweetest, most startling hallelujah arises - contrary to anything we ever expected - in the darkness preceding the dawn, in the shivers that yearn for a sunrise, the hunger before the feast.

““Awake, my soul! Awake, harp and lyre! I will awaken the dawn.”‬”

— Psalm 57:8

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The unnecessary beauty of God

The first verb in the entire Bible is the Hebrew word בָּרָא (bārā') which means to shape, form, fashion or create. This is a word used exclusively in the Old Testament with God as its subject.

In fact, the first thing we’re ever told about God is that He is a creative force: ‘In the beginning God created…’ (Gen. 1:1)

Before we know anything else about God, we discover that he is a maker of matter. At the heart of the universe there is an aesthetic entity, a Being whose very nature is extravagantly imaginative, unnecessarily beautiful, lavishly innovative.