Flippin’ Church Unity

I'm about to embark on a lengthy section, over several blogs,  on church unity. Actually church unity isn't a particularly helpful title because as Paul writes:

Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body and one Spirit—just as you were called to one hope when you were called— one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all. Eph 4:3-6

There can’t really be church in a city that isn't one church.

However, before I look at what a city wide church looks like, I want to tell you about our journey into unity at Jubilee in Croydon. And to do this, I need to give you some more back ground on me. (one of my favourite topics of conversation)

When I arrived in Croydon a decade and a half ago, I must have been the most reluctant church unity advocate in the UK. When I was a candidate for ministry in 1984 I wasn’t really sure what denomination I was. I had become a Christian under the wonderful teaching and friendship of a Methodist Chaplain and his lovely wife, Roger and Pauline Bayliss. My early discipleship with Roger was a mixture of things, but the one area which is pertinent to my search for flipping church was the books. Every book Roger lent me gave rise to half a dozen questions. Roger’s way of dealing with those questions was to give me another book, or often a pile of books which would yield answers, but which would also give rise to more questions. One of the books I remember as being significant was J I Packer’s ‘Knowing God’, a hard read for a new Christian but the source of numerous questions and subsequent conversations with the Padre. Others were the then brand new book by R T Kendall ‘Once Saved Always Saved’, and after a conversation on prayer, O Hallesby's book ‘Prayer’.

After a couple of years, whilst at a party at a friend’s house, I heard about a thing called lay preaching. Something just rang bells with me and I knew I had to preach. It was perfect for me, I loved an audience and this would give me a captive one who, I thought, would have to be nice and Christian! I shot round to Roger and Pauline’s and told them that I felt called. Pauline’s reply still gives me the goose bumps when I think about it, she said “we know, we’ve known for months!” Even as a write this tears come to my eyes. God is so gracious and works through idiots like me and wonderful saints like Pauline. I asked Roger when I could start training and how long it would take. The proper answer would be ‘it takes about 2 years of training and you might be able to preach a short sermon in a year or so’. Roger’s answer was “You can preach this Sunday!!” He gave me the Methodist Lectionary and pointed out that the theme was to be ‘The King, The Kingdom and the Transfiguration’. Even though I had certainly read Matthew 17 before, I had no idea what the transfiguration was all about, let alone was I qualified to preach on it in the RAF chapel to all of my friends that weekend. I spent every spare moment of the next few days in Roger’s office, no longer a womb, but now an extensive lending library. I’ve no idea how, but I managed to come up with a 20 minute sermon which in essence, with the exception of the 7 quotations which I began with - as Churchill said, as J F K said, as Alfred Lord Tennyson said; I would still preach today if asked about the transfiguration.

There followed 2 years of training and the forming of a school of 5 young servicemen who became a team going around the local Methodist church's preaching circuit and RAF chapels. At that time, I preached at least twice per month and devoured any and every book I could get my hands on including the syllabus for lay preaching in the Methodist Church. I passed my exams and was brought onto the Downham Market Circuit plan as an accredited Methodist Lay Preacher, but not without many humbling experiences on the way. One of my services had to be assessed by an examiner who would be anonymous until after the service. He came forward after the service and said “Not bad, but the deaf people at the back where I was sitting couldn't hear a word you said”  Again Saint Pauline, who had come with me for moral support, replied “Isn't it funny how all of the deaf people always sit at the back - they should have come to the front where I was, I heard every word!”

One thing I learned in those days was that, despite being christened in a Methodist chapel when I was a few weeks old and now being an accredited Methodist lay preacher, and loving the stories about John and Charles Wesley, I was no Methodist.

So what was I? (Please don't send your answer in yet!)