Spiritual direction in the nonconformist tradition

There has been a recent, and welcome, tradition of the various Principals of our Baptist colleges in the UK publishing jointly-authored books (something of the story of how this came to be is told in a chapter in Fiddes, et al., Doing Theology in A Baptist Way (Whitley, 2000)); the most recent contribution is in the Regent’s Study Guides series, Fiddes (ed.), Under the Rule of Christ: Dimensions of Baptist Spirituality (Smyth & Helwys, 2008). The various chapters in the book treat various themes, not including spiritual direction: Paul Fiddes and Steve Finnamore look at ‘Baptists and Spirituality’; Richard Kidd looks at suffering; Nigel Wright at ‘Spirituality as Discipleship: the Anabaptist heritage’; Jim Gordon treats Scripture; John Weaver the Eucharist; and Chris Ellis Mission.

There are many good things in the book; one of the repeated emphases, however, perhaps more powerful because it is apparently unconscious, is the assumption that, for Baptists, spirituality happens in gathered community – the local church congregation. Of course, there are those (Christopher Jamieson, Abbot of Worth, for one) who would claim that the classical spiritual disciplines only make sense in community, but the recent emphasis of the retreat movement has been on personal spirituality.

This is perhaps particularly the case when it comes to spiritual direction – a quintessentially personal relationship, one-to-one, confidential, and ideally removed at some level from broader life (the advice I have seen seems to suggest that a spiritual director should be someone you never otherwise encounter in your life). I began to wonder, where is there a history of spiritual direction in our Baptist (and broader evangelical and nonconformist) traditions?

We can find examples of ’soul friendships’ from various points in history, which can be mapped onto the concept of spiritual direction, certainly – and I do not want to minimise or decry that; but it is not something natural to us. But if we understand spiritual direction as a process where the disciple is able to give an account of her walk with Christ, and to receive guidance, wisdom, encouragement, and prayer in furthering that walk, then, it struck me, reading the Principals’ book, it is something that is native, and central, to various Baptist, evangelical, and nonconformist traditions. It is just that we do it corporately, not individually.

The purest example is perhaps Wesley’s vision for the Methodist class meeting; this was precisely spiritual direction, but in community – members sharing with and supporting each other. There is at least something of this vision in the theory, if less often in the practice, of Baptist church meeting, however, and the recent proliferation of small group ministry in evangelical churches, whilst usually ill-thought out (small group meetings are too often held to be a Good Thing in themselves, which rather obviously they are not – no meeting is, ever – they have value to the extent that they are useful means directed towards valuable ends), introduces something of this into church life when, by accident or design, it works.

What to say about this? I want to support it – it is native to my tradition, and I believe in the notion of the body of Christ, the local church, being the basic agent of discipleship (and of course of mission) in the world. But I wonder about the practicality of it; in just over twenty years, now, of Christian discipleship, I have been a member of two small groups that have worked on this level, and one church fellowship – places where there were sufficient levels of trust, maturity, and openness to enable honesty about doubts, struggles, fears, joys, and hopes. Easier, far easier, to find a spiritual director who one can trust…

…but ease is never a good criterion for gospel faithfulness.

The ecclesiological bottom line

Talking to Cid Latty of the cafechurch network, the question of ecclesiology came up. Like many successful evangelistic ventures, cafechurch are finding some of their gatherings being viewed/used as the primary location of church for some of those who attend, rather than as a stepping-stone for people to find their way into the church congregations that began them. (I know of Alpha courses, youth groups, pensioners’ groups, and other places where the same thing has happened.) Cid, responsibly, asked the question, if the cafechurch is becoming church, what does it need to be?

A cafechurch meeting typically involves an element of teaching, probably with some presentation of a Bible text, although it might not be straightforwardly read. It involves discussion and engagement over issues, and majors on real human relationships. It might not involve any corporate – or perhaps even individual – prayer, and probably wouldn’t involve any sung worship. Does this prevent it from being ‘church’?

Surprisingly, the standard theological answer would seem to be ‘no’. The church in ecumenical confession is ‘one, holy, catholic, and apostolic.’ The meaning of those terms will be disputed, but I can’t off-hand think of an account that demands corporate prayer or sung worship. In Reformation confession, the church is marked by the pure preaching of the Word, the right adminstration of the (two) sacraments, and (possibly) the exercise of Biblical church discipline. Cafechurch meetings might not have much in the way of sacraments, but if a newcomer were baptised somewhere on profession of faith (if not already baptised as an infant…), and if twice a year (say) a special meeting involving the celebration of the Eucharist (with bread and wine, of course – not lattes and belgian waffles) were held, the gathering would be ‘church’ by those theological definitions that the tradition supplies.

So what? Well, perhaps this highlights the gaps in those traditional definitions (whose authors and defenders surely assumed that when the church gathered, God’s name would be praised, if not necessarily in song, and prayer would be offered). But the English nonconformist, and Scots Presbyterian, traditions developed in that way during the nineteenth century, sometimes, with the set-piece sermon as the absolute heart of the service of worship, and all else brief and perfunctory (and sometimes referred to as ‘the preliminaries’!)

It’s a good question, though, and a live one missiologically, as Cid demonstrates: what does a gathering need to be to be adequately ‘church’?

Yet more on being confessional

In a recent discussion with some local Baptist ministers, someone mentioned the idea of writing a confession of faith for a particular church congregation. This seems a popular idea at the moment (presumably someone famous and American has insisted it is the only way to be a properly Biblical congregation somewhere?).

My immediate response was ‘Don’t do it!’ Analysing the thought later, there are actually some convictions underlying this response, some good Baptist convictions about not imposing confessions on people. If you want to bring a church together around a confession, then perhaps; to suggest imposing a confession on an already-existing church appears to me to be a fairly basic breach of Baptist church order. We once went to prison, and worse, rather than accept such impositions. Assuming you could get 100% agreement (not just a vote nem. con. at a meeting, but informed, detailed acquiescence) it may be permissable, but…

The visceral response came from somewhere else, however. I was involved in the tail-end of the process of revising the EAUK basis of faith, and I realised then that it is astonishingly difficult to write a good symbol. Three years, and at least thirty pairs of eyes – many of them highly gifted theologians – in to that process, the late and lamented David Wright gently pointed out to us that we had managed to choose a phrase, entirely by accident, that actually contradicted a core Reformation conviction about the atonement.

A Baptist church doesn’t need a doctrinal basis (it might need a written covenant; that’s rather different); if it did, why not just use the EA one? The chances of producing anything better, or even one tenth as good, are about as remote as my chances of winning the National Lottery (and, yes, I am a good enough Baptist to refuse to buy lottery tickets…)

The Ecclesiology of a Pilgrim

Talking with a student about Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress reminded me of the old canard about the basic problem of the book being its lack of ecclesiology. For all Bunyan’s brilliance, he paints a picture, the complaint goes, of a solitary Christian, working out his own salvation, with no mention of the church at all.

This is a gross misrepresentation.

There are images of the local congregation in the text: House Beautiful, for one. But the centrality of ecclesiology to the book is not found there. Throughout the text, Christian hardly walks a step of his way alone. His pilgrimmage is constantly shared with, and guided by, other pilgrims, notably Hopeful and Faithful, but also Evangelist, The Interpreter, Watchful, the Shepherds, the House Beautiful maidens, &c., &c.

It would be fair to say that there is little sacramental theology in Pilgrim’s Progress, although Bunyan goes some way to correcting that in the second part, when Christiana and her children go through the garden bath in House Beautiful. For Bunyan, however, the essence of ecclesiology is not sacrament or ministry, but Christian fellowship, believers walking together and aiding each other as they walk in the way. It might not be your doctrine of the church, but please don’t pretend it isn’t a doctrine of the church, and a strong one at that.

On the historic episcopate

I recently read something–doesn’t matter what; it wasn’t really worth a reference–suggesting that we Baptists cannot have an adequate view of tradition because we don’t believe in the historic episcopate, and nothing is more traditional than that.

So, let me say it: I believe in the historic episcopate.

It seems abundantly clear to me that the universal practice of the sub-apostolic church, and the practice which every patristic theology of ministry of which I am aware bears witness to, is that in each place there should be one bishop, celebrating one Eucharist, for one congregation. In conversation a few years back I discovered John Zizioulas had come to the same conclusion. This is the historic episcopate: bishop, people and Eucharist tied together.

The early Baptists, better scholars than their grandchildren, knew this. Some called their pastors ‘bishops’. In adopting congregational models of ministry, they were consciously and deliberately returning to the historic practice of the early church: one eucharistic minister, in one place, with one table, for one gathered congregation.

I have great respect for people who exercise translocal ministries of oversight and pastoral care. I would argue that their role is useful and even necessary. But let’s not pretend it has anything to do with the episcopal ministry as witnessed to by Ignatius of Antioch. A minister who does not celebrate a single weekly Eucharist for his/her whole flock is not a bishop. And although practice–shamefully–rapidly changed for pragmatic reasons, the theological accounts of the episcopal ministry for centuries seem to assume the older picture.

A few years ago I had the privilege of serving on a series of Anglican-Baptist ecumenical conversations. It was creative, courageous and exhilarating, and the published result of our work, Pushing the Bounds of Unity, was something that in all humility I believe bordered on the prophetic at times, in its calls for aggressive acts of charity on the part of both communions. In the course of those conversations I presented some work on the episcopal ministry of oversight; I concluded my comments with the phrase ‘We Baptists would find unity with our Anglican sisters and brothers much easier to attain if they were prepared to accept the historic episcopate.’

My Anglican friends laughed–but they offered no answer.

Evangelical ecclesiology (2)

Andy and Michael have raised an interesting issue in comments on this post. Andy had claimed that ‘evangelicalism has a weak ecclesiology’; Michael countered with ‘evangelicalism has a low ecclesiology’. I actually disagree with both, as will become clear.

Let me first make a distinction: a ‘low ecclesiology’ might mean a ‘low-church ecclesiology’, i.e., an eccelsiological position that tends to Presbyterian or Congregationalist polity, or it might mean a ‘low evaluation of ecclesiology’, i.e., an ecclesiological position that, whatever its account of ecclesiology, held the matter to be relatively unimportant in the scheme of theology. I take it from his post that Michael meant the latter, but the two must be distinguished: I, and many others, would identify with the ‘high chapel’ tradition which is low in the first sense but emphatically not in the second. (I’ve quoted Smyth elsewhere: ‘Is not the visible church of the New Testament with all the ordinances thereof the chief and principal part of the Gospel?’–is there, anywhere, a higher ecclesiology in the second sense?)

Now, what of the ecclesiology of Evangelicalism? Is it either ‘weak,’ or ‘low’ in the second sense? I contend that there are enough counter-examples to render either conclusion untenable. The Wesley brothers held a high ecclesiology in both senses of the word, as my previous post indicated; Edwards’ ecclesiology was low-church, but strongly held (he lost his ministry because he refused to compromise on questions of church membership and qualifications for communion). Whitefield, in complete contrast, did have a weak or low ecclesiology.

In the nineteenth century, many of the more radical Evangelicals had strongly-held, if low-church, ecclesiologies. Edward Irving and John Nelson Darby are obvious examples; Thomas Chalmers split the Kirk over questions of ecclesiology in 1843, which is hardly the action of someone careless of ecclesiological questions! Across the Atlantic, the anti-missions movement points to an astonishingly strong Baptist ecclesiology. I also think Spurgeon held to a strong ecclesiology, but recognise that this is more contentious…

In the twentieth century, Lloyd-Jones’ somewhat ill-tempered and unclear strictures in 1966 at least implied that he felt that ecclesiological questions were important; the Restorationist strand of the (British) charismatic movement was strongly committed to its distinctive ecclesiological positions. Today, look at something like 9Marks: there is an intense focus on certain ecclesiological positions, including accounts of the proper offices of the church and qualifications for ministry, as essential to the gospel. It happens that I disagree with at least some of the positions they urge on both points; their ecclesiology cannot be dismissed as ‘low’ or ‘weak’, however.

Of course, Whitefield too has his heirs, particularly in Britain amongst Anglican Evangelicals, but not exclusively. In the wider Evangelical world, The London Missionary Society forbade its missionaries from teaching on ecclesiological matters; the origins of the Salvationist repudiation of sacraments lies in a desire on Booth’s part to focus on gospel, rather than structures; and so on.

So, I do not think that ‘Evangelicalism’ has either a weak or a low ecclesiology; I would be prepared to accept that Anglican Evangelicals, after the Tracts for the Times, have found it impossible to hold to a strong ecclesiology, and that others have sometimes followed the same course; but there is no uniformity visible in the history that I know (mainly, British, I own). Evangelicalism as a whole has no distinctive or common ecclesiology (just as ‘Arminianism’ as a whole has no ecclesiology).

Evangelical ecclesiology

Andy has asked in a comment on the previous post about a lack of ecclesiology in Evangelical theology. This bears some reflection. Historically, one of the decisive early decisions that made Evangelicalism a distinctive movement was a refusal to let ecclesiological differences divide it. For some (Whitefield, e.g.), this meant ecclesiology was totally unimportant; for others it remained really very important, but they would work across the boundaries nevertheless (John Wesley agonised over whether he could ordain preachers for the American mission, despite not being in episcopal orders; he eventually decided to take this step, horrifying his brother Charles–who left some manuscript verses about the decision, including the lines: ‘The pious Mantle o’er his Dotage spread, / With silent tears his shameful Fall deplore, / And let him sink, forgot, among the dead / And mention his unhappy name no more’–fairly vitriolic things to say about your own brother!)
This has been a continual tension in British Evangelicalism: when Bible Society was founded, it nearly fell apart because some Baptists wanted to insist that baptizo be translated ‘immerse’ in all its publications. Around the same time, the rise of the Brethren movement linked Scriptural faith to particular ecclesiological stances, notably separation. More recently, the debate between Lloyd-Jones and Stott over whether Evangelicals should come out of the historical denominations still reverberates. (Although the folk-memories often enough bear little resemblance to what actually went on in October 1966, judging by the historical reports that are available.)

The decision to put ecclesiological matters to one side in order to concentrate on shared missional commitments has, regularly, drifted into a suggestion that ecclesiological matters are not important (see my essay in the Cambridge Companion to Evangelical Theology for some instances); but it need not. Evangelicalism is not, however, a denomination, marked by a shared ecclesiological position. I suspect that most developed Baptist ecclesiologies are, as it happens, Evangelical, and a few years back Tim Bradshaw could develop a specifically Evangelical Anglican ecclesiology in The Olive Branch, but in both cases the denomimnational qualifiers are rather decisive.

On this basis, I suspect that there isn’t such a thing as ‘evangelical ecclesiology’, but this does not necessarily mean that many or most Evangelicals are not ecclesiologically interested or concerned.