From the bountiful crop of recent books on church, Chris Green looks at three well worth reading.
Total Church: A radical reshaping around gospel and community
Tim Chester and Steve Timmis
IVP, Leicester, 2007, 204pp.
Dynamic Diversity: The new humanity church for today and tomorrow
Bruce Milne
IVP, Leicester, 2006, 192pp.
The Living Church: Convictions of a lifelong pastor
John Stott
IVP, Leicester, 2007, 192pp.
Available from Moore Books
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John Stott opens his book noting the “extraordinary proliferation” of books about the church, which he calls “today’s exploding library of popular ecclesiology” (p. 13). He is right, of course, and if it ever were the case that evangelicals had no ecclesiology, it is not so today.1 Inter-Varsity Press are to be congratulated in producing three distinctive books, each of which has a ‘must-read’ status. They share a common passion for the church and its need to break down sinful barriers,2 but they come from different stables. Tim Chester and Steve Timmis are church planters, committed to the need of the gospel, and for church planting, but just as committed to the need to ‘downscale’ church to facilitate fellowship. Their model is a ‘Crowded House’, as they call it, in Sheffield. Bruce Milne is a well-known author who writes from the need to have authentic, multicultural churches. John Stott needs no introduction, but writes here not as a statesman nor primarily as a scholar but, as the cover says, “a lifelong pastor”. Here are three books about church by church leaders.
Timmis and Chester start with two governing principles for how we “do church” (their phrase): gospel (by which they mean both the words of the gospel and the task of mission), and community (p. 16). The brief Part One of the book explores this theologically (pp. 23-48), and the second part puts it into practice (pp. 51-203). These two parts interlock because “The theology that matters is not the theology we profess, but the theology we practise” (p. 18). They quote John Stott’s book to the effect that the structures of the church must reflect biblical theology, or they become “heretical” (p. 18).
There is much to like about this provocative book which also got under my skin at a number of points. I enjoyed several features. First, there is a necessary stress on relationships and community. They rightly criticize an Evangelicalism that colludes with the selfishness and individualism of our culture rather than standing for the saving mission of God. As we might expect from Tim Chester, the chapter on social involvement is both challenging and necessary, and although it has become common to criticize Systematic Theology for its lack of focus on mission (p. 152), I was not expecting such a good critique of the way that the idea of God’s mission (missio dei) has been hijacked in contemporary missiology (p. 102). There are challenging ideas on spirituality and on the nature of apologetics, although I felt their call for a ‘relational’ rather than a ‘rational’ approach presented an unnecessary choice. The call for pastors to be members of the church rather than being in an unaccountable bubble is much needed (p. 192), and I applaud their analysis of the impact of class on contemporary Evangelicalism (p. 74). But I reserved the loudest cheer for their material on the necessity and normality of church planting. As they say:
At present church planting carries a certain mystique. Church planters are portrayed as a unique kind of rugged pioneer. But we need to create a culture in which transplanting is normal. Every local church should be aiming to transplant and raise up church planters. (pp. 94-5)
Absolutely.
I have some questions in my mind, however, which make me hesitate to recommend this book unreservedly. First, the authors have a definite preference for small churches. They nuance it carefully, and “preference” is their word (p. 189), but the reality is that they are very strong on the size implied by the New Testament’s use of “household”. As they put it:
The point is that, as they grew, the apostolic churches became networks of small communities rather than one large group, to safeguard apostolic principles of church life…
Small communities determine a size in which mutual discipleship and care can realistically take place. They create a simplicity that militates against a maintenance mentality: there are no expensive buildings to maintain or complex programmes to run. They determine a style that is participatory and inclusive, mirroring the discipleship model and table fellowship of Jesus himself. (pp. 90-91)
The deliberate emphasis is repeatedly drawn to our attention, and so they claim that in Corinth, Paul “chose to establish a number of smaller churches rather than create one large congregation. In Ephesus Paul used the hall of Tyrannus, but for public discussions. Meanwhile he taught the believers ‘from house to house’ (Acts 20:20)” (p. 90; their italics).
My question here is not what they affirm but what they deny, because on their model, a congregation could never (should never) be larger than a normal home could host.3 The difficulty here is that it would criticize the pattern of the Jerusalem church, which sustained a membership into the many thousands by meeting in the capacious temple courts and in the homes. That looks like the pattern Paul adopted too, because in summarizing his Ephesian ministry, Paul actually taught the believers “in public and from house to house” (italics added). Rather than an exclusively household strategy, it looks as if they used the household as one of the two poles of the meeting, the other being some larger collective gathering. Timmis and Chester’s false antithesis can be seen by comparing the Acts pattern with theirs, which is “starting new congregations instead of growing existing ones… [We] grow by planting new congregations rather than acquiring bigger premises” (pp. 18, 19; italics added). That was not a choice the Jerusalem church found it had to make.4
In addition (and this is rather close for me, I admit), I have a question about their attitude to academic theology—or, more broadly, the general pattern of training for ministry. Again, they nuance it carefully (p. 117), but it is clear they have little time for theological colleges. There are three reasons, I think. The first is that they have little time for anything outside a local congregation. That is not surprising, of course, and I would no more expect them to produce a rationale for denominations than I would produce a justification for the papacy, but readers should be aware of their radical congregationalism. Second, they repeatedly claim something like this:
We are not against theological colleges, but we need a big switch of focus from the isolation of residential theological colleges to apprenticeships in the context of ministry. This is how Jesus trained people. This is how Paul trained people. In residential colleges the academy sets the agenda. With on-the job training, ministry and mission set the agenda (p. 117; also see pp. 156-7).
This is seriously mistaken: it is not necessarily the case that in residential colleges the academy sets the agenda, with mission and ministry in the back seat, and one necessary question a prospective student ought to ask is whether any college is in charge of its own degree and curriculum. A clear and unreserved ‘yes’ ought to be demanded, and there are colleges which pass that test. Nor, thirdly, is it necessarily the case that apprenticeships necessarily have a missionary and mission context; it depends on the pastor.
I stress this because of the irony that this book is actually quite sophisticated theologically, conversing with concepts and theologians of some subtlety, and it is clear that at least one of the authors has received a significant postgraduate theological education which has allowed him to access this information (“two theology degrees”: p. 184). So why does he feel the need to deny the context in which much of the secondary reading was written, and which gave him an education so he is able to critique and communicate it? Why pull up the drawbridges on the next generation? There is surely some place for pooling resources here, even if we will never achieve the depth of theology that Jesus imparted.
Taking his thesis and opening quotation from John Stott,5 Bruce Milne argues that “God’s blueprint in Scripture calls for congregations that are centres of reconciliation, counter-cultural communities producing a quality of life that is finally explicable only in terms of God’s supernatural presence” (p. 152). That concept of new community is opened out in sections on worship and leadership, discipleship and fellowship, mission and evangelism, all with a rigorous care to the biblical text. This book has obviously been preached, and is studded with exegetical insights and ideas that will have every preacher reaching for the Post-It notes.
Milne’s context is critical: this book was written after a 17-year ministry in Vancouver, “North America’s most secularized community” (p. 12)—an interesting connection with Sheffield, which is in South Yorkshire, the part of the UK with the lowest church-going attendance. But it is more than secularism that has provoked Milne. On the one hand, the world is becoming increasing multicultural and multi-ethnic, and churches in cities like Vancouver find both their mission and their membership challenged by that. On the other hand, the racial, generational and familial breakdown in these cities gives churches the opportunity to be biblically obedient, and function as a sharp contrast, a clear witness and an attractive alternative.
Milne has a teacher’s gift of making his remarkable ideas seem both obvious and immediately clear. It is quite transparent, once he has said it, that we do collude in an individualistic and divisive culture, and we need to answer his devastatingly simple question “In what sense is Jesus Lord of our life together?” (p. 32).
I have two issues that were unresolved by the end of the book, but they should not be taken as questioning his underlying thesis, which I think is undeniable.
First, I wonder how much of his passion comes from his particular context and its heady multicultural mix. I find it persuasive, as I type this in North London with a globally significant mega-city in my eye line, but I wonder how it would strike me if I lived in rural Derbyshire, or on the Isle of Wight. Has the experience of globalization the right to change or challenge our theology of church? Of course, the world is changing fast, and of course, nowhere (or, at least, nowhere in the UK) is monocultural; of course, we are all aware of the many cultures of the world church, and of course it’s about much more than discrimination and race (Chapter 12), but his particular thesis is still most plausible in big secular cities. There, we should expect churches to break the barriers down, and it is a scandal that in London they often do not. But I think we need to distinguish between our awareness of the global church and its wonderful variety, and the implication that every church must be multicultural to be valid.
Secondly, I notice that this is a pastor’s book, and that it engages a pastor’s questions. In particular, he addresses at length the way different cultures have varying expectations over what happens when we worship together in church. This is particularly relevant over generational divides, and Milne explains that Jesus is the worship leader who offers perfectly the worship that we imperfectly cannot, and that therefore we should aim to put up with each other’s varying musical styles (which is what it boils down to—p. 106f). I have several bees in my bonnet here. Bee One is that the definition of worship in the narrow sense of what happens in our church meetings is assumed rather than defended; Bee Two is that while it is critically important that Jesus is our worship leader, that relates to whole-life worship, not the fact that I didn’t get to sing the songs I like; Bee Three is that it assumes that older people like traditional hymns and the younger people like something with a driving beat, and I don’t think either assumption is true—least of all in an open-minded and multicultural culture.
Bees aside, this is another passionate book, and one I would happily make required reading for church leaders—primarily those in city churches.
The third book before us is the latest from John Stott, and various elements are immediately apparent. It is the mark of the extraordinary giftedness of Stott that we still expect only the very best from him, and that, once again, he has given us his best. Although Stott has retired from public ministry, this is the writing of a man at the peak of his powers for clarity of thought and elegance of expression. The man does not know how to write a muddy sentence. Or if he does, he has long since rewritten it. This book is a masterclass in how to write limpid prose, and every aspiring teacher and writer should take note.
Furthermore (and again we expect it, but he does it so well), there is his observant biblical exegesis. Repeatedly he drew my attention to familiar texts, showingsomething that is not buried away but in plain view, once he pointed it out. I do not always agree with his exegetical conclusions. In particular, I find the ‘salt and light’ exegesis strained (chapter 8), and have done so ever since it was explored in his Bible Speaks Today exposition on the Sermon on the Mount. There are other, better, bases for social engagement, and Chester and Timmis have the edge here (Chester and Timmis, p. 74ff). But that is an exception in this most biblically controlled book.
The result is its extreme pithiness. It will be quoted widely: “No book, not even by Marx and his followers, is more scathing of empty religion than the Bible” (p. 43) and “[T]he Lord did two things together. He ‘added to their number… those who were being saved’. He didn’t add them to the church without saving them, and he didn’t save them without adding them to the church. Salvation and church membership went together; they still do” (pp. 32-3; go on, do the accent). This book must have been given as public addresses on many occasions before inclusion here, and it shows the benefits of that. Two of the chapters, at least, have been previously published.6
One also expects Stott to be contemporary, and so he is. He is the only author on this list to engage explicitly with the issues of the ‘emerging church’, and although his comments are brief, they are unmistakable in his warmth and his wariness. Furthermore, he is contemporary in the challenge to be radically faithful in believing what the Bible says.
[It] is a great tragedy that many of our contemporaries, who are seeking transcendence, turn to drugs, sex, yoga, cults, mysticism, the New Age and science fiction, instead of to the church, in whose worship services true transcendence should always be experienced, and a close encounter with the living God enjoyed. (p. 46).
Of the three books, his is the only one to address the contemporary issue of men and women in ministry with attention to the text,7 but it was in this section especially that I felt that the brevity of the book (it is the shortest of the three) most let him down. Consider this summary: “Men and women are… equal before God…[and] also complementary… and in this complementarity God has given men a certain ‘headship’… How then can equality and complementarity be reconciled? In particular, how can women teach men without infringing masculine headship?” (pp. 81-2). I think that is a helpful, if sketchy, starting point, but watch how he proceeds (I have inserted my comments in square brackets):
Perhaps by remembering that ‘headship’ means responsibility rather than authority (Ephesians 5:25-30) [Is that not a false antithesis? After all, the 1 Corinthians debate is precisely about authority]; that what Paul forbids is not so much an office as an attitude (pride) [Are there not other options—“an activity”, for instance?]; that what is regarded as inappropriate in the behaviour and ministry of women varies from culture to culture [That’s true but, in part, Paul argues from Genesis]; and finally, that the team ministry should be the norm, in which all members, including women, contribute their particular gifts to the common good. (p. 82)
I do not think anyone will particularly find that summary a useful stopping point, whichever view they take.
I did not expect Stott to be so personal, though, and this is another refreshing aspect of the book. It uses the first person and a conversational style that drives home that these are subjects he cares passionately about, that he has done so for many years, and that he wants to hand them on. Matters of fellowship, giving, ministry and prayer are deep convictions for him, and it shows.8 This book contains Stott on reading the Bible and leading the prayers in a service, on ministry and ministries, on mission, and on his dream for the future of All Souls’, Langham Place (Appendix II)—all of which must have been folklore for the staff there. Above all, it is personal on the need for community. The church is “God’s new community” (p. 19) and it displays God’s love: “The invisible God, who once made himself visible in Christ, now makes himself visible in Christians if we love one another” (p. 71); “We are not only committed to Christ, we are also committed to the body of Christ” (p. 19).
What, then, are the weaknesses of this wise, rich book? I gently observe two. The first is the perennial issue of a Stott book, which is the pattern of trying to find truth at a tolerant midpoint—“a middle way” (p. 67). This is a standard stylistic motif of Stott over the years, and I confess that while I find it helpful as a starting point, it rarely helps me further. “It seems to me that traditional and ‘emerging’ churches need to listen attentively to one another, with a view to learning from one another” (p. 17): so, we sit together—and then what? Who arbitrates?
Secondly (and this will only be a difficulty with some readers), this has obviously been written by an Anglican, and although it is not written only for Anglicans, it repeatedly addresses their concerns. It does so explicitly in Appendix I: “Why I am Still a Member of the Church of England” (cf. pp. 13, 40, 50, 58-60). A non-Anglican will have to skip those sections, or read them with the intent of gleaning some applicable wisdom. An Anglican will find these sections very illuminating, although, once again, I found the ‘middle way’ set of arguments initially winsome but of little practical use. It is summarized as “staying in without caving in” (p. 174), and Stott explains that very simply: “The way of separation is to pursue truth at the expense of unity. The way of compromise is to pursue unity at the expense of truth. The way of comprehension is to pursue truth and unity simultaneously… Unity and truth always walk hand in hand in the New Testament” (p. 174). I honestly do not see how that helps those of us who find that the two are (apparently) walking apart. How are we to decide, or think more clearly? In passing, I note that Stott endorses warmly the writings of Mark Dever, and says that they “supplement” his (p. 189), but he does not explore how Dever’s Southern Baptist polity would work in an Anglican context. This is work Anglicans in our constituency need to do. By the same token, I notice that Tim Chester endorses Stott, which creates problems for the other half of the constituency.
In summary, we have before us three excellent books, all of which Briefing readers should study with care. They do different tasks, although the notion of the church as God’s community is common, passionate ground. I would take any church leadership team through Stott first, chapter by chapter as part of our meetings, although non-Anglicans might find Chester and Timmis the more agreeable (if longer) starting point. Milne should particularly be read by teams working in an urban environment. What a great day for books about the greatest place on the planet!
Endnotes
1. Stott draws attention in this context to the observations of Robert Runcie, then Archbishop of Canterbury, in 1987. Runcie probably wanted the Anglican Evangelicals to produce a distinctive theology of Anglicanism, which Stott has still not done, rightly, in my view.↩
2. All three are critical of the notorious ‘Homogenous Unit Principle’, which can be (mis)used to justify churches made up of people ‘just like me’. Chester and Timmis are implicitly so throughout, but explicitly see Milne (pp. 102f) and Stott (p. 41f).]↩
3. Rather wickedly, I noticed that their threefold strategy for evangelism (Chester and Timmis, p. 58) bears a striking resemblance to the ‘Evangelism in 3D’ strategy of the 15,000 member Willow Creek Community Church: 1. Build a relationship 2. Share a verbal witness 3. Invite them to a church service.↩
4. They used the capacious temple courtyard rather than buying a building, of course, but that does not invalidate the criticism.↩
5. Stott’s The Bible Speaks Today exposition of Ephesians (under its original title God’s New Society).↩
6. Chapter 7, ‘Giving: Ten Principles’ has been previously published in the UK as ‘The Grace of Giving’ by IFES/Langham Partnership (see Stott, p. 191). An expanded form of chapter 6, ‘Preaching: Five paradoxes’ has been previously published as ‘The Paradoxes of Preaching’, Preach the Word! The Call and Challenge of Preaching Today, ed. Greg Haslam (Sovereign World, Ellel, 2006). This is not mentioned in The Living Church.↩
7. Milne has a paragraph on p. 46f, but he does not look at the prohibitive texts.↩
8. The last chapter of the book is summarized as “three convictions” (Stott, p. 183).↩
