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EFAC Australia

Anglican Communion

Anglican priest John Wesley was convicted of the need to preach to English miners who were not engaged in local churches. These gatherings drew the poor and marginalised in every town, seeing many choosing to follow Jesus. So, Wesley created different structures of classes, small bands, and societies, to facilitate discipleship and evangelism within these people groups. So began the Methodist revival.

Mary Sumner experienced the difficulty of motherhood in 19th Century England, where Christian values were coming up against the industrial revolution. Driven by a conviction to support mothers, she gathered women from different social classes together to encourage them in motherhood and faith. Women with no church connections came to faith, worshipped together, and sought to reach other mothers. These meetings multiplied throughout England and were in 9 countries within 7 years. Mother’s Union was born.

Simple forms of church are not new. They have been happening for generations and bringing revival to the traditional church in different ways. Some we have embraced; some we have cast aside. Today’s movements of missional communities, micro churches or simple churches are no different. The question is, will we embrace or case aside such expressions of church?

Long before language of micro church became prevalent, missiologist Lesslie Newbigin offered two critiques of church structures of his times. Firstly, that the fundamental ecclesial unit was too large, and secondly that the current structure of the church emerged from an undifferentiated society, which is no longer descriptive of our modern society (Goheen, 2018, 123–126).

Missiologist Ralph Winter also noted in the early 1990’s that the majority of American churches currently exists for the middle class, and a cross-cultural mission approach will be need to reach the “unreached peoples” of America (Winter, 1990, 98–105). It follows that we see new and different forms of church emerging within the Anglican communion to reach unreached Australians.

Throughout history the Anglican church has adapted to changing circumstances, and in a post-covid world this will be no different.

Recently, the Archbishop of Canterbury faced a similar question with the rise of many fresh expressions with the Church of England. Instead of resisting these new expressions, the Archbishop of Canterbury suggested:

“It is clear to us that the parochial system remains an essential and central part of the national Church's strategy to deliver incarnational mission. But the existing parochial system alone is no longer able fully to deliver its underlying mission purpose. We need to recognize that a variety of integrated missionary approaches is required. A mixed economy of parish churches and network churches will be necessary, in an active partnership across a wider area, perhaps a deanery" (cited in Cray, 2009, x).

As we look through scripture it’s clear that ekklesia did not designate a single form, the focus is instead on a gathering of people. It is used in scripture to refer to larger public gatherings, such as in Solomon’s colonnade (Acts 5:12) as well as household gatherings, such as those who met at Priscilla and Aquila’s house among others (1 Cor 16:19, Phil 2, Col 4:15). Both approaches were held together in the early church, where believers met in the temple courts and in their homes (Acts 2:46). Paul’s letter to the Corinthians also demonstrates that these house churches often came together for larger gatherings (1 Cor 11:17, 22). While some may be tempted to see a modern church and small group network in these two structures, Paul is clear that both were a place of discipleship and evangelism (Acts 5:42). The early church used a variety of structures as needed in their context. Perhaps once again, in a post-covid world it is once again a fitting season for a movement of small Anglican churches?

So, what is a simple church or micro church?

Thom Rainer defines a simple church as “a congregation designed around a straightforward and strategic process that moves people through the stages of spiritual growth.” (Rainer, 2006, 60) Brian Sanders defines church Rev  as a “worshipping community on mission,” a group of people engaging together in regular rhythms of worship, community and mission, seeking to be a blessing towards a particular network or neighbourhood (Sanders, 2019, 34). These forms of churches are stripped back and simple. They are accessible not only to the dechurched, but predominately to the unchurched. Like John Wesley and Mary Sumner, these churches seek to take the church to the people, rather than asking the people to come to church. They seek to make disciples, and to multiply disciple-makers. While many of today’s churches seek to grow larger in number, these churches seek to go wider in reach, remaining small by continuing to multiply.

Micro churches are Jesus-centred communities, birthed when a small group of disciples collectively sense a call from God to love and serve a particular community in their area. Whether this is a geographical space or an affinity network, everything they do comes from a genuine desire to love this particular community. Yet, unlike a typical small group or even some house churches who engage together in times of worship and fellowship in community, a micro church also engages regularly in mission together. It’s a part of their identity, they exist for a missional purpose. This purpose shapes the way they engage in worship and fellowship as a community. Their worship still includes regular Anglican practices of the Lord’s Supper, baptism, confession, and intercessory prayer, but seeks to do so in a way accessible to those within their missional focus.

Micro churches seek to be a community conformed to the image of Christ. Graham Hill rightly suggests that the greatest issue in the Australian church today is our lack of conformity to Christ (Hill, 2020, 22). While it may be possible to hide within a larger community, within a smaller group, discipleship or the lack therefore becomes evident quickly. Jesus said people would know we are his disciples by the way we love one another (John 13:35). Micro churches believe that this is an essential part of their witness. As micro churches reach out into the community, they seek to demonstrate Christ and make disciples, multiplying into every corner of our nation to the glory of God.

Finally, these communities are called to unity and collaboration with the mainstream Anglican church. In the early church it’s evident that there is partnership between house churches, and city-wide churches. As a church we are called to unity, but not necessarily uniformity. Our unity should transcend differences in practices, music, and structures, while holding tightly together to gospel truths. The Spirit is equally at work in the mainstream church, as in the many Anglican micro churches already in existence across Australia. Today as micro churches are becoming more prominent within and alongside our churches, the question is will we embrace them?

The micro church movement, by God’s grace, has gained increasing interest, traction, and fruitfulness throughout the pandemic. Whether the Anglican church chooses to accept these expressions or not, they will continue to engage in gospel-centred, Kingdom-focused ministry, taking the church to the unreached peoples of Australia. My hope is that in the future we would see them do so as representatives of the Anglican church of Australia, and we would partner with them as they go.

Recently, a small traditional Anglican church in Melbourne’s east has entered a partnership with a new micro church network church plant. The partnership is hoping that this church plant, primarily of young adults, will learn from the maturity, traditions, and experience of the existing Anglican church, while the existing church will be invigorated by the missional fervour of the church plant. While it is still very much in its infancy, it provides a picture of a possible way forward for the Anglican church of Australia. Micro churches and mainstream churches working together for God’s glory.

 BreeMills

 Rev Breeana Mills is Assistant Curate at St Philips Mt Waverly, Melbourne and leader of a nearby micro church network church plant.

It is easy to wonder why we bother with the Olympic Games. Especially as drug scandals mount and novel(ty) sports are included on the program. The round of world championships typically host more events and are a better funnel for the world’s best talent than the Olympics. Yet there is something about the Olympics that galvanizes attention and retains its significance. In some ways the coming Lambeth Conference can be viewed in the same light. Why have Lambeth at all when we have our own national or diocesan bodies with clear goals and greater capacity to make binding decisions? Yet, the Lambeth Conference lives on. Like the Olympics there is something in the gathering that is significant even if the significance is difficult to pin down.

One key to unlocking the potential significance of the coming Lambeth Conference is found in its its birth. The first Lambeth Conference arose in response to two crises. The crises were both prompted by the inaugural Bishop of Natal (John Colenso). One regarded his approach to reading Scripture, the other was to do with his determination to baptise polygamous men. On my reading this could be characterized as two aspects of a familiar story: how to truly understand God’s intention for his people (a hermeneutical question), and how to recognise the church in new or unfamiliar territory (a missiological question). It is not surprising that Bishop Colenso provoked strong reaction as people sought to determine what should be done. In discovering that bishops and councils could not simply coerce Bishop Colenso to do or not do something an appeal was made to the Archbishop of Canterbury (Charles Thomas Longley) to intervene and sort it out.

Being an Anglo-Catholic in Australia.What does it mean, and why on earth do it?

‘Anglo-Catholic’. For many Australian Anglicans, there are perhaps only a handful of other words in the ‘ecclesial vocabulary’ so guaranteed to raise an eyebrow as this. For some, it has become a distinctly loaded term, conveying images of anything from liturgical fussiness to classist exclusivity, from doctrinal liberalism to papalist pretensions. For others, it may simply be synonymous with something perhaps peculiarly foreign, maybe even rather odd, and certainly ‘un-Anglican’. For a large part of my life, it was a blend of all these views that had shaped my perception of Anglo-Catholicism as, at best, rather confusing, and at worst, to be avoided. In this short piece, I intend to present something of an apology – albeit one based solely on personal experience – for that tradition in which I have now found my home, and perhaps explain a little of what drew a cradle Evangelical to the ‘other side’.

In preparing this article, I found myself reflecting on how I might define my childhood ecclesial or denominational identity. On the whole, I think it may be best described as ‘simply Protestant’. By this, I mean that my family – like so many others, in similar circles – was not especially concerned about whether the church we attended was Anglican, or Baptist, or Charismatic, or just broadly Reformed, so long as there was good Bible teaching, an engaging service, an active children’s and youth ministry, and a solid system of pastoral care. Beyond that, most other defining features of a given denomination were, to us, ancillary. This remained the case for me up until the later years of high school when, in the course of experimenting with a variety of church traditions in an attempt to develop my faith and life of discipleship as an increasingly independent young adult, I found myself one Sunday attending a well known Anglo-Catholic parish here in Melbourne.

This was, for the most part, my first real engagement with a tradition that was in some ways so familiar, and in others totally alien, to my childhood experience of Anglicanism. Yes, many of the same prayers were being said, and the broad outline of the liturgy was consistent with what I knew, but the service nonetheless stood out as strikingly and engrossingly unique, in comparison to anything I had seen before.

The first thing that struck me in it all was something I have sometimes referred to as a ‘sensory physicality’. By this, I mean that the worship into which one was drawn possessed a remarkable (and emotion-inducing) ability to take up one’s whole body into the experience of praise. From the dazzling sight of beautifully adorned vestments and frontals, bright candles and flowers, with the quiet dignity of ordered and calm movements, to the heady smell of incense and rosemary and oil, to the mesmerising sound of voices in harmony and a thundering organ, to the touch of wood and fabric and marble as we stood and sat and knelt, to the rich taste of the bread and wine from the altar; every sense was in some way involved in the act of worship. Perhaps more than anything else, it was this ‘sensory physicality’ that first drew me in, and sparked what began as a curiosity in, and has since developed into a deep love for, worship in the Anglo- Catholic tradition. And it is this word, ‘worship’, that is so important here. Because, for all the ceremonial and care taken in every aspect of the liturgy, it is all for naught if it does not first and foremost bring the people of God into a closer relationship with Him. If it exists for its own sake, and not for the sake of the gospel, then it is nothing. However, when done well, unselfconsciously, and ‘un-fussily’, I find myself most keenly and viscerally able to encounter the Lord, and (as the beloved hymn goes) be “lost in wonder, love, and praise”.

It could appear from all this, though, that Anglo-Catholicism is simply a ritualist movement, that it is only concerned with the liturgy. This is, of course, not true. Rather, if we take seriously that typically Anglican maxim, lex orandi, lex credendi, then we find that that which is expressed in the liturgy is nothing more and nothing less than a reflection of the theology which underpins it. Without the lex credendi, the lex orandi would be almost entirely immaterial. It is, therefore, from this ‘law of belief ’ – or, better, theology – that all our practices (should) spring. It is by this theology that they (should) be informed. And it is against this theology that they (should) be checked. Naturally then, all this begs the question: what exactly is distinctive about ‘Anglo-Catholic theology’? Is there even such a thing as a single, cohesive, ‘established’ theology of Anglo-Catholicism.

Well, perhaps slightly frustratingly, yes and no. The first thing to note is that, as I hope the reader will understand, I do not have nearly enough space in this short piece to give a full breakdown of the particulars of Anglo-Catholic theology. That would, and does, quite literally require tomes. And, even then, the author is presented with the decidedly fraught task of attempting to speak on behalf of the entire body of a particular tradition. And this problem is not unique to Anglo-Catholicism. As we will be well aware, one of the great blessings and curses of Anglicanism is its lack of a distinct confessional document, by which the distinctive theology of the denomination is clearly spelled out.

Yes, we all have the Prayer Book, and the Ordinal, and the Articles. But, if the past 450-odd years of Reformed Anglicanism have taught us anything, it is that these ‘base level’ unifiers still leave a great deal of scope for both individual and corporate variation. Accordingly, just as much as there does not exist a single, agreed-upon statement defining Evangelical Anglicanism (in anything more than broad, general fundamentals), neither does such a document exist for the Anglo-Catholics. Nonetheless, in the space remaining, I will seek to present a brief outline of those things which I understand to be characteristic, core elements of Anglo-Catholic theology.

First, and the distinctive feature from which most other beliefs flow, is a high doctrine of the Church. As Scripture tells us, the Church is both the Body of Christ on earth and His Bride. It is both that for which he died, and that into which he poured his Spirit at Pentecost. And, we are promised, it is that which waits expectantly for the blessed consummation of the Kingdom at the Day of Judgement. Further, as we affirm in the Nicene Creed, we believe the Church to be One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic. Accordingly, this great treasure given us by Christ, this Body by which His gospel is spread and into which we are baptised, must be preserved and safeguarded.

While, as Anglicans, this guardianship of the Church is expressed most manifestly by our bishops – those to whom we look as the focus of our unity and pastors in the faith – it nonetheless remains the responsibility of all the faithful to take their part in the ministry, mission, and care of the Church. And it is here that a core element of this high doctrine of the Church may be found. Principally, this concerns how one understands the phrase ‘the faithful’. In a commentary on the nature of change in the Church, on matters of doctrine and faith, the great 20th century Anglo-Catholic theologian Eric Mascall wrote: “the voices in the room are never enough.” This somewhat perplexing phrase actually goes to the heart of the Anglo-Catholic view of the Church. Namely that, as members in this mystical Body, we here on earth (the Church militant) are but a small part of the Church, and that in worship and mission we are mysteriously joined with all those who have gone before, and now form that great cloud of witnesses (the Church triumphant). We continue, together with them, as active members of the Church of God.

In an Anglo-Catholic context, we believe this mystical union across the ages to be most keenly displayed in the Eucharist, wherein we join our worship to that of heaven, and trust with confidence that our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving may be one with theirs. We believe that, as we partake of the Body and Blood of Christ in the Sacrament, we do so, and are joined into one Body, with the saints who have gone before. As such, Anglo-Catholicism has historically had a tendency to lean towards conservatism; in a nutshell, given this view of the Body of Christ as united through the ages, there has to be a pretty convincing argument in favour of changing the received wisdom and (tried and tested) practice of our forebears in the faith. This is, of course, not to say that change must be avoided! That would be totally antithetical to our Anglican principle of ecclesia reformata, semper reformanda secundum verbum Dei. Rather, it simply stresses that change (particularly on matters of doctrine and polity) must be done cautiously, prayerfully, and with appropriate discernment.

It is through this ‘lens’ of a high ecclesiology that the rest of characteristically Anglo-Catholic theology is, and must be, viewed. From the belief in the real presence of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament, while not presuming to try to explain how this occurs, to our trust in the Holy Scriptures as the authoritative Word of God, to the grounding of church life in the sacramental system, to asking for the prayers of the saints (especially, the Blessed Virgin Mary), to a high view of episcopacy and the sacred priesthood within the threefold order; all these, while but a few of those views typically identified as ‘Anglo-Catholic’, arise ultimately from the high doctrine of the Church, discussed above.

At a personal level, it was precisely this particular ecclesiological outlook that turned my heart to this tradition. Yes, the ‘sensory physicality’ I mentioned earlier, and the intention to express liturgically something of the beauty of God’s holiness, are those things that first caught my attention and drew me in. But it is quite particularly this high ecclesiology that helped me sit most comfortably within this tradition. For me, the knowledge that my attempts to live as a disciple of Jesus (however faltering they may be), and the struggles I face in living out the Christian life, have not only been experienced by a numberless host before me, but that those same witnesses who dwell with the Lord pray for me to Him (and, I hope, cheer me on, every now and then), touches my heart so deeply and gives me more consolation than I can ever express.

I began my life as an Evangelical, and the Holy Scriptures were at the heart of everything. I have discovered that the embracing of the Eucharist as the central action of my life has taken me closer to Scriptures. For, of course, both flow from the same Word who was made flesh.

This is why I am an Anglo-Catholic.

JackLindsay.jpg

 

 

Rev Jack Lindsay is an Assistant Curate at Christ Church Brunswick in Melbourne

 

Following on from EFAC’s video series at the Anglican Conference in Melbourne 2018, we now meet Anglicans from around the world. When you think of an Evangelical Anglican in USA, you might think of the Anglican Church in North America (ACNA). However, as well having Evangelicals scattered through The Episcopal Church (TEC), there are also several other breakaway groups. First to be interviewed is Ryan Flanigan, who is part of the Anglican Mission in the Americas (AMiA) which operates as a mission society, not a denomination. Following his interview is Amanda from The Reformed Episcopal Church (REC), which split in 1873. Her church was led into Anglicanism when its pastor began exploring Church History.

 

NAME //
Ryan Flanigan, Dallas, Texas
CHURCH //
All Saints Dallas
BELONGING TO //
Anglican Mission in the Americas (AmiA)

YOU’VE HAD A RANGE OF EXPERIENCES IN CHARISMATIC, EVANGELICAL AND SACRAMENTAL SETTINGS. WITH THAT BACKGROUND, IT IS AMAZING YOU WERE ABLE TO STUDY UNDER ROBERT E WEBBER. TELL US A LITTLE ABOUT HIM AND WHAT YOU LEARNED FROM HIM?

KANISHKA RAFFEL AND KARIN SOWADA

General Synod will meet this year with contentious issues in the air. Kanishka Raffel, Dean of Sydney, and Karin Sowada, Sydney Lay Representative, preview the 2020 Session in its various modes.

An Ordinary Session of General Synod will take place in Maroochydore from 31 May – 5 June. The meeting will gather diocesan bishops and 250 or so elected lay and clergy representatives from every Australian diocese of the Anglican Church. The circumstances of our meeting are tense, and a new primate to be elected in March will chair the proceedings.

Foremost will be discussion about the blessing of same-sex marriage, following decisions by the Synods of Wangaratta Diocese and Newcastle Diocese. These actions prompted referrals to the Appellate Tribunal in 2019 and dozens of submissions have now been received. It is possible that the Appellate Tribunal will not have issued their opinion on these questions by the time the General Synod meets. In addition, the Synod of the Diocese of Sydney tabled nine motions for debate ‘at the request of a diocesan synod’. These will now form part of the General Synod meeting agenda. The nine motions include an apology to LGBTIQ people, an affirmation of the historic Anglican understanding of marriage and singleness and address matters of discipline and fellowship within the Anglican Church of Australia.

Recent initiatives in the Diocese of Sydney

We can’t ignore the fact that rotten things go on in Christian households too. Kara introduces the ways Sydney Diocese has recently sought to improve its practices of education and response to the scourge of domestic abuse. Kara is the Archdeacon for Women in the Diocese of Sydney. 

In 2014 domestic violence became a national conversation after the death of Luke Batty at the hands of his father. Luke’s mother Rosie was named Australian of the Year in 2015 and became a strong voice for the victims of domestic abuse. Since that time greater attention and resources have been directed to raising awareness of this significant problem in our community.

Yet for the Christian church it is not just a problem ‘out there’. Tragically, it is also a problem within our own community and a problem we have often been too slow to acknowledge. At times, due, perhaps, to naivety or misplaced generosity, we’ve downplayed, dismissed or dealt poorly with claims of domestic abuse from those within our congregations. Yet domestic abuse in its various forms—physical, emotional, and, yes, even spiritual—does exist in the Christian community. It causes untold pain and anguish; primarily for its victims, but also for the church as a whole. It is shocking and painful to discover a member of our fellowship, perhaps even a leader, is a perpetrator of domestic abuse. It is distressing to know a spouse has been suffering—often silently—the trauma and ordeal of an abuse victim. It is an evil that does not belong in any marriage, especially one where the couple profess Jesus as Lord.

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