Essentials

Editorial Summer 2018

Our friends across the Pacific

Australia has an important relationship to the USA, and Australian Christianity has an important relationship with US Christianity. Sometimes we have been on the whole very positive about things American that wash across to our shores, sometimes we are rather more negative. Almost always reaction is mixed: as a body we might simultaneously wonder at the mysteries of the American Way, or resist what we feel is an alien and unhelpful influence, or rejoice at a great help from a good-hearted ally with much to offer, or deplore the baggage we feel they sometimes encumber us with. Our two feature articles touch on ways that US Christianity impinges upon Australian Christianity. The first is Tony Nichols’ personal account of the visit of Billy Graham in 1959 (the 60th anniversary of which approaches). As Tony testifies, plenty in the churches, including influential local leaders, doubted and resisted the Graham Crusade then, but what a moment that visit proved to be, with so many hearing him speak, either live at the venue, or by some kind of relay, and with so many later testifying what an impact it had on their spiritual lives. Tony takes us back to the ferment and excitement of the Crusade and its lasting aftermath.

Our second feature article by Rhys Bezzant begins in the present with the dismay in some quarters over Evangelical support of Donald Trump at the US presidential election. He asks whether this should make us consider shedding the label ‘evangelical’, and answers with a resounding ‘no’, seeking instead to outline briefly the long and distinguished history and associations of the term, which transcend the political turmoil and polarisation of the moment.

Our leaders are focussed on things Australian. We return to Tasmania for a further instalment of news about the energy there around the pursuit of the Diocesan Mission to be a church for Tasmania, making disciples of Jesus. We peek into the councils of the St Hilary’s Network as they wrestle with a pastoral policy responding to the amendment of the Marriage Act to provide for same-sex marriage. Third, Peter Adam honours the late Harrie Scott Simmons, an evangelical clergyman who was instrumental in his conversion, short term discipleship and long term mentoring into ordained ministry.
Adrian Lane opens up Jesus’ call to build your life on his words in Luke 6:46-49, and we round out the issue with book reviews of books by Brian Rosner, Alistair McGrath, Charles Taylor and Kevin Vanhoozer. I hope you get leisure to read some good books over the summer.

In case you worried that our interview with Bishop Kay Goldsworthy last issue was meant to signal endorsement for the kind of liberal theological agenda she has shown sympathy for, let me say that that is emphatically not the case. Rather, the interview was included in an issue with an interest in what bishops have to offer by way of vision, of analysis of what the present moment requires of Christians, of programmes for what we should be doing and why we should be doing it. Bishop Richard Condie provided one offering, and Archbishop Kay Goldsworthy provided another. As I did last issue, I leave it to readers to make up their minds for themselves about the depth, wisdom and promise of these two offerings.

As always, I value hearing from readers about how Essentials is making them smile, frown, think, give thanks or pray. And if you have something to contribute to the pages of Essentials, whether a book review, piece of news from your neck of the woods, personal story, reflection on ministry or topical essay, do be in touch.

Ben Underwood

Book Review: If God, Then What? Wondering Aloud About Truth, Origins and Redemption

If God, Then What?
Wondering Aloud About Truth, Origins and Redemption
Andrew Wilson
IVP, 2012

In jaunty, full caps font the testimonials on the back cover of If God, Then What? declare it to be ‘a real page-turner’ and ‘powerful, compelling stuff’. You can’t blame the publishers for wanting to talk it up, but I couldn’t help but feel this would be a classic case of overpromising and underdelivering. How on earth would a book on apologetics manage to be ‘dazzingly good’ when dealing with stale, academic topics like epistemology and cosmology? Thankfully, it’s everything the cover boasts and more. The prologue begins: ‘I’ve only been in trouble with the law three times, and each time it has been in America.’ (p. 10). Wilson has a way of story-telling that draws you in and propels you forward. The book feels conversational, but not annoyingly so, since he’s not so much trying to chat to the reader as he is wondering aloud to himself. It’s a refreshing and disarming technique.

For example, in dealing with epistemology (the study of the nature and scope of human knowledge), Wilson doesn’t mention the term, instead he tells an hilarious anecdote about a home intruder that introduces his reflection:

‘A little while back, I was thinking this stuff through, and so I did a thought-experiment to see how it worked in practice, and wrote it all down. The thought-experiment was this: how do I know that I ate cornflakes for breakfast this morning.’

By addressing fundamentalism and epistemology in the first two chapters, If God, Then What? positions the reader simply to be open-minded about what follows as the book tackles topics including the existence of God, the human mind, the ‘problem’ of miracles and the reality of evil and death. Of course, Wilson doesn’t make the journey that joyless; the chapters have titles like ‘Galactic roulette’ and ‘A hornet in the icing’. It’s fun, pleasurable reading that deals with huge topics in a quaint, identifiably British manner. I loved it. Wilson’s writing is easy and accessible but avoids being reductionistic, and he often digresses to discuss objections or present alternative explanations in their best possible light. His arguments therefore feel robust, and reasonable, and not easily dismissed.

Despite all the advantages of Wilson’s method and style, it’s worth considering what the book doesn’t do. While God in his kindness may achieve this, it doesn’t aim to convert anyone. Its more modest goal seems to be to open readers up to the possibility of God and that he might have done something incredible and redeeming for our world. As such, it doesn’t ever appeal to the authority of the Bible or even mention it. In this sense it fails to give readers an encounter with Jesus through God’s word. It’s also true that Wilson’s chatty, thinking-aloud device works better for the philosophical topics in chapter 1-5 than when he turns to the theological topics of sin and redemption. Somehow the truths of the gospel are too specific to just reasonably wonder your way to. Who would imagine the cross and resurrection, for example?

Nevertheless, I think this book fulfils a crucial function in the overall task of sharing the gospel. I found myself thinking of several friends who would not easily agree to read the Bible with me, but who might be willing to read If God, Then What? And if they did, I think they’d be disarmed and confronted, and perhaps moved to consider the possibility of redemption. As an ice-breaker for the sceptical, it’s the best I could imagine. I think it achieves this because it has a real sense of discovery, as if Wilson expects the reader to be changed as they think these topics through. You get a sense of what the book feels like in Wilson’s own summary of the experience in the final chapter:

‘Writing this book has been something of a journey for me, literally as well as metaphorically… I peered into glass cases in Dublin, read academic tomes on first-century history in Oxford and Cambridge, reflected on what was wrong with the world in Zimbabwe, and daydreamed about what a redeemed earth might look like in Samoa, Tuscany and New Zealand’ (pp. 152-3)

You really do end up feeling as though you’ve travelled the world with your friend Andrew and stayed up late having conversations with him about life, the universe and everything. Ultimately, I’d love to introduce my friends to Jesus, but I can see how it could help if they chatted with Andrew first.
Jeff Hunt, WA

EFAC. GAFCON. What's the difference? Are both necessary?

EFAC. GAFCON.

What's the difference? Are both necessary?

Rev’d Richard Crocker, General Secretary, EFAC (Global)

EFAC had an exhibit stand at the recent GAFCON gathering in Jerusalem, Many of the GAFCON conference delegates stopped by the EFAC exhibit and the response was overwhelmingly positive. We are now in regular contact with Anglican leaders from 31 countries and many of those either have or want an EFAC chapter. They have no doubt that EFAC will benefit their churches. But upon returning to the USA we have been asked, ‘Why is EFAC needed, since we have GAFCON?’ or, ‘Why was GAFCON needed, since we have EFAC? What’s the difference? Are EFAC and GAFCON competing? Or cooperating? Or does one make the other redundant? This article addresses these questions.

At GAFCON it was obvious that GAFCON and EFAC are related on a deep level. Many of the newly announced leaders of GAFCON—the Chairman, General Secretary, and Assistant Secretaries—were mentored through, or held leadership positions in, EFAC at some point. A recent article by Chris Sugden and Vinay Samuel demonstrates that the GAFCON movement itself derives from earlier work by emerging provinces in the Lambeth Conferences of 1988 and 1998. The character, growth and maturity of these provinces, in turn, developed to a great extent from the ministry of John Stott and EFAC. It would not stretch a point to claim that the prevailing churchmanship of GAFCON 2018 was evangelical. The style of worship, the biblical nature of the week’s events, the expository style of the teaching, and the extempore prayer expected in the small group times, would be familiar to those of evangelical background. This aspect made GAFCON very similar to EFAC, which is evangelical by charter. This brings us back to the questions: ‘Do we need both EFAC and GAFCON today? Is there an important difference between them?’

That EFAC and GAFCON are complementary, not competitive, becomes clear as we examine both organizations. Rev. Dr. Stephen Noll, in his Commentary on the 2018 GAFCON Letter to the Churches writes,

‘The GAFCON Assembly is an ecclesial body, a confessional body (every attendee subscribed to the Jerusalem Declaration), and a missional body…So the Conference is upper-case GAFCON and the movement that spans the Conferences and the ongoing structures and relationships that give it life, this is title-case GAFCON.’ (Emphasis added.)

Similarly, EFAC is confessional: it operates with a Basis of Faith that is distinctively evangelical in nature. EFAC is also missional: it works to spread the biblical gospel of Jesus Christ. And, it is ecclesial: its very name references the Anglican Communion. EFAC aims to serve and build up, by biblical teaching, the Anglican family of churches, which we understand in a wide and generous sense. EFAC is not, however, ecclesial, in the way GAFCON is. It does not gather primatial councils or appoint episcopal leadership for provinces departing orthodox beliefs. Sugden says that as a recent political coalition, ‘GAFCON is rapidly institutionalizing’.1 EFAC is not; it will not match GAFCON’s ‘ongoing structures’ beyond those minimally required by its 1961 Constitution. EFAC is, rather, a resource to leadership, wherever it may be located, encouraging and developing biblically faithful teaching and mission by its activities in teaching, theological development through the Theological Resource Network, publishing online and through partner organizations. It desires the development of the more informal fellowship or partnership envisaged in its name. Therefore, EFAC and GAFCON are complementary, not competitive, pursuing different, necessary vocations.

Structures aside, another difference is that EFAC is distinctly evangelical, whereas GAFCON is not. GAFCON includes all who count themselves Anglican, whether inside the formal charity called the Anglican Communion or not, and confess biblically faithful Anglican teaching, whatever their churchmanship. EFAC is deliberately evangelical. The recognized EFAC brand allows EFAC to minister to evangelicals both inside and outside the GAFCON network among those evangelicals who are not persuaded by the GAFCON approach. Thus again EFAC and GAFCON are complementary, extending each other’s work for the Gospel. In the USA, where evangelicals in both TEC and ACNA are part of EFAC-USA, EFAC is a bridge between GAFCON and non-GAFCON evangelicals. Historically, EFAC has also formed a bridge between evangelicals in the different expressions of Anglican life in South Africa. EFAC is active in areas not represented at GAFCON and supports evangelicals whose orthodox commitments are under pressure from unsympathetic or hostile leadership. EFAC provides a link between beleaguered evangelicals in certain provinces and the wider Communion, and a partnership between evangelicals in one place and those in another for the sake of mission.

In this world of walls and chasms, bridges are vital, and so, as a bridge, EFAC offers hope for the future. The Archbishop of Sydney, Glenn Davies, President of EFAC Australia and Assistant Secretary to GAFCON, said it best upon hearing about the relaunch of EFAC, ‘It’s about time!’ EFAC and GAFCON have the same goal of promoting the biblical gospel of Jesus Christ, but in different ways. Both are necessary.

EFAC. GAFCON.
What's the difference? Are both necessary?
Rev’d Richard Crocker, General Secretary, EFAC (Global)
EFAC had an exhibit stand at the recent GAFCON gathering in Jerusalem, Many of the GAFCON conference delegates stopped by the EFAC exhibit and the response was overwhelmingly positive. We are now in regular contact with Anglican leaders from 31 countries and many of those either have or want an EFAC chapter. They have no doubt that EFAC will benefit their churches. But upon returning to the USA we have been asked, ‘Why is EFAC needed, since we have GAFCON?’ or, ‘Why was GAFCON needed, since we have EFAC? What’s the difference? Are EFAC and GAFCON competing? Or cooperating? Or does one make the other redundant? This article addresses these questions.
At GAFCON it was obvious that GAFCON and EFAC are related on a deep level. Many of the newly announced leaders of GAFCON—the Chairman, General Secretary, and Assistant Secretaries—were mentored through, or held leadership positions in, EFAC at some point. A recent article by Chris Sugden and Vinay Samuel demonstrates that the GAFCON movement itself derives from earlier work by emerging provinces in the Lambeth Conferences of 1988 and 1998. The character, growth and maturity of these provinces, in turn, developed to a great extent from the ministry of John Stott and EFAC. It would not stretch a point to claim that the prevailing churchmanship of GAFCON 2018 was evangelical. The style of worship, the biblical nature of the week’s events, the expository style of the teaching, and the extempore prayer expected in the small group times, would be familiar to those of evangelical background. This aspect made GAFCON very similar to EFAC, which is evangelical by charter. This brings us back to the questions: ‘Do we need both EFAC and GAFCON today? Is there an important difference between them?’
That EFAC and GAFCON are complementary, not competitive, becomes clear as we examine both organizations. Rev. Dr. Stephen Noll, in his Commentary on the 2018 GAFCON Letter to the Churches writes,
‘The GAFCON Assembly is an ecclesial body, a confessional body (every attendee subscribed to the Jerusalem Declaration), and a missional body…So the Conference is upper-case GAFCON and the movement that spans the Conferences and the ongoing structures and relationships that give it life, this is title-case GAFCON.’ (Emphasis added.)
Similarly, EFAC is confessional: it operates with a Basis of Faith that is distinctively evangelical in nature. EFAC is also missional: it works to spread the biblical gospel of Jesus Christ. And, it is ecclesial: its very name references the Anglican Communion. EFAC aims to serve and build up, by biblical teaching, the Anglican family of churches, which we understand in a wide and generous sense. EFAC is not, however, ecclesial, in the way GAFCON is. It does not gather primatial councils or appoint episcopal leadership for provinces departing orthodox beliefs. Sugden says that as a recent political coalition, ‘GAFCON is rapidly institutionalizing’.1 EFAC is
EFAC. GAFCON.
What's the difference? Are both necessary?
Rev’d Richard Crocker, General Secretary, EFAC (Global)THE CABOOSE
1. https://www.efacglobal.org/wp-content/uploads/2018/06/GAFCON-reports-Sugden.pdf
THE CABOOSE
ESSENTIALS -SPRING 2018
PAGE 18
not; it will not match GAFCON’s ‘ongoing structures’ beyond those minimally required by its 1961 Constitution. EFAC is, rather, a resource to leadership, wherever it may be located, encouraging and developing biblically faithful teaching and mission by its activities in teaching, theological development through the Theological Resource Network, publishing online and through partner organizations. It desires the development of the more informal fellowship or partnership envisaged in its name. Therefore, EFAC and GAFCON are complementary, not competitive, pursuing different, necessary vocations.
Structures aside, another difference is that EFAC is distinctly evangelical, whereas GAFCON is not. GAFCON includes all who count themselves Anglican, whether inside the formal charity called the Anglican Communion or not, and confess biblically faithful Anglican teaching, whatever their churchmanship. EFAC is deliberately evangelical. The recognized EFAC brand allows EFAC to minister to evangelicals both inside and outside the GAFCON network among those evangelicals who are not persuaded by the GAFCON approach. Thus again EFAC and GAFCON are complementary, extending each other’s work for the Gospel. In the USA, where evangelicals in both TEC and ACNA are part of EFAC-USA, EFAC is a bridge between GAFCON and non-GAFCON evangelicals. Historically, EFAC has also formed a bridge between evangelicals in the different expressions of Anglican life in South Africa. EFAC is active in areas not represented at GAFCON and supports evangelicals whose orthodox commitments are under pressure from unsympathetic or hostile leadership. EFAC provides a link between beleaguered evangelicals in certain provinces and the wider Communion, and a partnership between evangelicals in one place and those in another for the sake of mission.
In this world of walls and chasms, bridges are vital, and so, as a bridge, EFAC offers hope for the future. The Archbishop of Sydney, Glenn Davies, President of EFAC Australia and Assistant Secretary to GAFCON, said it best upon hearing about the relaunch of EFAC, ‘It’s about time!’ EFAC and GAFCON have the same goal of promoting the biblical gospel of Jesus Christ, but in different ways. Both are necessary.

Book Review: Uncomfortable: The Awkward and Essential Challenge of Christian Community

Uncomfortable:
The Awkward and Essential Challenge of Christian Community
Brett McCracken
Crossway, 2017

It’s always Christians who make me want to give up the faith. The dumb, embarrassing things they do. Twee women’s evangelistic craft nights. Still singing songs that should have been left in the 1970s. International Roast as the standard morning tea fare. If you can think of similar experiences and cringe, then this book Uncomfortable by Brett McCracken is for you. I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It is easy to read, gospel focused, culturally astute, biblically faithful, personally challenging and funny. You don’t get that combination very often in a Christian book, let alone a book about church, which is what this is. I was so excited I could barely put it down.

Uncomfortable is one of a wave of books that are trying to help Christians live in a post-Christian world. McCracken sees the answer in committing to your local church, no matter how uncomfortable and challenging that may be. His thesis is that the church is uncomfortable for a reason—it is God’s plan to place us in communities where we do the hard work of ‘doing hard things, embracing hard truths and doing life with hard people for the sake and glory of the One who did the hardest thing’. (p26) Church may be weird, but that’s a good thing. As McCracken says,

‘The Western world doesn’t need a more muddled, confused “I love Jesus but not the church” Christianity made up of a million different opinions and to-each-his-own permutations. Rather, it needs a true, unified, and eloquent witness to the distinctly alternative vision of life that Jesus offers. And this will only come with a renewed commitment to the local church in all of its uncomfortable but life-giving glory.’ (p.37)

Instead of being like the culture around us, this book calls Christians to ‘debunk and destroy the toxic consumerist approach to church’ and be willing to commit to ‘the nearest non-heretical, Bible-believing church where we could grow and serve—and where Jesus is the hero—however uncomfortable it may be.’ (p.25) I think every Christian should read it.

The book starts with an outline of the author’s dream church. I found myself agreeing with every sentence. It went on for pages. I was constructing in my head a brilliant church with fantastic, purpose built spaces, wonderful music (just my taste) and super encouraging Christians connecting well with the local community. And then he explodes this fantasy by saying this is exactly what we cannot be doing. This consumerist mindset has infiltrated the way we approach church and it is poison. If we always approach church through the lens of wishing this or that were different, or longing for a church that ‘gets me’ or ‘meets me where I’m at’ we’ll never commit anywhere (or, Protestants that we are, we’ll just start our own church). But church shouldn’t be about being perfectly understood and met in our comfort zone; it should be about understanding God more, and meeting him where HE is. (p.24) I was soundly rebuked. And hooked.

Each chapter of the book explores an uncomfortable aspect of church, starting with the gospel. He explores the ‘foolishness of the cross’ (1 Corinthians 1:18-23) and how the Christian message has always been offensive to our pride and what we think redemption should look like. He speaks passionately about how ‘Christianity is not about “your best life now”. It’s about following Christ’s example who “came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45). It’s about commitment rather than consumerism; finding ways to serve rather than desiring to be served; filling a need rather than finding a niche’ (p.50) It’s a message we all need to be reminded of. He goes onto explore the uncomfortable but essential process of pursuing holiness and not settling for mere authenticity. He talks about the importance of holding onto uncomfortable truths such as a biblical sexual ethic, the reality of hell, the idea that the universe was created ‘and any number of other unfashionable things’. He speaks about uncomfortable Christ-like love that doesn’t just look like the passivity of niceness or tolerance. He has chapters on uncomfortable mission, uncomfortable people, uncomfortable diversity, uncomfortable worship, uncomfortable authority and uncomfortable unity. All these chapters support his idea that ‘the church that will change your life is the one that challenges you to grow rather than affirms you as you are. The church that will change the world is the one that provides a refreshing alternative to, rather than an uncritical affirmation of, the way things are’ (p.188). Indeed.

There are so many funny lines in this book. ‘Every time we sing the praise chorus refrain for the SIXTY-SEVENTH TIME as if in the Hillsong equivalent of Groundhog Day…’ (p.191) made me choke with laughter until my coffee was pouring out of my nose. It’s the delight of the self-depreciating in-joke that only Christians can appreciate (without being mean, crude or sarcastic) that makes the book so enjoyable to read.

One chapter which made me rather uncomfortable was his chapter on the Holy Spirit, ‘the Uncomfortable Comforter’. He challenges ‘charismatic-skeptics’ (such as myself) to see that ‘the unpredictable and often uncomfortable work of the Comforter need not be feared or avoided’. (p.96). What he thinks this work of the Comforter consists of though, is the problem. But I weirdly quite enjoyed the uncomfortable experience of reading this chapter, as it did what I presume McCracken wanted me to do – to be challenged, to go back to the Bible, think hard and wrestle and pray. I was living out the thesis of the book while reading it. Read the book and see what you think.

The conclusion is hopeful, beautiful and inspiring. He encourages Christians to see that to live the uncomfortable life together for the sake of Christ is worth it in the end:

‘We are, mysteriously, part of a cosmic plan God has eternally known. And we have an eternal inheritance. The discomfort we endure in this life as a peculiar people will be a blip in the timeline of our infinite history. We will at last be the perfect church we presently long for; the unblemished bride at an unimaginable wedding feast. The dream will be real.’ (p.191)
Michelle Underwood, WA

Book Review: Impossible People: Christian Courage and the Struggle for the Soul of Civilization

Impossible People:
Christian Courage and the Struggle for the Soul of Civilization
Os Guinness
IVP, 2016

The theme of this book is the necessity for Christian courage today in the struggle for Western civilisation. The title Impossible People comes from a term used of the reforming 11th-century Benedictine monk Peter Damian, who courageously stood for truth, integrity and the moral standards of the Christian faith at a time in the church was compromised by a culture of corruption among church leaders. Many were involved in immorality, homosexual practice and paedophilia. Simony was rife. Damien was known as incorruptible, unbribable and uncompromising in his opposition. The authorities described him as ‘that impossible monk!’.

Guinness believes that Christians today have to become like Peter Damian, for we have become too complacent and compromised by our culture. He sees this moment as a crisis, a showdown, for the church, particularly the Western church and also for Western culture. What is at stake is the victory or defeat of the long assault on the Jewish and Christian faiths, the two defining faiths of the West. The attack comes from what he calls progressive secularism. This is the push to marginalise or exclude Christianity from the public square of community debate, politics, public policy and legislation. The Christian faith is the particular target because of a resentment of perceived past power over culture, public morals and values.

Guiness describes a number of other forces that are currently arrayed against Christianity. First, nihilism—the loss of a sense of ultimate meaning which in turn leads to a loss of hope and then despair. Contemporary nihilism is partly a product of postmodern relativism about truth and morality. This could lead to a social degeneration where the West collapses from within. The second force is the very opposite of the first—a new secular optimism. This is driven by an over-confidence in our increasing technological mastery and our subsequent ability to create a new world and a new humanity—a world of automation, robotics, artificial intelligence, guided evolution and genetic manipulation. The third of the other threats is the re-emergence of cultural Marxism. Its theory of power as oppression calls for the exercise of power to be resisted and overturned. On this theory, cultural elites hold power and control the masses, not only economically, but culturally. They determine morality, social norms and values. As part of this cultural elite, the church is forcing a certain view of morality and truth on society, so its cultural power must be broken and overturned. The question of power is a recurring theme of this book and Guinness evokes Nietzsche‘s dictum that man’s impetus is ‘the will to power’. This view of power is a key reality in this struggle and only God, through the gospel, can redeem and transform it. Fundamentalist Islam is the fourth force he mentions.

Guiness avows that if these anti-Christian forces prevail, they will return the West to the philosophy, ethics and lifestyle of the first century pagan world that Christianity was born into, and which it originally transformed to become the influential force in developing Western civilisation. ‘We are not simply the guardians of some of the best of the past’, he writes, ‘but pioneers whose task is to stand against the world for the future of the world.’ Guiness poses three great questions, the answers to which he claims will decisively shape the future of the world in the next generation. These are: 1. Will Islam modernise peacefully in the end? 2. What faith or ideology will replace Marxism in China? and 3. Will the Western world recover or completely sever its Christian roots?

The third question is Guiness’s main concern. In the final chapter he invokes Churchill’s WWII appeal to the US to abandon its isolationism and provide the resources England desperately needed to defeat Hitler: ‘Give us the tools to finish the job’, said Churchill. At that time, the US did give the tools, and the Nazis were defeated. The tools Guiness appeals for today’s fight are, first, an understanding that power is a key issue behind many of the forces at play and a lively sense that unless we renew our personal knowledge and experience of God’s spiritual power, we will be ineffective in this struggle no matter how courageous we are. Paul teaches that the gospel ‘is the power of God for the salvation of all who believe’ (Rom 1:7). Second, we need to be alive to the ancestry of the ideas around us. To counter the forces ranged against us we need to understand the ideas that generate them, so that we can confront those presuppositions lying behind the forces producing particular social effects. Third, we need probing cultural analysis. We need the ability not simply to describe and critique the culture we are living in, but also to gauge its impact on us, on our thinking and behaviour. Finally, Guinness suggests that ‘what we need above all in the church today is for each Christian to have a profound personal knowledge and experience of God himself and a deep knowledge of the Scriptures as his authoritative Word. No one and nothing can replace those essentials.’ This is a challenging book and will make a great resource for a small group discussion series. Each chapter ends with questions for discussion and a closing prayer.
Peter Corney, Vic.

Book Review: The Bible in Australia: A Cultural History

The Bible in Australia
A Cultural History
Meredith Lake
University of NSW Press, 2018.

Meredith Lake has provided a fascinating and authoritative account of how the Bible, in the hands of preachers, immigrants, suffragists, unionists, politicians, writers, artists and indigenous Australians, has played a contested but highly significant role in the nation’s history. Her opening allusion to the Bra Boy’s tattoo arrests the reader and illustrates how, in twenty-first century Australia, the Bible still ‘floats in fragments across the surface of the popular consciousness’. She then retraces the ebb and flow of Australian culture: the arrival of the First Fleet and the tragic encounter with indigenous people; Federation and the ascendancy of civic Protestant nationalism and White Australia; the 1950s—presided over by Prime Minister Robert Menzies, for whom the Bible defined the Australian people. This culminated in the remarkable 1959 Billy Graham Crusade’s interdenominational meetings attended by over three million people, while a broader radio audience heard his trademark ‘The Bible says’.

However, the cultural revolution of the sixties was reflected in the media landscape, public schools, and growing multi-culturalism. Television soon eclipsed reading as a leisure activity. Church decline, especially in the British-origin Protestant denominations, accelerated shrinking Biblical literacy. Roman Catholic numbers, however, boosted by immigration, have been more stable and now comprise the largest Christian denomination. New migrant groups such as Korean and Chinese, have bucked the trend of declining church affiliation. Pentecostal churches, led by Hillsong, attract a younger generation and have planted over a thousand congregations. Nevertheless, survey comparisons suggest that the proportion of regular Bible readers has dropped by more than 75% since the sixties.

Biblical literacy is also seen to have plunged because Bible reading has disappeared from radio and from public schools. NSW schools are the exception. Lake does not attempt to analyse possible reasons (In fact she seems studiously to avoid any mention of the Diocese of Sydney or Moore College). She does make the telling comment that in the same-sex marriage postal survey debates, the Australian Christian Lobby preferred the terminology of rights and values rather than the language of the Bible.

The book’s attention to the plight of Indigenous Australia is comprehensive, drawing heavily, but not exclusively, on John Harris’ magisterial One Blood. One question not addressed is: Why were colonial relationships with Aboriginal peoples so disastrous, given the different story in the case of Maori and Pacific Islander peoples?

One lesson this reader did learn is that the Bible played a key role in nourishing the cause of Federation—an achievement which now we do not even commemorate, but which was by no means a foregone conclusion. Both before and after 1901, the Bible was cited profusely in debates by both believers and non-believers. In Lake’s words, ‘The Bible stretched like a canopy above the forest of Federal feeling’.

In summary, Lake argues convincingly that, while current levels of Biblical literacy are at an all-time low, the Bible has a powerful history in Australia. ‘In various cultural and theological guises, it has informed efforts to educate the young, to extend the franchise, to meet the challenges of poverty. It has been applied to the formation of trade unions, schools and charities, as well as all manner of religious institutions. In the hands of indigenous Christians, the Bible has nourished movements for justice, for land rights, and for recognition and reconciliation’ (p.365).
Anthony H. Nichols, WA.

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