Category Archives: Faithful Improv

Scaling Deep: Measures of Possibility, Personhood and Story

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In the previous post I wrote about the importance of scaling deep; that elusive, essential work of transforming the cultural values, relationships, and everyday practices at the heart of our systems.  Scaling deep, I argued, is about more than numbers or institutional reach; it is about changing hearts and minds, shifting the stories we tell, and nurturing the kind of belonging that can weather storms. Today, I want to expand on that theme, drawing in the wisdom of Rowan Williams and the concept of sobornost, and exploring how we might measure engagement by more than attendance or output, to include by our collective openness to possibility, creative reimagining, and the space we make for different voices.

Beyond Numbers: The Limits of Shallow Metrics
It’s a familiar refrain in church life: “How many came?” “How many stayed?” “How many gave?” These questions, while not unimportant, often reflect what I’ve come to see as institutional anxiety, our capitalist captivity, a need for reassurance that we’re growing, that we’re succeeding. But as I’ve reflected on the journey of Fresh Expressions and broader systems change, I’ve become convinced that these are shallow waters. Real, lasting change, the kind that endures beyond a single project, leader, or season requires a shift in the very soil of our communal life. This is the work of scaling deep.

Scaling Deep and the Wisdom of Sobornost
Here, Rowan Williams offers a profound lens. Drawing on the Russian Orthodox tradition and the theologians Losskey,  Khomiakov Williams describes sobornost as a gathering of free persons into one organic body, not simply the sum of its parts but an active, living wholeness. Sobornost is not about headcount or institutional uniformity. It is about the quality of our togetherness: the depth of our relationships, the space we make for difference, and the organic unity that emerges when people are truly seen and heard.
Williams writes that the church, at its best, is a community whose boundaries have been decisively altered by the Resurrection, a place where the barriers of class, race, and loyalty are overcome, and a new social pattern of forgiveness, patience, and truth-telling emerges. This is not utopia, but a real, flesh and blood community marked as much by failure as by success. The point is not perfection, but the ongoing work of living into a new, unbounded world, a world where every face is one God has already looked at with love. When we take this as a base I think we can use the principles of Scaling Deep and develop at different set of measures, but we will need greater attention to process to make this sort of measurement possible.

Measuring Engagement with Possibility
If we take sobornost seriously, then engagement is not just about participation in programmes or committees. It’s about how we engage with possibility, how open we are to new ways of being, to creative thinking, to the reimagining of spaces and relationships. Here are some ways I see this playing out:
• Reimagining Spaces: Our physical and symbolic spaces shape our communal life. Too often they reinforce old hierarchies and exclusion. But what if we saw our spaces as canvases for possibility? What if we designed them to be more inclusive, more hospitable, more reflective of the diversity of God’s people? This isn’t just about architecture, it’s about the stories our spaces tell and the possibilities they invite. It’s as much about medium as message.
• Creative Thinking: Scaling deep is inherently creative. It asks us to imagine new forms of community, new patterns of discipleship, new ways of relating to one another and to God. This creativity is not a luxury; it’s a necessity for communities seeking to embody the gospel in a changing world.
• Personal Development Spaces: True engagement honours the personhood of each member. Are we creating spaces for personal growth, for the sharing of stories, for the honest wrestling with faith and doubt? Are we nurturing resilience, vulnerability, and the gifts that come from lived experience, especially from those on the margins?
• The Place and Space of Different Voices: Sobornost insists that unity is not uniformity. Are we making space for voices that have been silenced, for perspectives that challenge our assumptions, for the kind of dialogue that Rowan Williams describes as essential to the church’s witness? Are we willing to be disturbed, to be changed by the encounter with the other?

All of the above provide real opportunities to measure scale both in terms of Scaling Up and Out and importantly Scaling Deep but we will need an accompanying shift to valuing story and gathering Narrative-Based Evidence that stories allude to.

So how do we measure this kind of engagement? I think if we get the principles right the organisation can use spreadsheets or dashboards, and numbers but the process or lens is through the gathering of stories, narrative-based evidence that honours context and personhood. There’s all sorts of participatory, narrative techniques like Community Narration invite members to share their experiences and to shape the collective story of the community. These stories reveal not just what we’ve done, but who we are becoming. They help us see where we have truly scaled deep, where hearts and minds have been changed, where new possibilities have emerged, where the quality of our togetherness has grown.
“Narrative methods have great potential to avoid hierarchical and unidirectional forms of evaluation, encouraging the group’s collective psychology and identity-based constructs to emerge… The community’s participants were able to use the technique successfully, found it enriching, and the constructs obtained have led to many discussions and member-guided research related to the organization.” See here

Mapping Scale: Out, Up, and Deep
Once we begin to gather this narrative evidence, we can more easily categorise where we have scaled out (replicating innovations), scaled up (influencing systems and structures), and scaled deep (transforming culture and relationships). Scaling out and up are often visible and quantifiable. Scaling deep, by contrast, is subtle, slow, and sometimes invisible yet it is what makes all other change sustainable.

Honouring Context and Personhood
At the heart of this approach is a commitment to honouring both context and personhood. Every community is unique, shaped by its history, its challenges, and its gifts. Every person brings their own story, their own wounds and hopes. Scaling deep means attending to these realities, refusing one-size-fits-all solutions or predetermined outcomes and opening ourselves to the possibility that God is at work in the very particularities of our lives.

So, through Alchemy at the edge I invite you to join me in measuring engagement not by what is easy or obvious, but by what is deep and lasting. Let us reimagine our spaces, nurture creative thinking, make room for every voice, and gather the stories that tell the truth about who we are and who we are called to become. In so doing, we honour the spirit of sobornost, a unity that is organic, dynamic, and always open to the possibilities of grace.
And perhaps, in the end, this is the most faithful measure of all: not how many we have gathered, but how deeply we have learned to belong to one another, and to the God who calls us into ever-widening circles of possibility.

The interactive power of Language, Metaphor and Models

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I have been thinking a lot about the role lanaguage as a precursor to change. What I’m keen to do with Alchemy At The Edge is not to be a coach, but co-create system change with people, and this means not simply asking people to adopt frameworks or models I have used. Remember “all models are wrong but some are helpful”. So thinking about how I can use the interaction of lanaguage and the models I have developed to grow something more contextual in any given situation.

Noah Lowery writes, “Through language, we create meaning, structure our thoughts, and ultimately, shape our perception of the world,” and “Language is a powerful tool that constructs our reality by shaping our thoughts, perceptions, and social constructs.” These insights invite us to consider the profound influence of language not merely as a medium of communication but as a foundational framework through which we conceptualise and engage with our world.

Language, as Lowery highlights, is indispensable in crafting meaning and defining the boundaries of our understanding. It allows us to articulate abstract concepts, delineate systems, and construct narratives. However, the transformative potential of language in systemic change goes beyond the act of expression. It provides the initial scaffolding to identify and develop metaphors, the cognitive tools that bridge from the abstract towards the tangible.

Take, for example, the metaphor of the “Mixed Ecology Trellis,” a framework that can be adapted to diverse contexts to support outcomes, allocate resources, and deploy strategies effectively. Here, the trellis serves as a conceptual structure, a visual and functional metaphor for cultivating growth, fostering interconnectedness, and guiding systemic adaptation. While the language introduces and explains the metaphor, its real power lies in how it is operationalized: by transforming abstract ideas into actionable tools.

This is where the limits of language as a solitary agent of change become evident. Systems are complex, and while language enables us to name and frame issues, it is through the tangible enactment of these ideas that change is realised. The “Mixed Ecology Trellis” does not merely describe; if used well it directs. It offers a flexible yet structured way to engage with systems, balancing stability with the ability to respond dynamically to varying needs.

To illustrate, consider a community grappling with resource allocation. The trellis metaphor can guide their strategy by suggesting a living system where resources are channeled like nutrients, fostering growth where it is most needed while maintaining the overall health of the system. Through this lens, language shapes understanding, the metaphor provides focus, and the tool, the trellis, enables action.

This interplay highlights a key truth: language alone cannot dismantle entrenched systems of inequality, inefficiency, or injustice. What it does is spark the imagination and frame the possibilities for action. By identifying the right metaphors, we bridge the gap between conceptual understanding and practical application, equipping communities, organisations, and individuals with tools that drive meaningful change.

While language may not directly change systems, it is undeniably the starting point for envisioning the change we seek. As Lowery aptly states, it constructs our reality, providing the cognitive foundation for shaping thoughts, perceptions, and, ultimately, actions. When paired with actionable metaphors and tools like the Mixed Ecology Trellis, language becomes more than a means of communication, it becomes a catalyst for transformation.

Building Communities That Honour the “Other” and resist unconscious capitalist bias.

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At the heart of many of the issues we face is our unconscious tetheredness to capitalism and how this playing out in its late stages. Inspired by  Ian Mobsby recent article I wanted to explore more how non othering emerging church or community spaces might play out practically in the light of my recent posts. As Ian highlights Merton wrote  “The beginning of love is the will to let those we love be perfectly themselves…”

This vision of love—unpossessive, liberating, and rooted in radical acceptance—is both beautiful and destabilising. It asks us to relinquish control, to release our grip on outcomes, and to embrace the sacred chaos of difference. But how do we translate this into the messy reality of community-building? What practical approaches may help us resist the urge to “twist” others into our image. Here’s a few thoughts drawing from Merton’s theology, eco-feminist thought, and lived experiments I have been involved in over the years.

How do we build on Divine Love, Not Human Effort, Merton argued that true community is founded not on our “own love” but on “God’s love”—a love that “puts us in a position where sometimes natural community is very difficult” . This shifts the focus from compatibility (seeking those like us) to faith in something larger than ourselves. Christina Cleveland writes similarly in her work on reconciliation. What I particularly like about Christina’s work is her acknowledgment of the mental and emotional energy these spaces take. Stereotyping and categorisation are short cuts are hard to override and even in a more enlightened outlook it’s takes energy and intention to try and inhabit these spaces.
In practice either joining or intentionally gathering people across ideological, cultural, or generational divides, through local community garden for instance could a way forward. However in reality too often these spaces can be pretty homogenous. So intentionality to host shared spaces is needed eg meals where climate activists, retirees, and teenagers collaborate on composting projects, learning to listen without agenda.
A key for us in Cumbria has been to Ritualise surrender, in our Cmpfire gatherings we set the tone by saying we are not here to fix things and use a talking stick for simply creating a space to listen deeply. I wonder what would it look like to begin meetings with a simple practice: “We are here not because we agree, but because we trust something beyond us.” Reframing conflict and spaces as generative, not destructive.

Borrowing from ideas in  Eco-Theology of Becoming-With what does it mean to move on from notions that we need to fix stuff. Donna Haraway’s concept of “becoming-with”—seeing humans as entangled with non-human beings and ecosystems, resonates with Merton’s call to love others as they are. This ecological lens rejects transactional relationships (e.g., “I’ll love you if you change”) in favour of mutual accompaniment.
Soil doesn’t demand plants conform to its image; it nourishes what grows. Applying this to community roles: lets gifts emerge organically. What would it look like to shift from hierarchical leadership to something more organic based on needs at particular times and where tasks are claimed based on passion, not just expertise.

In Alchemy At The Edge I’m working on the idea of Listening Fast and Listening Slow, and how context changes the listening process. If we host walks where members share stories while attending to the more-than-human world—birdsong, wind, urban rhythms our listening will be very different.  This approach dilutes the ego’s voice and fosters the type of missional humility the church really needs.

There is an unconscious capitalist bias around progress and growth. It’s something we have noticed in our mixed ecology trellis, because it can read like a graph people make an assumption that we value top right more than bottom left. We can these challenge capitalist efficiency assumptions by honouring those who simply be—the elderly, neurodivergent, or chronically ill, as vital to the community’s ecosystem. In the context of the Mixed Ecology of church this means recognising the value of everyone on the Trellis.

I love TAZ spaces and Merton acknowledged that “we are going to make mistakes” in community, but “it really doesn’t matter that much” if rooted in good faith . This liberates us from the myth of permanence, inviting experimentation. Do we really value process Over Perfection or again is our desire to get it right or make it permanent, or sustainable part of a capitalist bias. Creating pop-up spaces, temporary, theme-based communities (e.g., a 40-day Lenten arts collective or a prayer space, a listening bench) allow people to practise radical acceptance without lifelong commitment mirroring something to a TAZ.

We also need to normalise endings: what would it look like have fixed point reviews where you expect to end something unless there’s a real reason to continue, so we prevent stagnation and power hoarding. Instead of asking did this meet x or y outcome we could ask  “How did we help you become more yourself and would changing or ending our structure/meeting/values etc help you become more authentically you?
Instead of thinking  every relationship needs resolution or a space needs to continue what would a bless and release ritual for departing members or spaces look like  acknowledging their ongoing role in other spaces, with real joy and sadness.

Merton’s vision of love is no sentimental ideal. It demands courage to dwell in uncertainty, to release the ego’s need for control, and to trust that “the power of God’s love will be in it” even when our efforts feel fragile.  In a world obsessed with optimisation, building communities that honour the “other” becomes countercultural resistance—a way to “stay with the trouble” (Haraway) and find holiness in the unpolished, the unresolved, and the unscripted. Perhaps the most radical practice is this: to love a community enough to let it evolve beyond our own imagination.
“We are human becomings,” as Pip Wilson once wrote. May our communities become spaces where all people can unfold in their wild, messy, gloriously uncontainable uniqueness.

Hopeium, the church, and change

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In church systems and institutions, it’s not uncommon to encounter a phenomenon of “hopeium.” It’s that heady mixture of optimism, faith, and a dash of magical thinking that makes us believe everything will be okay—if we just believe hard enough. On one hand, this hope can be a balm. After all, hope is foundational to the Christian story: the hope of resurrection, of renewal, of God’s kingdom breaking through. But what happens when hope becomes detached from action, critical reflection, or adaptive change? That’s when hopeium can turn toxic.

Toxic hopeium often shows up in church systems grappling with deep-seated challenges: declining influence, outdated structures, or a widening gap between institutional priorities and the needs of the world. Instead of grappling with the hard realities, institutional leaders might cling to vague promises of revival, grand but unfocused visions, or the comforting refrain of “God will provide.” While it’s true that faith can move mountains, it’s also true that someone has to pick up a shovel. When hope is used to paper over systemic issues or avoid making tough decisions, it can lead to stagnation, disillusionment, and a cycle of institutional inertia.

Consider the denomination that launches a major strategic initiative every few years, each time heralded as the solution to declining membership or cultural irrelevance. Resources are poured into programs and campaigns, but the underlying issues remain unaddressed: the inability to engage with a rapidly changing society, resistance to adaptive change, or a leadership culture that prioritizes preservation over mission. Hope, untethered from thoughtful strategy and missional humility, becomes a narcotic. It numbs us to reality instead of equipping us to transform it.

And yet, hope is also a gift. It’s what inspires institutions to dream of a renewed role in society and take risks for the sake of the gospel. The challenge, then, is to ground institutional hope in adaptive change strategies that acknowledge reality while pointing us toward renewal.

So, how can church systems navigate this tension? The first step is honesty. Institutional leaders need to adopt a posture of missional humility, recognizing that no single program or vision will fix systemic issues overnight. Missional humility invites us to listen—to God, to our communities, and to one another—and to admit where we’ve fallen short. This isn’t about doom and gloom; it’s about clarity. Only when we understand the landscape can we discern the path forward.

Next, we need to pair hope with action rooted in adaptive change. This means moving beyond technical fixes to addressing the deeper cultural and systemic shifts required for renewal. It might mean dismantling hierarchies that stifle creativity, investing in grassroots initiatives, or fostering a culture of experimentation and learning. Adaptive change requires courage—and a willingness to fail—as we navigate uncharted territory.

Finally, we must cultivate a theology of hope that’s robust enough to withstand setbacks. Christian hope isn’t about quick fixes; it’s about the long game. It’s about trusting that God is at work, even when we can’t see the fruit of our labors.

Hopeium, in its toxic form, can trap church systems in a cycle of false expectations and inertia. But hope, when rooted in truth, humility, and adaptive action, can be a powerful force for institutional renewal. The difference lies in whether we use hope to escape reality or to transform it. As I prepare for my next stage with Alchemy At The Edge I want to harness the transformative power of hope.

Explaining Church as way of being with AI’s help

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I recently did a podcast for Youthscape which timed in well with a lot of thinking I have been doing recently about the nature of church. my amazing friend Paul Rose gave some great thoughts that’s set my mind going on why knowledge (epistemological) based approaches to defining church are such a stumbling block. I think much of what I was arguing for in Here Be Dragons was a more ontological approach but At the time I hadn’t really encountered enough embodied theology and practice to start to frame it well. As Rachel and Martin said I use a lot of long words I thought I might just explain the ontological approach a bit more here. And then I thought as it was youth focussed and I’m into co-creation why not use the latest tech to help. So  I asked ChatGPT Ai to write it for me in the style of Sunday Papers blogpost and here with a few edits is what was created.

I think my shift reflects the growing interest among theologians and religious scholars in the use of an ontological approach and towards a deeper consideration of the fundamental nature of reality, and a rejection of the dualistic thinking that has long dominated Western thought. Part of what we learnt from being and doing church young people and Flow was we needed a different embedded joined up approach, and this was where we were heading in Here Be Dragons with sobornost.

At its heart, an ontological approach to the church emphasizes the importance of being and existence, rather than simply knowledge and understanding. While the epistemological approach tends to focus on the intellectual aspects of faith – what we know, what we believe, and how we come to know it – the ontological approach looks beyond these cognitive processes to consider the very nature of the church itself, and the role it plays in the world.

One of the key benefits of an ontological approach is that it allows us to move beyond the limitations of language and conceptual thinking. Too often, our understanding of the church is shaped by our attempts to put it into words – to define it, categorize it, and understand it within a particular framework. However, this can often lead to a narrow and limited understanding of what the church really is, and what it can be.

By adopting an ontological approach, we can begin to see the church as a dynamic, living entity that is constantly evolving and changing over time. Rather than trying to pin it down with definitions and concepts, we can appreciate the church in all its complexity, and recognize the many different ways in which it can manifest itself in the world.

Moreover, an ontological approach to the church allows us to move beyond the traditional boundaries of religious affiliation and denomination. Rather than seeing the church as a set of beliefs or practices that are unique to a particular group, we can recognize that the church exists in many different forms and contexts, and that it has the potential to transcend the divisions that often separate us.

Of course, an ontological approach is not without its challenges. It requires us to embrace uncertainty and ambiguity, and to acknowledge that our understanding of the church will always be limited by our own experiences and perspectives. However, these challenges are precisely what make the ontological approach so valuable – by embracing the unknown and the unknowable, we open ourselves up to a deeper and more meaningful relationship with the church, and with the divine.

In conclusion, the adoption of an ontological approach to the church represents an important step forward in our understanding of what it means to be religious and spiritual in the modern world. By focusing on being and existence, rather than simply knowledge and understanding, we can move beyond the limitations of language and conceptual thinking, and appreciate the church in all its complexity and diversity. So let us embrace this approach, and open ourselves up to a deeper and more profound experience of the divine.

The Ai bit ends here.

once the podcast goes fully live on the site I might say a bit more why I think how the epistemological approach showed up in the podcast discussion and how it can inoculate us from change.

 

Let there be an invitation

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When I think about how my faith and practice is formed, there are number of angles but each perspective has at it heart an invitation to a journey, an offer alongside others to co-create a better world. At the heart of lots of the key tools, or practices, that I have written about is the notion of collaboration not to create out of nothing but to co-create with what ever fish I hold and what ever bread the other carries. These concepts are embedded in community work through Asset based approaches, Youth ministry through particpation, Fresh Expressions through listening, and the emerging church through the resistance of power.  In fact they are embedded in the faith itself, in the earth, in the Beloved, since before the beginning of time.

Our past flows into our present reality and we tend to read the creation story from the position of power, reinforced by the idea of divine omnipotence  and the notion of humanity as the pinnacle so we see the statement “let there be” as a command. What if it was more complex, and it is a language of invitation of participation. This is much easier to see when we embrace the fullness of God revealed through the Trinity in the creation story. The Spirit hovers over the waters and enlivens the cosmos, joins with the Christ who participates and sows seeds, and the Beloved issue an invitation “Let there be light”. And there was light, and the God of Love responds with delight seeing it good and invites the elements to collaborate to bring forth life, and animals, and fish, and they do. So the Beloved sparks co-creation, encourages transformation and we begin dance in divine solidarity with the Beloved and the creation who continues to invite us to participate in the ongoing co-creative process.

The Mixed Ecology Trellis – a watershed moment?

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Over the past few months I have been using an innovation technique of Pitch and Exhibit to further my thinking on Pioneering and Church. What has become clear over the past week or so is that what has been emerging as fresh expressions, and pioneering expressions of church has matured and is now firmly part of the landscape of the church in the UK and consequently we need a better way to describe the mixed ecology of church that is now present in so many communities and spaces. We have long said that Time Honoured church and Fresh Expressions have distinct needs, but we also know that they need each other. If pioneers have the gift of not fitting in, when we also see them as being a gift to the church, conversations and practice take a creative turn. We have experienced this in Cumbria and in my previous post I failed to adequately recognise just how far we have come. It is clear through church history that both modal and sodal expressions of church are required to help everyone flourish but more than that, when there are good relationships between the two, significant cultural systemic change could be achieved.  I think we are very close to a watershed moment where we can observe the church Cumbria and in places beyond and really begin to shed light on what a mixed ecology of church might look like and how it interconnects and relates to one another. The image below is an attempt to capture this. You can find a larger image as a jpeg HERE or  in a PDF here

A few things to say about the Trellis:

  • We have been reaching for a more organic image than the spectrum and I hope this captures more the ecological element and interconnectedness of the Mixed Ecology. You can’t see it amazingly well as I need to fade it but there is a vine that weaves and interconnects across the different elements, traditions and approaches. This is to try and help people see this in a more patterned and less linear way.
  • We have deliberately moved away from and taken out the specific pioneer words, recognising that we are in a new space. We all have parts to play and we are one Church in many expressions with different gifts and need one another. This is not to say pioneer language is redundant indeed it remains critical in creating the space and continued imagination we need in the institution to reach the breadth and diversity of the communities serve.
  • We have removed the sense of Venn circles for a more fluid and interconnected approach.
  • The left hand arrow is deliberately split into two to capture the learning from the original pioneer spectrum that at some point(s) we need a distinct and deliberate shift in posture if we are to reach deeper into our cultural context. This is particularly the case as you move towards Innovation and Activism.
  • Accommodators has been one of the words we have wrestled with. It is meant as generous space makers, leaders who see that Time honoured and Fresh Expressions need each other. Accommodators are leaders who are secure enough to let others flourish and generous enough to let people go to new places they may never travel, but nourish and support them. Accommodators are not those begrudgingly making room for new things, but those who set people free to build the kingdom in the now and not yet.

I have said “we” in the wording above as the pitch and exhibit approach I have used means this has been developed collaboratively and I am grateful to all who have contributed over the past months and weeks. There is a lot to be said about the relationship between the spaces and particularly about the relationship between the centre and edge. Indeed I would even say the language of centre and edge is now problematic as  in a mixed ecology centres and edges are hard to find but that’s for another blogpost.

 

The valley in the hand.

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If I have any known knowns it is the reality of Jesus, who walks before, beside and behind me, who encompasses me and who is good news to the depths of my soul. It is a soul knowledge where definition of who, and how, of why and what fade into insignificance. It is soul experience of love and care, of positive regard and compassion beyond feelings or formulas. It is a soul space where deep meets deep with an acceptance that is unconditional and independent of schemas and systems and a call that is too easily reduced to a method and corrupted into a mechanism. Yet we in our human frailty rely on these methods, definitions, systems and schemas to try to communicate something of that reality that we experience.

We hold stardust in our souls but our words are grains of sand slipping through our fingers. We feel such welcome in our being but offer a coir mat stamped with a word that cannot possibly convey the depth of acceptance we know. Our minds are expanded and neurons fizz with an energy that is beyond logic but we offer a recipe that can only be a bland version of the delights we know.

So how do we share this good news, how might we convey that deeply held known? What can do justice to the story that jumped off the page, out of pulpit, beyond the building and calls all walls to dust? Might we simply live and try to tell the tale more honestly, more openly bearing witness to the questions we still have and in doing so communicate the deeper truth beyond. Can we seek out the deep soul sparks in others to listen and learn. Might we let go of our formulas, systems, equations, to be still and still moving as we journey with others and the Other within the lifeline etched like a valley in the palm of Christs hand.

What are we organising around?

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I’ve been thinking a lot recently about what are the things people of faith organise around and the problematic nature of this as question with all the power assumptions and notions contained within it. For the last 30 years or so it’s been a fairly common refrain that church seems to orientate and organises around gathered worship services, this where the bulk of the energy and resources go, and perhaps there needs to be a shift towards organising around mission.
At the moment as I continue to call the walls to dust, I’m struggling with the idea of “organising” in pretty much any shape, whether it is around worship, services, mission activity, practices of prayer etc. Instead I’m trying to be more chilled, chaordic, embodied and flowing, a multi directional wanderer.
Which also means I’m left wondering what might different people, thinkers, theologians, missionaries have offered in the past into this space. If ‘Love has its speed. It is a spiritual speed. It is a different kind of speed from the technological speed to which we are accustomed. It goes on in the depth of our life, whether we notice or not, at three miles an hour. It is the speed we walk and therefore the speed the love of God walks.’ Kosuke Koyama – do we orientate around being and noticing? Perhaps we orientate around the outside and “being story gatherers” an idea Al Barrett and Ruth Harley start to unpack, or “faithful improvisation” Tom Wright, or personal practices of prayer. Newbiggin would be interesting as although he was very much about the local context and community the way he viewed the space between the death of Jesus as his last public act and the resurrection as something more private could offer an orientation/organising in this in between space.
so what are are you organising around, personally and corporately and what do think different people would offer as the locus to orientate around or is the very orientation idea something we need to critique further?

 

 

Building velocity

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From SpaceX via Unsplash

Today I spotted Apprentice to Jesus, which was initiated by the wonderful Cannon Chris Neal. Chris was an amazing human, who had a huge impact on my thinking and ministry, not least because he coined the phrase “gravitational pull” in relation to pioneering in the institution. He would talk about the gravitational pull of inherited church as a double wrapped paradigm. There’s the culture/tradition that has been placed around the original (dissenting)idea as one layer ie the way we do things around here. Then the second structural layer of leadership hierarchy etc. Chris used to say pioneer projects need enough velocity to break that gravitational pull. Like a rocket needs the boost to break gravity and head towards the moon until the moon starts to pull it forward. I hope I will always have the courage to ride with the Holy Spirit or hang on to her coattails towards the new. However I wanted to reflect on the years since Chris’ passing some of the lessons that I have learnt that may help us reach the velocity needed.

Theres five ways I have identified so far to help create the velocity needed to break the gravitational pull. The first is the heretical imperative (and I’ve played with idea countless times across this blog) but today’s orthodoxy is yesterday’s heresy and a way into this is to embrace the pioneers on the edge and those pioneering beyond the boundaries. In Cumbria we have been gifted with some amazing pioneers on the margins following the Holy Spirit into new places as they reach new people and discovering new ways of thinking and theological insight as they go. This is the gift of the 3rd space fXs.
The second is the need for Authority dissenters (those in power in the system) to work with and release the Pathfinding Dissenters. Like the rocket needs the tower at the point of lift off and the people back at base (think Apollo 13 With images of the people behind the screens) helping the rocket break out we need the space and and support to get going, keep going and break out. It’s even better if you can launch several rockets from different spaces at the same time or spot those that may have already launched.

So the third is to network pioneers who are following the spirit into new things as the old system is dying. This network is vital in building the resilience needed, as things get tougher and the pioneers travel further out. But we need to watch this (see previous post). However through the network and community created pioneers can build the resilience needed to get through the ceiling whilst the old is dying and dream together of new ways. Connected to this is my fourth area which I think is something about scale and momentum, telling the stories of these pioneers and realising this isn’t some random one off but taps into the tradition of new life, of seeds dying, new wine skins that is happening all around us if we only have the eyes to see.

Lastly we need to recover our dissenting traditions, recover that history, and find stories from the tradition that fuels and connect the current pathfinders with the pathfinders of old. And here I don’t just mean those early saints or desert fathers and mothers, but more recent pathfinders in the tradition, and every tradition has them, for some it’s those dissenters that were part founding story like Wesley in Methodist, for others it’s pioneers who were misunderstood at the time, like Dorothy Day, Guteriezz, Punton or Rawnsley. Knowing our founding stories and finding those who have pioneered locally in the past is rocket fuel.

And as helpful (or not) as these reflections maybe as Chris would always remind us it does come back to being an apprentice of the master Jesus the pathfinder and perfector of our faith.