Why I am still an Anglican
by Tim Goodbody
This article began life from an online discussion between Cranmer’s Curate (Revd Julian Mann) and myself. Cranmer’s Curate published what amounts to an abridged version of what follows here on his blog on the 29th of April 2009. At the time that discussion started I was not fully aware of the book edited by Caroline Chartres on the subject of “Why I’m still an Anglican”, but I am always aware of the dangers of talking about yourself too much in a book review, so that is not what this is, it is just some ruminations I suppose along the same lines as the contributions to Caroline Chartres’ book (except of course I am not a celebrity).
It is probably easier to start by covering two reasons why some people (especially but not exclusively clergy) are Anglican, but which do not apply to me.
I am not an Anglican by birth; I was not a cradle Christian and underwent believer’s baptism by full immersion at the age of 23 (in an Anglican church). As readers of the Friends’ Meeting House blog may have noticed, I am descended on my father’s side from Irish Quakers, who became Roman Catholic (and so were disowned). My mother’s grandfather was a Wesleyan Methodist Minister. So I am not an Anglican by ethnicity or tradition, though I guess the theological mid point between Quakers, RC’s and Methodists is probably the Anglican Church.
I’m not an Anglican by deliberate choice either. Until I was 19 I had never been to church on a Sunday and was utterly, completely, unaware of the complexities of denominational boundaries; it was even a few years before I noticed there were no women vicars (this was in the 80’s). Ahh, the bliss of ignorance! During the time of my theological training it came to light that many of my contemporaries had become Anglicans from other churches, for a variety of theological practical and personal reasons. I would differentiate between myself and them because they actively chose to be Anglican, but I only went to an Anglican church because the people who were (so it turned out) praying for me and trying to get me into the Kingdom went to an Anglican church; I was so unchurched that I thought all Anglican churches would be like that one (it was St Michael le Belfry in York), so you can imagine my disappointment when after my conversion I went to another one and it was dire. You might say then that I became an Anglican out of ignorance!
By the grace of God my brothers had also recently come to faith and were going to a much more lively church, which is where I settled. So although I’m not an ethnic Anglican, I guess it is partly because of my family that I became a member of the Anglican Church.
So why did I stay? I’ve worshipped in and worked with Baptist, URC, Methodist, RC, Quaker, FIEC, NFI, Partners in Harvest and other independent churches. They were all curate’s eggs, but nothing made me want to jump ship. The Anglican Church has in fact become like a family to me. A Baptist couple, over lunch one Sunday, upon hearing I was training to be an Anglican minister, said “and so what’s it like to be joining a sinking ship?”
I took that remark as personally as if someone had just insulted my mother. I can’t really define why that family relationship formed, but it has probably got something to do with the fact that it was Anglicans who shared the gospel with me, Anglicans who invited me to church, who picked me up from the gutter and who fed housed and prayed with me when I was in need. I’m sure other churches are good at this kind of thing too; it’s just that Anglicans made me fall in love with Christ first, and themselves second. And they never said a word about church politics! I am sure I am not alone in this experience.
I certainly could not say that I am an Anglican because I think the Anglican Church is best, or as is sometimes said by keen young clergy, “the best boat to fish from”. Some days I think it’s the worst, and there have been periods even during my ordained ministry when, if I had the choice I might have gone to a different church. But I didn’t, and here’s why;
I believe that in this country the Anglican Church has a unique opportunity for mission that is lacking in most other denominations. We have the advantage of being the church that people don’t go to; even though they might self-identify as C of E, they never go except for hatch match and despatch type events. For this reason whenever I conduct a funeral, a wedding or a baptism I do not hesitate to preach a gospel message and encourage a response. The “submarine Christians”, who only surface twice a year at Christmas and Easter, are the first port of call on my missionary journey. I suppose I regard them as something of a “captive audience”.
In the rural context where I minister, the Anglican vicar has a role in society as a public figure that gives him or her a wide open doorway for evangelism in things like schools work, civic chaplaincy, village social events and so on. Incarnational ministry is most effective from this situation, even if what we end up doing is actually breaking stereotypes instead of living up to them.
We are to a greater or lesser extent, depending on your context, part of the cultural furniture. I do acknowledge that this can be a disadvantage because it can make us prone to wishy-washy wooliness, but that leads into my main theological reason for still being an Anglican.
You might term this idea the “Strangeways Principle”. I have used it before as a metaphor for women clergy in the Church of England, but its scope is wider. In a nutshell, I believe it is impossible to change a system or institution unless you are part of it, functioning within it. The Incarnation of our Lord Jesus Christ follows this principle (in fact it sets the primary example of it). I call it the Strangeways Principle because of what happened in the British Prison population following the 1990 riot at Strangeways Prison in
While a refurbishment took place, a large number of prisoners were spread around the other prisons in the
Sometimes it feels as though tradition, paperwork, money, old buildings etc imprison us, but a great work of the Kingdom is underway, in spite of all that. This gospel ministry is like the yeast in the dough, the wheat among the tares. It may not seem effective in transformation in the short term, but remains a powerful force; take the yeast from the dough, you have a worthless lump of paste! My experience has also taught me that this is not actually the preserve of labelled evangelical churches, clergy or laity.
I do believe that the Anglican Church needs to change though, and I believe this change can only come from within. This was the heart’s desire of the Wesleys too; it was their followers who took Methodism out of the C of E. Evangelicals then, following this principle, should stay fully integrated in the life and ministry of the Anglican Church, to be able to influence the changes that many of us long for (though I acknowledge that this is easier to do in the UK than in the USA). I do believe we need to think very carefully about the wisdom of sticking to the parochial system so rigidly, and I am also of the opinion that the Act of Synod (and the “code of conduct”) should never have seen the light of day.
If Anglican Evangelicals had agreed with Martyn Lloyd Jones instead of John Stott in 1967, and all gone off to form their own denomination, we would never have had the evangelical bishops, archdeacons, deans and theologians that we have been blessed by since then. We would probably look a lot more like ECUSA (i.e. a mess).
How do we need to change? By letting go of the traditions of man that we are holding on to (like the parochial system), and allowing God to lead us by his Spirit and his Word; inevitably this is going to mean a greater emphasis on mission and evangelism, a greater engagement with the cultures in which we minister and a more flexible approach to ministry. Who are the pioneers of all these? At the moment I think it’s mostly the Evangelical constituency, but I would be happy to be proven wrong.
So I do want to stay an Anglican, in spite of the many problems we have; ever since the Act of Synod came into force, the integrity of our Church has been undermined, and has to survive on the spin of two integrities (surely an oxymoron). I get very worked up and cross about our bickering. I also get frustrated by the continual haranguing that evangelicals get from the liberal wing of the church for our position on matters of sexual morality, especially since this (e.g. Lambeth 1.10) is the official position of the Communion.
But my reading of the 39 articles and Canon law tell me the following;
The Church is a fallible human institution. (As a minister once said to someone as they left his church, “if you ever find the perfect church, don’t join it, you’ll spoil it!”) In many senses, I find my ministry to be more concerned with the
Ministers are also mere fallible mortals, who while they have a calling to holy living, are not yet perfect. I do not agree with the consecration of practicing homosexuals in sexual relationships as bishops (or their ordination at all for that matter), but I would happily receive communion from Gene Robinson because my understanding of sacraments is that they are not defiled by those who minister them, not even by those who receive them. We may receive unworthily, but it is we who are unworthy sinners, not the sacrament (1 Cor 11. 17ff; being sinned against is not the same as being defiled or deprived of efficacy.)
Principally, then, a major reason for my commitment to Anglicanism is that I have a theological confidence in the leadership of the Anglican Church. As a colleague in the deanery here said to me recently “the bishop would have to instruct me to marry a donkey to a man before I would leave”. I trust God that this is not going to happen. After all, claims of orthodoxy are not pieces in a game of chess but statements about our relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ.
That’s it in a nutshell really; faith is about relationships; primarily with Christ, but also with other Christians, and in the Anglican church, like it or not, that’s going to mean Christians whose ethics or hermeneutics you may find repulsive. Our evangelism is also based on relationships – with people who may be involved in lifestyle choices we find even more repulsive, yet we know that God loves them and wants to be in relationship with them, and it is our task to enable that, in the power of the Spirit. If we can’t relate well to those who share our faith, our relationship with the world “outside” may well end up disabled, and our mission compromised.
I am a Canon A5 evangelical, which means I took my ordination vows very seriously; when I was ordained I had to prostrate myself before a bishop; I felt very uncomfortable about this, but when my friend (also an evangelical) standing next to me on the platform said “I will do whatever it takes to follow my vocation”, I saw her point and assented to the ritual. I was glad I did because at that point (during the singing of the Veni Creator) the Holy Spirit came upon me (indeed us) in an immensely powerful way.
This is about a calling; God has called me, the Anglican Church has recognised, nurtured and enabled the fruition of that calling. Until such time that he calls me elsewhere, I’m staying here. I fully admit that there are times when the Church makes me want to scream and bang my head against the wall; when this happens I usually take some time away from the papers and the internet just talking to people about Jesus, just being with God, with the people, and then I am more encouraged and blessed than I could ever be. I am grateful to God that it is the Anglican Church that has enabled me to have the privilege to serve God in this way.
That’s why I’m still an Anglican.
Revd Tim Goodbody is priest-in-charge of Stebbing and Lindsell with Great and Little (Bardfield) Saling in the diocese of Chelmsford. He blogs at Friends' Meeting House.
Revd Tim Goodbody is priest-in-charge of Stebbing and Lindsell with Great and Little (Bardfield) Saling in the diocese of Chelmsford. He blogs at Friends’ Meeting House.