Before we get into this, if you are wondering where some of these ideas come from, here are a few earlier posts which might give background to the discussion;

Churchless faith– an old (two part) with Jason Clark.

Link to Steve Aisthorpe’s work on Church leavers.

Link to podcast with Katy Cross, 2024 research on church leavers

Discussion about dispersed networks.

Wondering what sort of organisations might work best to support post-church spirituality.

What right have I to talk about these tihngs? I am not a theologian nor a church planter or a priest. I make pots and write poems. Those of you who either read or stumble accross this series of posts in which I try to imagine an entirely different approach to faith would do well to consider my lack of credentials. I am not writing a road-map to victory or a blueprint for milimetric construction, rather I am dreaming out loud, because that is what poets do. But this is not a casual excersise. It is very serious.

Why do I persist then? What gives me the confidence to continue to commit these ideas to silicon? Firstly, I have been thinking about them a long time. Long term readers of this blog (if such things exist!) may note that all the ideas gathered into this series of posts have been discussed here before, and that (almost) none of them are original, all are borrowed from people who are much more learned. Secondly, I have some experience of strategic analysis and planning for change, arising from by background in social studies, social work and my (failed) attempts to transform a mental health service.

Thirdly, I have many friends who are active in and around what remains of Church and even though many will disagree with me in wholly or in part, in private at least our conversations have often centred on how exhausted they feel working to hold up the old structures. It is as if the machine has long ago ceased to function well, but the only choice is to keep it running, because what else is there? And perhaps there may yet be a way of making the machine run better, of adapting its mechanics… but then again we have been trying this for so long.

Finally, I do so because I must. If this blog is about anything it is a journal in which I try to describe the light I see through darkness. I claim no divine inspiration, but then again, all poetry comes from somewhere.

In my last post I tried to describe a different origin story for a new/old kind of Christian faith, based around cosmic connection, through Christ, to all created things. I used words like ‘non-dual’ and ‘shared am-ness’. I wondered how a rejection of the doctrine of original sin might change us and restated the centrality of the idea of a counter-cultural ‘kingdom of god’, whose adherents seek to live towards love and grace. This last point gives us the starting point for this post.

What might a church (or churching) look like if we followed the narrative logic of this kind of story?

And perhaps most importantly, what would it do? How would it worship (if at all?) What practices would it follow?

Organisation

Once again, it is difficult to imagine ‘church’ without seeing Church, particularly for those of us who have grown up with the insitution – even those of us who have tried to reform and reshape it. We have perhaps loved it and railed against it, or have even been one of those people who tried to return to the ‘New Testament model’ of church (which every new expressions of Christian organisation seems to claim.) Perhaps you have been to the church planting conferences or employed one of the many stategies for church growth or attempts to make Church relevant to culture. None of these things necessarily qualify you or me to speak with authority on what sort of organisational structure might best fit our new dispersed context. At best they will give clues and hints.

We have already discussed our changing context – one in which less and less people are interested in in attending Church, despite some (many) local examples which buck the overall trend (particularly some of the hard line findementalist Churches, albeit from a much lower base.)

Rather than trying to suggest ONE structure, what we might be able to do is to propose some broad principles;

Decentralisation

In a world of dwindling religious participation, we have seen a retreat into religious silos. The focus has been on preserving buildings and maintaining a front door, albiet for fewer and older visitors. However, my experience has been that my ‘church’ is not just local. My closest friends and conspirators are at distance.

I have written before about my instincts around the increasing value of dispersed community, as something that offers a sense of belonging and connection at both distance and by drawing people together for less frequent in person meetings.

There is a romantic link here to the old Celtic tradition of the wandering holy folk, or Wanderers for Christ – who were often poets or minstrels and saw themselves as wandering the roads spreading the news and talking of God. Making their holy voyage, or ‘perigrinatio’ was often an internal as much as external journey towards God, possible only because of the hospitality and welcome of those they met on the road.

Hyper-connectivity

During the pandemic there was much innovation within the locked down churches concerning the use of online activities and meeting spaces – although there was also much push-back, as if religious spaces had a divine right to ignore those restrictions imposed on the secular world. It is notable that although many have continued to live stream services and maintain facebook pages, much of this innovation has not continued. Like it or not – for both good and ill – we now live in a digital age. If the goal is meaningful community, kindness, justice, healing, then the challenge is how we can pursue these in a changed world, not just to continue as if the world is the same. That is not to say that we do not deeply appreciate fleshly human connection, or love the mystery of tradition, but we have new ways to encounter and connect.

The production of resources for support , for worship, for exploration, for contemplation, for protest, for celebration – all of these things are now available to us for almost no cost (apart from skill and time.) This is part of the reason that Rob and I are working so hard to try to revive the Proost network. (You can find out more about this from our podcast, in which we have tried to let people know our thinking out loud.)

Loose association

We can not afford only to connect to people/organisations that are just like us, that have the same theology or political views. This is hard work, particularly in our polarised times. The value of common purpose and generous orthodoxy is both a religious imperative and has wider implications for engaging with societal and global problems. This means letting go of purity of ideology/theology in pursuit of coalitions of kindness.

Project focus

The above might suggest that collectivising takes place around particular projects rather than forming an end in itself. In my experience it is better to time limit these projects in oder to maintain momentum and focus.

Minimal infrastructure

What support/back office/hierarchy can survive? We know that all the major religious denominations are asking these questions here in the UK. The other (and perhaps better question) is ‘what do we need’? How will the resources left be best employed? The cost of buildings are a huge burden, not to mention maintaining salaries, pensions and other costs associated with a professional clergy. A smaller, minimal back office might include facillitators, mentors, advisors and encouragers. This might be a very different skill set, requiring different training than that offered to our professionals currently

Lean

It goes without saying that in a religious world of less money, we need to manage with less. More than this we need to understand that this is not necessarily a ‘crisis’ – rather it is a reality that requires a different approach.

Small

Small gatherings of people who seek to share life, to pray and to plan small revolutions have a long history within the very best of our traditions. Not just those who grew to become mega churches or subsequently built cathedrals (in fact, this is possibly where things had gone wrong!) We need our friends, we need to share our houses and our lives with people close to us (and now, even at distance, given the internet.) Small is beautiful. Smal is normal. Small is human. Small is messy and real. Small is ephemeral and fragile, but so are we.

Convention

Sometimes we need to go large – to make big music or big art. There is a link here to the ‘project’ tag above. These events do not need to be frequent, or expensive, but larger gatherings seem crucial.

Radical alternatives

The final thing I will mention here is the need for some of us to go hard core.

The other lesson from history is that there has always been a sliding scale of commitment to a religious life. Most seek to incorporate faith into their ordinary. Some make a new ordinary in the form of taking on relgious orders, of various degrees of austerity and severity. The point of these communities has always seemed odd from the outside – sometimes they have closed the doors on the outside world and become houses of prayer, whereas others have seen themselves as healers or peace makers. All have taken on the ‘habit’ of following Jesus on a mission beyond what has been understood as normal.

What mission are we being called to now? Where do we need healing or peace? What prayers are needed most?

Dipping back into my Celtic bag of heritage, there are lots of examples here, of how monastic sites or holy houses became places of learning and hospitality, unlike any of the religious institutions we see today. Some followed strict segregation of men and women, others (Culdees for example) had married couples. Some were withdrawn from the world, others were active and engaged. All were seen as somehow offering a point of difference, of spiritual wisdom and focus.

What might a modern day Culdean house look like? We have seen a renewed interest in monasticism – particualarly that known as ‘new monasticism’. Here is me mate Mark talking about the same;