From the Hillside

By John M. Hancock

Why have the churches been unable to make sense of Jesus to the population? This is not the same as getting people into places of worship. Sometimes more people did come to church. Adults had nothing more interesting to do. The children came to Sunday school. Times changed. Quickly it became clear that people had better alternatives. Sunday Schools and church going have made no important differences to them. Jesus remains at a distance, making no sense and irrelevant. There were growing pressures as the cost of church buildings rose and salaries increased. It was urgent to get people into church in the hope they could be persuaded to part with some of their cash. So church leaders and congregations tried new things. There were big rallies and major events with popular speakers. The services changed, even the language and music changed a little. But there were few long lasting results. Any strategy that is not driven by the need to increase the membership and income gets scant consideration. However, serious barriers remained. Those who went to church often struggled to explain to others what church was all about. Children were growing up with no contact with church and going to church was not 'cool' except for a few elderly folk and 'fanatics'. There are other barriers, some of the church's own making. Staff and clergy must be paid and church buildings that need to be maintained. The emphasis is on 'getting people to come to church' to boost the income. In this attempt, the gospel is sometimes diluted or other important concerns are allowed to take a higher priority. We do what it takes to win votes. Yet if anyone does venture into the church building, very often they have to come on the terms set by the church. One size is expected to fit all. That means one type of service, one sort of language, one style of music, one way of communicating and one way only of doing things. It is no surprise that only the needs of a very few are met. Once in, all kinds of assumptions are then made. "Everyone of course 'believes' everything their grandparents 'believed' and they understand the language and teaching of the church." They do not. It is not good enough to tell others to 'just believe'. It is assumed that people know that Jesus actually lived; that He is not like Santa and that the New Testament gospels are reliable. All this contradicts so much that is heard and accepted without question in the media and elsewhere. So many churchgoers do not know how to correct these mistaken ideas. Nor can churchgoers explain to others the language activity in worship services. They do not find it easy to come to terms with the reality that they themselves have never understood or when they discover that for so long they have been mistaken.
Can the widening gulf between most people and Jesus be bridged? I am absolutely certain that it can. We must look again at the strategy of Jesus and the early church and learn from the evidence in the past and now, when we find people are discovering that Jesus can make sense.
Throughout this book, there are hints of the way ahead for the church. In chapter six I discuss this way ahead. This route is not a blue print but I hope the basis for urgent debate, thought, prayer and action. I am not suggesting that church going is out of date or irrelevant. The vital component seen in the early church and today, compliments church worship and its life. It is not an alternative or a threat. The two belong together. When either is neglected then the whole church suffers. Is it possible that we will be enabled to see that a very important ingredient is missing and that without it the gulfs between most people and Jesus will grow even wider?

• Language: English
• Publisher: John M. Hancock
• Release date: Mar 1, 2014

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From the hillside

Bridging gulfs that keep Jesus at a distance.

John M. Hancock

From The Hillside

John. M. Hancock

Copyright 2012 by John. M. Hancock

Smashwords Edition

Published in the UK. 2012 by Dubmire Books

Revised 2013

Unless otherwise noted, all scripture quotations are from the

New Revised Standard Version of the Bible.

Extracts from Common Worship: Services and Prayers

for the Church of England © The Archbishop’s Council.

To those who have challenged, inspired

and encouraged me.

Contents

Preface

Chapter One: A PERSONAL VIEW

Chapter Two: THE BEGINNING OF THE BEGINNING

Chapter Three: THE NEXT STEPS

Chapter Four: THE GOD STORY

Chapter Five: CLEARING THE GROUND

Chapter Six: TO BE CONTINUED

Chapter Seven: CHALLENGES REMAIN

Chapter Eight: FROM ANOTHER HILLSIDE

Endnotes

Preface

‘To An Unknown God’

What you worship as unknown, this I proclaim to you. Acts 17 verse 2

I am not surprised if you are having difficulty in deciding what this book may be about. The title tells you little but then many book titles fall into that category. If you look at the first chapter, you could be forgiven for thinking that it is a tedious autobiography of someone of whom you have never even heard. Relax! This is not a book about me. In that first chapter, I pick out various elements from my own experience. In retrospect, I see issues with which I am still concerned and which constitute the burden of the book.

I will set out the different audiences who may find this offering of some interest. There are times in our lives when for some reason or another we are disturbed by questions that are vaguely spiritual, which we are not able to put into words. Sometimes very discreetly, we start to search. There seems to be a plethora of books. Which do you choose? Having made a choice, whilst very often the book may be very good, it fails to answer those tangled questions we have not been able to articulate. Something is missing. This continues very often as more books are read. The same is often true when we venture into one of the many advertised courses or events. Sometimes we are even more daring and go into a church service. For many the questions may be answered. But for many more ignorance is not bliss and the failure of all this material to meet their needs and answer their questions is frustrating. Faced by this many have decided to investigate no further. We know that in what we have found, nothing has hit the target. I know something of this frustrating search. This book comes straight out of my own experience. This is not an academic book although I do refer to my academic sources in the endnotes as this may be of help to some readers.

The numbers of those attending worship in church buildings and elsewhere has been falling steadily since the last half of the twentieth century. If you lead a small or large congregation and are seeing neither growth in numbers nor in the willingness of members to share their faith with others, this book may be for you. It comes from a personal conviction that we have expected others to join the church and become enthusiastic about what fires us and to do things our way. We were wrong. We expected them to come on our terms. We have not answered their questions nor met their needs.

You may be a regular churchgoer but one of the many who has questions you never dared to ask or were never encouraged or even given an opportunity to ask. Some of those questions may have been pushed into the background and even become lost in the fog of church activity and other pressures. But you cannot talk to others about Jesus while you feel in the dark, often irritated with church, and aware of so many problems and unanswered questions. I know something of that.

And finally! You may be hanging in there hoping for the day when others will join you in your love and enthusiasm for Jesus and his way. The Church as an institution sometimes seems seriously out of touch and even unwilling to move fast enough to keep abreast of the people who are just plain ordinary and many of whom are your friends and neighbours. Your church seems to have no overall strategy or any enthusiasm to consider the need for such. My concern (in chapter six) is to offer ways to enable people find genuine faith.

I thank my friends and family who have encouraged me. Especially my son Andrew who at the beginning urged me on step by step when I was living at the time with him in May Hill. His wife, Jackie, made me realise how some people hear the words from the New Testament and church services in different ways. Emily, my granddaughter corrected some of my grammar and spelling and asked questions where I was obscure. Others have read the text and made valuable suggestions and in particular, Judith Lees, churchwarden at the time of St Barnabas, Burnmoor in the Durham Diocese, sorted out my punctuation and asked penetrating questions which I have attempted to address.

In the text, I express my gratitude to my teachers at university. More recently, I have learnt from Bishop Tom Wright through his preaching and writings. I acknowledge how much he has influenced much of what I have written. I thank him for all that. It is good to be able to go on learning and adjusting in the light of new discoveries aided by others who are more gifted and able.

I am puzzled that so few people have read the books from Tom Wright and Ian Ramsey. At present, there is little sign that their writings have had much impact on the liturgy, teaching and preaching in the Church of England. I dare to hope that in some small way this book might draw attention to the much more profound, scholarly and exciting contributions of others.

John M. Hancock.........Candlemas 2012

9 Railway Cottages. Houghton le Spring

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Chapter One

A Personal View.

I sat on May Hill¹ in Gloucestershire, a prominent landmark – a sight that says you are nearly home. The sky blue, the sun gently warm and the views stunning.

When I was younger, I had climbed many hills and mountains in the Lake District. At Durham School, I had climbed the steps of Chapel Hill and looked over the school buildings, the playing fields, and further beyond to the cathedral, castle and the city. On this May Hill-side, it was different. My life had been busy and time for reflection usually focussed on the immediate past or future. There was always some issue that needed to be thought through. Now after I had retired I had space to reflect more leisurely and the perfect surroundings in which to think and pray. From this hillside I saw the sunrise and set. I saw winter give way to spring and through to autumn. Opposite there was a large, elegant and impressive house surrounded by trees. From where I sat, it had seemed that there was no road to it or any driveway. It was weeks later that I would realise that there was a bridle path and road behind the house when I saw my granddaughter riding along the path. Most significant was whilst I thought the house itself seemed relatively near, in fact I was to discover that I was well and truly separated from it by the steep sides of a heavily wooded-valley.

As I reflected on that, I realised that in my own life there had been things, unrecognised at the time, that had separated me from Jesus. More significantly, and the trigger for writing this book, I realised that what was true for me may well be true for many others. The way in which the local congregation is organised around worship in a church building² gives no space for the different and varied backgrounds of people to be recognised, understood and provided for. It is assumed that one size will fit everyone.

My personal story of how I came to this understanding may not be of any interest to some readers. It is after all a story from a privileged past that will be foreign and irrelevant to many who are not of my generation. If I give you a brief summary of the relevant issues, you may prefer to omit this detail and turn directly to chapter two.

I was born and brought up in a vicarage and educated in a private preparatory school and then sent to an all boys boarding public school during the nineteen fifties. I did not appreciate how this separated me from other boys of my age.

At school and college, as well as at home, I hid behind hard work to maintain a convincing outward appearance - a confident and competent operator. I was in reality very insecure and ignorant of life. I appeared to be religious but the cloak of religion I wore was very different from what I came to see in the New Testament of the relationship I could enjoy with God through Jesus. This gulf began to dawn on me when a friend in my first term at university asked me ‘Are you a Christian?’³ As Christians, we often fail to recognise what may lie under the surface of many people. This should require, rather demand, that we treat them as individuals rather than as potential pew fodder. Then we have to see that often the language and music of most church worship fails to get through to most people. It did not help me to encounter Jesus. The same is still the case. I was one in a large congregation. No-one knew me, other than as the vicar’s son. It was assumed that I was a Christian. Along with everyone else, it was assumed that I had sound foundations for faith and knew far more than I did. Christian leaders fail to realise that most people do not have the tools by which they can show others that Jesus lived, and that his words in the gospels have been reliably recorded.

This should give you enough background if you wish to turn to the next chapter.

My early years were spent living in a large distinctive vicarage house. Clergy and their families were often separated from the population by life style and schooling. I was protected from seeing the ordinary. Newspapers were carefully edited. I did not stray beyond the vicarage garden walls. I was oblivious of the housing conditions in which many of my peers lived. ‘Slums’ was just a word: the reality did not dawn on me for a very long time. The worship and life of the ‘church’ was comfortable for those with middle class backgrounds. Yet what was needed was not comfort but challenge and a context in which we were recognised as individuals with distinct needs and different backgrounds. It was assumed we were all the same and that those who recognised that they did not fit, would either ‘improve’ or simply accept that much in worship and church life would be foreign to them.

I gazed over towards that house again. So near and yet …

At college, I realised that my very protected childhood in an Anglican vicarage and life in an all boy’s boarding school had not prepared me for normal life. It could have been different. When aged seven, we moved to (West) Hartlepool, I left the private school to which I had been sent in Gateshead and went to the local Elementary school. I just did not fit in. This was not the world to which I was accustomed. I tried very hard to win the friendship of other boys, just as at home I thought I had to earn the love of my parents. (But that was the 1950’s) Childhood experiences made me unsure of myself. Academically I was not making the grade and would certainly have failed the eleven plus exams. I was taken away and sent to a private preparatory school; back into the privileged and separate world I had always known and away from the ‘ordinary boys’ I had encountered briefly for the first time in my life. The gulf widened when at 13 years old I entered Durham School as a full time boarder for six years. The next step was into St. John’s College in Durham University. It was here that I began to see something of the gulf separating me from many other people. It was obvious as I mixed with others of my own age but from different backgrounds.

After I had gained my degree at Durham, I went to Oxford. There in my first year I accepted a challenge and volunteered with a group of other students to go regularly to a youth club for those in the Cowley works area. You can picture a postgraduate student standing there amongst older teenagers and others in their twenties, after shift work in the factory, trying to make sense of Jesus to them, whilst darts were thrown narrowly missing my ears and feet. The shock drove me, when on holiday, to spend many evenings in what was then a transport café on the green in Sedgefield (where my father was the rector) used by bikers in their leathers and by other young people. I organised gatherings of Sedgefield youth in the very large Rectory garden with music from speakers slung from bedroom windows, a Christian speaker and refreshments served by my long suffering mother from the kitchen.

It was not only the youths of Oxford and Sedgefield who were in a different world from me. In my first job, as the curate, I was expected to go into the youth club and the loud Saturday evening dance. It was not my scene at all but I saw clearly how so many of the young people around me lived and relaxed. I wanted to bridge the gap and find ways of introducing Jesus to them. In my first parish, I began a youth work for the older teenagers in the cellars under the church building when youth clubs were still in fashion. It was very successful as far as they were concerned. This led me into a big involvement in education in the borough and, in my second parish, into two schools – one primary, one comprehensive.

The gulf that separated me from young people did not stop with them. In the first two parishes in which I worked, I visited every house at least twice. Here I had evidence in abundance that what was normal for those whom I visited was not normal for me. There were so many differences in culture, language and every day living. I was in a different world. Neither I, nor I thought the institutional church, were equipped to bridge the gap. At least I saw that there was a real gulf and that it should be bridged but not in order so that those, the majority of our population, could be dragged across into ‘church’.

Back in college, I began to recognise personal gulfs.

Caught up in the very early, exciting and at the same time frightening days of university, I was confronted by a question; Are you a Christian? Sorry, what did you say? My questioner was not a stranger. He was not some weirdo. He was very normal. We played rugby together and I regarded him as a friend. Are you a Christian? My stunned silence did no more than produce a probing repetition of the same question. I had been at a Church of England public school; chapel every morning, house prayers every evening and monthly attendance at the Cathedral evensong. I had grown up in a vicarage, ‘taken to church’ every Sunday. My father was a respected Anglican clergyman. After taking O Levels I had gone forward for ordination selection and been accepted. Whilst I somehow satisfied the selectors of my suitability for ordination, I was not at all clear in my own mind of what it was that was stirring me. This was very different from my father’s experience. He had left school at 14 and gone