A church called to be everywhere

Two churches, yet in completely different settings — almost polar opposites.

On Wednesday daughter #2 was licensed as priest-in-charge of St Anne and All Saints church in South Lambeth in central London: I was privileged to read the Gospel lesson. St Anne’s is a small Anglican church with a unique heritage. 

However, what sets it apart is its location – it is set in a forest of apartment high-rises, built for wealthy bankers, internet entrepreneurs and lottery winners. 

I must say I find it mildly oppressive.  So many tall buildings overpowering a relatively small area – although I did notice a small estate of social housing dating from the 1950’s. It’s simply something unfamiliar to me — where any sense of human scale disappears.  

Here we have a challenge to ministry and yet an opportunity to create community in what would be for me, an alien environment.  We pray for Sharon. 

Then this Sunday, something completely different. 

I’m covering for my son-in-law, married to daughter #3, who is vicar of St Boniface in the village of Bunbury, rural Cheshire.  He is responsible for two small churches:  St Jude’s Tilstone Fearnall just off the busy A51 and Calveley Chapel, which is the middle of nowhere. 

I always find finding Calveley Chapel difficult:  it does not feature in Google maps.  Or any map, as far as I can see. It’s at the very end of a long country lane which goes nowhere else.  I’ve even stopped to ask directions – without success.

It’s there because it was once the chapel of a fine stately home – but the fine stately home has at some point in history been demolished.  There is no obvious reason why it should be there, except it is cared for by a small group of dedicated volunteers.  There is just one service a month at Calveley Chapel and this month they have me.

Two churches, St Anne’s and Calveley Chapel – extreme ends of the spectrum which is the Church of England, bearing witness to the CofE strapline, a Christian presence in every community, however diverse, however remote. For the simple reason that Jesus died for everyone.

So the apostle Paul can declare (here in the Message translation, obviously): “Our firm decision is to work from this focused centre: One man died for everyone. That puts everyone in the same boat. He included everyone in his death so that everyone could also be included in his life, a resurrection life, a far better life than people ever lived on their own.” (2 Corinthians 5:15)

I’ve always been a fan of the parish system – despite the obvious dangers of becoming parochial.  The Bishop of Blackburn, Philip North, declares: “Our parish churches remind us that there is no corner of the land that is not within the Church’s pastoral responsibility. Every blade of grass, every street, every square inch belongs to God and falls within a parish.”

There has been much fanfare concerning the appointment of Bishop Sarah Mullaly as the new Archbishop of Canterbury – and we wish her well in an impossible job. 

But what the media seem not to grasp is that the CofE is not a top-down organisation.  She is not our CEO.  There are few, if any, levers she can pull which reach directly and immediately into our parish churches. 

She has a ministry, of course, as the public face of the Church of England – and the Anglican communion, but no way can she be our David Moyes and right away take us up the table.  (Great result on Sunday, by-the-way). 

The strength of the Church of England lies in its grassroots life; it is not a top-down institution but a living network of local communities. Its vitality comes from the ground — from ordinary worshipping communities, like the handful of volunteers at Calveley. 

All the recent advances for the Kingdom have come from the parishes and quickly spread:  the Alpha course, Food banks, Street pastors, to name but three, have all had local beginnings

Sadly the hierarchy doesn’t always recognise this and in recent years there have been failed attempts to create a middle tier of ministry, even to take resources out of parish ministries.  

So to quote MP, Danny Kruger, who unsurprisingly defected from the Conservative Party to Reform UK and one known for his Christian views: “The Church of England’s plans to allow bishops to merge or abolish local parishes without the consent of parishioners is a bad trend, an echo of all the failed centralisations of the last 50 years that make British public services so bureaucratic and out of touch.”

For all of us live at the local level, only there can we make relationships.  To love our neighbour requires that we know them, or at the very least, bump into them.  For the parish church at its best is the place where the lonely and the insecure can find a welcome.

As I go round the various churches, filling in gaps and covering for absent clergy, I meet loyal church members, entirely committed to serving the Lord in their local church.  I’m always humbled by their dedication and commitment to serve Jesus in their own small corner.

It may be Dibley, but that’s precisely where the Gospel takes root — in the local, the familiar, the overlooked. The Church of England’s future will not be secured by committees or plans but by the quiet faithfulness of people who show up week by week to love their neighbours.

Whether surrounded by tower blocks or hedgerows, the same calling holds true: to be Christ’s presence in the place where we live.