Blogging is intermittent at present. Don't blog when I'm away from home. Next few days I'm in Cardiff on a dual purpose visit. I'm doing a couple of lectures on the hymns of Charles Wesley, and meeting up with the other UK Baptist Principals - amongst other things to harden up arrangements for the Baptists Doing Theology in Context conference later this year at Luther King House, Manchester.
I've posted on the Scottish Baptist College blog the details of the lectures - recent blog posts here on Charles Wesley have been sparked by immersing myself again in Weselyan hymns and biography. The Wesleyan hunger for holiness drove Charles and John to a lifelong programme of original research, analysing and exploring the origins and nature of personal Christian experience. Their search for a theology of experience which encompassed redemption and sanctification and took with radical seriousness the power of divine love to renew the image of God in human personality, inspired some of Charles most remarkable hymns. And woven through them a rich combination of Christian theological traditions from Augustine's Homilies on 1 John and his Confessions, to Eastern Fathers such as the Cappadocians; from Ephrem the Syrian to the Anglican poet George Herbert, from Luther to a whole clutch of Puritans; from Henry Scougal of Aberdeen whose Life of God in the Soul of Man had an influence out of all proportion to its size on the theology and spirituality of the Wesleys and Whitefield, and on to the non-conformist expositor Matthew Henry, whose brilliant one-liners at times are the inspiration for entire hymns. And on.....and on.
To study Wesley's hymns is to encounter theology that is passionately felt and told; it is also to discover just how varied and suggestive, how profound and creative Christian theology can be, when powerful streams meet, and earlier tradition encounters contemporary experience in a new confluence. For myself, the devout eclecticism and reasonable enthusiasm of John Wesley's theology, and the poetic virtuosity Charles Wesley displayed in setting Evangelical faith to music and rhythm, demonstrates how a classic stream of Christian tradition such as Evangelical Spirituality, incurs debts it must never disown. Whatever else contemporary Evangelicalism loses, and it is in process of losing much, it must not lose its sense of indebtedness to and dependence upon, the insights and energy, the spiritual resources and theological correctives, of a Christian tradition much older, wider and deeper than any single movement. Of course it's hard now to define Evangelicalism as a movement - qualifiers such as conservative and progressive, variations of species that are encountered in different cultural contexts, claims and counter-claims to represent 'historic Evangelicalism' and thus exclude others as non-representative, and a plethora of agenda driven marketable Evangelical makeovers, suggest a serious dissolution of distinctives. Anyway, Evangelicalism never was a unified, overarching, co-ordinated movement, but rather an expression of Christian faith shaped by a cluster of convictions variously interpreted, and yet which were common to people of many Christian traditions.
Which is why it is important that discussions of contemporary Evangelicalism should not be divorced from the historical origins in the Evangelical revival of the 18th Century; nor should the classic expressions of Evangelicalism be isolated from that continuous flow of Christian tradition, as if Evangelicalism somehow superseded all other traditions in theological truth claims, missional urgency, spiritual vitality. Any particular tradition that cuts itself off from the mainstream, becomes an oxbow lake, and is in danger of simply drying up as the rest of the river flows on.
One of the reasons I study the hymns of Charles Wesley and the sermons of John Wesley, and much else in the Evangelical Spiritual tradition is because I refuse to allow contemporary a-historical fashions to dictate what Evangelicalism is or isn't. And often restatements and redefinitions make little meaningful reference to our own tradition, never mind Evangelicalism's own dependence on those many streams that originate up in the foothills of the Christian tradition, and which in their flow towards the sea feed and sustain each other like tributaries. Traditions must change, adapt, remain responsive to contextual flux, but there is also something given to a tradition which later generations cannot simply decide to dispense with in the struggle for survival we call relevance.
The Evangelical tradition has moved on since Wesley's day - but what is it that gives Evangelicalism continuity with its own past?
What in the tradition is 'given', that without which Evangelicalism begins to lose its impetus and flow, its place in the mainstream, and puts it in danger of becoming an oxbow lake, cut off by the slow accumulation of silt?
Questions. And not unimportant ones.
Comments