Fear not, do not be afraid

There is a commanding invitation which echoes throughout the Bible. It's a message given at various times to patriarchs and prophets, to nations and to shepherds, to Zechariah and to Mary, to disciples and to fledgling congregations in the church's earliest days.

"Fear not, do not be afraid".

My brothers and sisters this is a message that we need to hear, because it seems to me that we have become afraid. And what are we afraid of? Of causing offence by being ourselves? Afraid of the future? Afraid of the challenges to our faith and actions from many quarters, to which we don't know how to respond without giving offence in return? Are we afraid of those who are different from us? Afraid of failure, afraid of ridicule? Afraid of looking foolish? Afraid of taking risks?

For our summer holiday in August 2003, Margaret and I decided to spend two weeks on the Trent and Mersey Canal, on a narrow boat. This was a very risky strategy! We'd never done such a thing before. We had to learn new words like windlass, winding turn and bilge. We were given twenty minutes of instruction and shown, on a model lock, how to get the boat in and out. And how to move the tiller. We were told to travel for at least four hours a day in order to charge the batteries. And off we went, into the unknown.

Twenty minutes into our journey we encountered the Mersey, which tried to suck us into its stream – it was terrifying! But we managed to stay afloat on the canal. Passing other boats, going under low bridges and negotiating locks were real challenges. The fear was ever present: would we crash into another boat, capsize as we came out of a lock or find no moorings at the end of the day?
Some people fed us with dismal and scary stories, especially about a terrifying place called Fradley Junction, with its many locks; but many of the people we met were helpful and kind, friendly and, above all, encouraging. What we had to conquer was not the canal. It was our fear. We had to take the risk, in order to make the journey.

As a church, we need to learn once again to become risk-takers, people who take risks for the Gospel, who take risks for Christ, who take risks in the service of God and one another. We have to take risks, in order to make the journey. We discover courage by doing courageous, God-like actions. "God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son". An act at a particular time and place. It is the sin of the world that Christ takes away. Action!

So what are we afraid of? And what are the consequences of our fearfulness? The result of fear can be dangerous, fear itself can create its own risk. Because often when we're reacting out of fear we don't behave with courage and determination and grace, we become defensive, we behave badly.

And this Bad Behaviour doesn't only afflict us as individuals but at every level, as churches, as nations. The language of fear has become the language of international relations; worldwide, a new book on terrorism is published every 6 hours!

Fear has begun to shape the minds and the decisions of those who take counsel for the nations. As Jim Wallis has noted, "The politics of fear can have disastrous results in both foreign and domestic policy. To name the face of evil in the brutality of terrorist attacks is good theology, but to say simply that they are evil and we are good is bad theology that can lead to dangerous politics. The threat of terrorism does not overturn Christian ethics." It's mercy, loving-kindness, deeds of mutual charity, reciprocal solidarity, walking in God's ways of love and justice.

And our fear of terrorism can lead us to false conclusions about our Muslim neighbours.

The challenge we face isn't about moderate Muslims versus so-called radicalised Muslims; the challenge is about Islam being used for quasi-political ends at whose heart is getting into paradise now by suicide bombing propelled by a hatred of the West and its way of life. Attempting to avenge past hurts by piling them on present problems.

Therefore the question is in fact about our discernment between those Muslims who, being loyal to the holy Qur'an, are dedicated to a vision of Allah who is merciful, holy and kind - in contrast to those who tendentiously make Allah vengeful, violent and merciless – promising paradise now through acts of brutality and mass murder. In remaking God in their own image, they commit the ultimate act of blasphemy.

In the same way we Christians must beware of taking the holiness of God to imply that his wrath and judgement are out to destroy sinners instead of redeeming them, loving them and forgiving them. For those who follow the man of Galilee who was crucified, self-righteousness must die at his Cross. It's from the Cross that the light of God shines forth upon the world in its fullest splendour. And as David Bosch has said (in Transforming Mission) "The Church is an inseparable union of the divine and the dusty."

We are still human and the chorus to the song 'Anthem' by the Canadian writer, Leonard Cohen reminds us that there can be a point to our lack of perfection:
"Ring the bells
That still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in."

We must resist the temptation to abandon Christian principles of justice to those who suggest that fear is a better teacher than Christ Himself. For us, the opposite of fear isn't courage, but the gift of wisdom, knowledge, discernment and insight from the Holy Spirit.

Sin harms the individual believer. Heresy (the wrong understanding of God) harms the Church. Idolatry destroys both the believer and the Church and is the cause of both sin and heresy. Our mission, like that of Jesus, is to confront idolatry.

So, what are we afraid of? Are we afraid of the loss of identity? Of a diminished sense of who we are and what it means to be us? You might think so, given the amount of time our society at present devotes, in its public conversation, to the question of what it means to be British.
And as a church, are we afraid of the future? Are we afraid of change? Are we privately content with the comfortable certainties of decline?
Or are we afraid of the public square? Of the public conversation about faith and society, difference and identity? In a space which we once confidently thought belonged to us as of right, how do we preach the words of life afresh in our communities of diverse ethnicities, cultures and peoples of other faiths present; and in a generation that is sceptical, cynical, fearful?

Fear is a subtle enemy, changing its face and nature in order to take us unawares, to get under our defences. We may think we know what to fear, but we can be taken by surprise.
You will have heard of the story when a Lion, a Gorilla and a Chicken were discussing fear.
The gorilla said 'When I beat my chest all animals are afraid'
The Lion boasted 'When I roar, animals and humans for miles around are very very scared'
'That's nothing' said the chicken.
'All I have to do is sneeze and the whole world is terrified'

At the moment, the Church is in danger of being paralysed by fear of schism in the Anglican Communion; by much painful disagreement over the controverted issue of ordaining people in same sex relationships, and the blessing of such relationships.

And in our fear, too, Christ can easily be pushed out of the way as we try to show others that we are right and that they are wrong. Then, grace, compassion and love go out of the window.

As you know, I visited the General Convention of the Episcopal Church last year, and I returned from the General Synod of the Anglican Church of Canada last week. In both Synods, regardless of the outcome of the debate, people spoke of their pain and sadness about the resulting brokenness of the Church, the body of Christ. And all sides showed concern for the fact that, as Bishop Victoria Matthews said, we were being "drawn away from issues which are gradually destroying God's creation – child poverty, racism, global warming, economic injustice, concern for our aboriginal brothers and sisters, and the growing disparity between the rich and the poor..."

But it's not only the Church that needs to hear the words of Christ not to be afraid but also the rest of our society. We seem to lack a confident grasp of the world as it is. Many of us see the world only as we wish it to be and/or regret it is not. The Gospel ought to help us to get beyond this computerized despair to a place of presence, engagement and participation.

Because if we're afraid, then we are not the only ones.

Why, in our society, do we need to fill up the air with noise, celebrity and trivia? Because beyond all that stuff, beyond the noise and the striving, we're so afraid of the terrible silence. Afraid of an echoing, empty universe in which we are alone, without God, who says to us "Do not be afraid. Before you were in your mother's womb I knew you. I have made you. And called you. You are mine."

In this context of fear and of terror, religious faith can be seen not only as something dangerous but as foolishness, as something for the childish, rather than the childlike, something trivial, comforting for the woolly minded, something to be mocked and regarded as no better than Father Christmas or the Tooth Fairy.

In the opening chapter of his first letter to the Corinthians, the Apostle Paul asks: "Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has God not made foolish the wisdom of the world?"

For even now, just as then, some demand miraculous signs and others look for wisdom. But we preach Christ crucified – Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong, He chose the lowly things of the world and the despised so that none of us may boast before Him.

St Paul's confidence in the Gospel begins and ends with the Cross of Christ, where the victory has already been won.

So it is that, during the years of Apartheid, South African Government troops entered the church where Desmond Tutu was preaching. After the soldiers had searched at great length for a man who wasn't there, Tutu invited them not to leave but to remain. "Stay" he said "Stay with us and come over to the winning side."
Tutu knew that through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ there is nothing now that we have to fear. The words of Christ to his disciples were "Do not be afraid" and we need to take them seriously, if we are to be serious in our risk-taking.

So does this mean that we can sit back, comfortable in this knowledge, and become mere spectators? Not at all! And you know that better than most – that's why you're here! Like St Paul, we're co-workers in building the Kingdom, until that day when He will take our work and make it perfect.

But in our church: are we afraid that the boat is leaking? The Anglican Church, the Church of England and the Communion must put aside fear and anxiety and instead focus on Jesus's insistent call to the disciples, in their small boat in Luke chapter 5, and to us: "Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch"

In response to Simon's fear and astonishment at the incredible, net-breaking, boat-sinking generosity of the catch Jesus says "Do not be afraid. From now on you will be catching people."

What are we afraid of? Of God's astonishing generosity, which is so far beyond our imagination and measure? Of God in action, all around us, showing us where to let down our nets for the rich harvest of his Kingdom? Later, in John's Gospel, the risen Christ again tells his disciples to let down their nets and again they are amazed at the weight of the catch.

And over breakfast, in the dawn on the lake shore they are afraid to ask him who he is, because, in the generosity of the catch and of the meal, as he breaks bread with them, hungry and dirty and tired from a night of fishing, they know him to be the Lord. And it's here, on the lakeshore, surrounded by nets and fish and grubby, tired people, that the pastoral, missional and sacrificial nature of ministry is set before the disciples and before us, as our common calling.

Every one of us is here because God has called us to his work in one way or another. We're here because we've heard that calling, we want to serve him and his Church, our brothers and sisters, our communities. The fact that you're all here, shows that you're ready to go where this call leads.

Just eight days ago, more than 560 men and women – the highest number since 2000 – joined the ranks of clergy in obedience to the call of God on their lives. The call to take risks for the Gospel.

Yes, there may be many things to fear – in our own lives, in the world, and in our life as a Church. But God has a plan for us and he wants us to take hold of it. How can we be courageous leaders, courageous followers, ready to enjoy God's promise? "Getting things done through wise and efficient use of the resources of people, time and money. And seeing planning as taking responsibility for a future filled with hope and accountability to God" (Gillian Stamp)

One of the greatest illustrations of this is in the Old Testament, in the Book of Numbers, chapter 13 and 14. God had a vision for His people: a Promised Land, flowing with milk and honey, a land, which they would possess.
After wandering in the wilderness for a long time, they came to the edge of the Promised Land, ready to fulfill God's plan. Moses sent the cream of the crop, the best man from each tribe: twelve men to be the eyes and ears of the rest - to explore the Land of Canaan.
He fully expected that the reality of Canaan would confirm God's promise. And in a sense it did, for all the men who'd gone to see, agreed: "It's a fantastic land. Look at the fruit - we never saw grapes and pomegranates like that. And the honey - it is the sweetest you have ever tasted! (Numbers 13:23). "But we can't go and take the land! The people there are great strong giants And the cities are not really cities; they're forts. And those Nephilim who live in the Negev, well – compared with them we're just little grasshoppers."
So of course, all the Israelites were then very frightened and they complained, and blamed their leaders for promising them good things and then bringing them to this new place of danger.

But Caleb and Joshua had a different story. They agreed on all the facts. Their observations were the same; but because their perceptions were different, their conclusions were different. Why? Ten of the spies were looking at the problem in the wrong way. They could only see gigantic threatening problems, and were too fearful to move. They left God out of the picture. Caleb and Joshua (14:6-9), saw the problem through eyes that were focussed on God.
They saw the possibilities that God was providing for them. They knew God could help them through the hard times that lay ahead.

As Synod members we're called to go out daily into the world to see what God is doing, and where he's leading us. When we face problems – as we will - we can feel afraid and leave God out of the picture, or we can trust him to see us through. We need to be people of a different spirit. People who are ready to go. People who are ready to lead.

When we come here to this Synod, we're bringing the whole of our country with us.
Back in the early 16th century, the Elizabethan Settlement gave the Church of England its identity and its role – which was to be a spiritual home for every man, woman and child in the land.

The parish structure, though often maligned, means that every person in this country has a church community who are called to pray and care for them. And it's the concerns of our parishes and our communities that we bring in one way or another to these discussions.

It's now very encouraging that the new Government has affirmed the nature of the Church of England, as by law established, within the nation's life and, moreover, has recognized its decisive voice in appointments and ministry.
I hope this will mean that we no longer need to worry and wrangle about our internal structures, and can concentrate on the larger issues of spiritual and pastoral care of those whom God has called us to serve.

For there is no depth that Christ does not call us to visit with his suffering people. This is what it means to put out into the deep. To be willing to travel into uncharted waters with people. There is nowhere that we don't go. To prison, into war zones, into areas of acute hunger and starvation, into hospitals and hospices, into grim estates, into isolation, into crowds, into loneliness, despair, depression or the fearful places of mental illness, into the last journey of death.
Into all the places which the world thinks are frightening, we go and we stay, we don't just visit. We live with people in all this.
And as we do, we experience of again and again meeting the risen Christ there – his hands and feet and side marked with suffering love.

We do big stuff.

But sometimes we fail. And the capacity to admit our weakness, to confess that we are fallible and have failed is a vital aspect of living out our witness as Christians: living honestly with our faults and with our need for forgiveness.
We must find the confidence to admit when we have made mistakes and to make changes for the future. Fear mustn't drive us into denial.

Recently we have come to understand that as individuals, as bishops and as a church we have taken judgements on issues around the safeguarding of children in the past which we now regret. And we have worked, and continue to work, hard to change the ways in which we deal with such issues. As the Archbishop of Canterbury said in his statement in April this year: "Since these sad events occurred, the Church - like other public bodies – has developed greater expertise and far more stringent procedures. This does not help victims of an earlier era, but the awareness of the cost they have borne is something that underlines the imperative need to keep all our procedures in the strictest working order."

Do we truly live out our conviction that the salvation story of the Gospel of Jesus Christ utterly transforms the paradigm of what constitutes failure and success?
In Matthew chapter 14, we find another miracle of generosity and grace, the feeding of 5000, and it's followed by Jesus walking on the water, reminding us once again that with God all things are possible. In the story, the response of the disciples to the hungry multitude was:
- there isn't anywhere to buy bread
- there isn't any money to buy bread with
- the numbers are so huge that it's clearly foolish to try

It was all foolish. But it was God at work! And from this story four things stand out :
- We must be willing to offer to God that which is ridiculously small. What we need is not great faith, but faith in a great God.
- We must be thankful even for small things
- In this miracle of God's generosity, the miracle went on and on and on until all were fed. We must be faithful in prayer and patience as we wait for God's response and, like the disciples in the story, work hard at sharing out the miracle of God's grace.
- Fourthly we must learn to trust God and leave our concerns and cares in his hands. In all our perplexities, Christ is with us as Romans 8 reminds us.
Margaret and I found that, on the canal, the troubles of yesterday didn't dominate our today, and the successes of yesterday were no guarantee of our victory tomorrow. We were determined to complete our journey and we grew in confidence as the days went by. But we didn't do it on our own, we made it through to the completion of our journey because of the wonderful company of the people who we met on the way. Shall we repeat the experience? I'm very keen but Margaret isn't so sure! I know we will do it again. After all, the River Ouse runs alongside Bishopthorpe Palace! And in these days of rain and flood it seems that having boating skills could become increasingly important!

Don't listen to what the cynics say about the Church of England, that "it moves forward by constantly looking backwards." Don't allow yourselves to be persuaded by those who say "We've tried that before and it never worked".

It's after they've been out fishing all night and caught nothing, when they're tired and hungry and discouraged, that Jesus says to his disciples "Put out into the deep, and let down your nets for a catch."

And for the Israelites on the brink of the promised land, the dream was ready and God was ready, but the people weren't because of their self-doubt and fear. They forgot that they were children of God. What happened to our dreams? Where's the vision God put before us? What's wrecking it? Is it because we are sinful, because we keep getting things wrong?
I don't think that's it. I think our dream is being delayed because our fear tricks us into thinking of ourselves as grasshoppers or worms.

In place of fear, we must face the troubles which confront us, in the church and in the world, with steadfastness and wisdom. This means facing up to crises, when they occur, with honesty and realism, not minimising the problem but not supersizing it either, keeping it in Godly proportion.

Missionaries in China back in the 1930s noted that the Chinese ideogram for 'crisis' is a combination of two other word pictures – 'opportunity' and 'danger'. When we perceive a crisis, we need to see it in the light of its dangerous opportunity - not being paralysed by fear of the danger, but spurred on by hope in the opportunity.

In the 1st letter of John, we read that "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and he who fears is not perfected in love. We love, because He first loved us."

In the face of all that confronts us, and makes us fearful, let us recognise the authority of God's word made human in the face of Jesus Christ. His ancient promises of love, mercy and justice made manifest as God pitched his tent among us and we beheld His glory. Let us also be confident, as we have faith in the Word of God, trusting God's own testimony. Do we believe the reports of the Lord? Do we believe the evidence of our own eyes, as we see God at work in lives and communities transformed? Let us live out that faith. Jesus Christ came among us, died, rose and ascended and we have received the Holy Spirit. He is with us till the end of time.

The Lord says to us all: "Fear not, for I have overcome the world."

So, my brothers and sisters, let us not be afraid.

But rather, Put out into the deep.