My Dear Family in Christ,

Over the past two months, my letters to you have been meditations on life "in Christ" - an attempt to catch a glimpse into that awesome mystery in which we are surrounded, enfolded and interpenetrated, both by the Holy Spirit of God and by the whole people of God. I have also tried to say something of my own understanding of the centrality of prayer in our participation in the very life of Christ. It is the means by which we are drawn into the Trinity and into a true interdependent relationship with the whole people of God.

Having spent so much time considering what it means to be "in Christ" from a human perspective, I have found myself in my prayers, since then, wondering what it means from the perspective of God. I wish that I could talk of great visions and profound insights into a world in which "everything belongs," but on each occasion, I simply found myself being drawn back to the words of Jesus in his high-priestly prayer: -

"I ask . . . that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may be completely one."

Perhaps it was just my foolishness, but it seemed that each time I pondered the question, God gently pointed me to the theme of unity in Christ. It was almost as if God was saying, "This is my prayer, my heart's desire; that there should be among you the same bonds of unity as exist between the Father and the Son." Each time I was left feeling that there is joy in the heart of God when we are truly united to God and one another, and equally great pain at our brokenness. As the Father and the Son are one, so we are called to be one; each of us living in creative and conscious relationship with God and with each other.

Sadly, this sense of unity, more often than not eludes us. Instead of being a place where the love and glory of God is made visible, the church is often so caught up in conflict and power struggles, that it is little different from the world around it. Henri Nouwen, in his essay, "Power, Powerlessness, and Power," writes: -

"When God looks at our world, God weeps because the lust for power has entrapped and corrupted the human spirit. Instead of gratitude, there is resentment; instead of praise, there is criticism; instead of forgiveness, there is revenge; instead of healing, there is wounding; instead of compassion, there is competition; instead of co-operation, there is violence; instead of love, there is fear. . . . God weeps because God knows the anguish we have brought upon ourselves by wanting to take our destiny in our own hands and by lording it over others."

Although those words were written about the world at large, they could equally have been written of the church, and especially so in the light of the recent furor over the proposed consecration of an openly gay Bishop, which has left the worldwide Anglican Communion poised on the brink of schism.

I do not want to trivialize the matter. It raises deep ethical and moral questions with enormous pastoral implications and these are matters over which the church has clearly not reached any real measure of consensus. It also raises questions of collegiality and process, for there can be little doubt that certain sections of the church have acted unilaterally, in defiance of Lambeth resolutions, and without adequate care or concern for the impact that their actions might have on the church within their own country and in other parts of the world. It is, therefore, perhaps not surprising, that the issue has become so highly politicized. Much of the rhetoric on both sides has been harsh, arrogant, and judgmental. And the end result is a power struggle, in which both sides have claimed the moral high ground and neither side will yield an inch. It's a classic "win-lose" power play.

The other day I was invited to bless the buildings of the Bridge School, a joint initiative by Rodean and St John Schools for pre-school children. In my talk to those small children, I explained that we were going to give the school to Jesus so that it could be his school. I was immediately met with a wave of protest. "This is not Jesus' school," they said emphatically, "it's our school."

While such a comment may be amusing in the mouths of preschool children, it is much less charming on the lips of adults. And I am not sure that there is not at least a touch of that same attitude at play in the current crisis. Much of what has been reported in the media reflects a certainty on the part of each speaker that he knows what is right and best for his church and that no one else will determine or dictate what they should or should not be doing.

And God weeps, because whenever we use power to insist on our own way, we separate ourselves from God and from each other. Instead, we enter that place where; "Instead of gratitude, there is resentment; instead of praise, there is criticism; instead of forgiveness, there is revenge; instead of healing, there is wounding; instead of compassion, there is competition; instead of co-operation, there is violence; instead of love, there is fear".

And Jesus prays,

"I ask . . . that they may all be one. As you, Father, are in me and I am in you, may they also be in us, so that the world may believe that you have sent me. The glory that you have given me I have given them, so that they may be one, as we are one, I in them and you in me, that they may be completely one."

May God bless you all,

+ Brian

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