Photo: Karl Fredrickson – Unsplash

This is the second in a two-part series considering what some of us are feeling at the moment in relation to the Church of England.

For in Scripture it says: “See, I lay a stone in Zion, a chosen and precious cornerstone, and the one who trusts in him will never be put to shame.”

1 Peter 2:6

A few months ago I wrote an open letter to anyone thinking of leaving the Church of England at this time. I stand by all that I said then. But I’ve come to wonder if there’s another dimension – a deeper dimension – to the matter.

Fundamentally most of us don’t make decisions at the level of the mind. Rather we make decisions at the level of the heart, or the ‘gut instinct’, and then find reasons intellectually to support that decision. (Thankfully when the Holy Spirit takes hold of us he miraculously brings our hearts and minds more in tune with each other as we form ‘the mind of Christ’ – see here). As a result we will inevitably consider the decision whether to stay in or leave the Church of England at the heart level – the level of our emotions. It is this I would now like to address.

Wherever we stand in the spectrum of views within the Church of England, there are a variety of emotions we might be feeling: Despair (dealt with in previous articles); weakness; hope; shame; guilt; anger; fear; joy – to name but a few. In this post I would like to focus on shame. I believe this emotion is at work across (and outside) the Church of England when it comes to the LLF debates which are currently underway; but often it is hidden and unrecognised.

The origins of shame

Since the Fall of the first man and woman every human being has felt shame. We feel shame because of things we’ve done which we know go against God’s good and loving ways. We feel shame because of things that have been done to us, or things that have been said about us. We feel shame because of our perception of how others think about us. And we feel shame because of our own expectations of ourselves.

I have had to face up to some of these things myself in recent months. At the end of April I experienced symptoms of burnout. In the following days and weeks God graciously opened my eyes to aspects of myself that I’d been unaware of previously: for example, wrong expectations of myself and wrong perceptions of how others viewed me. The emotion of shame was involved in much of it.

What do we do with the shame we feel? The first man and woman tried to cover their shame through sewing fig leaves together to make clothing for themselves (Genesis 3:7). Of course, that attempt was utterly inadequate – and it required the Lord God himself to make clothing for them in his first act of divine grace towards sinners (Genesis 3:21).

Responses to shame

We can respond to shame in a number of ways which seem wise but are in fact the equivalent of sewing fig leaves for ourselves:

First, we might try to ignore the shame that we feel. Or we might dress it up as a positive thing. We talk about the thing that makes us ashamed openly, as if it were a good thing. Perhaps we persuade others that it’s a good thing, so we feel even better. And so we bury the shame – or at least try to.

Second, we point the finger at others to make ourselves feel better. We say to ourselves “I may not be perfect, but at least I’m better than that person over there.” We put up barriers, we refuse to make compromises.

Third, we withdraw from the situation in which we feel shame in the hope that we might find a safe place for ourselves and be relieved from the feelings of shame.

Shame upon shame

How is this relevant to those of us who are part of the Church of England at this time? As we’ve already explored, each of us lives with a certain level of shame all the time, regardless of what’s going on ‘out there.’ And most of us joined a local church family as a way of escaping what’s ‘out there’ and to find a safe space – some relief from the shame that we feel. But now, because of the current debates around sexuality and marriage, we are all being asked to bear an additional weight of shame in the very place in which we thought we were safe.

I have made clear previously that I write as someone who holds the traditional, historical and (I am persuaded) biblical view on matters of human sexuality and marriage. I have also made clear on the floor of General Synod that though I am a heterosexual married man I have also faced sexual temptation throughout my life, and that daily repentance is a necessity for me in practice as well as in theory.

For those who share my perspective on the issues it is very easy to understand why we might feel a deep sense of shame at what is happening in the Church of England. One the one hand, we are being told by some that that the Church of England has crossed a ‘red line’ – which for many is a red line of shame. On the other hand, we are being told by the mainstream media and others in the Church that we are part of the problem and ought to be ashamed of our sincerely held views. And at present many feel as though they are being asked to simply swallow the change and get on with life. That’s hard enough to do for those of us who are paid clergy and who could be homeless if we left the Church of England. How much harder is it for the ‘lay’ person who simply attends the local church as their safe place, and for whom it is a straightforward thing to leave their Church of England church and move to another apparently safer local church down the road?

For those who hold the opposite perspective to me it’s also easy to understand why they might feel shame as a result of the current process. Accusations and value-judgements have been made against them, and not always in the most gracious way. It would be surprising if these accusations did not add to the sense of shame.

A better way

Is there another way – a better way forward, for all of us? In this post I’m not addressing matters of new structures for the Church of England (though I am one of the large number on both sides of the discussion who believes that new structures are necessary and indeed inevitable). Rather I’m addressing the issue of shame.

We’ve already seen that since the first man and woman every human being has experienced shame. There was in fact one man who shouldn’t have felt shame: Jesus Christ lived a perfect life, and was perfectly secure in his identity as the Son of the Father. He alone should not have felt shame. And yet as he hung on the cross, naked, utterly humiliated, he bore all the shame of all his people: He bore the shame of the insults we’ve received; he bore the shame of the things we’ve done; he bore the shame of the things that have been done to us; he bore all of it. 

So if we are someone who has come to Jesus in repentance and faith (Mark 1:14-15) then all our shame (along with our guilt) has been removed. Forever. Gone. In fact, I would go even further: Because Jesus has borne it all for us, we have no reason to feel shame. 

Of course, as I’ve discovered recently, it takes a lifetime for us to live in the light of that reality. And the key to our sense of shame being removed is a growing heart knowledge of the love of the Father for us – that he loves us as he loves his Son, because through faith we are included ‘in’ his Son as his deeply loved children.

Thinking of leaving the Church of England?

What might this mean for someone thinking of leaving the Church of England – whether clergy or layperson? Of course, it’s quite possible that in conscience you cannot remain – and I respect that. 

But as you consider the way forward, I would ask you to consider your heart. Ask God to show you what’s going on inside emotionally. In particular, what role is shame playing in your decision? It may not be playing any role – but what if it is?

And if so – you might again find it helpful to consider Jesus. For the same Jesus who died to bear your shame, calls you to follow him. He calls you to die with him. 

Then Jesus said to his disciples, “Whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me.”

Matthew 16:24

Very truly I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. Anyone who loves their life will lose it, while anyone who hates their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honour the one who serves me.

John 12:24-26

As I remain within the Church of England for the time being, I do bear a sense of shame. And yet, I’m not doing anything that Jesus hasn’t already done. He led the way. And as I bear shame, I do so secure in the knowledge that God is my Father, I am deeply loved by him. I lack nothing. I am fully clothed – not with fig leaves, but with the clothes that in his grace God has sown for me, the righteousness of Christ.

Redemptive suffering

Last year I preached on the book of Job and was very helped by Christopher Ash’s commentary, ‘Job – The Wisdom of the Cross’. Let me quote from it here. He has been considering Eliphaz’s first speech (Job 4-5) and discussing why Christians still suffer even though Christ has died for our sins:

Christians do suffer, and Paul makes so bold as to describe his own sufferings as “filling up what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church.” (Colossians 1:24). We are to suffer with Christ if we hope to be glorified with him (Romans 8:17). There is in Christian discipleship a fellowship or sharing in Christ’s sufferings and a becoming like Christ in his death (Philippians 3:10). All this is undeserved, for our sin is paid for and all its entailments covered by the cross. And yet it is necessary. Although our sufferings are not payments for anybody’s sin (that was entirely covered by Christ), they are necessary and have the character of redemptive suffering in the sense that they are a part of God’s redemptive plan to bring the gospel to a needy world. They are “for the sake of the elect” (2 Timothy 2:10). To understand this enables us both to see Job’s sufferings as a foreshadowing of Christ, and also to see them as continuing in the sufferings of Christians

Ash, Job – The Wisdom of the Cross, 114-115

I was recently privileged to be involved in a meeting at which a large number of those who are concerned about the apparent ‘direction of travel’ of the Church of England had the opportunity to voice their concerns. We heard from those whose churches are divided; those whose ministry has become ‘unworkable’; those who feel completely isolated. Is it possible that as I suffer by remaining in the Church of England for the time being, and contending for the gospel, and loving those who oppose me, God is granting me the privilege of sharing in some small way in the sufferings of others who have no choice but to remain? Is it possible that God is giving me some small part in his plan of salvation and preservation of others, even as it involves my own suffering and ‘shame’?