Historical Appendix 1: Why I Am Still a Member of the Church of England

HISTORICAL APPENDIX 1

Why I Am Still a Member of the Church of England

(18 October 1966)

On 18 October 1966 the Second National Assembly of Evangelicals opened in the Methodist Central Hall, Westminster, with Dr. Martyn Lloyd-Jones as keynote speaker and myself in the chair. The meeting led to a historic confrontation between us, which has rumbled on for forty years. Dr. Lloyd-Jones appealed to evangelicals in mixed denominations to leave them, while I felt it right to urge such people not to take any rash action, since the issue was due to be debated the following morning. The incident has been written up in several histories and biographies.1

My purpose in referring to this disagreement of long ago is not so much to resurrect a debate as to take the opportunity to respond to people who still ask me whether my position has changed, and if so how.

This historical appendix began its life as my contribution entitled “I Believe in the Church of England” to Gavin Reid’s symposium Hope for the Church of England? (Kingsway, 1986). Twenty years later it was picked by Caroline Chartres and reduced for her symposium Why I Am Still an Anglican (Continuum, 2006), with some changes.

So do I believe in the Church of England? Yes, I believe in the Church of England. At least, I do and I don’t. I do not believe in the Church of England, of course, in the sense that I believe in God—Father, Son and Holy Spirit—as the object of my confidence and worship. Yet I do believe in the Church of England in the sense that I am deeply grateful to be a member and a minister of it, and to be able to remain such with a good conscience. So I will start by sketching four distinctive features of the Church of England, which also constitute four reasons why I belong to it. They apply to some degree to all Anglicans, but relate specifically to the Church of England.

First, the Church of England is a historical church. It is, in fact, the church of the English people. It traces its origins back, not to Henry VIII and his matrimonial problems (the notorious “King’s Matter”), but to the first century AD when the Roman legions were colonizing the empire. Merchants followed them, and among these soldiers and tradesmen there must have been followers of Jesus Christ. Both Tertullian and Origen round about the year 200 AD spoke of a church in England. St. Alban died as a martyr for Christ, probably during the Decian persecution of 250 AD At the Synod of Arles in 314 AD there were three British bishops. So the Church of England is the historic church of this country.

Now this historical dimension is important today in a world that is busy cutting adrift from its historical roots. For the living God of the Bible is the God of history, the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the God of Moses and the prophets, the God of our Lord Jesus Christ and his apostles, and the God of the post-apostolic church. One of the weaknesses of the house-church movement is that it has little sense of history, little sense of continuity with the past.

Secondly, the Church of England is a confessional church. We move now from history to theology. According to 1 Timothy 3:15, the church is “the pillar (stulos) and bulwark (hedraioma) of the truth.” Hedraioma may mean either “bulwark” or “foundation.” In either case it holds a building firm, while pillars thrust the building aloft. So the church is called to serve the truth, both holding it firm and holding it high for people to see. The Church of England, therefore, has doctrinal standards and a confession of faith. The Book of Common Prayer and the Thirty-Nine Articles remain the doctrinal basis of the Church of England, in spite of the weakening of the formula of assent and the arrival of the more recent service books. Moreover, these standards affirm the supremacy of Scripture over traditions, the sufficiency of Scripture for salvation, and the justification of sinners by grace alone, in Christ alone, through faith alone. These three doctrines are particularly dear to evangelical believers, and they are plainly affirmed in our Anglican Articles.

It is true that there are a few church leaders who deny some fundamentals of the faith, and this is both a tragedy and a scandal. But the Church of England has never abandoned its confession of faith. It is a confessional church.

Thirdly, the Church of England is a national church. It is not a “state” church like the continental Lutheran churches, but it is an “established” church (recognized by law and given certain privileges), and—more important—it is a “national” church because it has a national mission. In ideal and purpose, then, the Church of England is neither a sect, nor a denomination, but the church of the nation, with a responsibility to be the nation’s conscience, to serve the nation.

It is perfectly true that in practice this ideal often breaks down. Nevertheless, although adaptations may be necessary the Church of England remains a national church.

Fourthly, the Church of England is a liturgical church. It has a Book of Common Prayer, and a Common Worship service book, containing services for public worship. Some say that set services inhibit spontaneity and the freedom of the Spirit. This does not have to be the case. Form and freedom are not necessarily incompatible with one another. Certainly, we welcome the greater flexibility which the new service books have given us. But rightly they have not abandoned a liturgical framework and form.

Why should we value a liturgy? First, there is plenty of biblical warrant for liturgical forms. The New Testament contains many snatches of ancient hymns and creedal statements, for Christians took this over from the Old Testament. Secondly, a liturgy enshrines truth and safeguards uniformity of doctrine. Thirdly, it gives a sense of solidarity both with the past and with the rest of the church in the present. Fourthly, it protects the congregation from the worst idiosyncrasies of the clergy. Lastly, it is an aid to concentration and to congregational participation. These are great gains. They make me thankful that the Church of England is a liturgical church.

Here, then, are four reasons why I believe in the Church of England. It is the historical church of the English. It has a sound biblical, theological basis. It is entrusted with a national mission. And it has in its liturgy a worthy vehicle for the praise of Almighty God through Jesus Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit. Having made these positive statements, however, many evangelicals feel uncomfortable in the Church of England today. The Church of England which I have described is more of an ideal than a reality. Some would dismiss it as a “paper” church, and not one of flesh and blood, bones and sinews. At the same time, from the second half of the twentieth century the evangelical movement has been growing in size, stature, maturity, scholarship and cohesion. It contains different strands (for example, reformed and charismatic), and is as much a coalition as a party. At the same time, there has been an assault on traditional Christian doctrine and morality. In consequence, the loyalty of ordinary church people has been severely strained. So what should we do?

THREE OPTIONS

The first option is separation or secession from the church. “To stay in a doctrinally mixed church,” some say, “is an intolerable compromise. It gives the impression that we condone heresy. So, in order to maintain our evangelical testimony without compromise, we must get out.”

This is the position of independent evangelicals. Their overriding concern is to preserve the doctrinal purity of the church, which indeed is a right and proper concern. We should share their zeal for the truth, and their courage. But they tend to pursue the purity of the church at the expense of its unity, for which they seem to have no comparable concern. To be sure, there could be an extreme situation (for example, if the church were officially to repudiate the incarnation), when the only possible course would be to secede, since then the church would have ceased to be the church. We need to remember, however, that the sixteenth-century Reformers were themselves very reluctant schismatics. They did not want to leave the Catholic Church. On the contrary, they dreamed of a reformed Catholicism, a Catholic Church reformed according to Scripture, and were concerned for both its purity and its unity. Calvin wrote to Cranmer in 1552, for example, that the separation of churches was “among the greatest misfortunes of our century.” The “bleeding” state of the body of Christ affected him so deeply, he added, that he would “not hesitate to cross ten seas” if he could help. “Indeed, if learned men were to seek a solid and carefully devised agreement according to the rule of Scripture… I think that for my part I ought not to spare any trouble or dangers.” That is (or should be) exactly the position of Anglican evangelicals today.

The second option that is before us is the opposite extreme. It is that of compromise and even conformity. This is the decision of some who say not only that they intend to stay in the Church of England at all costs, but that they would be willing to lose their distinctive evangelical witness.

I respect their desire to be responsible members of the Church of England, and (when it can be done with integrity) to minimize the differences between the traditions in the Church of England. But I think that their position is short-sighted. For we should have the courage, with humility, to bear witness to evangelical truth as we have been given to understand it. We claim no infallibility, and may be mistaken on certain points. We are open to have our minds changed if Scripture can be shown to require it. But we cannot conceal or smother our convictions. Our concern as evangelicals should certainly not be loyalty to a “party.” Talk of a “party” is a political concept. It conjures up toeing the party line, submitting to the party whip, and accepting the party discipline. Evangelical loyalty is not to a party, however, but to revealed truth, and in particular to the unique glory and adequacy of Jesus Christ.

The essence of the evangelical faith is that in Jesus Christ incarnate, crucified, raised and exalted, God has spoken and acted decisively and finally for the salvation of the world. In consequence, Jesus Christ is God’s last word to the world; it is inconceivable that there should be any higher revelation than what he has given in his Son. Jesus Christ is also God’s last deed for the salvation of the world; it is inconceivable that anything should need to be added to it. Nothing can be added either to what God has spoken in Christ or to what God has done in Christ. Both were hapax, “once for all.” In Christ God’s revelation and redemption are finished and complete.

That is why the hallmark of evangelicalism is an insistence on sola scriptura and sola gratia. They arise from solus Christus: Christ alone for revelation and redemption. Our concern, then, in maintaining a distinctive identity is not to be awkward or uncooperative or obstinate or partisan. It is to be faithful to the unique glory of the person and work of our Lord Jesus Christ. It is, we believe, for the good of the church and for the glory of God in Christ, that we should maintain our distinctive evangelical witness.

The third option is comprehensiveness without compromise, that is, staying in without caving in. Frankly it is the most painful of the three options. The other two options are easier because they are ways of cutting the Gordian knot. The first is to separate from everybody you disagree with, and so enjoy fellowship only with like-minded Christians. The second is to decline to maintain a distinctive testimony, and so regard all viewpoints as equally legitimate. These are opposite options (separation and compromise). But they have this in common: they are both ways of easing tension and escaping conflict. You either get out or you give in. The harder way, which involves walking a tightrope, is to stay in, while at the same time refusing to give in. This means living in a permanent state of tension, declining either to compromise or to secede.

Let me sum up. The way of separation is to pursue truth at the expense of unity. The way of compromise is to pursue unity at the expense of truth. The way of comprehension is to pursue truth and unity simultaneously, that is, to pursue the kind of unity commended by Christ and his apostles, namely unity in truth. Thus, Jesus prayed in John 17 for the truth, holiness, mission and unity of the church, while in Ephesians 4 Paul affirmed that there is “one Lord, one faith, one baptism.” Unity and truth always walk hand in hand in the New Testament.

TWO KINDS OF COMPREHENSIVENESS

I have described the third option as “comprehension.” I now have to qualify this. For what is often called the “comprehensiveness” of the Church of England can be sought in one or other of two ways. On the one hand, there is an unlimited and unprincipled kind of comprehensiveness, from which no one is excluded. On the other hand, there is a limited and principled kind of comprehensiveness which lays down clear lines of demarcation.

The unlimited and unprincipled kind is a doctrinal free-for-all, in which no opinion is prohibited, let alone condemned as heretical. Rather, every viewpoint is welcomed as a contribution to, and even ingredient of, the resulting potpourri. It is this that Bishop J. C. Ryle dubbed “a kind of Noah’s ark,” roomy enough to accommodate both the clean and the unclean.

The best lampoon of this view was developed by Ronald Knox in the marvelous piece which he entitled “Reunion all Round” and included in his Essays in Satire.2 It was subtitled “A plea for the inclusion within the Church of England of all Mahometans, Jews, Buddhists, Brahmins, Papists and Atheists.” In the new and universal church which he saw emerging, “nobody will be expected to recite the whole Creed,” he wrote, “but only such clauses as he finds relish in; it being anticipated that, with good fortune, a large congregation will usually manage in this way to recite the whole Formula between them.”

Having dealt with differences between Christians, and differences between theists, he came finally to “the Problem of Reunion with the Atheists.” In their case: “We have only one single Quarrel to patch up, namely, as to whether God exists or not.” So he proposed to the theologians that, as we believe God to be both immanent and yet transcendent, we should be able to reconcile ourselves to “the last final Antinomy, that God is both Existent and Non-existent.” He ended: “Thank God, in these days of Enlightenment and Establishment, everyone has a right to his own Opinions, and chiefly to the Opinion, That nobody else has a right to theirs…”

This is not true ecumenism, however, but syncretism. Jesus our Lord and his apostles warned the church of false teachers. And I am glad that the Church of England has always officially recognized that unity must be in truth and that comprehensiveness must be principled, for this is the historic understanding of what true Anglican comprehensiveness is all about. The purpose of the Elizabethan settlement in the sixteenth century was to unite the nation within a national church committed to the supremacy of Scripture and to the Catholic creeds. As Dr. Alec Vidler wrote,

The conception of Anglican comprehensiveness has been taken to mean that it is the glory of the Church of England to hold together in juxtaposition as many varieties of Christian faith and practice as are willing to agree to differ, so that the Church is regarded as a sort of league of religions… The principle of comprehension is that a church ought to hold the fundamentals of the faith, and at the same time allow for differences of opinion and interpretation in secondary matters, especially rites and ceremonies.3

It is a distinction which goes right back to the apostle Paul’s insistence on loyalty to the apostolic faith, alongside liberty of conscience on secondary issues.

In conclusion, can we envisage a situation in which orthodox believers feel absolutely obliged to leave? Such an extreme situation might be

Until that day comes, I for one intend to stay in and fight on.

So I do believe in the Church of England, in the rightness of belonging to it and of maintaining a faithful evangelical witness within it and to it. For I believe in the power of God’s word and Spirit to reform and renew the church. I also believe in the patience of God. Max Warren wrote that “the history of the Church is the story of the patience of God.”4

↑ Back to top