Serving with distinction - community action and other faiths
This is a chapter - reproduced with permission - of 'Distinctly Welcoming: Christian presence in a multi-faith society', written by Richard Sudworth.
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Distincly welcoming
‘We may be poor, but we’re laughing all the way to the banquet’.
Andrew Jones
Over the last 20 years, it seems that much of the church in Britain has rediscovered its calling to work alongside the poor and vulnerable and to recognise the component of justice in the good news Jesus brings. Certainly those of us from an evangelical tradition are more readily concerned to see issues such as international trade, the sex trade and community regeneration as arenas to bring kingdom transformation. I’m not going to tread old ground on definitions of mission but rather simply to reassert that when Jesus died on the cross, the power of sin over believers was broken and a new creation inaugurated. From now until Jesus’ return, the church is in the vanguard of a new life of forgiveness, justice, righteousness and wholeness towards which we work in faith and hope. One day soon, even the environment will enjoy complete renewal!
It’s a grand vision and one that is inspiring Christians across Britain to serve in debt advice centres, homeless hostels, environmental projects, asylum seeker befriending, children’s nurseries and employment training projects. While I was growing up in a vicarage, in what you might call a ’true-blue’ evangelical household, I used to hear the phrase ‘social gospel’. I realised that ‘social gospel’ was not a compliment. The argument went something like this: the ‘social gospel’ churches neglected things such as Bible study, prayer and preaching. In fact, preaching in social gospel churches was apparently just a political message, and that would only last for five minutes anyway, not like the twenty-five minute sermons of exposition in a proper church! What was the point of doing social action when the council was likely to be better at it than us? Social gospellers had forgotten what church was really about. Not only that, but worse. They had traded in the grace and freedom of Christ for working hard at their salvation, trying to impress God with good works.
I’m exaggerating and caricaturing but you get the idea. Thankfully, this sort of attitude is less common now, and churches from a huge range of traditions are committing themselves to tackling issues of poverty, whether locally or in the international arena, through organisations such as Tear Fund and Christian Aid. But may I stop there and just throw a spanner in the works? I do think there is a valid criticism in some of these attitudes. As I write these words, I can hear the sharp intake of breath from where you are sitting, even in my office here in Birmingham! I’m conscious that this kind of book is in danger of alienating everyone: evangelicals who don’t think I am recommending a hard enough line on other faiths and liberals who think I talk too much about the Bible and still advocate evangelism. But here goes, in for a penny, in for a pound… I wonder sometimes whether churches committed to community projects forget who they are. So often the Christian motivation and fuel gets lost, with the danger that the project or community involvement becomes just another well-meaning intervention.
I wonder sometimes whether churches committed to community projects forget who they are. So often the Christian motivation and fuel gets lost, with the danger that the project or community involvement becomes just another well-meaning intervention.
I need to explain myself. We’ve begun to look at the concept of ‘distinctive faith’ and how knowing our Christian roots and calling is crucial to embracing and engaging with diversity. Christians have a clear text and traditions which inform how they will be and why they should be committed to justice. When we are involved, the challenge is to ensure we know what these beliefs and traditions are and can embody them in practice, not to neuter our faith as we engage in good works.
Let’s look at the suggested hallmarks of a distinctive faith again:
- God is the Creator God
- God is God incarnate
- God is a redeeming God
- God is a God of grace
- God is the God of resurrection and eternal life
- God is a covenant God
- God is a triune God
How might these beliefs be translated into the motivations and practices of a church concerned, say, to clear up a neighbourhood full of rubbish and litter, where residents regularly complain of the unpleasant and uncared-for environment?
1. God is the Creator God– the God who looked at Creation and declared it good and called men and women to be stewards of Creation helps us see that this projects flows from the heart of who God is. As the church clears up the neighbourhood, are there fresh and imaginative solutions to the problem, creative partnerships and artistic gifts that can flower in the renewed environment?
2. God is God incarnate– the God who entered our world and felt what we felt challenges us to live in the situation of those we seek to love and serve. Does the church pay for professionals to remove the waste or literally get its hands dirty? How much should we expect and encourage church members to be living amongst those among whom they minister?
3. God is a redeeming God – can any of the waste be recycled or turned into something useful? Have we chosen the easiest neighbourhood to deal with or should there be a declaration of intent to transform the untidiest, messiest street because nothing is beyond God’s transformative powers?
4. God is a God of grace– are we doing this work in order to support something we perceive as more important, such as an evangelistic event to which the community will be invited? Or is this gracious, open-handed, unconditional love, without ulterior motive or hidden agendas?
5. God is the God of resurrection and eternal life– how do we give hope to the community that the problem will not just revert to normal once the church has done a clear-up exercise? Are we considering sustainable solutions that offer genuine hope for a future which the community will welcome? Might these solutions be ongoing clear-up projects coupled with strategic conversations with the council and other groups?
6. Covenant God – as God is true to his word, how do we authenticate our promises and stay committed to the community? What might the hallmarks of a trustworthy project be to the community?
7. Triune God – if God is a God of relationship, in what ways do we ensure that this is more than just a ‘project’ but an interaction of individuals in relationship? Can the project open up opportunities for friendships, listening and fun across the community?
I hope the above hypothetical exercise gives a little pointer as to how the substance of a church’s community involvement is established from within its own identity, its distinctiveness. The questions, and they have to be questions because the answers will be unique to a time and place, were all framed around the church project’s relationship to the community. Equally, we ought to be considering the internal structures of the church or para-church body. So, if God is a covenant God, how do we ensure that staff members are treated with respect and that promises made about pay, for example, are made good? An incarnate God might challenge project hierarchies which remove senior staff from ever having contact with the community the project serves. Or believing in a redeeming God may underpin a decision to be a Fair Trade community which uses recycled paper.
There is huge scope for how our faith informs and shapes the social action projects of churches. As with so much of the material in this book, these principles are also applicable in all our working lives and relationships. I believe that once we begin to think in terms of rooting our practice in the values of the Christian story, the extra dimension of relationship to other faiths becomes clearer.
There is huge scope for how our faith informs and shapes the social action projects of churches. I believe that once we begin to think in terms of rooting our practice in the values of the Christian story, the extra dimension of relationship to other faiths becomes clearer.
When I run seminars on relating to other faiths, one of the questions I like to throw out is, ‘What do you think is the single most distinctive aspect of Christian belief?’ It’s a good question because when you’re involved in teaching about other religions, you inevitably get bogged down in some of the similarities between peoples and beliefs and it can be quite disorientating and troubling. Being called back to a single distinctive is helpful but also a challenge. I get answers such as ‘the cross’, ‘forgiveness’ or ‘Jesus’. Now plenty of religions could affirm those answers and I think people are nearer the mark when they propose, ‘Jesus is Lord’ or ‘the Trinity’. In one sense, the concept of the Trinity underpins all the hallmarks of our distinctive faith.
The Creator God is the Father, the Eternal Word and the Spirit. We understand God through the incarnation of his Son, and we in turn are called to incarnate the life of Christ through the Spirit. The redeeming nature of God is demonstrated in the cross where death is defeated and where all humanity can turn to obtain new life in the Spirit. God’s grace is manifest in the Son, full of grace and truth, full of the Spirit. We can trust in the resurrection of the dead and the newness of all things because the Father raised the Son from death and his Spirit is poured out on believers as a sign and promise of the new creation to come. God’s covenant with us is established in the blood of the cross of his Son and sealed in us by the presence of the Spirit. Belief in a ‘Triune God’ is therefore something more than an abstract and mystifying theology but the kernel of the Christian faith.
‘Let the draught go both ways’ -a practical example
Having taken a dangerous side-road into one of the Christian beliefs most designed to baffle and intimidate, it’s worth coming back to how this translates specifically into church community projects and interaction with other faiths. Let me share some stories about a church project I know well. Based in an inner city area, the church is in a Muslim-majority district with a significant number of Hindus, Sikhs and white non-Christians. The local mosque faces the church and vicarage and for some years the church has run a nursery and carers and toddlers facility. As the project has grown in success and obtained additional funding, a professional nursery, associated family support, after schools clubs and youth work have been established.
The project started out as a sub-committee of the church leadership, but as it has grown, the Christian staff and volunteers have been augmented by Muslim, Sikh, Hindu and atheist volunteers and staff. There has always been a clear vision that the project is a vital part of the church’s mission. Yet there is this nagging question of how this could be so when non-Christians are involved. For some in the church, there has been the struggle to reconcile a passion for sharing the good news of Jesus with the constraints of professional good practice and equal opportunities legislation. Are these limitations yet more examples of a secular nation squeezing the life out of the church? Should we then see the project as our ‘works’, with the invariably more significant ‘words’ seen as something separate?
For some in the church, there has been the struggle to reconcile a passion for sharing the good news of Jesus with the constraints of professional good practice and equal opportunities legislation. Should we then see the project as our ‘works’, with the invariably more significant ‘words’ seen as something separate?
These have been and continue to be huge questions for the church, and I see them replicated throughout the country. A mindset that comes with a distinctive faith approach will see much of the good professional practice and equal opportunities legislation as things that the church should be publicly upholding as they seek to acknowledge and affirm the diversity of society by the protection of weaker and more vulnerable groups. We may wish to challenge some of the prioritising of the respective minority groups and, as we noted earlier, communicate a better understanding of Christian motivations and values to local and central government. But churches can and should embody fairness and justice not merely as a sop to social obligations but as an authentic expression of who we are.
So back to the nitty-gritty questions of the church in the inner city… Could this project, which is prayed for in church services and managed as a sub-committee of the church leadership, have paid senior staff who are Muslims or atheists? The answer I would give is, ‘It depends.’ Part of the answer relates to the project and its clarity of values. Does it have rooted motivations and practices in the Christian faith and text? If so, then the church is a long way to being more than ‘just a social project’. But the other part of the answer relates to the applicants. They may even share many of the values that are translated into practice. They may not share the core beliefs, but if they can affirm the values and practices, why not?
In 1 Kings 17, the prophet Elijah is a refugee in the Sidon region. He’s in pagan country and let’s not forget that soon after this incident, Elijah is involved in a sight and sound contest with the priests of the false god Baal on Mount Carmel. So Elijah is no woolly liberal. It’s interesting that Jesus refers to this story in his own ministry, much to the annoyance of his home synagogue. And God calls Elijah to the home of a widow in a town called Zarephath near Sidon to be fed by her. The woman has nothing but God provides for her family and for Elijah. After some time, the widow’s son falls ill and dies and the widow rebukes Elijah as a man of God who has brought this calamity on her because of her sin. Elijah prays for the son and God heals him. The closing statement in the story has the woman declaring, ‘Now I know that you are a man of God and that the word of the LORD from your mouth is the truth.’
It’s a rich tale and one with particular resonance for a multi-faith context. I see something of Christ in Elijah’s willingness to receive from the widow. He was obeying God by allowing himself to be a guest of this adherent of another faith. The reality was that God was providing food for the family, but the relationship was one of equality and exchange, of risk and mutuality. There is no sense of Elijah’s begrudgingly obeying by staying with the widow and preaching to her at all hours. Rather, his presence brought blessing, a blessing which he received also, and they became a blessing to each other. With the amazing healing of her son, there is the discovery of the personal relationship with God who is Lord of all. But all that had preceded the healing had been without guile, unconditional, free and authentic and was a foundation for the personal decision the widow eventually made. Elijah could interact on the basis of an equal relationship because he knew God’s call on his own life.
An incarnational faith which recognises that we are all fallen, are all in need of a forgiving, loving God and that all people and situations can be redeemed, will work with others in the mission of God, because in genuine relationships the parties are never unchanged.
So back to the community project. What do Elijah and the widow have to do with community projects and other faiths? Everything! You see, so much of our practical service is about ‘doing good works to them.’ The ‘them’ are generally the poor and ‘people not like us’. An incarnational faith which recognises that we are all fallen, are all in need of a forgiving, loving God and that all people and situations can be redeemed, will work with others in the mission of God, because in genuine relationships the parties are never unchanged. Now we know that God, in one sense, never changes, but he listens to us, he hears us, he is responsive to us. Supremely, in Jesus, God came close to us. The Lord feels what we feel and experiences what we experience. The essence of incarnation is God’s accommodation to our lives in order to transform our lives into his life. How can we follow that pattern when we are the blessed and powerful ones, dispensing goods to the lowly down there? It just doesn’t fit the Christian story.
So we have Elijah, that frightening prophet, seeking the hospitality and provision of a pagan widow. Elijah is taking a risk and being vulnerable, and so is the widow. Real relationships require risky vulnerability and are charged with unpredictability. Would this woman have any food, would it be right for me, as a Jew, to eat it? Would this prophet use up all my family’s food; would he be prophesying about what a sinner I am in my own home? The widow’s clear commitment to hospitality became a shared value that brought relationship even in their diversity.
The church nursery project was, for many years, based in the church hall. A draughty corridor-cum-meeting room connected the church and the hall and became a motif for the church’s connection with the community:‘Let the draught go both ways.
The church nursery project was, for many years, based in the church hall. A draughty corridor-cum-meeting room connected the church and the hall and became a motif for the church’s connection with the community: ‘Let the draught go both ways.’ Holding true to our story and to our own identity, a genuine encounter of service required the church to be changed as it stepped out in vulnerability. So, would the appointment of non-Christians who shared the values of the project and worked as good professionals water down the Christian distinctive of the project? It might, but prayerful, faithful commitment from the church, its staff and volunteers has been vital in distinguishing the project as a truly Christian embodiment of hope within an area which visitors may see as very alien to Christ. The church hall has been knocked down and a purpose-built Children’s Centre is to take its place. In the meantime, the nursery, against all received wisdom for other-faith communities, thrives in the main body of the church. The many Muslim parents are also stepping out in vulnerability by having to walk through a church entrance (an entrance, I remind you, opposite the local mosque) and give their children to the safe keeping of staff and volunteers working in the shadow of a large cross.
The church would say it has a long way to go, and there are discussions to be had about representation on the management group of other faith members who have a stake in the services. Here is another example of likely mutual vulnerability! The tone of this vulnerability is not doormat Christianity. I am not advocating that churches throw aside all they hold dear. Rather, our aspiration is the humility of Christ that knows exactly who he is and what he is called to do and thus to cling ever more tightly to Christ. His example will lead us to challenge and speak out against sin and injustice, but to do so from a life laid down in selfless love.
'Pass the pencil over'
The big difference between us and Christ, and the added obligation to humility, is that we mess up. We only know in part. We also need other people and other groups in fulfilling God’s mission on earth. Robert Chambers, a guru in the field of overseas development studies, has pioneered a way of bringing sustainable change to poorer communities by starting with what the community already knows. Chambers would say that long term transformation will only come when we tap into the resources that pre-exist well-intentioned outsiders. One of his mantras is ‘Pass the pencil over’! Chambers advocates mapping the key sites in a village or town, with the associated water sources and fields as a starting point. He encourages listening to tribal elders, the women, the children, but always, whenever you can, to ‘pass the pencil over’. Instead of the development professional drawing the resources map, invite the villagers to do it. When they see their situation for themselves, transformation is more likely to be owned. We can sketch out our view of what we see and hear, but we need to give dignity to the voice and experience of the other party. Again, it’s the incarnational ‘standing in their shoes’ approach, modelled by Jesus, which ought to be our pattern.
Long term transformation will only come when we tap into the resources that pre-exist well-intentioned outsiders.
I believe biblical principles support this motif from the world of development studies. God never colonises us; he never marches in on us, forcing his ways on our will. God doesn’t manipulate, control or destroy us. The Trinitarian God loves us, gives us space to be who we are, listens to our heart cries, woos us, gives us dignity, invites us to respond and be a fellow-partner, hears our prayers. This is a real relationship and it’s messy and unpredictable. And in this furnace we find out more about who we really are and can become more fully who we are called to be.
More than whispers
Rooting Christian social action in a concept of distinctive faith puts Christ firmly in the public square. Reflecting on the values of our faith and how they translate into meaningful behaviour and practice is a more potent presence for transformation in society because we are forced to embody our faith in the Christian story. The founder of IKEA, Ingvar Kamprad, uses stories to illustrate the brand of the ubiquitous Swedish flat-pack firm. Kamprad is famous for saying how he always uses public transport: he tells of travelling from the airport to home on a local bus. In that simple story, the wealth and power of IKEA become tempered with a connection to the ordinary person. ‘IKEA knows what my life is like’.
Stories have far more authority than dogma and facts. People are enticed by stories, feel a part of stories, see a new vision of the future or a fresh perspective on their past in the telling of tales. And stories hold storytellers to ransom. Kamprad’s anecdote suddenly becomes an embarrassment if he is spotted in a stretch limo driving out of Gothenburg airport. It’s a lot less potent to hide behind a vision statement which commits a firm to ‘understanding its customers’ and easier for it to mean nothing. The story gives the bland intention a life of its own.
I believe the church’s commitment to community transformation should be a series of storytelling, rooted in our big story of God’s purposes for a new creation. It will mean that we explain the reason for the hope we have for the world and be a publicly praying and worshipping community as we engage. It will mean that with humility, we partner other faiths in issues of common concern, being robustly Christian but rejoicing in the grace we find beyond our boundaries. The stories we tell will hold us to ransom about how we treat staff, how we forgive, show mercy, see possibilities for good in every situation and in all people. Oh, and lest we forget, we keep on messing up. So part of our storytelling must be a public acknowledgement that we are just like any other human – frail, sinful and weak. That forgiveness is vital in relationships and available in the God we worship.
The church’s commitment to community transformation should be a series of storytelling, rooted in our big story of God’s purposes for a new creation. It will mean we explain the reason for the hope we have and be a publicly praying and worshipping community.
If you are involved in an aspect of community transformation or Christian social action, what stories give life to your being rooted in the story of the Bible? Here are some concluding challenges towards a distinctly welcoming project that might embody these stories:
Intentional vulnerability – do you hold all the cards and is it all down to the Christians ‘doing it to them’? Or do you make space to be challenged, to learn and work with others?
Risky unpredictability – are you always in control and following a set programme and agenda? Or have you the flexibility to be responsive to unanticipated needs and hear the voices of others?
Spiritual practicality – do you keep your prayer-life and worship private and individualized? Or do you allow the fuel for your ministry to shape the communal practice and direction of the project? Many of our other-faith communities will respect and welcome prayerful, worshipping Christians even if secular society does not.
Biblical accountability – do you apologise for your Christian roots, silencing the source of your motivations and inspirations? Or do you affirm your practice with the roots of Scripture as you engage with other faiths and secular agencies. Remember that presenting the roots of our hope challenges other groups to reflect on what motivates them, too.
In Southall, West London, the Christian environmental mission agency A Rocha is engaged in a wonderful conservation project in one of the most built-up and neglected districts in the country. With an explicit Christian charge to bring redemption to a local park, the agency and associated churches are working alongside Muslims, Sikhs and Hindus who share a mandate to be stewards of creation. The work is distinctive, Bible-based, cooperative, and a glorious cameo of what is possible. Is it too much to dream of a million such endeavours of Christ-centred new creation activities across our nation?
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I hate weddings! All this focus on the gorgeous couple, all that hanging around, toasts to Aunt Flossy who can’t be here, bad speeches and bad dancing. I never could get what all the crying was about either, unless you count a display of fashion disaster hats as emotional abuse! I guess I have a good reason to hate weddings: I have to go to loads of them. I’m a waiter, and I work for a firm that specialises in doing only the best nuptials celebrations: ‘Wedded to quality’ is the motto.
I say I hate weddings but we had the most bizarre reception last week. It certainly broke the pattern of what I had come to expect at these events. There we were in Cana, just north of Nazareth. It was all going along swimmingly but after a while my antenna is out; like any good waiter, you have to anticipate, see in advance what the clients need. Anyway, it seems that there’s more than a fair share of fishermen and carpenters in this crowd, and they drink like fish! It wasn’t a shoestring reception by any means but clearly someone in the family has done the calculations wrong and the wine is fast running out. We waiters are eyeing each other across the tables, taking that extra bit of time before refilling glasses, studiously avoiding the glances of those who are downing their pinot noir just a little too swiftly.
The maitre d’ gets wind of what’s going on and is like a cat on hot bricks. Highly strung at the best of times, that vein on his forehead bulging with stress. ‘Oh, our reputation! What will we do? The families will be publicly humiliated if the wine is finished before the party is over! We’ll never do business in Galilee again!!’ He sends out one of the young apprentices to search for local wine supplies, but I know Cana’s stocks have been cleaned out.
The trouble is, some of the guests start to notice the suppressed panic among the staff and near-empty glasses now dominating the tables. The head of the bridegroom’s family would be so shamed if the wine ran out. It’s not simply about a nice tipple; it’s a symbol of fruitfulness, of God’s blessings on us and our own identity as Jews. It goes right back to the Exodus and the spies bringing back those huge clusters of vines from the Promised Land. At a wedding, you just gotta have the wine, or else!
This woman is chatting to one of the other waiters. Mary is her name and I’m beckoned over. It seems she reckons her son is the bees’ knees: been there, done that, got the T-shirt. Well, a fair few Jewish mums fit that description, but Mary’s quite adamant that her boy will sort out our predicament.
Her boy happens to be this rabbi called Jesus, and he’s giving his mum the hard stare. You know the kind I mean: ‘Mum, don’t embarrass me in public! I don’t need you to push me forward, thank you’. It seems he doesn’t want to be involved and is 'not ready’. What was all that about? Ready for what? If he’s got a secret stash of wine, now is the time to give it up! But Mary is persistent, keeps badgering her boy and just says to us waiters, ‘Do anything, I mean anything he says!!’ I get the drift: the anything could be something really weird, but, hey, we’ve nothing to lose.
Jesus takes us to the hallway where the stone water jars are kept. Huge jars these; they hold over 75 litres. ‘Fill them’. Simple instruction…OK, I can do that. ‘Now draw some water out and take it to the maitre d’.’ Mmmmm. That’s the really weird bit. Have you seen what’s in those jars? That’s the water we use for washing feet when people arrive. The job you start out on when you join this firm. There’s all sorts of stuff in those jars! Our streets are none too clean and our feet, well, we’d rather not talk about them. I breathed a big sigh of relief when I graduated to being a waiter. Not for me that daily acquaintance with a cross between bad cheese and the farmyard. And this rabbi Jesus is for pouring water into wine glasses out of this stuff!
I’m giggling now; that nervous laughter you get that you can’t control. Well, in the pecking order I’m one up from Amos so I tell him, ‘I’ll help you get the water out, you take it over to the maitre d’’. Amos is looking at me like I’m mad. ‘He’ll kill us! We can’t serve this stuff!’ Jesus gives us that hard stare again. So we go for it. Water in the jars, in all that gunge and dirt. Jugs in, and neither of us dare look at what scummy stuff is being taken to the tables.
I peer around the doorway as Amos carries the first jar over to the maitre d’. He looks like a rabbit caught in headlights. We, and Jesus, are the only ones who know what’s really in the jar. Jesus is now just grinning at me. Here is the moment of truth. The maitre d’ pours the wine into a glass, and it’s a deep red. Maybe someone was bleeding the last time the waters were used for cleaning. My mouth is dry with anticipation as the glass is raised to his lips and he tastes before handing the jug to the head table. ‘This wine is amazing! Beautiful!’ I see him take the bridegroom aside and say something about how unusual it is to leave the best wine till last.
It’s party time now! I’m running around like I’m on casters filling jugs and serving tables. Apparently it’s like some Chateau Lafitte vintage. Everyone is loving it; the reception is now really swinging. I spot Jesus with his fishermen mates. He’s grinning again, happy that people are happy. Mary and Jesus’ followers are the only ones who know who really served us that day. A whole community has been given a great party by this rabbi Jesus, and only a few of the party could tell you who Jesus actually is.
I’d forgotten about me and Amos, though. Yeah, we’d seen what had gone on, what had really transformed that wedding. That day I realised I had some choices of my own to make. That rabbi was something else.
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Soundtrack- an opportunity to respond in prayer and worship
Transforming God,
You transform water into wine
Dregs into abundance
A flat reception into a party.
Transforming God,
Transform my efforts into your fruitfulness
My sin into your good life
My sadness into your joy.
Transforming God,
Help me to be an agent of creation, where there is destruction
Wholeness where there is brokenness
Hope where there is despair.
Be a transforming God
In my life
In the church
In my community
In the world
Amen
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Are you involved in an aspect of community service, whether with your local church or as an individual volunteer or perhaps even in your employment? How much of what you do flows from your Christian faith and your understanding of the good news of Jesus? How is your own practice both ‘distinctive’ and ‘welcoming’? Write an inventory noting the aspects of motivation and values which are a core part of your community involvement. Note those aspects which can serve the whole community and share common concern and values with those of other faiths and none.
Pray through this inventory, asking God to show you where you need to be more conscious of Christian distinctiveness, or more welcoming of the challenges and learning which are part of a welcoming relationship.
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Banquet
- David Bosch Transforming Mission: Paradigm Shifts in Theology of Mission (Orbis Books, 1991)
Healthy appetisers
- Malcolm Duncan Building a Better World: Faith at Work for Change in Society (Continuum, 2006)
- Edited by David Lee, Ministry and Mission in a Multi-Faith Society (Diocese of Birmingham, 2001). Reflections of a working party in the Diocese of Birmingham; including stories of witness and working alongside neighbours of different faiths. Available from www.birmingham.anglican.org.
- The Methodist Church for May I Call You Friend? a resource exploring practical issues around involvement with those of other faiths.
Virtual food
- Faithworks for resources and networking of Christian based community projects also for training courses and consultancy for Christian community development work.
- The Micah Challenge - information and resources on integral mission and the need for Christians to be active in pursuing justice.
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About the book & the author
- 'Distinctly Welcoming - Christian presence in a multifaith society' was published by Scripture Union in 2007. ISBN: 978 1 84427 317 1
- To share in further discussion of issues raised by the book and to see the author's reflections on news events relating to our multi-faith world, visit www.distinctlywelcoming.com