Print Post Approved PP100003514 VOL 47 NO 7
NATIONAL MAGAZINE OF THE LUTHERAN CHURCH OF AUSTRALIA
Vol 47 No7 P253
AUGUST 2013
I am not ashamed of the gospel because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes [Romans 1:16a]
Cover photo: Luke Greaves
EDITOR/ADVERTISING phone 0427 827 441 email rosie.schefe@lca.org.au
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www.thelutheran.com.au We Love The Lutheran!
MULTI-TASKING IN A GOOD CAUSE
As the magazine of the Lutheran Church of Australia (incorporating the Lutheran Church of New Zealand), The Lutheran informs the members of the LCA about the church’s teaching, life, mission and people, helping them to grow in faith and commitment to Jesus Christ. The Lutheran also provides a forum for a range of opinions, which do not necessarily reflect the opinions of the editor or the policies of the Lutheran Church of Australia. The Lutheran is a member of the Australasian Religious Press Association and as such subscribes to its journalistic and editorial codes of conduct.
Ruth Verrall (Holy Trinity, Nuriootpa SA) reads the story of her great-great grandfather Gottlieb Christian in The Lutheran, while still managing to make sure her tomato relish doesn’t burn. Photo: James Verrall Send us a photograph featuring a recent copy of The Lutheran and you might see it here on page 2.
We Love The Lutheran!
CONTACTS Acting Editor Rosie Schefe 197 Archer St, North Adelaide SA 5006 phone 0427 827 441 email rosie.schefe@lca.org.au Executive Editor Linda Macqueen 3 Orvieto St, Bridgewater SA 5155 phone 08 8339 5178 email linda.macqueen@lca.org.au
People like you are salt in your world [ Matt 5:13 ]
National Magazine Committee Greg Hassold, Sarah Hoff-Zweck, Pastor Richard Schwedes, Heidi Smith Design and layout Comissa Fischer Printer Openbook Howden
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Maureen Costello
Ron Eckert
Stephen Schipanski
St John’s, Hope Vale Qld
St Paul’s Lutheran Church, Grovedale Vic
St Pauls, Broken Hill NSW
Home duties Enjoys fishing Fav text: Psalm 23
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Issued every month except in January
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Vol 47 No7 P254
FEATURES
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05 Serving the least of these 09 The building of a bishop 20 Building awareness and growing in love
‘What are you going to be when you grow up?’
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It’s a favourite question for children, looking around at the big world with wide eyes, wondering how they fit in. It’s a favourite question for teenagers too, as they explore the possibilities that their education and emerging dreams lay out before them. For young adults emerging from universities and TAFE colleges, or for the ones leapfrogging from one opportunity to the next, the question becomes less about possibilities than about hooking the best option from a shrinking pool of choices. And for the person who has been in the same field for 20 years or more and suddenly realises that they went wrong somewhere … for them, answering this question can feel more like an escape.
And God was with me through it all, even the rough bits. He was shaping me, or teaching me, or using me to shine a light over other people’s stories. No matter that my poor attempts to do his will sometimes end in failure, God still uses me. I’m never alone in that; I’m not a ‘one special tool’ that he picks for a single task that is mine alone to complete. I’m one of many; the one at hand to care for a family member or to connect with a stranger, just as you are the tool he uses to bless or build up the people in your life. It doesn’t matter whether you are just finding out who God is or whether you are the new bishop of the LCA—Jesus has already claimed you as his own through his death and resurrection and is equipping and using you (often simultaneously) where you are. He does that. Watch out for it! And join with me in Paul’s prayer over us all: ‘We continually ask God to fill you with the knowledge of his will through all the wisdom and understanding that the Spirit gives, so that you may live a life worthy of the Lord and please him in every way: bearing fruit in every good work, growing in the knowledge of God (Colossians 1:9b, 10).
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COLUMNS 04 Heartland 12 Little Church 13 Inside Story 15 Letters
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17 Notices/Directory 18 Stepping Stones
It was a throwaway comment from one of my early Teacher Education lecturers that set me on the path to finding my true vocation. He told me I wrote well and should pursue it further. But it was another ten years before I really did. So it took time, but I can look back now and say that none of those years or experiences was wasted. I didn’t make the brightest, most efficient choices as I built a wobbly sort of career, but I learnt plenty, met a lot of interesting people and sashayed down a few sidetracks while I did.
23 Angels with muddy feet
21 Rhythms of Grace 22 Bookmarks
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25 Reel Life 26 Heart and Home 28 World in Brief 30 Coffee Break
The new title of this column is ‘Heartland’. It is a reflection on what really matters to us. What is the core of our Christian life and faith? What do we truly carry in our hearts? How do we know, deep down, where our heartland is? Heartland has many layers. We find it in our in work, family ties, marriage, children, land, social values, financial and physical security, health, education, and so much more. Take any of these away, or threaten them, and we feel as though the rug is swept from under our feet. Most of all, however, to survive and flourish we need hope. Without hope, days are dark and life is meaningless. The church knows only one hope, one heartland: Jesus Christ. He is the beating heart of God, God’s soul laid bare. Without Jesus the church withers to a sterile, meaningless religion. It loses its heart, its hope, its reason for being.
What do Christians have to offer the world today? What is special about being Lutheran? Why would people want to engage with us when there is so much on offer, so many alternatives to choose from? The difference will come from what’s in our hearts. The heart pumps the life-blood around the body. You can’t hide it or disguise it. Jesus makes the point in Matthew 15:18: ‘… what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart …’ (NRSV) I know that my own heart isn’t good enough or strong enough to make that difference. But God promises to give me his heart. The blood that pumps through my body is renewed, and the things that come out of me will also be fresh, new, and full of hope.
Our unity, based on our common faith in Christ, is quite intentional. It is created by the Holy Spirit and has been crafted by generations of believers. Unity is essential because
The difference will come from what’s in our hearts ‘… what comes out of the mouth proceeds from the heart …’
I was baptised in a Lutheran church, but I am also a Lutheran by choice. I rejoice in the wonderful, liberating gospel of Jesus. Over the years, however, I have noticed that our gospel heart is often overlaid or broken by anxieties and fears. We run the risk of being deceived and dominated by perceived threats, disputes, and even division.
Christ is one, and his body cannot be divided. Each part needs each other part (Romans 12:5), even if it’s not immediately obvious to us why that is so. We show this reality in how we love each other, value and support each other, and work with each other—individuals, congregations, parishes, ministries, lay workers, pastors, districts, synod: all the myriad parts that make up this entity we call the Lutheran Church of Australia and New Zealand.
You have called me, your new bishop, to represent the unity of the church, and that is what I want to emphasise to you.
Together we are to remind each other of our heartland, to share the life of the beating heart of God, our saviour Jesus Christ.
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Who is my neighbour? Answering that question showed Tom and Robyn Brennen another side of the world.
Serving the least of these Photo: Hiro and Hiro photoworks
by Rosie Schefe
Having a choice is something that Australians take for granted, but for many people choice is limited— or even absent. ‘We are so beyond blessed in this country. In Egypt, getting involved in politics can get you killed. In Australia we can have a “bloody political coup” without any blood!’ Tom Brennen said.
refugees who find themselves in Cairo fleeing various situations. The United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) has a processing station in Cairo which acts as a gateway to the rest of the world for refugees from African nations.
Tom spoke to The Lutheran on 4 July, the day that the Egyptian Army removed elected President Mohammed Morsi and installed interim President Adli Mansour, suspending the country’s constitution for 30 days.
In 1951 the Egyptian government signed the Refugee Convention and its 1967 Protocol and allowed the UNHCR to process refugees on its territory. But they have still not put any Egyptian domestic asylum procedures in place, effectively assuming no responsibility for refugees transiting through their country.
Tom and Robyn Brennen returned to Australia from Egypt in mid-June, after 18 months living in a Cairo neighbourhood and working to support
Estimates of refugee numbers in Egypt vary between 500,000 and 3 million people. People who have no access to healthcare, education, or employment.
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I always wanted to do aid work out of an understanding that the command to love your neighbour includes everyone in the world. Many of them are from South Sudan, but they also come from other parts of Africa and the Middle East, including Libya and Syria. ‘They experience complete disempowerment. It is difficult for them The Lutheran August 2013
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Photos: Tom Brennen
Photo: Hiro and Hiro photoworks
Kids are at the bottom. They pay for poor choices: poor choices by the Egyptians, poor choices by the Africans, poor choices by everyone. Top left: Taking advantage of every opportunity. Top right: Cairo’s African Hope Learning Centre offers both primary school and high school classes to African refugee children. Most of its staff are refugees themselves. Bottom right: Much of physiotherapist and midwife Robyn Brennen’s (right) work was in professional development for doctors and health workers; here she teaches a simple stretch.
to access anything. They suffer from a lack of food, or of being constantly turned out of houses, and the women suffer constant sexual harassment’, Robyn said. Their assignment in Egypt was something that Robyn and Tom had been working towards ever since they decided to get married, channelling their savings into supporting themselves as volunteers for an extended period. They also received support from their local congregation, other congregations and friends, but did not want to burden the church with meeting their needs. ‘I always wanted to do aid work out of an understanding that the command to love your neighbour includes everyone in the world’, said Tom, a teacher, formerly at Concordia College, Highgate, South Australia. Robyn, a midwife and physiotherapist, added, ‘And since meeting Sudanese people in Adelaide, I wanted to go and do work with displaced Sudanese women. But we wanted to go somewhere that was reasonably stable and where our 6
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In a country that was newly finding its feet as a democracy, Tom and Robyn quickly learnt that they could not depend on the police or other authorities for help. skills could be used among a semistable population’. Volunteering through a multidenominational Christian organisation, Tom and Robyn chose initially to spend a year in Cairo, arriving a few months after the revolution that toppled former Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak. Tom was matched with African Hope Learning Centre, a school for refugee children, as the assistant director, half time. He also lectured at the Petrescue Bible Institute, a low-cost training centre for pastors, youth workers and teachers, catering to both refugees and Egyptian nationals. Robyn went to work for RefugeEgypt which operates medical clinics particularly for African refugees.
‘A pregnant woman from South Sudan, with no husband in evidence is right at the bottom of the heap in Cairo society’, Robyn said. Although she did some general clinical work at Refuge-Egypt, most of her efforts were channelled towards providing professional development and training for its doctors, nurses and other health care workers. All three institutions—African Hope, Petrescue Bible College and RefugeEgypt—operate in the shadows of Egyptian society, outside the law. In a country that was newly finding its feet as a democracy, Tom and Robyn quickly learnt that they could not depend on the police or other authorities for help. Vol 47 No7 P258
Photos: Tom Brennen
Top left: A Cairo street market: with little refrigeration and regular interruptions to electricity, most city residents rely on markets such as this to purchase their daily food supplies. Bottom left: Pregnant women, especially African women, are vulnerable to harassment and abuse in Egypt, particularly if their husbands are absent. Right: Tom and Robyn Brennen during their last days in Egypt after 18 months spent as volunteers. ‘I’m wearing sunglasses so that men in the street don’t think that I’m looking at them when I’m really looking past them’, Robyn says.
‘I saw serious cases of child abuse, but there was nothing I could do. The police considered it to be a refugee problem, the responsibility of the United Nations. And when members of the Egyptian police who happened to be Coptic Christians suffered persecution and there was no support available to them, what support could we expect?’ Tom said. ‘These people need help; it doesn’t matter how difficult the situation or the culture of the community is. It is vital to try to give the kids a future. At African Hope we were trying to address this by giving kids the tools they needed to help their community. ‘Kids are at the bottom. They pay for poor choices: poor choices by the Egyptians, poor choices by the Africans, poor choices by everyone’, he said. Operating on a budget of US$120,000 per year, African Hope provides education programs to 450 students. The curriculum is widely based and delivered in English, together with spiritual education and pastoral care. Vol 47 No7 P259
All students receive a lunchtime meal and some very basic health care. African Hope has between 45 and 50 staff, many of whom are African refugees themselves.
I personally understand [the book of] James much better now—that we live in the freedom of grace, but that grace needs to have an outworking through us. For Robyn, who commuted one-and-ahalf hours across Cairo to work at RefugeEgypt, the biggest problem became constant sexual harassment. Whistles,
comments and suggestive gestures, men invading her personal space on the street … she experienced the whole range on a daily basis, although she rarely felt truly physically threatened. ‘But it was constant. At first I tried to ignore it, but this was seen as encouragement. So I learnt to get angry and then they would back off. Somehow the words “Sod off!” worked best. Even if they didn’t understand English, they understood the tone’, Robyn said. For most women from Sudan, however, raised to be meek and suffer demands from men in silent submission, the problem was so much more difficult, becoming an internalised part of the honour/shame culture within which they interacted. At the end of twelve months the Brennens extended their stay. Tom filled in while the director of African Hope was away from the school for six months. As the political situation began to deteriorate (the parliament’s passing of President Morsi’s unpopular The Lutheran August 2013
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constitution earlier this year brought protestors back onto the streets), Robyn found it more difficult to commute to the clinic and transferred her efforts to working with students at African Hope, two of whom became trainee teachers. Tom and Robyn found their beliefs challenged by what they saw around them and the people with whom they interacted daily. ‘I personally understand [the book of] James much better now—that we live in the freedom of grace, but that grace needs to have an outworking through us (James 2:14–26)’, Tom said. They found out, however, that not all their fellow Western volunteers had the same willingness to show the love of God by loving others and suffering alongside them. ‘We met a few wellpaid missionaries who were doing their work but seemed to be mostly there to enjoy the different cultural experience’, Tom said. ‘Meanwhile others were sustained by a simple faith, just going about their work in dangerous situations—quietly.’ Robyn found herself challenged by a theology that elevated preaching, prayer and worship as holy but devalued all other activities as carnal or corrupt. This compartmentalised thinking resulted in staff leaving their posts with critically ill patients in order to attend religious meetings, for example. ‘We can have similar problems in Australia, but usually people don’t die because of it’, Robyn said. Much of the Brennens’ work centred around developing among their staff
a sense of vocation and of the holiness of all work, which also helped to build the honour of mothers and of poor people within a culture where maintaining honour is everything. ‘In Australia our rights are assured by law, but in Egyptian and African culture generally, this all happens by negotiation; people have to fight for everything’, Tom said. ‘There is always a winner and a loser; there is no such thing as a win-win situation.’ Returning to Australia in mid-June, Tom and Robyn noted a general hardening of public attitudes here toward refugees. They are particularly concerned about the current provision of bridging visas that allow asylum seekers to live outside detention, but also outside of access to welfare, education and work programs.
The African Hope Learning Centre rents its premises, which are not optimal for a school, but from which it provides education and spiritual care, one meal a day and basic health checks.
a Masters in Physiotherapy in Women’s Health at the University of Melbourne.
‘This is a very short-sighted policy that seems to put us on the same level as Cairo’, Tom said.
They will be joining St Matthew’s Lutheran Church, Footscray; ‘God willing’, they say.
‘We have a duty to refugees, but we need to approach it intelligently. We know from our history that migrant communities can be a phenomenal blessing to a country, but things are different in the world now.
What they bring with them are memories of Egypt that include experiences of the hospitality of the Middle East, and a greater awareness of religion as part of daily life.
‘Refugees need a way to contribute to our society and a way to support themselves. We need to do this properly and not do it by half—or we will be creating more harm than good’, he said. Tom begins the new semester as the interim principal of Sunshine Christian School, a small Lutheran school serving Melbourne’s north-western suburbs. Robyn will commence studying
They are both relieved and concerned about the escalation of events in Cairo—relieved that the military has promised a quick return to democracy (and appears to have broad support across Egyptian society) but concerned that the Muslim Brotherhood will still attempt to tip the country into civil war. ‘As our Egyptian friends told us, it is only since 2011 that the Egyptians have ever been free!’ Robyn said.
More information: • African Hope Learning Centre www.africanhopelc.com • Refuge-Egypt www.refuge-egypt.org • Petrescue Bible Institute and the organisation which sent Tom and Robyn to Egypt: contact the Brennens at trbrennen@gmail.com They are happy to speak to congregations and groups about their experiences. 8
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Photo: Luke Greaves
Quietly, carefully, while nobody else was watching too closely, God was at work, creating a leader.
The building of a bishop ‘So, who is this new bloke with the non-German surname?’ In his sermon prior to his installation as our first bishop, John Henderson voiced the question that’s been doing laps around the LCA for months. He was stating the obvious—that his surname rings a bell of change in our church, following the distinctly Germanic names (Lohe, Grope, Steicke and Semmler) of his predecessors in the LCA’s highest pastoral office. As we come to know him better, we’ll discover that his name isn’t the only thing that is, well, not typical of LCA leaders past and present. Vol 47 No7 P261
John’s childhood and adolescence were grounded firmly in Lutheran culture, but from there his pathway to leadership departs from the script. It’s coloured with the sorts of experiences that make you suspect that, at every step along the way, God was preparing John for this particular role—to guide the LCA through a time of change. For change is something John knows quite a bit about. He can’t remember a time when he thought the Lutheran Church was ‘the church’. Probably his maternal grandmother had something to do with that. ‘She was born into a Presbyterian
by Linda Macqueen family and married a Lutheran in a Methodist church’, John explains. In her mature years, she worshipped at the Lutheran church in Brisbane’s CBD, went to an Anglican charismatic healing service, sang in the Baptist Crusade Choir and went to Bible study at the Uniting Church. ‘But the Lutheran Church was always her home’, he says. That’s how it is for John too: ‘The church is more than us, more than the Lutheran Church. But this is my home. I’m Lutheran by upbringing, and also by choice.’ His father became a Christian when he was about 23 or 24, after The Lutheran August 2013
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John, just keep doing what you did here. Keep it simple, and tell people about Jesus. meeting the woman he would marry, a Lutheran. He was an army man, and John’s memories of childhood and adolescence reflect the frequent relocations: ‘My life is in fragments all over the country’. Nevertheless, he remembers fondly the sense of belonging in small close-knit Lutheran communities—in Victoria, New South Wales and South Australia. ‘We did everything as a church community. Everybody knew everybody else. We came together for social events, we worshipped together; this was our community.’ There’s also a piece of Britain in him. When John was early-primary age, his father was training at the Royal School of Music in London. He became a Queen’s Trumpeter and played fanfares for royal events such as the wedding of Princess Margaret. ‘I had an English accent until I was eleven’, John says. That’s no surprise. He’s articulate, precise and measured in his speech. But there’s no hint of aloofness. His track record indicates he’s a chameleon, able to engage with and enjoy people from all walks of life. Ken von Pein, a Darling Downs farmer, travelled all the way from Queensland to attend John’s installation service in Hahndorf, South Australia. He was an elder at Dalby (‘a huge parish, a 900-kilometre circuit’) when John was the pastor there. ‘We thought the world of John’, Ken says. ‘He had an ability to bring the gospel to us in a way that was relevant to the situation we were in. He was always pointing us to Jesus Christ. 10
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‘He gave us freedom to move; he wasn’t a controller. He believed that the Holy Spirit, not the pastor, was supposed to do the controlling.’ A high-achieving student, John completed Year 12 in Canberra and then worked as a clerk in the Department of Science. Had he continued along that trajectory, he would have completed a degree in political science at Australian National University and served the country in foreign affairs and trade. But he hated desk work, so for twelve months he took to the road. He was 18 when he and a mate drove into Darwin to help with its reconstruction after Cyclone Tracy. While there, on a whim John asked Darwin pastor, Alan Schreiber, what he’d have to do to become a pastor. ‘I wanted to do something I believed in’, John says. He was at a T-junction. Without any notion of what was before him, the choice John made there—to turn towards Luther Seminary—was the beginning of the road to bishop. It didn’t start well. During his seminary studies, he never felt that he fitted in: ‘I was always the outsider: the Canberra number-plates, the non-German name, the influence of my ecumenicallyminded grandmother ...’ That feeling of being the outsider is something he’s never forgotten and which he’s applied to his ministry ever since: ‘You always have to look out for the people who don’t fit in, those whom others overlook or forget.’ While at Sem, John met the woman who would become his wife, Valmai Burger, who was training at Lutheran Teachers College. He wanted to be assigned to a rural parish. Instead he was sent to the urban Adelaide parish of Woodville/Albert Park. He struggled. ‘It was a rocky start. It wasn’t the people; they were wonderful ... wonderful gospel-centred people’, he stresses. ‘It was nothing to do with them. It was me; I felt that I wasn’t where I was supposed to be.’
It was in Dalby, in Queensland’s rural Lutheran heartland, that he hit his stride. ‘When they heard of my election as bishop, they called to tell me, “John, just keep doing what you did here. Keep it simple, and tell people about Jesus”. ‘They helped me understand the centrality of the gospel. “Don’t give us any legalism here, thank you very much!”’ In his next parish, in the outer eastern suburbs of Melbourne, John was stretched again. The parish is connected with Good Shepherd primary school. This was John’s first foray into school-based ministry. ‘At Outer Eastern, I learnt about the permeability of the church, about urban drift’, he says. ‘People came and went without ever identifying as Lutheran. They moved in and out and got lost. They wanted faith but were chasing the world ... they were caught. ‘I also learnt that it didn’t take much to win them back—if you gave them the gospel. If you gave them law, you’d never see them again.’ In 2000 John stepped down as vicepresident of the Victorian District in order to free up time to undertake a Master of Theology degree. He did complete it, but not in Melbourne. A phone call from then LCA President Lance Steicke signalled the beginning of yet another challenge and another move, this time to Sydney. John’s district president, David Stolz, had recommended him for the position of general secretary of the National Council of Churches of Australia (NCCA). ‘In the school at Croydon, John was working in an ecumenical setting’, Dr Stolz says. ‘That was important, but more than that, he had excellent listening skills. He brought to the pastorate an ability to listen to conflicting points of view, to bring people to the table, to hear each other out and then to find a way forward. That ability impressed me. ‘When he looks at a situation, he takes his blinkers off. He has the ability to listen without instantly jumping to a judgement.’ Vol 47 No7 P262
Photo Luke Greaves
I’m not here to control your local congregation, but to give you something to believe in, something that you want to be a part of, to free you to serve Jesus On his installation day, new LCA Bishop John Henderson with his wife Valmai and children: James (second from left), with girlfriend Melissa Ronchetti; Mark, with son Levi; and Louise, with son Reuben. Despite the confidence of Dr Stolz and others, John felt completely unprepared for the NCCA role.
I wasn’t an academic ... But I applied anyway. It was time for me to serve my church again from the inside.
‘It was like changing universes’, he says. ‘I sat in my office on that first day and thought, “What am I supposed to do?” I’d never done anything like this before.
‘I hope I achieved something at ALC. I hope we have refreshed the college’s engagement with the church. Courses are planned with advisory groups. When you’re doing coursework you’ll explore and discover through ministryrelated groups. It’s not just: “This is what you need to know”.’
‘But I learnt. I learnt how to be a CEO of an organisation of 40 staff and a $4 million budget. I learnt how to hire and fire, how to manage various departments ... indigenous affairs, the youth desk ... I learnt management and leadership skills. And I learnt that the church is a global community. ‘Wherever you go in the world there is a Christian community to welcome you. They are not fussy about your particular allegiance. ‘I also learnt about the respect in which Lutherans are held internationally. Much of that flows from the backing of LWF [Lutheran World Federation], which is extraordinary and unique.’ John had been an unlikely candidate for the position of NCCA general secretary. He was just as unlikely a candidate for his next job: principal of Australian Lutheran College (ALC). ‘This was a bit offbeat for me. Again I was an outsider’, he says. ‘I was the first non-internal appointment to principal, I wasn’t a qualified teacher, Vol 47 No7 P263
The ALC experience was a learning experience in managing change— structural and cultural, John says. ‘You can’t wait for culture to catch up. Sometimes you just have to do what’s needed.’ He’s not alarmed that his successors will do things differently from him: ‘It’s not a cause for panic. Every generation has its day and every new generation will have to take over sometime and make its own contribution.’ Now John is moving into the LCA bishop’s office. There are packing boxes and books all over the place— symbols of yet another beginning. How does he feel about this one? ‘The LCA is a fantastic bunch of people. We have strengths we don’t even recognise we have. But we also have baggage. We seem to think we’re up against other churches and the world. We need to discover that we don’t win
by setting up false demons in order to punch them down. We might live in a fallen world, but we can also celebrate what’s good in it. ‘Let’s get over ourselves and join in with others a bit. Let’s be confident, let’s celebrate, let’s live the gospel. And how do we do that? If we look at Jesus, we see he was extraordinary ... the way he loved God and loved people. ‘At the same time I believe strongly in good order; I believe in systems. So I’m not suggesting a free-for-all, but it is time for permission-giving. We need to trust God with his church.’ The national church has to find a way to re-engage with congregations, he says. Yes, it has a responsibility to manage risks—about money and liabilities—‘but that doesn’t make us the church’. As national bishop, it’s not his job to tell anyone how to do local ministry, he says. ‘I’m not here to control your local congregation, but to give you something to believe in, something that you want to be a part of, to free you to serve Jesus, as part of a greater whole. ‘I want to be Lutheran. I want to see us building on our past, not destroying it. When we are at our best, we are very good. When we are at our worst, we want to hide under a blanket. ‘We don’t always agree, but that’s no reason to leave the family.’ The Lutheran August 2013
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