Church for every context

The first is church planting, which has a long history in the UK. It stretches from churches built in new urban areas during the industrial revolution, to the planting of daughter churches, to the beginnings of a new phase of church planting in the 1970s. During that decade, Patrick Blair started to develop his seven satellite congregations in Chester-le-Street, and Roger Forster began multiplying churches across south London in what became the Ichthus movement.

The tributary started to flow more rapidly in the early 19908 largely as a result of church growth missiology. The latter included an emphasis on evangelism and encouraged a new wave of church planting, inspired by the international DAWN (Disciple a Whole Nation) strategy. The strategy represented a shift from 'come' to "go" evangelism. Rather than invite people outside church to existing congregations, new gatherings were planted in the hope of attracting those who did not attend.

However, many of these church plants suffered from having a dominant gene ^[3] that saw church primarily in terms of Sunday worship, albeit done differently. They started down the contextual road, but did not travel far a number of these plants were short-lived, while others had little effect on

the surrounding community. 'Many new churches failed to thrive. Some closed after years of struggle. Many more are small, weak and making little impact' (Lings and Murray, 2003, p. 4).

'A deep desire to connect church with people outside, missional reflection on postmodern culture and in some cases 'post-evangelical' angst encouraged more contextual and diverse forms of church planting in the late 1990s, often involving small groups below the radar of the wider church. The momentum has built up since. In addition, churches serving ethnic minority communities have proliferated, but have generally not expanded to include other cultures.

Originating in the United States, this second tributary consists of a smorgasbord of groups and individuals who want to find what they consider to be more authentic ways to live the Christian faith. Found mainly among the Gen X and Gen Y generations, participants in the emerging church conversation seek to connect with popular culture, postmodern practice and philosophy, and reflect a widespread disenchantment with evangelicalism (Cox, 2009, p. 132; Jones, 2008, p. 68). The conversation, in which 'Emergent' is a prominent sub-group, comprises 'a network of networks' (Drane, 2008, p. 90) and has an extensive presence online and in print.

Some of those who would identify with the conversation have started new 'emerging churches'. Based on an extensive study between 2000 and 2005, Eddie Gibbs and Ryan Bolger (2006, pp. 44-5) found that three core practices were common to all these churches — identifying with the life of Jesus, transforming secular space (rather than separating the sacred and secular) and living as community (as a way of pursuing the kingdom within the church and beyond). These central practices combined to create six further practices — welcoming the stranger, serving with generosity, participating as producers, creating as created beings, leading as. a body and taking part in spiritual activities.

Many emerging churches have developed alternative forms of worship to re-engage Christians who find existing church culturally alien and unable to speak to them and are about to leave the church or have recently done so. Others, however, have connected with people who are further from church, and these have tended to put less emphasis on worship as a way to serve people. Especially in the US, emerging churches are generally outside the denominations, are often highly critical of them and in many cases would be suspicious of 'fresh expressions of church', which are emerging in the denominations.

Language within the movement has evolved. In 2011, two observers could write that:

Doug Gay has asked whether we may be near the end of 'emerging' as a useful term for the church (Gay, 2011, p. xi).

The third tributary consists of fresh expressions of church, The term was first used in print in the Church of England’s 2004 report, Mission-shaped Church, which has been highly influential. The term deliberately echoes the Preface to the Declaration of Assent, which Church of England ministers make at their licensing and which state:

The term 'fresh expressions', the report proposed, 'suggests something new or enlivened is happening, but also suggests connection to history and the developing story of God’s work in the Church' (Mission-shaped Church, 2004, p. 34).

Since the report’s publication, all manner of initiatives have described themselves as 'fresh expressions', including the redesign of a church notice board! So to draw some lines round the phrase, in 2006 the Fresh Expressions team — formed by the Church of England’s archbishops and the Methodist Church to encourage and support the development of fresh expressions of church in the UK — offered the following definition:

Since the report, fresh expressions of church have multiplied across a growing number of denominations, including the Church of Scotland, the Congregational Federation and the United Reformed Church, and overseas. New forms of church - many not calling themselves 'fresh expressions' - are emerging in Australia, New Zealand, North America, other parts of Europe and in some places in the global South,

'Communities in mission' is my term for groups that seek to combine a rich life in community with mission and do not identify strongly with the other tributaries. They include simple church, which values small, multiplying, home-based churches, minimal structures and relational rather than institutional ties, and organic church, which is very similar but whose leaders put more weight on belonging to a larger movement. Both are less interested in radical theology than in being radical church.

Communities in mission also include mid-sized communities that are being formed in a number of well-established churches. They are clusters of Christians, of varying sizes, which gain purpose from serving a specific group of people outside the church. Each community meets in varying ways and with varying regularity, but does so as a 'congregation'. For example, a small group may gather three times a month and then join with the wider local church on perhaps one Sunday of the month. Larger clusters have small cells that meet regularly for prayer, study and fellowship (Hopkins and Breen, 2007, pp. 29-41).

Within each of these four tributaries are groups that tap into new monasticism, a subterranean source of spiritual nourishment with origins in the monastic tradition and the secular Celtic revival. Ian Mobsby has identified three groups of new monastics — those inspired by monks and nuns who gather for prayer in disused pubs, youth clubs, in places of natural beauty and elsewhere; those who identify with the friar tradition and move into an area either as single households of pioneers or as intentional communities; anda growing number of 'friar monks' who are inspired by both monk and friar traditions (Mobsby 2010, pp. 13-15) Water flows freely between these four tributaries. A good number of new churches would see themselves as both a church plant and a fresh expression, for example, or as belonging to several tributaries. The result of this energy and innovation has been a bewildering eruption of different types of Christian community and different ideas about what it means to be church in today’s world.

New contextual churches can be classified in a variety of ways. One is to describe them in relation to the local church. On this basis, some are closely linked to an existing church. They emerge from within a 'fringe' group — a mission venture or a community project, for instance — so that these initiatives are no longer stepping stones to Sunday church but become 'church' in their own right.

For example, the leaders of a church-run luncheon club for older people invited members to stay behind after the meal for quarter of an hour, at the start of which a candle was lit on each table. There followed some Christian music, a reading from Scripture, a period of silence and some prayers. This became the start of a journey to faith for those involved, and the beginning of a church alongside and in the context of the luncheon club.

Alternatively, a local church may bring a Christian community to birth as part of a new initiative. A Sunday 'Drop In' opened in inner-city Bristol in 2010 to serve a marginalized section of society. There is a cup of tea, some food, pool and table tennis, newspapers and a prayer board. Toward the end of the session, someone invites requests for prayer and a short, informal prayer time follows. Numbers vary from 15 to 25 each week. Some have asked to be baptized. There is cross-fertilization with the regular Sunday congregation. Some of the latter help run Drop In, while a few from Drop In attend church groups or occasional services.

New contextual churches have emerged within networks that jump local church boundaries — in a Methodist circuit, an Anglican deanery or among

"local churches from different denominations acting together. A number of youth congregations have been started through this type of collaboration, such as Eden, a monthly youth gathering in Sussex that breaks into separate youth groups on the other Sundays (Lings, 2007). The congregation is connected to a group of churches in an area rather than to one local church.

Potentially important is a further category. These are gatherings beyond the reach of the local church. They are started by individuals in the context of their daily lives — in a school, among friends or perhaps at work. The initiative comes not from an existing church or group of churches, but from an individual or group who may or may not be recognized by the wider body. A group of women started a monthly event in a leisure centre, for example. Visiting speakers talked about how God had helped them to lead 'fit lives', such as when bringing up a child with handicaps or when facing a crisis. The leaders recognized that when individuals began to enquire about Jesus, this would have the potential to become a church.

The definition used here would include only a portion of the many groups and communities in the four tributaries just described. The definition is not intended to put question marks round what is left out, but to provide some discipline and coherence to the language I am using.

The emphasis on mission reflects the prevailing theological understanding that in mission the church joins God’s mission to the world.

The definition slightly tightens the Fresh Expressions version - from communities that are 'primarily for the benefit of people who are not yet members of any church' to ones that 'are birthed…​ mainly among people who do not normally attend church'. This is intended to give greater precision. It also raises the bar. Often congregations find it harder to work directly with people outside the church than to take action from a distance to support them, such as giving to charity. Yet pushing up the bar is necessary if we are to do full justice to the idea that church is missionary at its heart, a theme that is developed in Chapter 6.

The stress on contextualization (often referred to as inculturation) reflects a consensus that has emerged since Vatican I among theologians across the spectrum from Roman Catholic to evangelical. These theologians agree on the importance of contextualizing theology (and by implication the church), although their understanding of what is involved frequently differs. Stephen Bevans and Roger Schroeder (2004) have shown how historically the church’s mission has been carried out through an ongoing interaction between theological constants (basic questions that the church has always wrestled with) and a variety of changing contexts (the historical circumstances in which the basic questions are faced). A church falls down in its missional task if its witness fails to connect with its immediate setting.

Forming disciples is vital if new churches are to avoid being 'froth expressions' — consumerist expressions of church that fail to encourage an obligation to local people and a commitment to the whole church. 'The ultimate test of any expression of church, whether a fresh expression or a more traditional one — is what quality of disciples are made there?' (Cray, 2010, p. 3).

The intention to become church marks out new contextual churches from mission initiatives or projects. The aim is not for the initiative to be a stepping stone to existing church but to encourage church to emerge within it. So the luncheon club is no longer seen as a bridge to Sunday church, but as an opportunity for the Spirit to bring church to birth within or alongside the weekly lunch. A youth initiative is not viewed as a youth club, whose members also attend church on Sunday, but as a youth congregation — as church for young people.

Frost and Hirsch have distinguished between 'attractional' churches that relate to the world on a 'you come to us' basis, and 'incarnational' churches that go into the surrounding context and grow new churches within it (Frost and Hirsch, 2003, pp. 41-51). The distinction is a bit sharp because there is a third — 'engaged' — category, which is possibly the most common type of church. 'Engaged' churches go into their communities in loving service, often hoping that the people they serve will be drawn into the church on Sunday (Hopkins and Breen, 2007 pp. 117-21). A project among homeless people might be set up on this basis. Many participants of course never make the journey because the gap between their everyday lives and the church is too great. Contextual churches recognize this and seek to be church in the settings of ordinary life.

'New contextual churches' describes communities within the four tributaries that meet these missional, contextual, formational and ecclesial criteria. They are types of church that should be encouraged for good theological reasons. However, when referring to specific initiatives, the label should be used with care. It may not be clear whether the initiative falls within the definition.

In particular, when a community becomes church varies according to point of view. A team of Christians serving a group of people may see itself as church from the very beginning. But the people the team serves may not consider themselves to be church, and it may be a while before they view themselves in these terms. The denomination or wider institutional body will encourage the initiative as it develops, but not recognize it as a church till it appears sustainable. This of course raises questions, addressed in later chapters, about w hat is understood by 'maturity' and 'sustainability'.

Church for Every Context argues that as part of recent theology’s turn to the church, we should affirm the God-given role of the church as a visible 'community in all the contexts of life, that methodologies for practising this are ginning to emerge and that the denominations should make new contextual church a priority. The book is in four parts. The first puts new contextual churches into a historical and contemporary context. It shows how the church reproduced in the New Testament, how it has regularly done so since, how in Britain (as in other countries) it is learning to reproduce in fresh ways today and why these new forms of reproduction are sociologically significant.

Against this background, Part 2 offers some theological foundations for contextual church. Chapter 5 asks whether these communities can be properly called church: what is the essential nature of the church and how might we understand maturity in relation to new contextual churches? Chapter 6 maintains that mission should be a first step for the church. Chapter 7 argues that this mission should take communal form in the different places where people now lead their lives. Chapter 8 contends that these communal forms of mission should be thoroughly contextual, while remaining true to Jesus. Chapter 9 argues that being contextual will mean focusing on specific cultures. It suggests that this is consistent with the New Testament vision of a diverse but united church. Chapter 10 claims that these contextual churches are faithful to the Christian tradition.

Part 3 builds on the theology of the earlier chapters. It argues that founding new churches should be viewed as an essential Christian practice, which is beginning to be expressed in new ways. As the beginning of a contemporary description of this practice, Chapter t1 describes what it means for mission to take communal form in the many settings of society. As a crucial step toward this communal expression of mission, Chapter 12 discusses the Process of gathering a mission community (the founding team of the new church). Chapters 13 and 14 describe how this mission community can begin to engage in contextual mission - by researching opportunities to serve the context and engaging with potential partners. Chapters 15 and 16 describe two processes — action-based learning and what I have called team awareness — that support the gathering, researching and engaging activities.

Part 4 is about laying down pathways to maturity. It describes the outlines of four such pathways — making disciples, worship, community and sustainability. It points to some of the directions of travel, recognizing that we still have much to learn about the stepping stones within each pathway.

The final chapter argues that contextual churches should grow to maturity within the setting of a mixed-economy church, in which new forms of church and inherited church (churches with inherited structures and patterns of life) exist alongside each other in relationships of mutual support. The book can be read as an extended argument for the mixed economy. New contextual churches are theologically well founded. We are learning how to practise them. This learning should continue within a mixed-economy setting.

In organizing the chapters, I have tried to respond to pleas that training for church founders integrate theory and practice (Croft, 20088, p. 49)- Thus a number of chapters are designed to build bridges between the practice of contextual church and specific academic disciplines. The disciplines include Old Testament (Chapter 19), New Testament (Chapter 1), systematic theology (especially Chapters 5,6 and 21), church history (Chapters 2 and 10), worship (Chapter 18) and, of course, themes within mission studies such as sociology (Chapter 4), contextualization (Chapters 5 and 6) and evangelism (Chapters and 18).

Church for Every Context draws on a variety of material. It is informed by over 150 case studies compiled by the UK national team, Fresh Expressions ^[6] , by the Sheffield Centre’s important Encounters on the Edge series of studies, and by other examples of contextual church with which I am familiar.

It draws on an extensive body of literature arising from the four tributaries of church planting, emerging church, fresh expressions of church and communities in mission. Within this are case studies and case study-based reflections such as Glasson (2006), Male (2008), Gibbs and Bolger (2006) and Gray-Reeves and Perham (2011); contributions to the debate about the validity of these new forms of church, such as some of the essays in Croft (2008b) and Nelstrop and Percy (2008); introductions to specific types of church, such as organic church (Cole, 2005) and mid-sized communities (Breen and Absalom, 2010); studies that address particular themes or issues, such as liquid church (Ward 2002) and new monasticism (Cray, Mobsby and Kennedy, 2010).

Church for Every Context also dialogues with wider streams of theological literature, not least on the nature of the church, the mission of God, contextualization, the church as the carrier of the Christian story, and Old and New Testament studies. In addition, the book plunders insights from commercial and social entrepreneurship to throw light on how contextual churches start and grow, and draws on complexity theory, especially complex responsive process theory, which emphasizes the role of conversations in organizational life.

I write as a Church of England minister who is a member of the UK’s national Fresh Expressions team, which since 2005 has encouraged new forms of church for a fast-changing world. ^[7] This inevitably means that my perspective has something of an institutional feel. However, the church is not primarily an institution, but a variety of interlocking relationships. History is full of ecclesial institutions emerging and dying. There is nothing sacrosanct about today’s denominations. So although I write from within one particular institution, which I believe still has something to offer the world, I have sympathy for critical voices outside the denominations. My passion is the mission of the church.

Like many in the emerging church conversation, I have a low-church evangelical background, but in the early 1990s my journey took me to a more sacramental church, where we pioneered — in today’s language — several fresh expressions of church. Though my voyage resonates with many in the conversation, I have not travelled to the radical shores a number have reached. Some in the conversation would think me rather tame, whereas several of my evangelical friends would wonder if I was conservative enough.

Thave used the phrase 'new contextual church' to span churches founded by people who would describe themselves as conservative evangelicals, Anglo-Catholics, radical emergents, new monastics or some other label, while being willing to stand under this umbrella term. The book is an apologetic for these new types of church within the mixed economy.

This distinction has been challenged by Walter Kaiser, who has argued that ancient Israel had a duty to go out in centrifugal witness.

If Jewish proselytizers among the Gentiles existed in the first century CE, as scholars used to suggest (De Ridder, 1975, PP- 58-127), this would lend support to Kaiser. It would suggest that there were at least some Jews who recognized a call to mission beyond Israel’s borders. Yet Martin Goodman and others have shown that Judaism did not contain a proselytizing tendency before Christian mission began. The later emergence in Judaism of Christian-type proselytizing owed less to impulses within Judaism than to-what the Christians were doing (Goodman, 1994 pp. 60-915 Riesner, 2000, pp. 211-593 Bird, 2019, p. 11). ^[8]

Christopher Wright points out that the Old Testament contains no explicit command that Israelites should go to the nations in mission. If this had been the expectation, it is surprising that the prophets did not condemn Israel for its failure to do so. The Old Testament emphasis is on God summoning the nations to himself 'in the great pilgrimage to Zion' at the end times (Wright, 2006 pp. 502-3). Zechariah 8.20-3, for instance, pictures people 'from all languages' streaming to Jerusalem. According to Isaiah 61.5-6, when Israel is what it is meant to be Gentiles will join the people of God.

Within this broad sweep are hints of a more centrifugal approach. Jonah leaps to mind of course, Nahum and Amos 1 and 2.1-5 are addressed to the nations, suggesting that Israel should be outward looking. But they area sub-plot. From a New Testament perspective, they point to what would be fulfilled later in Christian mission.

The very first Christians in Jerusalem had been instructed by Jesus, assuming the words were from his lips, to be his witnesses 'to the ends of the earth' (Acts 1.8; cf Matt. 28.18-20). Understanding that the end times had arrived, it would have been natural for them to interpret Jesus" command as a fulfilment of Isaiah 66.18-21: as the nations came to Jerusalem, some of the gathered were go to the Gentiles and proclaim the risen Lord.

So why did the apostles at first stay in Jerusalem? Richard Bauckham has suggested that it may have been a deliberate strategy to take the gospel to Jews living outside Israel. Jews from far and wide came to Jerusalem not just for Pentecost, but for all the major Jewish festivals. The best way for the apostles to reach the diaspora Jews was by proclaiming the gospel in Jerusalem and encouraging converts to take the message to their synagogues back home. Gentiles would be reached through the God-fearers, who associated with the synagogues without becoming fully Jews. This helps to explain how the gospel reached Egypt, Rome and elsewhere comparatively early. It was an enactment of Isaiah 66 (Bauckham, 2011, pp. 198-9; cf Gehring, 2004, p. 90).

The strategy was undermined by the persecution that scattered the Jerusalem believers across Judaea and Samaria, making Jerusalem a less secure base for mission (Acts 8.1). At the same time, the Holy Spirit provided a series of unexpected experiences that encouraged the church to become more centrifugal in outlook. Some of the Samaritans were converted (Acts 8.4-25). An Ethiopian eunuch became a believer outside Jerusalem (Acts 8.26-39). Philip continued preaching in the towns to Caesarea (Acts 8.40). At Caesarea, Peter witnessed the outpouring of the Spirit on the household of the Gentile Cornelius, an event that had a profound impact on the Apostles' thinking (Acts 10.9— 11.18). Clearly mission did not require staying in Jerusalem!

To cap it all, in an astonishing break with the past, Jewish converts from Cyprus and Cyrene took the gospel to Gentiles in Antioch. They described Jesus not as 'messiah' but as 'Lord', a term that pagans used for their cult divinities including, notably, Caesar himself. 'From now on the word about Christ, and the faith of Christ, began to work through the vast complex of Greek and Roman thought' (Walls, 1996, pp. 52-3).

Paul developed this process of going out to different cultures and immersing the gospel in them. Schnabel has argued that Paul was not a cross-cultural missionary. He was bi-cultural, a Jew who was also at home in Graeco-Roman culture (Schnabel, 2008, pp- 329-31). But this ignores how Paul crossed social boundaries. Ronald Hock has described Paul’s leather-working, which provided financial support during his missionary journeys. It was the work of artisans, whom the elite viewed with hostility and contempt. Hock stresses how difficult this must have been for Paul who by birth came from the elite (Hock, 2007, p- 35)- Moreover, as Paul taught from house to house in cosmopolitan centres like Ephesus (Acts 20.20), he would have entered households from a variety of social backgrounds — Roman cities were melting-pots of cultures, classes and ethnic groups.

Paul identified with the contexts he sought to reach. He became all things to all people (1 Cor. 9.22), and allowed the needs (and so cultures) of Jews and Gentiles to inform his behaviour by becoming the slave of his listeners (1 Cor. 9-19). He entered the habits of thought of his audiences and showed what the gospel would look like when it was enacted in their setting. So in Corinth, where people cherished success, sought to climb the social ladder and prized clever rhetoric, Paul had an occupation without status, assumed a servant role and rejected crowd-pleasing rhetoric in favour of standard classical forms (Thiselton, 2006, pp. 6-19). He showed how the gospel was distinctive within a Corinthian way of life.

In identifying with context to be distinctive within it, Paul was imitating Jesus and he expected the small congregations he founded to do the same. Church happened in the midst of the everyday — in the home, which was the centre of day-to-day life. 'Worship and the daily life of the Christian [were] bound together in the household' (Becker, 1993, p. 246). John Drane notes that

Within these different settings, relationships between members of the new gatherings were entirely transformed (or at least meant to be). Distinctions between Jews and Greeks, masters and slaves, and men and women began to be redefined as members saw themselves as brothers and sisters in Christ. The communities that made up the church were living an incarnational life. Immersed in their contexts, they showed how the Spirit could make their contexts very different. When the gospel went out from Jerusalem, it took a different shape in different settings.

The Jerusalem church was born as a reform movement among the Jews. The disciples attended the Temple daily (Acts 2.46) and had a strong sense of their Jewish identity. They saw themselves as the nucleus of a new Israel, living in the last days. 'As we have seen, they were extremely mission-minded. They assumed that Gentiles would come to faith, but they expected them to do so by becoming Jews.

The conversion of Cornelius challenged that expectation. Peter’s vision of clean and unclean animals together in Acts 10 symbolized, for him, the end of Israel separating itself from the nations. The Spirit falling on Cornelius' household convinced him that those present could become Christians as Gentiles without converting to Judaism, and his fellow leaders in Jerusalem agreed (Acts 11.18). This was a very significant expansion of the apostles' sense of spiritual identity: through the Spirit, they were forming a Jewish! Gentile community, not just 2 Jewish one.

It was of course Paul, deeply immersed in Gentile mission, who did most to reconceptualize the place of Gentile Christians in God’s purposes. They were not coming into Judaism but into church, a new Israel comprising Jews and Gentiles, whose cornerstone was Jesus. Through him all were made one (Gal. 3.26-9).

This notion of Christian identity was very different to that of the more conservative believers. Until-recently, it has been common to distinguish between a 'conservative Hebrew group of 'Aramaic-speaking believers, who clung fiercely to their Jewish traditions, and 'liberal' Greek-speaking converts from the Jewish Diaspora, the so-called 'Hellenists'. New Testament scholars now tend to think that conservatives and liberals, if one can use such terms, were drawn from both Hebrew and Hellenistic backgrounds (Witherington III, 1997, pp. 240-7). Indeed, there was probably not a distinct liberal camp in competition with a conservative one: views on such issues as resistance to Rome, temple worship, purity codes, circumcision and eschatological expectations more likely ranged along a spectrum for each issue. These different spectrums may well not have corresponded to each other (Wright, 1992, p.54).

With that in mind, conservative elements, who treasured their Jewish identity, no doubt saw the baptism of Cornelius without becoming a Jew as an exception rather than the new norm (Dunn, 2009, p. 402). But when the the Antioch church and Paul’s first mission showed that Cornelius was far from an exception, the issue of circumcision — Gentile converts becoming Jews — flared up again. In Acts 15 the Council of Jerusalem confirmed that circumcision was not required, yet added an important rider ('the apostolic decree'): Gentile believers were to observe some of the Jewish food laws and certain other stipulations (Acts 15.20, 29). ^[9]

Though the traditionalists had lost on circumcision, their desire to protect their Jewish identity had been acknowledged ~ which made sense from a mission view point. If they strayed too far from their Jewish traditions, mission to their compatriots would have become almost impossible (see Gal. 2.9). A way had been found to combine a single identity — one Lord, faith and baptism — with the preservation of distinctive identities (Jewish and Gentile).

These different trajectories of self-understanding inevitably strained relationships among the early Christians. Yet the believers went to extraordinary lengths to maintain their fellowship. When Gentiles started coming to faith in Antioch, for example, the Jerusalem leaders sent Barnabas to guide and encourage the new church — 'and no doubt bring it under the supervision of the Jerusalem community' (Brown and Meier, 1982, p. 33).

The oversight was done with sensitivity. Barnabas appears to have stayed in Jerusalem after the persecution and was trusted by the Twelve (Brown and Meier, 1982, p. 34). But he was also from Cyprus (Acts 4.36) and so shared an affinity with those who were birthing the new church. His name, "Son of Encouragement', reflected the spirit in which the accountability was exercised — a lesson for inherited churches today. The Antioch church reciprocated with similar generosity. When famine hit Judaea, they sent Barnabas and Paul to Jerusalem with a financial gift (Acts 11.27-30). There was mutual commitment.

This commitment was tested to near breaking point some time after Paul’s first missionary journey. On a visit to Antioch, Peter ate freely with the

Gentile Christians in the city. He then withdrew from this table fellowship under pressure from newly arrived traditionalists from Jerusalem, who were concerned that Peter was not fully observing the Jewish food laws by eating with the Gentiles (Gal. 2.17-3). This withdrawal implied that the Gentile Christians should be treated as a separate group. They were being pressured to become more Jewish (Dunn, 2009, P- 474). For Paul an issue of identity was at stake. Were Gentile believers to be regarded as distinct from the Jews, or were they members of the one body of Christ, belonging on equal terms?

The episode has been reconstructed in different ways. The traditional view is that it (and the letter to the Galatians) happened before the Council of Jerusalem in Acts 15, which is why Paul does not appeal to the apostolic decree in his letter (Schnabel, 2008, pp. 51-6). Indeed, it may have been this dispute that helped precipitate the Council (Acts 151-2). On this view, the place of Gentile converts within the Christian community was settled at Jerusalem, with Paul’s argument prevailing.

The 'mixed economy', if you like, held together through a process of shared discernment 1n which both sides in the dispute spoke openly and listened to each other (Acts 15.5, 12), stories were told and interpreted in the light of Scripture (vv. 7—18), the Spirit was seen to be involved (v. 28), and a solution was reached that gave something to both parties. Gentiles were not required to be circumcised, but were to observe some of the Jewish eating practices (v. 20).

The counter view is that the Antioch incident (and the Galatian letter) occurred after the Jerusalem Council. In Galatians 2.1-10 Paul describes a meeting in Jerusalem, which Dunn and others assume refers to the Acts 15 Council, and then describes the dispute in 'Antioch. This is taken to be the sequence in which the events took place (Dunn, 2009, P- 470). Presumably, the Gentile believers in Antioch were observing the apostolic decree, and the Jews from Jerusalem wanted them to go further and obey all the Jewish food requirements.

Rather than Peter backing down and Paul prevailing in his argument as traditionally assumed, probably most New Testament scholars today believe that the Antioch church sided with Peter (Dunn, 2009, p. 491, n. 312). This view rests on Paul’s failure to tell us he prevailed. When he won the day at the earlier meeting in Jerusalem, he says so (Gal. 2.6-10). If he had equally successful at Antioch, why did he not say that Peter, Barnabas and the others agreed with him? This would have greatly strengthened his argument to the Galatians. ^[10] Instead of Paul persuading the others, it seems that there was a serious breach.

If we take this view, the succeeding story of the 'mixed economy' becomes remarkable. In an astonishing act of magnanimity, Paul after a while suggested to Barnabus, who had sided with Peter, that they go together to visit the churches they had founded (Acts 15:36). Paul must have felt let down by Barnabus and perhaps Barnabus thought that Paul had been unreasonable, yet they were still ready to work together. The partnership broke down because Barnabus wanted t take JOhn Mark, but Paul was concerned about his reliability - he had deserted them on their previous "missionary journey (Acts 15.37—9).

Nevertheless, Paul continued his missionary work. Assuming Luke’s chronology, after a period he returned to the Antioch church (Acts 18.22-3), even though — due to the outcome of the earlier dispute - he was unable to identify with its Peter-leaning ethos (Murphy-O’Connor, 2002, p. 170). He then established a second base for mission at Ephesus (Acts 19.9-10).

It seems that the two sides in the Antioch dispute permitted some widening of the distance between them. Paul went to the Gentiles and Peter to the Jews (Gal. 2.8), ^[11] each following the Spirit within their mission spheres. Yet both sides maintained good relationships. When famine hit Judaea, Paul organized a financial gift from his new congregations to the Jerusalem church (1 Cor. 16.1-4). Then he 'tore himself away' from his missionary work (Acts 21.1) to give an account of his activities to the leaders in Jerusalem. ^[12] The brothers there received him warmly, the elders rejoiced in the fruits of his labour and Paul agreed to the elders' request to demonstrate, as a Jew, his willingness to observe the Jewish laws (Acts 21:17-26). Despite their differences, both sides of the Antioch debate worked hard to maintain fellowship.

Paul followed the pattern of Jesus, who both assembled a team of disciples and sent them to announce the kingdom in pairs (Luke 10:1). He had a strong sense of being part of the team. 'I planted the seed, Apollos watered it but God made it grow' (1 Cor. 3:6). 'For we are God’s fellow workers' (1 Cor 3:9). He saw himself as collaboratingwith others both to initiate church and build it up into a 'temple', whose holy living made it a fit place presence (Barton, 2003, pp. 37-8).

On Paul’s so-called 'first' missionary journey, ^[13] he and Barnabas were commissioned as a pair, but they quickly brought in John Mark as a helper (Acts 13.5). It seems that they preferred to work as a three. When they acted as a pair in Galatia, it was because Mark had left them rather than out of choice (Acts 13:13). On his second journey, Paul started with Silas but soon added Timothy (Acts 16.1-2). Being half Greek, Timothy came from similar background to some of the people Paul was seeking to reach and igthened the team’s ethnic mix (Hopkins, 1988, p. 12). Later, as Paul’s s grew in size they became more culturally diverse, which must have er helped them to relate to the diversity of people they encountered (Acts 20.4).

Members joining or leaving the team frequently did so in pairs — Silas and Timothy in Acts 18:5, Timothy and Erasmus in Acts 19:22 and presumably Paul and Luke in Acts 20.6 (Hopkins, 1988, p. 12). This highlights again how teams were central to Paul’s approach.

Where possible, Paul seems to have preached the gospel while others on the team did the work of catechesis (Acts 18.5; 1 Cor. 1.1417). Is this why Luke, on the second and third journeys, became a valued member? Was he perhaps collecting stories about Jesus, which he passed on to the new converts and eventually became his Gospel? ^[14] Paul’s teams expanded as his work matured. On his third journey, he was accompanied by at least eight people for a period. ^[15] Larger teams enabled Paul to keep breaking new ground while still supporting churches recently established. When disputes threatened the church at Corinth, for example, Paul sent Timothy to help resolve the situation (1 Cor. 4.17).

His teams were largely self-funding — Paul was keen not to depend financially on the people he sought to reach (1 Thess. 2.9). On his first journey, Paul stayed scarcely long enough in one place to get established in his leather-working trade, so it may be that he drew on funds from his wealthy background or that he and Barnabas were supported by the Christians at Antioch and Cyprus. ^[16] On his second journey, however, he found work in Corinth (Acts 18.3) and later in Ephesus. In Acts 20.34 Paul reminds the Ephesian elders that his paid work helped to support not only himself, but his companions. At times his fellow workers supported him (2 Cor. 11.9). Resources were pooled within the team.

Being financially self-sufficient had many attractions. It modelled sacrificial support for others (Acts 20.35)» the workplace almost certainly contained evangelistic opportunities! ^[17] and_mission was not held up through lack of funds. Though Paul also received financial gifts from some of his new churches (for example Phil. 4-14-8) it is striking that for much of the time the extraordinary fruitfulness of his ministry depended on activity largely in his spare time (though he might not recognize the language).

'The expansion of Paul’s teams as his work progressed was a significant strategic development. They drew on 'centre missions' — young congregations, equal in status, networked with each other in major cities, such as Ephesus, and which then became the bases for mission (Gehring, 2004» pp. 180-2). These bases sent workers to help Paul and his permanent colleagues fora limited time. Temporary workers ranged from householders like Stephanas to the slave, Onesimus, from the house of Philemon. Nearly a fifth were women (Schnabel, 2008, P- 251). Here was 2 very different approach to mission than the centrally organized team sent out from 'Antioch, travelling from place to place. Co-workers came and went from a variety of congregations, which often acted on their own initiative (for example Acts 18.27)+

Like Ephesus, where a missional centre reached out to its hinterland, congregations increasingly engaged in evangelism. First Corinthians g.1-2 implies that a number of apostles - church founders — emerged (see Eph. 4-11). Gifts of the Spirit to the church included evangelists (Eph. 4.11) and the witness of individual Christians was assumed to be desirable (1 Cor. 7.16; Titus 2.103 T Peter 3.1-2)- Howard Marshall concludes:

In a remarkably short time, Paul’s outreach had evolved from mission team to centre mission, based on a growing number of reproducing congregations At the heart of centre mission was Paul’s team, involving a complex web of relationships in which_over_5° people made various contributions (Dunn, 2009, PP- 566-71). As Dunn notes, Paul must have -been-a_most accomplished leader who inspired personal loyalty and commitment (Dunn, 2009, p. 572).

We know little about the day-to-day life of Paul’s teams, but from scattered hints we can detect some practices that made his teams effective. First, Paul took great care over selection. In the dispute about John Mark he was willing to break with Barnabas, with whom he had worked for a long time, to find a companion he could trust. Paul preferred to lose a team (and wait for the right one) than to proceed with the wrong team — a lesson perhaps for church founders today.

Second, if trust was a priority, so were forgiveness and reconciliation. Eventually the relationship between Paul and Mark was put right. Paul later described Mark as being helpful to him in his ministry and sent him to Colossae as his representative (2 Tim. 4.11; Col. 4.10). First Corinthians 9:6 may hint at reconciliation with Barnabas as well. Breakdown in relationships — not untypical in teams — was followed by restoration. Paul urged members of his new congregations to be reconciled with each other (for example Rom. 12.16-19) - and he expected the same of himself and his colleagues.

Third, decision-making was shared. If we take a traditional view of its authorship, the instructions in 1 Thessalonians came from Paul, Silas and Timothy together. Dunn quotes Murphy-O’Connor’s calculation that 74 per cent of 2 Corinthians 1—9 is written in the first person plural and only 26 per cent in the first person singular, which suggests that Timothy played an important role in composing these chapters (Dunn, 2009, p. 593, n. 340). Graham Cray notes how often Paul-uses 'we' or 'our' when challenging the Corinthian church (2 Cor, 10.3-6; 12.19; 13.4-9). These challenges must have come after consulting others (Cray, 20104, p. 15).

Fourth, team members shared their lives. They put their earnings into a common purse. Paul’s theology of sharing spiritual gifts within the body was presumably forged partly from the experiences of his teams. Hints of this are in Acts 16,6-10, where Paul and his companions are kept by the Spirit from preaching the word in Asia and Paul is called to Macedonia through a vision. Paul likely shared this vision with his team, who exercised their spiritual gifts in a process of discernment.

Fifth, Paul encouraged supportive delegation. He sent Timothy, for instance, as his representative to the Corinthian church and later to Ephesus (1 Cor. 4.17; 1 Tim. 1.3), and he encouraged team members to take the initiative (2 Cor. 8.17). At the same time, he ensured his co-workers were properly supported. The 'pastoral epistles', assuming they were written by Paul, are brimming with instructions and (in 2 Timothy) encouragement. They were the means of mentoring from a distance, as Timothy and Titus 'learnt on the job', Jesus had invested heavily in training his disciples, and Paul was a trainer too.

Finally, Paul’s extended network of associate workers became like a 'holy internet', exchanging news, advice, encouragement and, in particular, good practice (Thompson, 1998, P. 59) The Macedonians' generosity became a prod to the Corinthians (2 Cor. 8.1-7). The Thessalonians' response to the gospel became a model to all the believers in Macedonia and Achaia (1 Thess. 1.6-7)- Paul boasted to other churches about the Thessalonians" perseverance and faith in the face of persecution (2 Thess. 1:4)

Paul was strategic, as Dunn highlights. First, Paul had 'a commitment to pioneer evangelism, to pursue his mission only in virgin territory' (Dunn, 2009, p.544). In Corinthians 3.6, for example, Paul sees himself as having started something new while Apollos continued the work.

Second he was determined to take the gospel to Jews first and then to the This was primarily 'a strategic and principled concern' that the gospel was the climax of God’s saving purpose for Israel and through Israel (Dunn, 2009, p. 547). But it also made practical sense. In the synagogues were Jews and 'God-fearing' Gentiles, who were attracted to the monotheistic faith of Israel but had not converted to Judaism. These God-fearers were likely to be more open to the gospel than their polytheistic compatriots, and — along with the Jews — had some knowledge of the Hebrew Scriptures on which Paul and his team could build. Jews and God-fearers were well placed to form churches that would draw in Gentiles from outside the synagogues.

Third, Paul had a 'grand strategy to fulfil the mission of Israel to the nations and to fulfil Israel’s eschatological hopes in regard to the nations' (Dunn, 2009, p. 543). In his mission, Paul saw himself as acting on behalf of Israel. Dunn follows Rainer Riesner, who argues that the rough direction of Paul’s mission matched the principal direction of travel envisaged in the list of nations in Isaiah 66.19. As one influence on him, Paul seems to have viewed his mission as a fulfilment of Isaiah 66. He was going out to the nations at the end times. The financial gift from his churches for Jerusalem may have symbolized the nations gathering at Zion (Riesner, 1998, pp. 245-56).

Was this a view that Paul had from the start of his mission from Antioch, or did it emerge gradually in the light of his experience? If the latter, Paul can perhaps be seen as a practical theologian (in today’s language), learning from experience as he reflected theologically upon it. ^[19]

Paul’s fourth strategic priority was to breed in his new churches 'a communal life lived in the light of the coming kingdom - deeply, but not openly, subversive' (Dunn, 2009, p. 555)- Not least, the brotherly and sisterly relationships of equality encouraged by Paul contrasted stark the hierarchical patron-client structures of the day.

Within this framework of principles, Paul was pragmatic and opportunist like many church founders today. As Schnabel notes, he did not have a rigid plan or method. Led by the Spirit, Paul responded when doors opened. He preached in synagogues, market places, lecture halls, workshops and private homes as the opportunity arose (Schnabel, 2008, pp. 304-6).

Churchgoers often think of Paul as an evangelist who addressed public meetings. Although he did this (in synagogues and in a sense at Athens) there was much more to his evangelism than that. When he first arrived in a city, he familiarized himself with the local culture and seems to have become an acute commentator upon it. The obvious example was Athens, where Paul described how he 'walked around and looked carefully at [their] objects of worship' (Acts 17-23): Living in people’s homes and working as in Corinth would have given him plenty of opportunities to listen to people and get to know their ways of life.

Paul seems to have spent considerable time sharing the gospel 'from house to house' (Acts 30.20). To do this he had to be invited, which meant building relationships; he hung out with people. This included developing relationships with "persons of peace' people who play a key role in mission by putting the carrier of the gospel in touch with their networks (Luke 10.6). Paal’s breakthrough at Philippi begun by meeting with a group of women, who had assembled for prayer, 1m particular Lydia 'who was a worshipper of God? and allowed Paul to use her home as a base (Acts 16.13-5). At Corinth Aquila and Priscilla, Jews who were Jeather-workers like Paul, provided a bridgehead (Acts 18.1~4)- In Ephesus he searched out some 'disciples' and baptized them (Acts 19.1-7).

At Corinth Paul broke his rule of not baptizing people and baptized Crispus, Gaius and the household of Stephanas. This may have been because Paul knew they were prominent people 'who would sponsor his gospel to their dependents…​' (Osiek and MacDonald with Tulloch, 2006, p. 212). If true, they were classic examples of persons of peace.

The relationships he formed appear to have been strengthened through acts of loving service. 'We loved you so much…​' Paul reminds the Thessalonians (1 Thess. 2-8). Paul’s Jeather-working trade required tools that could easily be carried with him. This made him 'available for any little job that came along. He could repair the leather sandals, belts, gourds and cloaks of those who walked the roads with him' (Murphy-O’Connor, 2002, p. 194). It is easy to imagine Paul repairing leather goods around the house in return for hospitality (Osiek and MacDonald with Tulloch, 2006, p. 11). Did this help to make him a welcome dinner guest

Paul recounted how he and his colleagues worked night and day' so as not to be a burden on anyone. He described their work as 'toil and hardship' — an experience that would be familiar to many church founders (1 Thess. 2.93; 2 Thess. 3-8). Unlike contemporary orators, Paul did not use rhetorical and other devices to win a fee-paying following (Walton, 2011, pp. 220-33), but laboured sacrificially to demonstrate 4 life of service and model the gospel (Acts 20.35)- He was willing to share what he earned (Philemon 18).

Paul’s miraculous healings and exorcisms expressed love and service more dramatically (for example Acts 14-35 g). Did he heal the sick through the Spirit as he visited people in their homes? This is suggested by the episode on Malta, where as part of his interaction with the household Paul healed the chief official’s father. After this, many others were brought to Paul for healing (Acts 28.7-9; cf 19.11-2).

Forming community seems to have been another part of Paul’s evangelism. Often it must have started in the homes of people he stayed with. While he lived and worked with Aquila and Priscilla, for instance, one can picture a nucleus of enquirers forming. As individuals returned week by week perhaps, a sense of community would have developed till eventually the 'workshop become a house church' of between 10 and 15 members (Murphy-O’Connor, 2002, p. 195).

Presumably a similar process occurred in the homes Paul visited. It was customary for the wealthy to invite to dinner not only friends of equal standing, but also their dependent clients who had lower social status | (Bradshaw, 2009, p. 21) As Paul shared the gospel in such gatherings, it as likely that people who were interested returned on subsequent evenings and over time a sense of community formed. Paul reminds the Thessalonians that he and his fellow workers shared their lives with them (1 Thess. 2.8). In settings where believers and not-yet believers met together (1 Cor. 14:23-5), this sharing of lives must have been part of the process of coming to faith.

Certainly, personal testimony was an ingredient in Paul’s evangelism (Acts 22:1-21), and in his letters he repeatedly wrote about the misguided direction of his earlier life and his journey into holiness. As he shared from personal experience, it would have been natural for some of his hearers to share their experiences, laying foundations for the participative worship that developed (1 Cor. 14.26) and for the strong fellowship that existed among the new Christians.

People often needed time to explore Paul’s claims. At Pisidian Antioch, those who heard Paul and Barnabas address the synagogue invited them to speak further the next Sabbath (Acts 13.42). Later the Beroeans received the message enthusiastically, but also examined the Scriptures daily to see if what Paul said was true (Acts 17.11). Because people checked out what Paul was claiming, the conversion of entire households at once — in the case of Lydia for instance (Acts 16.15) — was by no means the norm. Several New Testament texts, such as 1 Cor. 7.12-16 and 1 Peter 3.1, suggest that conversion could be more individualized (Osiek and MacDonald with Tulloch, 2006, p. 158). Like today, journeys to faith varied.

Once individuals had made the journey, church took shape in people’s homes, which were centres of family, work, ^[20] everyday leisure (in so far as people had any), and family and friendship networks. 'The Christian churches were probably the only communion in antiquity that had no special place of worship but rather came together in the places of daily life, the private homes' (Becker, 1993, p. 251). Some converts went on to start further congregations, as in the case of Priscilla and Aquila, who were patrons of house churches 11 three different cities (Osiek and MacDonald with Tulloch, 2006, p. 32).

It would be a mistake to see listening, loving and serving, building community, exploring, church taking shape and then starting another church as a neat linear sequence. Sometimes it may have been, but often the processes must have overlapped, occurred in a different order or in some cases not happened at all, Not everyone, for example, took time in weighing up matters before becoming 4 believer (for example Acts 13.12). As now, people came to faith in different ways

However, a close reading of the New Testament suggests that homogeneous congregations were very much part of the picture. Gehring argues that Acts 2-46 portrays the Jerusalem church both coming together as the whole church in the temple and meeting as small house churches in private homes (Gehring, 2004, p. 83)- These house churches were scattered round the city and would have drawn in people from different networks. Families sharing the same courtyard may have broken bread together, for ample (Finger, 2007» P- 238).

Jewish synagogues often met in people’s homes. The Talmudic assertion that there were 390 synagogues in first-century Jerusalem may have been an exaggeration, but there were certainly a considerable number meeting in various parts of the city and catering for worshippers from different social

If the first Jewish churches were influenced by the synagogues, which were closest model to hand, and followed a similar pattern of attracting people from a specific social group, they would indeed have been homogeneous units. Yet importantly, these units also came together 'every day' in the temple courts. Here the different social groupings would have intermingled and the unity of believers been expressed.

The situation in Antioch appears to have been much the same. Gehring believes that Galatians 2:11-4 assumes that a number of house churches existed in Antioch gathering in different homes (Gehring, 2004, p. 112).

Antioch was the third or fourth largest city in the empire and had 18 ethnic quarters (Drane, 2011, p. 160). Jewish synagogues were separated according to ethnic background (Gehring, 2004, p. 113), and it is reasonable to assume that this was true also of the house churches. Ethnic and other Social groupings would have lived in different parts of the city, and it would have been natural - if only for convenience — for each house gathering to have drawn in people from its vicinity and from its family and friendship networks.

Gehring does not argue this last point. Indeed, he believes that such separation was improbable because it would have created social barriers in a church that, from its beginning, had been anxious to pull barriers down. Yet as he himself points out (p. 113), the confrontation between Paul and Peter took place in front of the whole Antiochene church — 'in front of them all' (Gal. 2.14). This suggests that, as in Jerusalem, all the house churches gathered together from time to time. It was in this setting that people from different ethnic and social contexts most likely met together and expressed their oneness in Christ.

In Rome there was a similar pattern of scattered house-based churches. Robert Jewett has suggested that the bulk of the early Christians lived in the slum districts of Rome. Two-thirds of the names in Romans 16 indicate a Greek rather than Latin background, which suggests they were immigrants. Of the 13 names about which something certain can be said, nine have slave origin (Jewett, 2007, p- 63).

Christians in slum neighbourhoods would have met either in one of the workshop areas on the ground floor of a tenement block, or in a temporarily cleared space on one of the upper floors. The rooms on these floors were too small to accommodate a church, but — according to Jewett — the partitions between rooms were flimsy. Neighbouring families, each occupying one tiny room, may have temporarily removed the partitions to create a large enough space to hold perhaps 10 to 20 people, ^[21] who would typically have lived nearby and whose social and ethnic backgrounds would have had much in common.

In the wealthier areas of Rome were luxury apartments and for the very rich entire houses. Some churches met 11 these parts of the city (Jewett, 2007, P- 64-5)s drawing on different networks than the tenement churches. In addition to slaves and family members, the head of the household would have had a number of clients, reflecting the ubiquitous system of patronage. Some of these almost certainly would have attended the church.

There is no evidence that the house churches periodically met together, but they were clearly well networked. Paul could address his letter 'to all in Rome' (Rom. 1.7), which implies that the letter was passed from gathering to gathering. If they were not already meeting together, did Paul encourage them to do so when he arrived in Rome?

Certainly the churches that he founded continued the Jerusalem and Antioch practice of both meeting separately in homes and meeting together. 'The household was much broader than the family in modern Western societies, including not only immediate relatives but also slaves, freemen, hired workers, and sometimes tenants and partners in trade or craft' (Meeks, 2003, PP- 75-6). Patronage networks were important, too. New house churches, therefore, were "inserted into or superimposed upon an existing network of relationships' (p- 76). In other words, they were-largely comprised of homogeneous people groups, formed around hierarchical ties.

It is clear from 1 Corinthians 14.23> where Paul writes of the 'whole church' coming together, that these separate house gatherings periodically met as a single group, probably in a large home such as the one apparently owned by Gaius. In the concluding section of Romans, most probably written in Corinth, Paul sends greeting from Gaius, whose hospitality 'the whole church here' enjoyed (Romans 16.23). 'In the Greek Old Testament this expression consistently refers to an assembly of all Israel; thus it must be the totality of Christians in Corinth which is in view' (Banks, 1980, p. 38).

The meeting of the Ephesian elders in Acts 20 is suggestive. Luke says that 'Paul sent to Ephesus for the elders of the church' (v. 17). The reference is to the church as a single unit, a thought echoed in verse 28, where Paul urged the elders to keep watch over 'the flock', again singular. Evidently the house churches in Ephesus, which presumably emerged from the homes Paul visited in verse 20, had a sense of themselves as a citywide entity, a self-perception that would be natural if they periodically met together. The elders summoned by Paul may well have been the leaders of house churches who were used to assembling together (perhaps to plan the wider meetings).

Gehring maintains that recent scholars tend to agree that the early Christians gathered in two church forms: the house church and the whole church at any given location. While these two forms of church were geographically fixed, he suggests that the experience of individual gatherings could have been quite fluid. Congregations may often have lived in an in-between sphere hard to define (Gehring, 2004, p. 173).

New Testament believers appears to have found a way of combining homogeneous people groups with the potential to bridge social divides. This both/and approach held together sameness and diversity, small meetings and larger ones, and intimacy plus exposure to different ideas. Achieving this was far from easy, as the divisions at Corinth demonstrated, but Paul saw it as a priority.

Passing on leadership is a central theme in the writings of Roland Allen. An early twentieth-century missionary, Allen carried on a sustained polemic against the missionary methods of his day and contrasted them with Paul’s. His discussion sufficiently reflects the New Testament for Schnabel to commend him (Schnabel, 2008, p. 13).

Unlike missionaries who remained for several generations, 'Allen maintained, Paul never stayed in one place for more than a few months, or at the most two years. Once a congregation had been established, he selected leaders from its midst and left the fledgling church in their hands. For example in Acts 14.21-3, having been driven out by their opponents, Paul and Barnabas returned to Lystra and Iconium. Opposition seems to have waned sufficiently for them to stay for 4 while 'strengthening' and 'encouraging' the disciples. But they did not remain for long. They appointed elders, even though the believers had been Christians for only a few months, and left.

The direction to Timothy - to entrust what he had learnt to reliable people who will also be qualified to teach others (2 Tim. 2.2) — clearly reflects a Pauline principle of growing, leaders who would instruct other people. The heart of Allen’s understanding is that the church lives by faith in Christ, whose gifts - including 'the gift-bearing missionary Spirit' — are sufficient for its life (Paton, 1968, p. 26, 29)

Paul trusted the Spirit to supply whatever an infant church required, and put in place only the bare essentials before moving on: 4 'tradition or elementary Creed, the Sacraments of Baptism and the Holy Communion, Orders [that is leadership], and the Holy Scriptures" (Allen, 2096, P- 107). Paul made sure that new leaders had support after he left. 'Between the Apostle and the elders in every Church were the young men whose names crop up towards the end of the epistles — Timothy, Titus, Epaphras, Luke, Onesimus, Silvanas, and all the rest of them. They made available to the local church resources It did not have (Paton, 1968, P37)

Pressing forward into new territory, Paul kept a watchful eye on what happened in his new churches and exercised authority through his coworkers. Writing of 1 Corinthians 9-1~> Dunn notes that the authority of the 'apostle' was very much tied in to the apostle’s role in establishing @ church: Paul was not an apostle to others because he had not founded their churches, but he was t0 the Corinthians because through the Spirit he had brought their church to birth (Dunn, 2009, p. 539).

According to Allen, the early church grew spontaneously by organizing little groups as individuals were converted, handing on to them a simple organisation that connected them to the wider church, equipping them with all the spiritual power and authority necessary for their corporate existence and authorizing them to repeat the process (Allen, 1997, p. 143). Speedy on was accompanied by continuing support.

This picture needs qualifying, however. There were times when Paul was forced to leave his new churches more quickly than he wanted. In 1 Thessalonians 2.17-9 he wrote of 'making every effort' to see the Thessalonians, having been 'torn away from' them. He was anxious enough to send Timothy to them (3.1-3), and was relieved when Timothy brought back good news (v. 6). When he had the chance, Paul stayed longer in Corinth (for 18 months — Acts 18.11) and in Ephesus (for at least two years — Acts 18:10). Yet even these 'long' periods are remarkably short compared to the years or more that many founders stay with their gatherings today. anding over leadership quickly must have been helped by the composition of Paul’s churches, Dunn notes that Paul’s letters were addressed largely to Gentile audiences, yet are peppered with quotations and allusions to the Hebrew Bible. Paul must have assumed that these references would have resonated 'in the echo-chamber of a much wider knowledge of Israel’s Scriptures' (Dunn, 2009, p. 563). Presumably, the gospel could take root quickly partly because Jews and God-fearing Gentiles knew their Hebrew Bible.

It is also striking how the New Testament church was sculpted round the Most pervasive form of leadership in ancient society — leadership within the household. Whereas Synagogues moved out of the home as the congregation grew, there is no sign of this happening in the primitive church. ^[22] Church gatherings remained firmly house bound. Was this partly because finding leaders for new congregations became relatively simple when believers gathered round an existing household, which had leadership already in place?

Gehring, supported by Dunn (2009, p. 571), argues that Paul deliberately concentrated on more wealthy people when he entered a town because they were potential leaders and their homes would provide a base of operations. He did this with Lydia at Philippi for instance (Acts 16.13~5), and also at Corinth. Remarkably, even though most of the Corinthian Christians had comparatively low social origins (x Cor. 1.26), Paul broke his rule of not baptizing converts only in the case of three households — and these were from the upper economic strata (vv. 14-7).

'The church in the house came with its leadership so to speak "built in"' (Gehring, 2004, pp. 185-73 194). Among the more wealthy, household heads were educated, had experience of teaching their own families and had financial responsibility for the home. They were 'well equipped, therefore, to lead a gathering based on theit households and to share in the leadership of the church city wide.

Most likely, leadership tended to take the form of 'love-patriarchalism'. The social order was retained, but mutual love based on the gospel was fostered by household heads serving 3S leaders of the congregations in their homes. In poorer areas, where there was no patron to function as a leader, leadership may have been collective rather than hierarchical (Jewett, 20975 pp. 65-6): Though the author had no connection to Paul, might such a context be in mind in Matthew 18.17, where disputes between brethren are to be taken to the church rather than to church leaders?