Presidential Address – The Rt Revd David Williams, Bishop of Truro

As part of Thy Kingdom Come, I spent over 17 days walking and praying. I think I walked more in those 17 days than I had in the previous year! In total it was just under 100 miles and on one of the longest walks, God was working all sorts of places. I walked 15 miles between five places and spoke at each.

The extraordinary thing about pilgrimage is that you walk in step with someone else. You begin to share things in conversation that might take years to share in any other context. There’s a profound sort of privilege in that.

I was joined by hundreds of people walking with me – from Stratton in the north of the diocese to St Mary’s, St Agnes, Bryher, Tresco, and St Martin’s in the Isles of Scilly. In almost every part of the diocese. It felt quite symbolic, and I hope that symbolism will become actualised in the next few weeks and months as we deepen our relationships with each other.

In my first five weeks, I have been astounded at the quality of the people I have met. People who are quite literally doing extraordinary things. Ordinary people doing extraordinary things, which I think is the hallmark of the Christian community. We surprise ourselves with what God calls us into. And that is true both of the church members and clergy I have walked alongside, but also of our diocesan team and Bishop’s Diocesan Council.

We need to be attentive

I think I can say completely objectively that the quality of the officers and the committees of this diocese are of the like I’ve never seen before. I’m grateful for the professionalism, for the Godliness, for the prayerfulness, the sheer ability of the people we work with. For me, it means that we need to be quite attentive to what we appreciate in each other, for we are mutually responsible for bringing the very best out of each other. A lack of appreciation can diminish and can cause all sorts of less than ideal outcomes for us as the Church, as the people of God, particularly in this era.

After the last diocesan synod in May, I went away from Bishop Hugh’s Presidential Address, profoundly challenged. In fact, I am somewhat nervous trying to follow him! Do you remember that seismic expression that Hugh gave us? It was an underground earthquake I think, the storm on the Sea of Galilee, and he related it to many of the prevailing stories around us. For this address I could quite legitimately have spoken about a continuing deterioration in the social, political and economic fate of our world; the conflicts between Russia and Ukraine and now Israel and Iran. The call that some people are making for us to fast every Wednesday for Gaza. I could spend my entire address quite legitimately saying, we live in seismic times, and I think I would encourage each one of us to reflect quite deeply on where our richness in Christ lies, in all that we face, individually and together.

But I am conscious that in these early days as your bishop, I am responding to a very specific call to be deeply rooted in Cornwall, the two parishes in Devon and to that independent unitary authority of the Isles of Scilly.

I want to speak a little bit personally about being rooted in one place. I want to encourage us in our thinking and our praying to have a global view, perhaps every time, at the moment when we search the television news, on ‘what is our response?’ How do we ask for peace that passes all understanding? How do we exercise a non-anxious leadership in an anxious world?

The calling to be present

But it was the calling to be present that was one of the reasons for me spending a disproportionate amount of my early days just walking and praying and talking. Of course, you won’t be surprised that I believe I could legitimately say that many of those conversations have been life changing; we have listened for the heartbeat of God in each other, we have heard stories of resilience in times of vulnerability. It has been a privilege to hear a number of people speaking about their journey to faith almost as an afterthought at times. I remember the church member who said ‘I was pretty close to being an atheist and then I went on one of these walks. By the end of the walk, I was convinced of the reality of God in Jesus Christ and I have sought to know him better ever since’. There was another person who said at one of the walks ‘I’m only here because my wife’s devout. I’m an atheist Bishop. You need to know that. And I won’t come into the churches to sit and listen to you. Is that alright?’ And who was on the front row of all five churches on the course of the walk?

Then there was the person at the tip. I had to take some items to the tip, I should say I was really pleased that almost everything in my car could go into a container and be recycled or sold; my conscience was slightly assuaged by that. But the biggest surprise was the gentleman in a hi vis jacket who said ‘I ought to verge you into here bishop, into the container’ – and I guess I’m beginning to discover some of the intrinsic humour of people from Cornwall! But what then happened was a really poignant conversation with a man who felt for six years that he couldn’t attend church. By the end of the conversation, he said ‘I’m going to give it a try next Sunday Bishop’. And here I thought I was just going to mind my own business and quietly put the metal in the metal bin, plastic in the plastic bin. But isn’t that what we’re about? Tending to where we might see God at work in each other.

I’m convinced that all that we need to be the people of God, has been given to us and has been given to us here. There is no wistful thinking about somehow some Messianic figure might arrive and change it all for us. The Lord is already here. He is the Messiah, and he gives us all the gifts of grace to be his people in this place.

Acts Chapter 16

And it does mean we have to be very attentive to what’s going on around us, undefended in our offer of those gifts of grace to people around us. I wonder if I might for a few moments, spend some time reflecting on Acts Chapter 16, because I think I’ve seen Acts 16 play out in the last five weeks, and I wonder.

It goes something like this doesn’t it: Was Barnabus Paul’s training incumbent? I think he was. And I think it was a ten-year curacy. You know, this was a slow burn, wasn’t it? And what happened on that benefice ministry team, when Mark, the young intern, is so desperately unreliable that Paul loses it. And there’s this catastrophic break in the leadership team between Barnabas and Paul.

So much so that Barnabas, so convinced of the potential of the young intern, who incidentally wrote Peter’s memoirs, and gave us the gospel of Mark, but Paul at that moment is so convinced that he cannot cope with the lack of reliability that he breaks with Barnabus. And he sets off, well, he sends Barnabas and Mark to revisit the places – the Deaneries of Asia, and to encourage and build on the churches there. But Paul and Silas are asked for a new task.

And they go to Phillipi. The first time the Gospel of Jesus Christ is spoken of in Europe, I know it wasn’t many years later before it was spoken in Cornwall, but we stay in the fight for a little while.

Everything seems to go wrong actually. They are only there a few days and the normal way they operate is to turn up to prayer book matins, to the synagogue, find a group of people that are reading the Hebrew scriptures, and seize the opportunity to speak of the fulfilment of those scriptures in Christ. There is not enough of a Jewish community for the five to warrant a synagogue.

There’s nowhere to go and meet. So, what are we told? They wander along the river. I’ve walked along the Camel and the Allen. They walk to the river. They find a group of quite extraordinary women talking in a group on the riverside. Predominantly, there’s a very wealthy businesswoman from Asia called Lydia. She deals in the most exquisite, most beautiful goods and fabrics.

And as Paul and Silas approach this group, they find themselves able to speak to one who, out of the most horrific execution, reveals the true beauty of God. Lydia is so convinced that she and her followers would like to become followers of Jesus Christ. And not only that, but they also ask, could you meet in my home?

That gentle conversation that points to the truth of who God is, I see that happening all over Cornwall. People in day-to-day conversations, People in Alpha courses.  The essence being of course, that it is a conversation. It’s an engagement.

Over the next few days, a young Greek slave girl is being trafficked, maybe abused, taken advantage of, amongst the most vulnerable. She is exploited by her owners and seems to have an ability to speak of the future. And people pay huge money to hear what she has to say. And she follows Paul and Silas around. There’s something intriguing about these two, and she speaks in a very raucous way.

But ironically, she’s speaking words of truth. Shouting at people, listen to them. They’re talking about God. Now, I don’t want to trigger a safeguarding inquiry on Paul, but it seems as though actually he doesn’t do this very graciously. But he does turn, and he uses the name of Jesus to say, you need to be at peace. And immediately something happens in this Greek slave girl.

She’s at peace. It was a moment, a dramatic moment when someone spoke words in the name of Jesus. I’m not advocating that we do that in anything other than a deeply pastoral, caring way. But other times, when we ask the Lord for confidence, to use his name to bring comfort, release the peace. That’s the second major person, I think, in the story to join the Church in Europe.

Paul and Silas get arrested, beaten and get thrown in prison. This is Bodmin jail writ large. And in the most secure parts of the prison chained and through the night, they find themselves singing songs and spiritual songs to each other and prisoners around them are intrigued and start to join in. What is this about?

And then there’s an earthquake, now I always find myself remembering another earthquake in another prison, another prison breakout that happened when Peter was in Jerusalem. You remember he was falsely imprisoned. The angel came and he walked out. And if I had been Paul, I think I’d be thinking ‘the Lord’s done it. I was arrested without reason. I was beaten illegally. And now the Lord has turned up and I can walk out’. The truth is, Paul and Silas stay where they are. Something attentive maybe, or I would suggest more emphatically than that, prompted by the spirit to just stay despite the fact the chains had fallen off; Stay where you are. I think that’s the story of the Cornish church often that we have stayed. Countless men and women, just staying and serving. All stayed.

And you know the story of the Centurion, the retired Roman officer with the gold-plated pension. You know, if you did alright in military service in the Roman Empire, what you want for your retirement package is you want the care of the local jail. Guaranteed income. You know, you really are going to be secure for the rest of your life and your household.

There is only one occupational hazard in being a jail keeper. The one occupational hazard is that if anyone escapes, you may well find yourself on a capital charge and you’ll lose your life. So, this distinguished Roman officer, tough military figure, draws his sword, convinced that on his estate, the most honourable way is ‘I’m just going to take my own life’. Paul sees him at the top of the stairs – ‘STOP! We are all still here’. By the following morning the whole household of this Roman retired military officer are baptized.

Do you see this remarkable story? A reasoned conversation. The pastoral intervention and staying where you are. And the church is born.

What I find remarkable about that European church is it’s an Asian businesswoman, a Greek slave girl and a Roman officer who are the first members of the European Church. And that’s a church where a devout Jewish man called Paul is proclaiming Christ. I think this shows you something of the dramatic change, the dramatic change in Paul. My understanding is that as a child, there would be a number of set prayers he would pray.

One of the prayers a Jewish boy would pray is ‘thank you, Lord, that I was born Jewish and not the Gentile. Thank you, Lord, that I was born free and not a slave. Then back to the Exodus and thank you Lord I was born a man’. And who are the founding members of the European Church – a Greek slave girl, an Asian businesswoman and a Roman centurion.

Where is God intervening?

I find myself looking for where is God intervening? Where are the places where we can have reasoned conversation about the truth of the Christian faith? Where are the places where we are able to prayerfully and pastorally speak in the name of Jesus? Where are the places where at great cost to yourself, you stay, and you wait?

I’ve seen many examples in the last five weeks of all three.

I’m a passionate believer in lay and ordained ministry. I think at the heart of our Christian calling the Lord promises to give every believer a gift of the spirit. The building up of the church and the transformation of the world. And I think we ought always to be attentive. Watching rather than pushing people but attentive to what gifts people have been given, because without them the church is poorer. A lot of the time people don’t go to the church because they don’t like the church. That’s a challenge for us all. But if every believer is given a gift of building up of the Church, then every believer matters not just for their intrinsic identity in Christ, but because they are part of who we are.

I interviewed the five men and women who were ordained priest and deacon this year.

My confession is I think I came in thinking, I wish it was 20. Maybe that is what we will wait for, when we ordain 20 per year. But I found myself repenting quite seriously, because these five are amazing. And actually, it’s God’s timing, it’s God’s calling.

You can read more about those being ordained on the diocesan website here.

But in all of them, the heartbeat of God. I was privileged to ordain them. My lesson is, I will pray for the 20, but focus on what the Lord has given us, and do that here and now and trust Him in the story to come. Because God is able to accomplish far more than you or I could ever ask or imagine. The problem is, I spend too much of my time telling Him what I want Him to do. I think the challenge is, the opposite. Watch out for what He’s doing. And it might be that in a Diocesan Synod we might also watch out for what He’s doing in our midst.

I have a dream that we walk out taller than we walked in, and that we walk out closer to hope than despair, knowing that the light shines in the darkness and it will never be put out. And know that in the world of seismic change, evil will not triumph and it will not have the last word.

Amen.