For Momentum, as it comes to an end

It was recently announced that this year's Momentum festival would be the last, with Soul Survivor planning a new festival for 2017.

Thanks, Momentum, that the year I came feeling totally lost and confused about what on earth I was supposed to do, as a Christian woman who had no time for all the ultra-conservative stuff about gender and the church that I was reading about, I got to hear Jo Saxton preaching on an egalitarian interpretation of scripture and Elaine Storkey talking about global women's issues and that I realised that yes, things were going to be ok and that there was life and wholeness outside the box marked 'Biblical Womanhood'.

And thanks for amplifying all those other women's voices too because otherwise, I'd have barely experienced seeing women preach and teach. We really do have that far to go and we need Soul Survivor to keep banging the drum for women.

While I'm on that subject, thanks for 'coming out' as egalitarian and nailing your colours to the mast about it because you were so moved by the response the night you appealed for young women who had been hurt by the church over gender issues to come forward for ministry. The church needs organisations that are vocally, intentionally inclusive of women and their gifts.

Thanks, Momentum, that I found something special at Shepton Mallet when I was a thoroughly-messed up young adult with a catalogue of issues, a person who struggled even being on site at first because everyone seemed so happy and I was exactly the opposite and it just felt so bad, so crushing, seeing all those beatific faces when I felt the way I did. And thanks that I also found something special as a newlywed trying to figure all that married life stuff out. And as a justice-seeker trying to figure out what to do with my calling and my job at a time when I also wanted a child. And just a year later, as a new mother with my perma-feeding three-month-old in tow (even when he orchestrated a nappy explosion in the middle of a seminar on sex). That reminds me - thanks for giving Danielle Strickland the main stage slot that year. Her baby was only a month older than mine and seeing her up there preaching every evening knowing she was in the same stage of life as me was exactly what I needed.

Thanks for bringing together thousands and thousands of people from the supposed 'lost generation' of Christians every year for a decade and yes, for being cool enough to keep them excited about coming but also for welcoming all, not just the sort of young people who dress a certain way and go to a certain sort of church - even those who don't always want to jump around and do the Christian conga during worship in main meetings. Especially those who just like to sit quietly on the floor and keep still and think about stuff. It took me a good few years to understand those people. And then I became one of them.

Thanks for diversifying your programme as your delegates grew up and as the things we cared about and were interested in evolved, all the while keeping the core elements intact. And thanks for inspiring my generation to live differently and do some great things and get through the less-thrilling bits of life too - not just the highs of festivals and 'mountaintop experiences' - while keeping their faith alive.

Thanks for being committed to seeing healing happen, particularly emotional healing. I remember one year, a long time ago now, overhearing a young woman say that so many seminars seemed to focus on 'issues'. 'What if you don't have any issues to deal with?' she said to her friend. 'Aren't you fortunate?' I thought. You've provided the space for people to work things through and hear more clearly and I know so many people who are thankful for that.

Thanks for the terrible late-night campsite singalongs and the free hot drinks for people serving on teams and for making me spend loads of money in the bookshop and for the lovely smell of the night air and the peace of the early mornings and the pizzas and every injury I've ever sustained tripping over guy ropes in the dark and the music and for being more chilled than an event full of teenagers and the times I've heard God speak and the times I've seen Him do things and importantly, for your integrity.

Cheers, Momentum.

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A closer look at Giles Fraser's Cheesus

Giles Fraser has ruffled feathers with an evangelical-baiting piece for Comment is Free, published on Friday. People are angry and I think that's entirely justified. Fraser uses his platform to unleash a bit of a rant about "Jesus-lite" - a brand of evangelicalism, as he sees it, that majors on cheesy platitudes, superiority, and theological misunderstanding. The image of Ned Flanders is invoked. He shoehorns in a bit of scaremongering about Holy Trinity Brompton, in keeping with the media trend of portraying the church - and the clergy associated with it - as some sort of terrifying evangelical conspiracy. Creeping Alpha, if you like.

I found Fraser's words slightly too nasty to be credible and at times, just bizarre. He's got issues with the way he thinks evangelicals view Easter. And he worries that the pain, suffering, and doubt associated with Jesus's story has been forgotten as they focus on sunny smiles and success. One of my main issues with what he's saying is that he should know better than to write something completely without nuance in a way that panders to mainstream media and public perceptions of what evangelicalism entails. A large, influential church like HTB is always going to divide opinions - people will have had good and bad experiences with it, and there's no doubt that many members of its congregation reflect its affluent location. But that's not the full story, of course, and it feels unfair.

A lot of people are upset that Fraser appears to be simply looking for controversy, but the piece has hit home for some Christians. I think they have a point and that Fraser could have made a better one too, if he'd articulated it differently. Differently, perhaps, like Dave Meldrum did in this excellent post last year, entitled "(Not so) happy clappies". Dave's assessment of the friction that comes with being charismatic, evangelical, and depressed is spot on, and he manages to talk about the way the subculture can make him feel without sneering. It's also not all bad - he talks about increasing emotional depth in some of the services he has attended, and greater willingness to talk about difficult issues without needing a cheerful veneer. Becoming a Christian isn't about all your problems getting solved and never feeling sad again, and this is an attitude we should always counter.

It's these things that have made some people I know identify with Fraser's piece, with its reference to Christians who can be "patronising, superior and faux-caring", who promise to pray for you when you disagree with them and can't - or won't - engage with anything that isn't on-message, upbeat, and joyful.

Over the past couple of days we've talked about leadership teams running away from addressing problems, dismissive attitudes towards mental health issues, refusal to listen to concerns, irritation at constantly being told to "focus on the positives", and constant streams of platitudes that can just get too much. I was reminded of the time I was asked whether my being a feminist could be contributing to my feeling depressed, and the frustration I felt that no matter how many times people told me I was "God's beautiful princess", I didn't feel the same. I was reminded of my sadness at superior attitudes towards other denominations and traditions (admittedly something that Christians of all types are guilty of, from Giles Fraser through to the people who say traditional churches are "dead" and "make them shudder"). Sometimes there's nothing worse than sitting in church feeling as if you're supposed to cheer up and stop moping because you're letting the side down. And a lot of people can identify with that.

What's clear is that "Cheesus" culture is real and that it does hurt people and make them run away from church. It can be bloated, self-satisfied, focused on marketing and projecting an image that can cease to come across as sincere and look instead like constant advertisement, laying it on thick and trying to prove a point. What's also clear is that this needs addressing in a sensitive way, rather than pandering to people who can't see the good in the church at all. Evangelicals can see through Cheesus too, and plenty of them are even fighting him all the way.

Further reading: David Bunce has written a great post addressing all the issues raised here.