Let go!, by Ben Jeapes

Photo by Pixabay.

You can’t have missed the recent scandal of hidden child abuse that ultimately brought down an archbishop. It all comes down to a series of camps, founded in the 1930s and mostly held in the Dorset village of Iwerne (pronounced “yoo-un”) Minster. They deliberately set out to evangelise the upper classes, as they would one day run the country and hence their faith would trickle down to everyone else – which sounds absurd today but is actually quite in line with Paul’s own preaching philosophy. Justin Welby and a number of other Big Names were alumni of these camps.

As am I. Nothing untoward happened to me there, and I cannot fault the sincerity and orthodoxy of Iwerne’s teaching. I owe to Iwerne my absolute, unwavering and non-compromising belief in the Trinity, in the incarnation, and in redemption through and only through (though by means no one can quite articulate) the death and resurrection of Jesus. And if you think I’m making excuses for the place, remember it also gave us the likes of John Stott, David Sheppard and Timothy Dudley-Smith

It was because I had that belief implanted in me that I was then able to roam more broadly, get experience of other expressions of Christianity (and indeed other belief systems altogether) and have them feed into my own spirituality, helping me grow as a Christian. I have always had a lifeline that could take me back to my core beliefs, and that has helped me deal with a lot of the rubbish life has thrown at me.

Iwerne didn’t teach that, though. I had to do it myself, driven by my own curiosity – or the promptings of the Spirit, or both, delete as applicable. Curiosity was not an encouraged Iwerne trait. The thrust was just to believe. Do as you’re told. Be a good little Christian. It was founded in the stiff upper lip class ethos of the 1930s and never grew out of it. They might teach “cast all your cares on him” but they never really had to live it. All the Iwerne leaders were themselves obedient Iwernites and so they had no mechanism for coping with eventualities where a stiff upper lip and “just believe” are not enough. Like, when a predatory child molester creeps into their midst and uses the system to his own advantage. So, the instinct was to hide the scandal, because if it became known then people would stop going to the camps and the mission would fail.

And the almighty, omnipotent God for whom nothing is impossible; whose heart breaks at the abuse committed in his name and who just might be able to sort things out if we only relied on him?

Well, yes, okay, but the thing is, the camps …

These faults are not unique to Iwerne, of course. They creep into any institution which becomes just a bit too fond of its own importance.

How is any of this relevant to a blog about writing?

Well, we’re all Christian writers and I assume we want our writing to have some Christian effect. Of course, we polish and edit and make our writing the best it can be before we unleash it on a waiting world. But I know writers who are paralysed with fear at the thought of releasing their work into the world because people might read it wrong. I knew a gifted songwriter able to write the most beautiful worship, but who couldn’t bear to hear his music be performed by other people unless he had personally rehearsed them, because they might not play it as he intended.

Are we ultimately relying on our own cleverness? Is it all about our vision of what we are trying to achieve?

Or do we in the end hand it to God and ask him to make of it what he will? Believing is important, of course. But there are further steps after that. Believe. Trust. And let go.

Ben Jeapes (www.benjeapes.com) took up writing in the mistaken belief that it would be easier than a real job (it isn’t). Hence, as well as being the author of eight novels and co-author of many more, he has also been a journal editor, book publisher, and technical writer. His most recent title is Ghostwriting Novels: A Guide for Ghostwriters and the Ghostwritten.