Why I'm glad I got off the train

A personal reflection inspired by Revd Will Pearson-Gee's speech at General Synod.

As Anglican Futures pointed out in a blog last week, about the “last LLF” debate at General Synod, Revd Will Pearson Gee used an analogy about a train that had stopped because the tracks ahead were dangerous - "Then," he said, "it became apparent that the train was going to be repainted, and a new logo painted on the side. The hurt and angry passengers were told the old train had in fact become a new one and would be proceeding with little delay."

To continue the train analogy, I recently decided to step off the train and leave ministry in the Church of England, after over two decades since ordination. With other passengers who felt the same way, all in the church where I’ve been vicar for a number of years, we set up a new church, under one of the dioceses in the Anglican Network in Europe.

It’s been three years since I first seriously began to consider this as a possibility, when proposals for blessings of same-sex couples, were first discussed under LLF at General Synod in February 2023. Since then, as the LLF train sped on its way, with various contradictory and misleading destinations flashing up on the screen, I’ve wrestled with how best to respond to when my conscience and theological convictions were telling me it was time to jump. Time to leave the Church of England, before the LLF train took the church I loved onto even more dangerous tracks.

Of course, senior staff on the train always tried to reassure the passengers that they knew what they were doing and to trust where they were going. Some got quite cross when they were questioned about the process, let alone whether the Bible supported the track they were taking us on. I experienced that crossness personally at times, with painful, difficult encounters, as I tried to speak up, take a stand.

Getting off the train has felt immensely costly for the family and I. Leaving behind the security of the vicarage and the salary, the pension and the institution. Leaving behind much loved members of the church, who wished to remain on the train for various reasons. Feeling sometimes that you’re letting down other faithful passengers, who stay on but keep remonstrating to the train staff that simply going full steam ahead (even with a new logo now), would lead to the whole train going off the rails.

But in the end I jumped off the train, grateful for the support both of others locally who’ve joined me in getting on a totally new train, and those who had done a similar thing in recent years. And ultimately I’m so thankful for the Lord’s faithfulness, in all the pain, in all the wrestling, in all the self-examination.

Personally, I felt that the House of Bishops commendation of blessing of same-sex couples in regular services had crossed a line that years before I resolved would be a tipping point. I could see where the LLF train was taking everyone and that even if there were delays along the way, the LLF “Travelator” (as Anglican Futures put it) would continue on regardless. So why am I glad I got off the train, even if it feels difficult and risky (and with many uncertainties still ahead)?

Because it’s right to protect the sheep and make a clear distinction from false teaching – and that now seems so hard to do in the CofE.

Because I’ve become convinced of the need to take the Lord’s sheep away to good pasture, where faithful teaching will not be undermined in a denomination where plural truth wins out.

Because we’ve found a home in a faithful network of churches, which thus allows focus and energy to go on mission and not being sucked away by endless church “politics”.

And then there’s the joy of knowing that as I’ve stepped out in faith, my faith has been deepened and I’ve seen that the Lord is no person’s debtor. There’s the joy of being reminded that however things now turn out for myself and a new church (and there are no guarantees), the Lord is good and wise; he is loving and sovereign. It’s always so good to look at the Lord and his grace rather than look at myself and my faults and fears, failings and frustrations.

So as another Synod goes by, as I now watch the LLF train travel on (albeit with new paint and new logo) no longer a troubled passenger but an interested observer, I’m thankful that the Lord has provided a new way forward, a different yet faithful vehicle to leap on to with others.

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