I have been invited by the editor, in the context of recent discussion of secession, to explain why I resigned as an Anglican parson. I tried to answer that question in the book Farewell to Anglicanism published in 1969. It took me 140 pages to give my reply then, so clearly it is very difficult to compress it all into one short article!
I have tried to echo the apostle Paul's insistence on freedom of conscience in disputed situations: 'Who are you to judge someone else's servant? To his own master he stands or falls . . . Each one should be fully convinced in his own mind . . . So then, each of us will give an account of himself to God' (Romans 14.4,5,12).
Let me clear up some misconceptions. I was at the meeting in 1966 when Dr. Lloyd-Jones made his call to Anglican evangelicals to secede. However, it was not that powerful call which moved me, for the simple reason that I had resigned some two years earlier, in 1964.
Further, I must rebut the notion that it was the reaction of a frustrated parson. I was not some youthful zealot - I had been in the Anglican ministry for between 19 and 20 years. I was vicar of St. Paul's, Cambridge, which had been such a thrilling time in view of my earlier stint of service among students. In fact, that role as a minister in a university town made my resignation all the more painful. Those who talk lightly about secession as if it was like changing jobs, surely show that they know little of the anguish and tears which accompany the trauma.
I had tried to overcome my scruples by claiming that the Bible presented the church as a mixed body. I even won a university prize for an essay on the comprehensive nature of the church! I bolstered my position with the usual appeal to the parable of the wheat and tares to produce a justification for a very mixed multitude. However, it only needed a clearer scrutiny of Jesus' own words to rebut my dubious appeal to the parable. He said quite simply and plainly: 'the field is the world', not the church!
Did I then resign simply because I changed my mind on the subject of infant baptism? The answer is emphatically 'No'. I came to new convictions about baptism much later in the day, so that, for me, baptism was not the only reason for my going. Rather it indicated the direction I should go after I had left the C of E.
The nature of the church
The 39 Articles of the C of E declared the church to be a congregation of believers where the Word is preached and baptism and the Lord's Supper are administered.
That was fine, but it clashed with the reality of parish life. When I was inducted, I was given 'the cure of souls' (as pastoral responsibility was designated). That meant that I was the parish priest of a geographical area called a parish. I must not defer to christen, marry or bury all who came or were brought. Furthermore, my parish was within a diocese, which was, in turn, part of a state church. Hence I had to give not only my promise of canonical obedience to 'the Lord Bishop of Ely', but my oath of allegiance to the Queen as the Supreme Governor of the state Church. It recalled the position of the great Anglican apologist of the 16th century, Richard Hooker: 'There is not any man of the Church of England but the same man is also a member of the commonwealth; nor any man a member of the commonwealth which is not also of the Church of England' (Laws of Ecclesiastical Polity viii.i.2).
I was compelled to look at the whole issue of bishops. At my ordination and induction, and at every confirmation I had to acknowledge that a diocesan bishop was a necessary feature in the life of the church. Indeed, evangelical Anglicans still rejoice when one of their number becomes a bishop. But where in the New Testament is there mention of such an official? In Acts 20 the term bishop or overseer refers to the same person who is an elder or presbyter. Not surprisingly, the opening greeting of the letter to the Philippians mentions only overseers and deacons. The latter are not (as in the C of E), apprentice presbyters serving 12 months before being 'priested'. J. B. Lightfoot in his commentary powerfully demonstrated that bishop and presbyter were interchangeable terms.
(I was made increasingly aware that as Anglicans we were heirs of the tragic compromise at the beginning of the 4th century, when the emperor Constantine accepted the formerly-persecuted churches. That set the direction towards the synthesis of the Middle Ages, where church and state were two sides of the same coin. The coinage is still current.)
By this time the issue of baptism was increasingly a problem to me. I found it more and more difficult after christening, to pronounce a child regenerate after I had already gone through the charade of asking the baby questions and being answered by godparents who spoke on the infant's behalf.
Worse still was the catechism, a necessary prelude to another dubious service, namely confirmation. I had to teach children to recite an answer to the question: 'Who gave you this name?' i.e. the so-called Christian name. The answer was clear: 'My godfather/s and godmother/s in my baptism, wherein I was made a member of Christ, the child of God and an inheritor of the kingdom of heaven'. I knew the apologetic arguments defending all this - I was, like most men of my day, indebted to J.C. Ryle's Knots Untied. But could a youngster of 14 grasp the subtleties of Ryle's arguments? I found many who in later life fended off evangelistic approaches by claiming that they had been christened.
(The pernicious hymn 'I became a Christian when my name was given' must have immunised many against the gospel.)
Prayer Book adjustments?
But did I need to be so bound by the details of the Prayer Book? Many other ministers seemed to feel free to have services which bore little resemblance to the prayer book. Others adjusted the language of the infant baptism service to suit themselves. One vicar I knew showed how little regard he had for christening when he baptised his own son as a believer, utilising the facilities of the local Brethren assembly for the purpose. He continued as an Anglican parson!
I found myself unable to take that line. On my first Sunday in St. Paul's I had duly read the 39 Articles and declared my assent to them and to The Book of Common Prayer. I followed this with the further statutory requirement: 'In public worship and administration of the sacraments I will use the form in the said book and none other, except is so far as may be allowed by lawful authority'. This authority meant the Crown in parliament. So not only did the prime minister appoint bishops, but in matters of worship parliament had the final say. How could I, with an open New Testament, accept all this? Either I followed with a compliant conscience, and followed the policy of what was described as 'organised independency within the establishment'; or I ended in legalistic bondage.
The further but harsh alternative was that I should follow my conscience, which had been stung to reaction by what I believed was the teaching of Scripture . . . I sent my letter of resignation to the bishop of Ely.
Public reaction
The only people with whom I shared the news in a public way were the folk at the church prayer meeting and the readers of our parish magazine. But I was soon to discover that to resign in Cambridge would inevitably lead to a wider publicity which was totally unsought. It started with the Cambridge News and was followed by radio, television and the national dailies with front page coverage. The Daily Express had its own flaring headlines! Cuttings or reports from overseas showed papers in Australia, New Zealand and the USA carrying the item. I even had a phone call from Time magazine in New York. Cambridge clearly had news value! The result was a deluge of letters - about 300 in ten days. There were grieved Anglicans and critical Anglicans. There were letters and tracts from sects and cranks. The vast majority, however, were from loving Christians. Some of them, realising that a family would need to be fed after the stipend ceased, sent gifts.
Church reaction
On the evangelical Anglican front in the south of England there was a silence. One 'Church Pastoral Aid Society' man urged me not to influence young men preparing for ordination.
Evangelical Anglicans in the north of England seemed to breathe a fresher air of freedom. They invited me to the Southport conference to tell them why I had resigned.
The painful experience of the south, however, continued. I was refused permission to share in a wedding. I was either shunned or received with an embarrassed silence. Those who had easily fraternised with free church ministers found a seceder beyond the pale.
New freedom and changes
On the other hand, I was rejoicing in a new liberty. I had never expected to find a perfect church - the charge that this was the goal was often voiced. But if such an ideal church had existed my imperfections would have sullied it! What I did find were churches echoing the faith of the 39 Articles that the local church is a company of believers. I discovered a situation where the Bible was the final arbiter and the liberty of the Spirit was the goal.
Of course, there were painful re-adjustments. In my first pastorate as a nonconformist, both the congregation and I had to adjust to each other. They really were generous, as I have since realised how much I had been influenced by my years as an Anglican. On the other hand, I trust they profited from that very background which had instilled into me the reverence and awe which should mark our meeting for worship.
It was good to have the freedom to use parts of the Prayer Book without it being an imposed duty. The General Thanksgiving and the invitation to communion were especially precious. Collects were available in the freedom of a truly free church. I missed psalm singing with the familiar chants. Sadly, when I have visited Anglican churches, I have found either a dubiously-revised liturgy or a nondescript hotchpotch. I look back to The Book of Common Prayer as something which far surpassed its liturgical descendants.
I am grateful to those evangelical Anglicans who while not agreeing with me have yet warmly received me. It was a special delight to be invited to preach, as the only surviving ex-vicar, at the 150th anniversary of St. Paul's in Cambridge. To stand in that pulpit where I had preached my last sermon 30 years before, was quite an occasion. To have warm contact with John Stott, Gordon Bridger, Tony Baker and others too numerous to name, was a renewal of Christian fellowship.
I end where I began, or rather, where the apostle stated the basic issue: 'So then, each of us will give an account of himself to God.'
