The world was captured

'Curry captures the world’s attention’ - no, not this week’s headline from Good Food Magazine, recommending a potent Coronation Chicken dish, but the Guardian newspaper’s headline, commending a ‘powerful Royal Wedding sermon’. For the appetising Curry in question is Bishop Michael Curry. 

The Bishop, who is the first African-American to preside over the 1.7 million-member Episcopal Church, was also the first American to preach at a royal wedding. And Curry’s sermon on Saturday (May 19) has evidently caused a stir.  

This is especially true amongst evangelicals. A concerned Christian family member asked me for my reaction the minute Curry stepped out of the St. George’s Chapel pulpit. Other believers were Instagraming supportively as the Bishop took to the steps of Windsor Castle on Saturday afternoon. Questions about his sermon were the first ones I fielded after preaching my sermon the next day. Indeed it’s been almost a week since Prince Harry wed his American bride, Meghan Markle, and discussion concerning ‘that sermon’ shows no sign of abating. Monday saw the composition of many ‘for’ and ‘against’ pieces, and the Twitter-sphere - that biosphere of measured debate (!) – continues to spew out divergent Christian sentiment.  

So what are British evangelicals to make of this palpably contentious, yet ‘world-capturing’ sermon? For what it’s worth, here are three supplementary (and possibly already blogged) thoughts to add into the Curry fusion.

1. Capturing the world through a sermon?

To mix metaphors, Curry had the audience eating out of his hands. His sermon had David Beckham grinning and Elton John gurning. Everyone in the royal chapel, from former England rugby player, Mike Tindall, to American media proprietor, Oprah Winfrey, was listening. In fact, Curry’s 14-minute dialogue was the most tweeted component of the whole service, with 40,000 tweets being sent about it per minute. Why? One reason is surely because, in contrast to the many staid and joyless sermons that have previously been broadcast on such occasions, Curry delivered his message passionately and engagingly. His American wigwagging and wiggling clearly had some of the Royal family giggling, but nobody could escape his carefully crafted and well-illustrated words. His tone was sober and serious, and yet his sermon was executed with joyful confidence and authentic passion. As one hermeneutical novice tweeted enthusiastically, 'He brought the soul, he brought the fire… he brought the ipad!'

Surely here is a lesson for any who have the privilege of standing at God’s desk every week. Preach passionately. Preach with earnestness. Work hard to be an outstanding communicator. In recent years, some quarters of British evangelicalism have subtly downplayed the importance of excellent communication in preaching. Perhaps an admirable obsession for getting the text right has paved the way for preachers who are good at grammar, but do not know how to preach in a way that is challenging or inspiring? Obviously a faithful sermon read in the manner of BBC’s Shipping Forecast is preferable to a theologically ambiguous homily delivered by an award-wining actor. Robust exegesis must always trump admirable delivery. Each preacher will also have his own emotional range. This is not a call for reserved Englishmen to become more American (or more like great Welsh preachers of the past). However, on the basis of Saturday, preaching that comes with gravitas, passion, and engagement is evidently not to be scoffed at. Curry had our entertainment-saturated culture listening to his every word. We can learn something from the Bishop. 

2. Capturing the world through the Gospel? 

For me, there was a far more pungent consequence of Curry’s sermon, and that was the startlingly warm reception it received from evangelicals in regard to its Gospel content. Mark Woods, managing editor of Christian Today, described Curry’s sermon as a 'potent gospel message.' According to evangelical apologist, Ravi Zacharias, 'The world heard the gospel that day.' Such conclusions from such gifted men appeared to encapsulate the views of many self-confessing evangelicals across the UK. 

On one level, I am sympathetic to such sentiments. As Curry ascended the pulpit most evangelical expectations were low. Yet, Curry stated that: 'God is love,' 'he [Jesus] died to save,' and 'there is balm in Gilead to heal the sin-sick soul.' These three statements (although not at the heart of Curry’s message) are obviously at the heart of the Gospel message, and Curry said them. We should rejoice that millions heard these three statements. 

However, Curry failed to connect these Gospel truths with any meaningful clarity. Curry did not highlight that God is love because God is just (a holy creator, who does not let the guilty go unpunished); nor did he did make it clear that Christ’s saving death was substitutionary, because of our ‘sin-sick soul’. If Curry’s sermon had shattered on the floor, a believer may have been able to piece together something that resembled the biblical gospel. But why would one, who had been given such a door of opportunity to make the mystery of Christ clear (Colossians 4.3-4), give his unbelieving listeners such opaque fragments of truth? 

In his insightful review, David Robertson rightly deduces that, essentially, Curry believes a different gospel. '[In Curry’s theology] Jesus’s death was an example of love. [For] he did not speak of it in the way that John does – as an atoning sacrifice for our sin… We preach salvation by faith alone in Christ alone, through the cross of Christ. We don't preach salvation through our own redemptive love copying that of Christ.' 

Undeniably context changes emphasis and approach in gospel proclamation. A good preacher thinks carefully about his setting and audience. Weddings, in particular, are to be jubilant occasions. In fact, let me readily confess that if I was ever asked to preach at a Royal Wedding (I’m still available Princess Eugenie) I would undoubtedly spend more time dwelling upon the wonderful news of Christ’s atoning sacrificial love than the solemn news regarding our sin-sick soul. However, I pray that I would never preach Christ’s death as a mere example of love, nor aim at ambiguity, when given the opportunity to preach Jesus to so many who are destined to be eternally separated from him. Sadly, this is exactly what Curry did. Sadder still, many evangelicals did not appear to notice. 

The bride and groom leaving after the weding | photo: YouTube

3. Capturing the world through the promise of a better world?

Curry started and ended with a quote from Martin Luther King Jr. His imperatival crescendo was '[to] discover the redemptive power of love… [to] make of this old world a new world.' In short, transform the world by loving the world. The world loved it. Even, former leader of the opposition and self-confessing atheist, Ed Miliband tweeted that such a message 'could almost make me a believer'.

Setting aside the impossibility of sinful humanity loving each other to the extent that 'no child will go to bed hungry in this world ever again,' Curry’s clarion call to love is more than vaguely commendable; it is godly. Any Christian, who has had God’s love poured into their hearts, should long for and work for a better world. Indeed, in spite of the many evils that the Church has committed across world history, Christians have made the world a better place. Evangelicals who rolled their eyes at Curry’s call to make 'poverty history', ought not denigrate what the Bible has to say about the importance of showing special concern for the least loved, particularly in the covenant community of the church. For the apostle James tells us that faith without such loving works is dead (James 2.14-17). Jesus said that Christians capture the world’s attention when we display such love to one another (John 13.34-35).

Nevertheless, building a better world now is not the believer’s primary goal. Curry evidently thinks it is. Whilst the vast majority of listeners no doubt missed the gospel promises of last week, none could have misheard Curry’s utopian promise of tomorrow. In fact, when a CNN reporter asked Curry’s motivation for his sermon, Curry openly confessed that is was the transformation of this world that was driving him. 

Today, many evangelicals appear to be gripped by such transformationalist visions of creating a better world here. Some, like Curry, believe that our work of making the world a better place will literally usher in the kingdom of the new heavens and the new earth. Other evangelicals, who previously saw social action as an equal partner to gospel proclamation, have now begun to focus far more heavily upon the former. Even in Reformed circles, under the guise of Christ’s universal Lordship and his reconciliation of all things, we seem to be seeing a greater focus upon bettering the here and now.

Again, to be clear, evangelicals should hope for and work towards a more loving world. In a sense Curry’s promise of a better world was not illegitimate, but it was undoubtedly ill-timed. For we are not promised a better world in this world. Indeed the Bible tells us we ought to expect much unloving injustice under the sun (Ecclesiastes 5.8). Evangelicals must remember that the cross has not yet universally eradicated all the effects of the fall. Christ certainly inaugurates an alternative community of the loved and the loving (i.e. the local church), but we, as the outpost of that better world to come, will always live in an unlovely world. The call of the Christian is to capture the world’s attention through the promise of a better world to come. But that world is not here yet. In God’s kindness, we may have sunny May afternoons filled with lovely wedding festivities, but on such days we are wrong to promise that, 'when love is the way, the earth will be a sanctuary.' Earth will only be a sanctuary when the one who was rejected by the world returns.  I fear that the only reason Curry was able to capture the world, is because he has already been captured by it. Have we?