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The Legacy of John Stott
On Listening to the Word and the World at the Very Same Time
by
Steven Garber
It was the twinkle in his eye that surprised me.
Almost twenty years ago I was standing near the procession of pastors as they entered The Falls Church, the historic 300 year-0ld Anglican congregation in Virginia. My young son Jonathan was standing too, but on the railing, with his little-boy knees exposed. The English hymn was being sung, the organ adding to its majesty as the pastors entered, one by one—and John Stott, the long friend of the congregation was last in line, on his way to preach for the day. He saw me, smiled, and then tweaked my son’s knee, eyes twinkling.
Several years later, in the same sanctuary, Jonathan ran up to me, insisting that I come to talk to “him.” I saw Stott, and together we made our way. He sat down, drew Jonathan onto his lap, and tenderly talked to him, gently explaining that he was “Uncle John.” Forever after, he was.
A few days ago this great man died, and I sighed. I found myself remembering many moments over many years, feeling with tenderness the poignancy of the now-but-not-yet of everyone’s life, but especially of this man who taught me so much.
The best newspapers in the world have done well in telling the story of his life. Of all that I read, the
Guardian
did the best job of offering an honest account of the richness of his life, full of complexity and nuance that ninety years would mean for anyone. Describing him as "a renaissance man with a reformation theology,” it ended with these words, “Urbane and gracious as both visionary and strategist, Stott left the Langham Partnership as perhaps his major legacy.”
What is the
Langham Partnership
, and what does it say about Stott that matters to us? To some he was “the Protestant pope,” and that does get at the global character of his congregation. But for most of his life he was the rector of All Soul’s Church, Langham Place, in center city London, literally next door to the BBC headquarters. Over time he was extruded into a teaching ministry all over the world, speaking in universities and writing extensively. Wherever he went, crowds gathered, pressing in to hear from someone they trusted to take the Bible seriously, and to take the world seriously.
He argued for the importance of understanding that we live in ‘”two worlds,” and therefore of “double-listening,” listening to God in his Word, and with equal seriousness, listening to the world made by God. That was at the heart of his vision of preaching, and of teaching pastoral leaders, and so early on he decided that the income from his public life would go the Langham Partnership, a vision born of his pastoral relationships with people from every continent. Any one who has worshiped at All Souls knows that it is still one of the most cosmopolitan congregations in the world, with the faces of the world gathered together Sunday after Sunday; perhaps still a lingering memory of the day when the sun never set on the British Empire.
As Stott traveled the world, meeting leaders on every continent and in every culture, he drew them into the hope and dream of the Langham Partnership. At its heart it exists to equip developing leaders for the Church in “the majority world”—the term that Stott came to insist upon, the more he traveled—offering study and books so that the Church might have the gifted, trained leaders that it needs.
The vision has come alive—no longer what might be, but what is. This spring I had two very good conversations with Eliud Wabukala, Archbishop of the Anglican Province of Kenya, and the leader of GAFCON, a global convocation of Anglicans; overwhelmingly this fellowship represents most of the Anglicans in the world. We talked of many things, of his life and mine, his work and mine. He is a Masai, and I am a Californian; both of us have traveled far from our origins. And of course we got to the nexus of faith to vocation to culture, and with remarkable honesty he observed, “That is the problem for the Church in Kenya. We have a disconnect, a disconnect between faith and vocation and culture.”
But we also talked about Stott, and the fascinating story of the Archbishop’s own vocation. The top student in theological studies as an undergraduate, he was chosen to receive a Langham Partnership grant, enabling him to do a PhD in theology in Toronto. He returned to Kenya, and over time as pastor, then bishop, he was asked to be the “bishop of the bishops” for seven million Anglicans in Kenya. Upon hearing of Stott’s death, I wrote him, and he responded, “Without John Evangelical faith would have suffered tremendously and some of us would not be who we are.” The Archbishop’s story is only one of many, incarnate in the lives of people who in their own ways have learned to “double-listen,” with Stott committed to the challenge and complexity of living in the world under the Word.
World and Word? Unashamedly, Stott took both with equal seriousness. Most of the time we are pushed to choose one or the other—and how is it possible not to? At least from where I sit, from who I hear in the debates and discussions that come my way, most of the time it seems we must choose. As if thoughtful, responsible, visionary people cannot do both at the same time.
What does all this mean for the world that is Q? If I had one impression from the Q Gathering this spring in Portland, it was this: without a blush, Q was calling us to live within biblical orthodoxy, and to engage the culture—at the same time. No trade-off. Not one more than the other, but both/and. Coherent lives, rather than compartmentalized lives. Q offered two-and-a-half days in Portland as an embodied argument, making the point that the common good is best served when Christian people do both at the same time.
John Stott believed this too, profoundly so, living his life over the course of his life listening to the Word and listening to the world, believing that both really mattered. The listening is not an end in itself though. To remember the title of his final book and an earlier book, the point is to become “radical disciples,” people who live in “two worlds,” under the authority of the ancient text and deeply engaged in the contemporary cultures of our world.
To press his point, he argued that Christians have no right to blame the world for being the world. If it is skewed, if it is unjust, if it is wrong, he maintained that that was because the Church had failed in its calling to be salt and light. As he put it so plainly, “Why would you blame meat for rotting? Why would you blame a room for being dark?” That is what meat does that hasn’t been salted; that is what rooms are when lights haven’t been turned on. Instead, his long call was for the Church to enter in, to penetrate and permeate, salting society, lighting the world. In his own way, pastorally and prophetically teaching that faith shapes vocation, and that vocation shapes culture.
Rest in peace, Uncle John, and know that there are generations following you, from every corner of the earth—from Nairobi to Portland, and a million places in between.
Editor's Note: The image above was found on the John Stott Memorial
website
.
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Comments
John Crane
This is a compelling and excellent piece, Steve. I had the privilege of meeting John Stott while in graduate school at Trinity a number of years ago. In those few minutes, I found him to be exactly who you have described him to be. Would that the Church raises up a new generation of "John Stotts". Our world needs his kind of balanced, thoughtful proclamation of the Good News.
Lewis Greer
Like Mr. Crane, my only live encounter came when I was a grad student at Trinity Evangelical Divinity School, way back in the 80s. John Stott spoke at chapel one day, and, although I was working full time and often gave chapel a miss, I knew enough to go that day.
I don't remember what the talk was about, but the witness and spirit of the man were evident and powerful, and I had to tell him how much I appreciated that. Surprisingly, only a few of my fellow students (perhaps Mr. Crane among them) made their way to the front, and the wait to say hello to the great man was short.
His humility, so well described in this marvelous piece, was matched only by his graciousness as he shook my hand and thanked me for my kindness. Those twinkling eyes were, I suppose, both his secret weapon and his tractor beam. I was immediately and forever a listener to what he had to say, and, although on occasion I would disagree from a distance, I am far the better for it.
May God grant someone a double portion of his spirit, may the world listen, and may we all learn. Thank you, Lord, for the life of JRWS.
Sheridan Voysey
A lovely remembrance, Steven. Like you, Stott's holistic evangelism-social action Gospel, plus his humility and focus on the developing world are all personally inspiring.
I was talking to a Christian leader a fortnight ago, before Stott died. We wondering who the 'next' John Stott was - someone committed to biblical authority yet open to dialogue and socially engaged. May God raise them up. In a polarized church era, we need them more than ever.
Sheridan Voysey
(My own reflections on Stott's legacy here:
http://sheridanvoysey.com/6-lessons-from-the-life-of-john-stott/
)
Denis Haack
Like all that you write and speak, Steve, this has the sweet smell of gracious truthfulness.
My best memory of Stott personally came from years ago, while serving with InterVarsity and so getting to hear him speak at the Urbana Missionary Conference. I never met him during that period but always sat stunned at the brilliant simplicity of his exposition that came with such quiet power. It was never difficult believing he was reading from God's word.
My best memory of his legacy came a few years ago in Ghana where I traveled with some of the faculty of Covenant Theological Seminary to speak at a week-long conference in Accra. A Ghanian pastor gave the "devotional" each morning, a half hour time in Scripture. The first morning as the session began I was distracted, in Africa for the first time, looking around at so much that was new to me. Then I heard a quiet exposition begin, in a voice with a lilting English accent, and I thought for a moment I was listening to Stott. I wasn't. I was listening to one of the thousands of brothers and sisters from Africa whom he had befriended, mentored, and arranged out his book royalties to be able to study in London. This dear and godly man spoke for 30 minutes. I was scheduled for an hour slot later in the day. I am still convinced the conference planners had bungled the schedule badly. I would have gladly listened to him all day.
Richard Hopper
As a young student at a Bible college in southeastern Iowa I had the privilege of hearing Dr. Stott preach. I was so intrigued with his ability to be so challenging so as to bring the Word of God into the World of God. I don't remember the totality of his message but the essence was that we are to be salt and light wherever in the world we find ourselves. Unfortunately I have not always done or been that, but Stott's books and messages have always been there to encourage me to get back on the track. We must be praying that God will lift up more strong Biblical leaders like Stott so as to continue to influence the world.
John Crane
Lewis, I was at Trinity some years after you, but my experience was the same--a relative few waited to engage with Dr. Stott after the chapel. (I noticed the same phenomenon when Dr. Carl F. H. Henry came to chapel.) How often we miss such golden opportunities, to our detriment! For once, I was paying attention myself. :)
Kathrine Gathro
Thanks for this, Steve. So many friends have commented this week on the passing of the Rev. Dr. John Stott, and as I read the tributes and several obituaries that have been printed and shared, I find myself reflecting on my own experience with "Uncle John". I was only with Dr. Stott three times personally, but all three of them were special moments that shaped my thinking and my life. The first time was when my DC women's small group, which went away together for 24 hours every month, invited him to come and spend the day with us at Fellowship House where he was also staying. What a wonderful opportunity to hear his story, talk about his call to singleness and his commitment to surround himself with women who were partners to him in friendship and ministry. We were able to ask questions and share our hearts and concerns and to pick his brain about a lot of topics. It was truly a treat and he encouraged us in our own sense of calling and giftedness. What a cheerleader he was for us, and how empowered I felt. Several years later, I ran into him at The Cedars where he was staying, and he immediately asked me all about Rich, my husband. He remembered so much about Rich and his work. With all the thousands of people he knew, I was just amazed at his incredible memory as well as his shepherd's heart and interest in our life (note to self). We also talked about his hobby of bird-watching and his trip to the Artic where he had gone on a bird watching expedition. I shared about hosting on media tour Sir David Attenborough who had done a similar trip. We laughed and I got a kick out of his obvious love for birds and nature in general. The third and last time I saw Dr. Stott was at a dinner celebrating his 80th birthday. After dinner, there was a time where people could ask Dr. Stott questions and one person asked him what was the greatest revelation of his life--what a question--but, without hesitation, Dr. Stott smiled and said, "oh, that's easy, it was the smashing of the pyramid". Of course, no one knew what the pyramid was. But he continued, "you know, the pyramid that I was taught, that if you were a serious disciple of Jesus, you would show your serious commitment by becoming a foreign missionary; that was the top of the pyramid. But if you couldn't cut it at that level, then you became a preacher or pastor or some other 'full-time Christian' worker and you dropped down a level. And, if you couldn't cut it there, you moved on down the pyramid and became a doctor, or a teacher or social worker, someone in the 'helping professions'. But God help you if you were a banker or a journalist or lawyer. That was just the bottom rung, and definitely not a Godly thing to do. The best day for me was when that pyramid was smashed--leveled!" Wow, he really got it--all work is valuable and 'full-time' service for God! It just delighted me to hear him recount this at his age. I am forever grateful for these times in his presence and for the influence he was in my life.
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