"Did the Devil Make the City?"

by
Dr. John Nicholls
Chief Executive of the London City Mission
Chair of the WRF Commission on Missions and Evangelism

"God made the country; man made the suburbs; but the Devil made the city!" So said an old man after hearing a talk on urban mission. As urban theologies go, it has its attractions – it’s simple, clear-cut, and seems to fit with the experience and prejudices of many Christians. But is it Biblical?

In the past twenty years there has been a marked surge of interest in urban ministry, urban evangelism, and the urban church. Major Evangelical missions agencies, which traditionally focused on rural and remote regions of Africa, Asia and South America, have increasingly turned their attention to the big cities of the third world – and the other two worlds. Urban Mission is no longer the specialist interest of fringe groups but, instead, has a prominent place on the Church’s agenda.

But what is so special about the "urban" that it would seem to qualify the missionary activity of Christ’s people? And how different is "urban mission" from other "mission"?

In addressing these questions I am conscious of my context. London is undeniably "urban". Once the largest city on earth, it remains a major metropolis of nearly 8 million residents. It is increasingly a global city, with astonishing ethnic, linguistic and cultural variety, at least a third of its population from minority ethnic groups, and some 30 million visitors entering and leaving it each year. In some ways London is very different from other UK cities (and, indeed, may have more in common with New York, Tokyo, and Los Angeles than with them). Yet most of the differences are matters of quantity and timing rather than quality. With the power of modern communications and the globalization of the economy, social and religious issues spread very rapidly from world-cities like London to regional cities and even on to towns and villages.

In terms of traditional theological definitions, Urban Mission would be a sub-division of Missiology, under the heading of Practical Theology. But that very categorization provides a pointer to why this topic has been so neglected and why it is such an urgent problem today, when at least half the world’s population now lives in cities. In this article, I shall look in turn at: The City in the Bible; The City as a Problem; The History of Urban Mission; and The City as a Challenge to our Theology.

I.  Cities in the Bible 

It was Cain who built the first recorded city (Gen 4:17), immediately highlighting the spiritual ambivalence of urban life as both a symptom of human rebellion against God and an expression of the wide-ranging mercy (common grace) that extends God’s protection even to a fratricide. After the first great judgment of the Flood, it is a city, Babel, that becomes the focus of that rebellion and the consequent longing for self-control and self-sufficiency (Gen 11:4). In the light of the final salvation-judgment, it is another city, the New Jerusalem, that becomes the ultimate expression of God’s saving mercy and grace, God’s alternative to Babel (Rev 21:2 – 22:5).

In between those two poles, as the Bible story unfolds, the city is encountered by the covenant mission-community in a variety of contexts. Although Israel remains throughout the O.T. period a predominantly rural, agricultural society, almost all the decisive events and encounters in her history are directly related to cities:

Jerusalem is, of course, the city – the centre around which Israel’s whole theocratic life revolves (Psa 122), the only refuge when faced with hostile invasion (2 Kings 18), the location of the only place of acceptable sacrifice (John 4: 19-22), the dwelling-place of Jehovah (Psa 68: 6). Besides Jerusalem, there are no other cities of note in Israel. (Samaria is an upstart product of rebellion against the house of David.)

All other significant cities in the O.T. are outside Israel. Tyre is, in one way, the most positive, for its king provides valuable aid to Solomon in building the Temple (1 Kings 5). But Tyre, along with all the great cities of human power, is doomed to destruction (Ezek 26: 1-6). The enormous cities of Mesopotamia feature as objects of moral opprobrium and fear (Nahum 3; Jer 50), condemned alongside Tyre. But Nineveh also features as the goal of Jonah’s surprising and successful mission. And the exiled Jews are commanded to pray for the prosperity of Babylon (Jer 29:7). The apparent contradictions in these perspectives in fact reflect the dual nature of non-Israelite cities in the O.T. era: on the one hand they are the centres of hostile nations, ever threatening to overwhelm the chosen people militarily or culturally. On the other hand, they are the "heads" (Isaiah 7: 8f) of the very "peoples" for whose ultimate salvation Abraham was called and Israel was designated a "priestly kingdom". The judgments on them reflect God’s righteous protection of his own; the blessings tasted by them are a foretaste of the ultimate redemption. So it is altogether appropriate that it is in Babylon, the mightiest of all the empire-cities, that Jehovah demonstrates that his miraculous power is not restricted to the land of Israel. Precisely there, God will prosper his people and humble their enemies (Daniel 1-5).

In the New Testament, as the Christian Church takes up its post-Pentecost task of mission, the same city-centred theme emerges. Damascus, Antioch, Philippi, Thessalonica, Athens, Corinth, Ephesus and Rome - Paul’s missionary travels amount to a tour of the major cities of the eastern Roman empire. Nor is the itinerary accidental – at key points it is directed by supernatural intervention (Acts 16:10; 18:9,10; 27:24). Along the way, Paul encounters the many faces of the big city - trading centre and cultural melting-pot (Antioch), centre of learning and philosophy (Athens), the place where traditional morality is challenged and dissolved (Corinth), the seat of religions that dominate culture and economy (Ephesus), the centre of power and worldwide influence (Rome). In all of them the gospel is effective. The N.T. church is portrayed as a primarily urban phenomenon.

It is worthwhile to go back for a moment to the dawn of Paul’s career as a Christian and to note carefully that he who was to become such a city-centred missionary was himself converted en route to the largest city of central Syria/Palestine. Why did Saul the persecutor not go to Capernaum and its surrounding villages in order to root out "the Way"? The most likely answer is that he recognised that refugees gravitate to big cities, where they are more likely to find familiar contacts and relatives, and where they will have more opportunities to exercise trade and manufacturing skills while enjoying a degree of anonymity. At the same time, big cities are cosmopolitan, centres of influence and communication, political, military and economic cross-roads which spread news, wealth and ideas far beyond their walls. Saul the Pharisee probably recognized that a new religion established in Damascus posed a greater threat to contemporary world-wide Judaism than any number of believers scattered through the villages of Galilee. Paul the Christian worked on the same principle from a new perspective. Ministering in one city gave immediate contacts to other cities, as merchants, officials and migrants were converted. Gospel success in Thessalonica rapidly became the talk of the whole province of Achaia (1 Thess 1:8). And Rome, the ultimate city, became the final goal of Paul’s ministry (Rom 1:13-15), his preaching there, even as a prisoner, bringing the gospel to the ends of the earth (cf Acts 1:8), since "all roads lead to (and from) Rome".

Summing up, cities in the Bible are frequently seen as the encapsulating and controlling centres of a nation’s life, as places where hostility to God’s purpose and evil in all its forms are concentrated, and also as places full of people made in God’s image for whom the God of Abraham has a saving purpose. They are places where believers can settle and multiply, and from which the gospel can spread along "natural" routes to other cities and their hinterland. Far from city life being essentially evil, the Bible reveals that believers are destined to spend the rest of their days in an enormous city!

2. The City as a Problem

In the Western World, however, there has often been a revulsion against cities. If people are at all prosperous, their ambition is to move out of the inner city, first to the suburbs, then, ideally, to a country village or small town. Over the past 100 years or so, this has been very marked in London, with the "suburbanisation" of an increasing proportion of the population. (Or at least until very recently, when there has been something of a move back into the inner city by young professionals, buying waterside apartments. But such people commonly also own a country cottage or leave the city for frequent weekend breaks.)

Christians and Churches have shared in this "migration" - the inner city is typically full of large, Victorian church-buildings which are now converted into apartments, used as carpet warehouses, turned into mosques, or standing derelict. In contrast, suburban churches have flourished. In the suburbs, and in newer, dormitory towns around the periphery of our cities, there is a Bible-belt of wealthy churches. The result of this process is the modern "inner-city" - an area which is unattractive to all and neglected by Christian ministry in general, where churches lack local leadership and struggle for funds. Into this inner-city have come sizable immigrant communities, increasing the sense of "differentness" and alienation felt by the native population.

A stream of sociological and statistical analyses has shed some light on how and why our cities became such a problem. Politicians have launched many initiatives to tackle it, usually by allocating vast sums of money. Fashions have come and gone – high-rise housing, traffic-calming measures, community policing, comprehensive schools, multi-culturalism. In times of comparative economic prosperity some progress is evident, but there seems to be a reservoir of new problems which emerge just as old ones are fading. And the abuse of drugs, the decline of traditional family life, and the consistently higher levels of unemployment, illness, and illiteracy provide a bass note of harsh reality to any politician’s optimistic songs. The inner city is diverse and ever-changing; its people are poorer; it contains so many lonely, neglected and hurting people.

We must, however, remember that not all the city is impoverished in the same way. Other parts are financially prosperous, with all the trappings of a comfortable and assertive society. The church has been somewhat more effective in reaching out to professionals than it has been in going to the poor. In many cities there are excellent examples of churches and ministries that proclaim the gospel in ways relevant to the middle classes. Some are going further and encouraging their members to use their skills and energy in the service of the gospel and the whole city. But the presence of several large city-centre churches must not blind us to the stark reality that over 90% of the population of our British cities does not attend church. The prosperous parts of our urban communities are as full of hurting, lonely, driven people as are the UPAs (Urban Priority Areas). Rich or poor, sophisticated or ugly, our cities are largely godless.

Yet Christians who live or work within them find that cities are exciting, places of surprising influence and networks, contexts where people can be unexpectedly accessible, and places where remarkable things happen as God transforms lives. In this, the practice of urban ministry ties in with the eschatological role of the city. But, all too often, the Christian church has failed to respond positively and eagerly to the modern city.

III.  The History of Urban Missions 

The Roman Empire was the empire of a city and an empire of cities. If "all roads led to Rome", the Romans also developed or founded many other cities: Alexandria, Carthage, Milan, Byzantium, Antioch, London. The Early Church was a city-based organisation. The word "pagan" meant "one who lives in the countryside". The decline and fall of the Empire was also the decline and abandonment of cities. Depopulation by war and plague spelt the end of "civilisation" ("city-isation"), and the remaining/new population reverted to non-urban living. Rome itself was largely ruined and deserted. In most of Europe, the Church's missionary outreach during and after "The Dark Ages" was to rural, agrarian tribes, rather than to any sizable cities.

During that period, the only large and effectively-functioning cities were found in the Eastern Empire (Constantinople, Thessalonica, Antioch, Alexandria). Following the Islamic conquests, Baghdad, Cairo and Damascus became centres of political power, learning and science, but little attempt was made by the contemporary Church to reach these Muslim cities. In the west, it was only after the Renaissance that urban concerns again began to be a part of the church's work. Although cities were still comparatively small, and constituted a minority of the population, movements such as the Lutheran Reformation in Germany and Puritanism in England were predominantly urban in character, and the work of Calvin in Geneva and Richard Baxter in Kidderminster provided forceful models of ministry to an entire urban community. Yet the emergence of a specifically urban focus to ministry and mission had to await the nineteenth century when the dramatic growth of (initially) British cities made the issue inescapable.

It was in Scotland in the first half of that century that one of the most active and considered "schools" of urban mission developed around the remarkable personality and ministry of Thomas Chalmers (1780-1847). Chalmers became minister of the Tron parish in Glasgow in 1815. For four years he carried out a thorough investigative visitation of the population of his rapidly-growing parish and developed a theory of urban ministry from the results. In 1819 he tested it by an innovative church-planting experiment in a new parish, St. John’s, carved out of the old Tron parish. Chalmers described all this in voluminous writings, reports and lectures, and inspired a host of followers and imitators throughout Britain. Chalmers was one of the most famous and popular of all preachers, yet his basic mission strategy involved visitation by elders and deacons to address spiritual and physical poverty. Behind it lay a negative appraisal of the traditional Presbyterian response to new centres of population, as can be seen in the following quotations from Thomas Chalmers:

 "The mere building and opening of a new church will not attract the masses. The glare of publicity and an eloquent preacher may draw a crowd, but it will be from those pre-disposed to Christianity – and they will be a mixed crowd, not a local congregation. There is no portion of what may be called the "outfield population" that will be reclaimed by it. And little do they know of this department of human experience, who think that it is in the mere strength of attractive preaching, that this is to be done."

"We know of no expedient by which this woeful degeneracy can be arrested…, but by an actual search and entry upon the territory of wickedness. A mere signal of invitation is not enough. Instead of holding forth (our) signals (of invitation) to those who are awake, we knock at the doors of those who are most profoundly asleep."

"District Visitation Societies" and "City Missions" were started in towns and cities by people seeking to emulate Chalmers’ success in Glasgow. By the 1850s there were more than six hundred and fifty City and Town Missions in Britain whose basic approach was the same systematic visitation with spiritual and practical concern. But it was in Scotland, and largely among those who followed Chalmers into the Free Church in 1843, that he found the most enthusiastic and assertive following. Chalmers’ reputation has been dominated by his involvement in the 1843 Disruption and by his strong interest in the administration of financial relief to the poor.

But it can be convincingly argued that both of these were strictly secondary to his desire to reach the newly urbanized masses of the towns and cities of Britain. The traditional role of ministers in administering Poor Relief schemes was seen as an obstacle to their work of evangelism. Even the founding of the Evangelical Alliance in 1845 was viewed by Chalmers as primarily an attempt to maximize and co-ordinate urban church-planting. The students and followers of Chalmers have shared his fate, being remembered more for ecclesiastical matters than for their main life’s work of urban ministry among the poor:

To name but the more famous, Robert Murray M’Cheyne was first and last an urban church-planter in Dundee, Robert Buchanan and Alexander Moody-Stuart were serial church-planters in the inner cities of Glasgow and Edinburgh, and James Begg was as famous in his life-time for advocating and providing better housing for the working-classes and for opening Princes Street Gardens for their leisure activities as for any ecclesiastical conflicts. Thomas Guthrie rivaled Chalmers as a practitioner and advocate of urban evangelism, caring ministry to the poor (especially in the provision of Ragged Schools), and social and political action to address the problems of the city. The lives, work and writings of this group of men merit far more attention than they have yet received. They probably remain the most practical, effective and coherent group of urban theologians that the Reformed/evangelical churches have yet produced.

Within the evangelical churches the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries saw many individuals and groups involved in urban ministry, especially in the Salvation Army and the university settlements, as well as countless parish ministries and non-conformist chapels and mission halls. C.H. Spurgeon, for example, was not only a famous preacher but also (recognizing that his congregation was middle-class rather than working-class) an eager practitioner of outreach to and diaconal ministries for the poor. From his earliest days in London his congregations paid for City Missionaries to visit the district around the church, and raised funds for orphans, widows and the destitute. However, the Evangelical withdrawal from social involvement, coinciding with the flight to the suburbs, contributed to a widespread neglect of ministry to the poorest and neediest areas of the city. While Britain has not yet had a chronicler of this period to parallel Harvie Conn’s "The American City and the Evangelical Church", it is evident that by the 1960s Evangelicalism was little different from the general Christian church in being predominantly middle-class and suburban in its culture.

Two main causes can be identified which led to a marked change in attitude from about 1980 onwards. One was the rapid urbanization of the population of the third world. Many cities in China (e.g. Shanghai), Africa (e.g. Lagos), Latin America (e.g. Mexico City and Lima), and South-East Asia, were now surrounded by vast shanty-towns as migrant workers began moving to the cities from the countryside and improvements in healthcare led to larger families and increased longevity. Faced with cities now dwarfing the traditional Western big cities such as London and New York, some Western missionaries recognized the need for a re-direction of missionary effort away from the remotest areas (where Evangelical missions have tended to concentrate) towards the cities. Among them were two Americans - Harvie Conn, an Orthodox Presbyterian missionary in South Korea and Roger Greenway, a Christian Reformed missionary in Sri Lanka. They both began writing on urban mission and eventually came together in a fruitful period at Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia. Westminster’s link with CUTS (Centre for Urban Theological Study) and the Seminary’s Urban Mission courses and Urban Mission Journal have played a key role in the developing movement.

The second cause of a new interest and urgency in urban mission was the urban violence of the 1980s in Europe and America. There had been serious outbreaks in the States in the 1960s, but the 1980s events in London, Liverpool and elsewhere showed that this was not a localized or isolated phenomenon. Something was seriously wrong in the inner cities of the western world, and Christians (as well as politicians and police) recognized the need for serious thought and action. The Church of England’s response that led to "Faith in the City" (1985) has already been mentioned, and became notorious because of the ensuing conflict between Prime Minister Thatcher and various bishops and archbishops. In evangelical circles there was a quieter but no less definite response. Books began to be published with "Urban" in their titles – one of the earliest being "Urban Harvest" (1982) by Roy Joslin, a faithful and thoughtful practitioner of inner-city evangelism and pastoral ministry in Walworth, south London. More influential was "The Urban Christian" (1987) by Chicago-based pastor Ray Bakke, detailing his experience of 20 years’ ministry in the inner-city. And the flow of "urban" titles has not ceased.

Three other factors have fed this Evangelical interest in ministry to the poorer parts of the city. One is the emergence of the "new churches" stemming from the Charismatic Movement. Some of them, such as the Ichthus churches in south London, have concentrated on the inner city, experimenting with new forms of church life and organization. The second factor is the amazing growth in the number of immigrant churches, which by their very nature tend to be found in the poorer parts of western cities. Christians from Africa and Latin America have brought new cultures and styles of worship, much of it in the Pentecostal tradition, into the church-life of British and American cities. Their vitality is already affecting the statistics of church attendance – inner London, for instance, is one of the few areas of the UK to show an increase in the latest survey, due almost entirely to the immigrant and ethnic-minority churches. The third factor contributing to an interest in urban ministry has been the "rediscovery" of the inner city by the (predominantly) middle-class church. Changing patterns of business and property development have led to many professionals living and working in areas such as the London Docklands that were previously "off the map". Some Christians among them are involved in the growth of the "new churches", while others are linked with the large, traditional city-centre churches, several of which are now developing church-planting ministries in formerly working-class districts.

All of this has placed urban mission on the evangelical church’s agenda in a way that it has not been for over a century. There has been much new activity, a plethora of conferences, and a host of new terminology. But that is not necessarily to say that a wise and appropriate new theology of urban mission has been developed. 

4. The City as a challenge to our theology

 If the city is so central to human society, and so prominent in the unfolding story of the Bible, then it demands to have a crucial role in our theology. In the city the whole of our theology is constantly needed and tested, in a way that it is not in the quieter, mono-cultural settings of rural and small-town churches. In the city, daily encounters with cults and other religions such as Islam and Hinduism not only require an explanation of our doctrine of the Trinity but also a clear grasp of the personality and otherness of God. These truths may be assumed but unmentioned basics of our churches’ lives, but they are on the daily agenda of urban evangelists.

In the field of ethics, too, the city demands constant and deep thinking. The complexity of the consequences of the fall and the "cross-fertilisation" of sin that takes place in crowded urban areas demand the sort of detailed and careful theologizing that Paul displays in 1 Corinthians (a letter to urban converts, addressing the ethical and religious assumptions and distortions they have brought with them).

And, in the city, the implications of the Incarnation become urgently relevant, as the church struggles to evangelise by word and deeds without compromise.

In our western tradition the study of theology has largely been an "ivory tower" pursuit, carried on by those with academic rather than ministerial ability. To term someone an "evangelist" frequently implies that they are less gifted intellectually, and in any case would have little interest in theology. Were our theological colleges to move back into the city, in spirit as well as geographically, with their teachers engaging in street-level ministry between lectures, would there not be a marked change in the atmosphere and emphasis of their classes? And would there not, also, be a marked improvement in much inner-city ministry? Too often, the gulf between theology and evangelism has meant that those who practice mission in the city cannot provide the quality of ministry that their situation demands. If it is to go to the heart of our modern world, our theology needs to be urban in its setting and its mind-set. Its supreme task is to express the gospel clearly, relevantly and uncompromisingly to this diverse, sophisticated and lost community. Urban mission is not a minor sub-section of theology’s agenda, but the central purpose of all theology.

Because so much of the city is deprived and damaged, urban mission requires a James-like ministry of words and deeds. Because the deprivation and damage are deep and complex, urban mission is very likely to bring about confrontations between the church and the various levels of the state. Deprived urban areas are almost totally dependent upon government (local or national) funding, so issues of social justice and "political correctness" inevitably arise. In Britain we have had little recent experience of conflict in such areas, and we must relearn the lessons of Jesus’ own encounter with both the Sadducees and the Zealots, a tension between collaboration and rebellion that runs strongly through the accounts of his ministry.

Urban mission demands clear thinking about the nature of the church. Should it be a "local" church, or a church "gathered" from those who will choose to travel to its ministries? Recent American teaching in the "Church Growth" tradition disparages the local church, in an age when people drive to their favourite superstore, commute long distances to work, and have little involvement in a local community. But if the church is to be a "city set on a hill" within the earthly city, does this not imply a strong community-within-the-community dimension to the church’s life? The most effective inner-city churches are "walking churches" – where the bulk of the congregation arrives on foot. Urban life challenges, too, our traditional church schedules and use of buildings. "A Mission-shaped Church" may be the latest slogan, but it ought to be a truism of every church.

Again, urban mission raises the issue of the church’s ethnic and cultural identity. Much modern evangelism (whether or not it acknowledges the so-called "Homogeneous Unit Principle") has targeted one particular ethnic or social group, gearing the whole life of the church to them. This produces a series of distinct mono-cultural churches. The accepted wisdom is that such churches are easier to plant, and grow more quickly. But it is difficult to equate this approach with the New Testament, where the church glories in containing Jew and Gentile, Greek and barbarian, slave and free. In a world where ethnic and social divisions are rampant, the urban church has a unique opportunity to demonstrate the transforming power of a gospel that is for "all the peoples". After all, it was in the large city of Antioch that the term "Christian" was coined, precisely because the converts there were drawn from different ethnic and religious backgrounds and contemporary society had no way of categorizing people whose religion crossed so many barriers. Acts 15 shows that such multi-ethnic churches have to face difficult practical problems – but that is what theology is for!

Urban ministry raises a further question of ecclesiology: faced with the enormous challenge of the unreached urban populations, evangelical churches must either co-operate or else be swamped by the scale of the task. Chalmers and Guthrie recognized this, even in the smaller-scale situations of the nineteenth century. They called for the different denominations to recognize each other’s responsibility for particular neighbourhoods of the city, rather than to continue viewing themselves as the only true church. Facing the anticipated objection that this would encourage the spread of what some would regard as "error and false theology", Chalmers wrote, "Where is the man, and what is his denomination, who can hold up his face to the declaration, that he would rather have the millions of our hitherto neglected population not to be Christians at all, than to be Christians minus their (own) peculiarity?" (Chalmers, "On the Evangelical Alliance," 1846, p 51). With denominations and splinter-groups continuing to multiply, Chalmers’ challenge is uncomfortably relevant today.

Because it encounters such an enormous range of people, cultures and religious opinions, urban mission inevitably has to question the stereotypes of conversion and discipleship that have developed in traditional evangelicalism. It is, of course, true that the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit is essential, that salvation is by grace through faith, and that holiness of life is the goal of salvation. But conversions of Zoroastrians, for example, will involve a lot more ground-clearing instruction than was necessary for Saul of Tarsus. People steeped in the non-Christian values and mores of deprived or immigrant communities require a syllabus of ethical re-education akin to that which Paul provided for the Corinthians. It may well be a long time before they develop the outward appearance of "ordinary Christians" (cf. C S Lewis’ essay on "Nice People or New Creatures?"). Certainly, they will need re-training in truly Gospel patterns and principles of family-life, self-awareness, and Christian service. The urban church cannot make the comfortable assumption that its converts already possess a reasonable knowledge of Scripture and clear models of how Christians should live.

Finally, urban life demands a full-orbed Trinitarianism – not just an intellectual defence of the doctrine. If the New Jerusalem is God’s ultimate answer to the needs of fallen humanity, then the urban church is called to model all the richness of God’s present grace in the Babel-cities of our generation. We need to proclaim by word and example that Christianity is the only way into the vibrant glory-fellowship of our God who is "not just a Me but an Us". We need to be amazed and excited by the grace of our eternally-delighting Father who "gave" His unique, eternal Son to suffer and die for our salvation. We need to have the fullest appreciation of the joy and privilege of being members of the Trinity’s own family, united to Christ, enjoying sonship with the Father, and sustained by the indwelling Spirit. This communal, Trinitarian faith is the perfect remedy for the loneliness and meaningless of the isolated city-dweller. It is a joyful, re-creative faith that restores the image of God and challenges the ugliness and barrenness of the inner-city. It is a deeply serious faith, not peddling a quick-fix, but going to the root of all the city’s troubles and proclaiming a genuine, perfect resurrection-solution.

Faced with Babel, the church of Jesus Christ is in a unique position to challenge, to console, to heal and to restore. Possessing this truth, how can the church possibly avoid her urban mission? 

[NOTE: An earlier version of this article appeared in the Reformed Theological Journal of the Reformed Presbyterian Church of Northern Ireland, in 2004.]