There comes a time when preservation must yield to revelation. When the familiar containers — beautiful though they may be — can no longer carry the weight of what God is pouring out.
The Church of England, like many ancient institutions, holds deep wells of beauty: liturgy that sings of eternity, sacraments that shape the soul, rhythms of community that root us in something greater. But alongside that richness is a quiet ache — a hesitance. A fear of moving too fast, too far, or too freely.
It wants to be ready. You can feel it in the hunger for renewal, in the whispered prayers for revival, in the scattered embers glowing among communities of faith. But wanting is not the same as moving.
And the Spirit is on the move.
Between Joppa and the Gentiles
Peter didn’t plan to break the boundaries. He was faithful, observant, devout. Yet the vision came — unsettling, disruptive, divine. And while he was still puzzling it out, a knock came at the door. Cornelius had seen his own vision. The moment was ripe.
Peter had a choice. Stay in Joppa, where everything made sense — or walk into Caesarea, into the home of a Gentile, into a world unprepared for what the Spirit was about to do.
He walked. And the Church was changed forever.
A Church at the Crossroads
Is the Church today ready for its Cornelius moment? Or is it still in Joppa, praying for revival but resisting the vessels through which it might come?
There is a tension we cannot ignore:
- Preservation says, Let us maintain what we know.
- Prophecy says, Let us go where God is leading.
Too often, the Church fears disorder more than it trusts the Spirit. It fears controversy more than it honours Christ. It fears stepping into the unknown more than it fears missing the voice of God.
Policy becomes the fig leaf.
Correctness becomes the idol.
And all the while, the Spirit stands at the threshold, waiting for someone to say, Come in. We will follow.
What If the Church Cannot Go There… Yet?
Then maybe the ones who are not bound by institutional fear must go.
Maybe those outside the walls — but still deeply rooted in Christ — are the ones being called to go ahead.
To follow the whisper.
To see the vision.
To knock on the doors of modern-day Corneliuses and say: The Spirit sent me. Let’s begin.
There are those who can feel it — the pull, the presence, the possibility.
They are the ones who walk in the thin places.
Who hold silence as sacrament.
Who gather around fires, in chapels, in living rooms, in the quiet corners of digital space.
They are not waiting for permission. They are listening for Presence.
A Holy Interruption
“Who was I to hinder God?” Peter asked, as the shockwaves of that moment settled over Jerusalem.
It wasn’t a justification. It was awe.
He had seen God move outside the expected framework. He had witnessed the Spirit fall upon those who had not followed the rules, passed through the rites, or ticked the doctrinal boxes.
And he realised something that echoes down the ages: God does not wait for policy.
The Fire Outside the Camp
There is always a fire burning just beyond the edge of the structure.
It is wild. Holy. Untamed.
And there are people — prophets, healers, poets, soul-friends — who sit at its edge. Listening. Waiting. Preparing to walk when the Spirit says go.
These are the ones who may carry the next face of God’s ministry.
Not to replace the Church, but to expand the Kingdom.
Not to rebel, but to reveal.
Not to abandon, but to reawaken.
They are the quiet fire. The holy interruption. The living challenge.
And You?
If this stirs something in you — an ache, a knowing, a breath — perhaps you are one of them.
One who carries a vision that doesn’t quite fit.
One who burns with a love too wild to tame.
One who walks with the Spirit in places no map yet names.
You are not alone. And your path is not a mistake.
There are others — a movement, a whisper, a circle — who are walking this too.
And the Spirit is not done.
It only asks:
Will you go, even if the institution cannot?
Because sometimes, when the structure stalls, the Spirit stirs elsewhere.
And those who are listening…
They go.
They become the answer to the prayer the Church is not yet ready to pray.
And who are we to hinder God?
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