Reviving the Old Dragonslayer
A Call to Infiltrate and Awaken the Church of England
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Many of the most passionate Christians I know, those with the spirit-filled zeal to be vibrant church members, are not in church. They have the heart, the fire, and the potential to transform any congregation, but can't find the right one, one that burns with uncompromised faith, alive in the Spirit, and rooted in truth.
This isn't just a minor issue dismissed as church hopping or petty complaining. It's a crisis in the body of Christ that demands our attention. It was a crisis for me until I found an unlikely answer.
The search for a home
These friends have visited sprawling megachurches and intimate fellowships, searching for a spiritual home. They find churches with slick branding, a casual non-committal vibe, and captivating preaching. The churches top Google searches with names like City Church, Life Church, or The Well. They're found in huge warehouse buildings tailored for the modern audience: no pictures, no stained glass - a modern take on puritanism.
They are complete with kids' play centres, smoke machines to mimic the Shekinah glory, and comfy seats that feel more like cinema than sanctuary. The preacher, coffee cup in hand, charismatically delivers his latest revelation.
All the slights above, they are actually done well, and people are coming in droves. These churches are often great at bringing in new believers, drawing crowds with their polished appeal, but they can lack in discipleship, leaving many Christians dissatisfied, unable to settle, their spirits restless for something deeper, something real.
Finding a place to pray
Meanwhile, elsewhere in English Christendom, church closures are rampant. Over 3,500 churches have closed across the UK in the last decade. As Psalm 74:3 laments, "Turn your steps toward these everlasting ruins, all this destruction the enemy has brought on the sanctuary" (NIV).
The Lord has always provided me spaces to pray, just as Jesus sought places of seclusion to commune with the Father. For me, these have often been prayer chapels, frequently Anglican, with open doors where I could walk in and sit (or pace around) with God.
On a recent weekend, I was in St Andrews, Ampthill, crying out to God in a decaying church. Moulded paint peeled from the walls, faded pictures hung neglected, dusty and forgotten. It’s likely a few years from closure, maybe destined to become swanky new apartments. My heart broke as I read the book of Ezra out loud in the sanctuary, reflecting on a house of God in ruins (I know, I know we believers are the house of God, and yet...).
Why do our churches struggle to hold fast to their identity?
Some estimates suggest around 200 churches in the UK have been converted into mosques over the past few decades. Unlike many modern churches, mosques remain steadfast in their traditions, resisting the allure of coffee clubs or cutting-edge tech. Their communities are rooted, growing, and unwavering.
I was raised Catholic and dreaded the 11 a.m. Sunday Mass, the longest hour of my week, every single week. The high liturgy was agony: devoid of a living relationship with Jesus. It fostered apathy among the congregants, who seemed to treat church attendance as a religious checkbox. At 15, when I reached my age of religious consent, I bolted from the church and ran headlong into the world, only to find myself ensnared in life's thorns.
But Jesus, in His mercy, drew me back (a story for another time). I discovered relational discipleship, not birth-certificate Christianity. I embraced the joy and freedom of the charismatic/Pentecostal wineskin, was baptised in the Holy Spirit, and I've never looked back.
I attended Bethel School of Supernatural Ministry, the epicentre of modern charismatic culture. I’m all about tongues, flags, wild meetings: I’m all about that. My home group meetings are vibrant, full of freedom, worship, and the Spirit's power.
Yet, there's a shadow in the charismatic world, a subtle Gnosticism that dismisses the physical and tangible.
Communion often takes a backseat, as if objects or traditions are inherently suspect in the new wineskin. I once shared with a friend about the beauty of a local historic church building, only for him to scoff, calling it a religious tomb and a dead wineskin, glad to see the back of both.
A generational thread
But are we throwing out the baby with the old wineskin bathwater? Jesus taught about new wineskins, and also honoured the temple. He taught and worshipped there, showing that the old holds sacred value when filled with His Spirit.
Recently, God called me to my local Church of England parish in Yorkshire, a divine appointment I couldn't ignore. I discovered it was the same church where my great-grandfather worshipped and was married.
There's power in that heritage, a thread of faith woven through generations.
Now I have sat through some boring CofE services. But there’s real treasure there as well, like the Book of Common Prayer - crafted over centuries, with prayers steeped in scripture.
Likewise, the UK's historic churches, built to glorify God, with stones that echo centuries of prayers and worship, calling the most secular passer-by to consider his divine destiny as he peers up towards these anomalies in our corporate skylines.
Staying on the narrow path
My church strives to be forward-thinking, adopting charismatic practices and openness to the Spirit, though it faces resistance from some older members and those swayed by progressive ideologies. The vicar is caught between a rock and a hard place, pioneering a new way, whilst navigating apathy and division. The Church of England desperately needs a Reformation 2.0 to awaken its sleeping bride, and I have a suspicion this might happen.
One of my church’s more “high” Anglican services was so traditional the congregants might snarl “The Pope? What? That old Protestant”?
I found the liturgy was beautiful, saturated with God's Word, and the ancient hymns carried weight, crafted over years, with care and revelation. Communion was held up, sacred and holy; the Word was spoken with reverence: “This is the word of the Lord!” The congregation responded, “Thanks be to God”!
All these have the makings of a moment with God, yet the people are often indifferent, deaf.
There was something different there, something heavier than the typical Coffee-cup, celebrity preacher's personal musings. The archdeacon’s sermon on Mary and Martha was convicting, urging us to focus on the one thing needed: Jesus.
There was an anointing on the man as he preached, unlike what I’ve seen in our newer churches. He had a weighty authority rooted in heritage, in lineage, an authority I don’t often see in charismatic circles.
Again, the congregation seemed largely indifferent, and I was undone by God's presence. Trembling.
But then this happened; I whispered to a fellow congregant, “The anointing is so powerful here today, but I don’t think they are open to it”. To my surprise, he then began weeping under the power of the Holy Spirit.
Preserving that which fulfils
That experience convicted me. I had long dismissed the Church of England as a compromised, woke institution, infiltrated by false doctrines. Many Pentecostals, myself included, have sneered at its apparent appeasement. Yet, in my Yorkshire community, I've noticed a trend: at least seven of my fiery, Spirit-filled friends have also found themselves in Anglican pews, bewildered. We're searching our cities for a church that's alive, but some have given up.
Heading into battle
Could it be that God is calling us as Special Forces to infiltrate these struggling churches?
Are you hearing His nudge? Are you dormant, waiting for a perfect church that may not exist? Could it be that Jesus loves His Anglican bride too much to let her fade? Could it be he doesn’t want to see another set of chiming Church bells give way to the Islamic adhan? Or turned into a Wetherspoons or a Carpetright or a law office?
With Gen Z's hunger for identity and meaning, a compromised corrupt establishment, and an invaded country, could Jesus be awakening the church of St George as a counterweight to churches that mimic the world?
Are you called to step into these sacred spaces, despite their flaws, to be the light in the midst of apathy and dodgy baby baptising doctrine? Are you strong enough to endure?
I think you are.
It’s time to revive the old, wield the sword of the Spirit, and fight for the bride of Christ!
Let the dragonslayer awake!
Public Domain image via Wikimedia Commons