The Complex Christ - a late (ahem) review

More than a year after it was published, and nearly a month after I bought a copy from Jonny for a bargain £2 (!), I’m still only about two thirds of the way through Kester Brewin's The Complex Christ. And it’s not for lack of time either - I’m just unashamedly trying to eek it out. It’s one of the most affirming books about church and faith that I’ve read, really connecting with where I’m at in the here and now. So, I’m simply trying to make it last, not rush it, not finish it too soon…* Thanks Kester, for this provocative, thoughtful work – I’m looking forward to eeking it out for another couple of weeks yet if I can.

At the weekend, I experienced a brilliant example of one of Kester’s most memorable points – the local maximum. Using the analogy of a mountain range, the local maximum is the highest peak you’ve climbed thus far. When we’re at a local maximum, it feels like the be-all-and-end-all – and as Christians and churches we quite often get stuck where we think we are the ‘highest’ we can be. The point is that to really progress onwards and upwards, we need to retreat to the valleys and strike out for another higher peak. (Read the book – honestly he’s so much better at explaining it, and of course it gets more than a cursory sentence or two.)

And I don’t think you get much better example of a local maximum in hill-walking than approaching Scafell Pike, the highest point in England.** Giving a pint of blood 48 hours before is not a recommended preparation strategy however, and at a couple of points, I thought I’d give up, let M do the rest solo, and be happy with the climb I had done – over Rossett Pike from the valley of Great Langdale. From the relative valley of Esk Hause after Rossett Pike, Great End looks pretty blooming big too – which is why it was an easy mistake to make in my bloodless euphoria to think that I was close to Scafell Pike. How far (wrong) I was.

The point is that it’s so closely surrounded by other high peaks, it’s practically invisible from anywhere in the locality. It was a simultaneously wonderful, humbling and truly awful moment to only be able to glimpse the real summit of Scafell Pike from as little as a few hundred metres away… right – up – there. A perfect example of ascending the local maximum of Rossett Pike at the end of the Langdale valley, heading down again into the valley of Esk Hause, and striking out again (not once, but twice) for Scafell Pike itself.

Thanks again for the book and your thoughts, Kester. And here’s to the rest of the journey - onwards and upwards…


[*TANGENT 1. In fact, I can count the number of ‘Christian’/ theological/ faith-related books that I have read on two hands, so it’s either that this one is so good I’ve stuck with it, or that I’ve read nothing better to compare it to ;-) …or that generally Douglas Coupland, David Mitchell, and John Irving have as much, if not more, to say to me about faith/ life/ stuff. Having said that, I’ve recently revelled in reading Donovan’s 'Christianity Rediscovered' and am hoping to attempt Farrar Capon’s 'Kingdom, Judgment, Grace' pretty soon too…]

[** TANGENT 2. One of the main ways that it beats Snowdon is that there’s no crappy café at the top. I’ve not yet climbed Ben Nevis so can’t comment on it – but we're hoping to try it in a fortnight when we’re on hols in Glen Coe before heading Skye-wards.]