 
# The

# Trinity - Fortune

# Affair

### An account of the negotiations between Trinity Methodist Church and Fortune Theatre, Dunedin, December 1977.

### Dave Mullan

ColCom Press

28/101 Red Beach Road,

Hibiscus Coast, Aotearoa-New Zealand 0932

colcom.press@clear.net.nz

http://www.colcompress.com

http://dave-mullan.blogspot.co.nz

ISBN 978-1-877357-21-3

Copyright 2015 Dave Mullan

Smashwords Edition

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com or your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

# Table of Contents

### Introduction

### PART I: THE CAST

1—The Minister:

2—The Central Mission:

3—The Dunedin Methodist Churches:

### PART II: THE DRAMA

4.—Prelude

5.—First Thoughts

6.—Problems! Problems!

7.—A Bleak Christmas

8.—A New Beginning

### PART III: THE REVIEW

9.—The Decision

10.—Other Learnings

Not for everyone

The Essential Ingredient

The Place of Property

Small is Good

Church and News Media

Death and Resurrection

Pain

Acted Parables

The Place of Preaching

Shared Pastoring

Summary

Postscript

About the Author

Dave's other books on church and ministry

Dave's other general books

# Introduction

In 1966 the congregation and trustees of Dunedin's Trinity Methodist Church completed major renovations of their building. The structure was strengthened and waterproofed, the former Central Mission organ was enlarged and overhauled and neatly installed, and the whole of the interior was renewed from the stonework out. The nave was narrowed to form new vestries and ancillary rooms. Completely new furniture was commissioned to match the light rimu of the newly panelled walls and the fine sanctuary screen.

The total cost was about $58,000 and the result was an attractive worship centre of dignity and beauty. Although the original sloping floor had been retained and the new pews were of necessity firmly screwed down in permanent positions the alterations commended themselves to all who knew the building previously.

Less than twelve years later the fine pews were removed, the organ sold for parts, the paneling smashed apart and the whole interior was gutted once more. In fact, a debt of several thousand dollars was still owing on the 1966 renovations when the mother church of Otago Methodism stood once more an empty shell.

History may judge the Trinity people harshly but they are used to that. The congregation's first home was badly designed and was wrecked by gales within one month of its opening in 1862. Trinity, which replaced it, was built on an ambitious scale but took over thirty years to pay for. Other property transactions prompted criticism for bad judgment and short-sighted policies.

Some people in 1977 claimed to see the same deficiencies of purpose and vision in the actions of that year. They were making premature judgments. Even writing now in 1981 it is much too soon to pronounce with any certainty on the rights and wrongs of the events of Trinity in December 1977. It is still too soon to evaluate the factors which brought about the significant shift of policy in the people who were responsible for the life of Trinity congregation and for the fabric of its buildings at the time. This will be the work of those who can write from the benefit of hindsight. Their motives may be a little clearer than those of the people who were directly involved in the decisions which were so important and which had to be made under such pressure of time.

Nevertheless, historians sometimes lack adequate contemporary records on which to base their views. So, during the tumultuous events of December 1977 the writer made careful notes of the events day by day. A couple of months later he wrote up an initial draft of the elements of the story. It turned out to be of a much more personal character than had been envisaged. It offered some intimate observations of one who was unexpectedly thrust into the heart of the situation, and its very intimacy seemed to dictate that it should remain a private document.

However, three years later, after a great deal of misunderstanding about what happened, it has been unearthed. It is now offered to the friends who made those incredible decisions. For it is their story. For them it deserves to be told.

To them it is affectionately dedicated.

Dave Mullan, Dunedin.

August 1981.

# Part I

# The Cast

# 1

# The Minister

Backdrop to Dunedin

Inevitably, the Trinity Church closure of December 1977 will come to be associated with the name of the minister of the time. If Isaac Harding's name goes with the hard and discouraging work involved in the establishment of the ill-fated Bell Hill church in the 1860s, Dave Mullan's will tend to link Trinity and Fortune Theatre in the minds of church historians to come.

The year 1977 marked the 18th year of my ministry. I had offered as a candidate in 1956 from the background of two years in the bush. Certainly I had the significant advantage of deep involvement in a very lively congregation for the whole of my life prior to joining the Forest Service. But, for me, the ministerial vocation arose out of the latter rather than the former so I have never had a profound commitment to many of the Church's traditional expectations.

At the same time I could never quite lay aside the Church's normal life and, in fact, had become quite heavily involved in it at a large number of points. So, in a period in which many ministers found much difficulty in staying in the service of the Church I felt that changes would be brought about from the inside rather than from outside. I remained in a state of mild tension but I remained.

The result was that most of my convictions were under some form of strain. I disliked most of the structure of the local church. I had the gravest, misgivings about the role of trained ministry. I worried about the church's stewardship of vast properties in a hungry world. And I was always personally vulnerable to any criticism of the financial and theological justification for much of that which I was required to do as part of my job.

A significant interest in experimental worship became coupled with the desire to link such experiments into the everyday life of the Christian congregation. Extensive reading in the area of the church and its ministry led me to judge the activities of the present day church by such standards as I could find in the New Testament. This can be an easy way out of grappling with the present reality, of course, but it didn't make the parish role any easier to perform.

Appointed to Taumarunui in 1969 I had to wrestle more than ever with the role and relevance of stipendiary ministry. Whereas my previous congregation had seen less of me in a situation where heavy extra-mural demands took up about two-thirds of my working time, the new appointment offered only a modest sized pastorate. It became a significant challenge for me to identify the essential and vital elements of professional ministry in ways which made the most of lively and imaginative lay leadership.

Here was the problem: there seemed to be plenty of lay people capable of doing almost every task that ordained ministry might perform. Yet the economics of the situation might well suggest that the role of the laity should be to raise the funds so that the minister could continue to do the work of ministry. Even in those days the real cost of stipendiary ministry was raising dramatically and the people were becoming more and more preoccupied with raising the budget.

Further, in this small congregation, where communication was effective, the structures of Leaders' and Quarterly Meetings seemed cumbersome and unnecessary. In a town with many social needs the small core of Christian leaders seemed to devote an appalling amount of energy to maintaining the shape of their little denominational projects and their ministers were expected to conspire in what I saw to be a squandering of expensive resources.

Considerable personal investigation into methodology and criteria for ministerial selection led me into looking at the ministerial profession from a theoretical as well as a purely practical standpoint. I came out in favor of a much reduced role for ordained ministers and more than once offered the opinion—rashly, no doubt—that all the Methodist communities of the central North Island area could be served by one full-time minister with a plane! (it may be superfluous to note that a spare-time activity taken up at Taumarunui was the gaining of a Private Pilot License...) I envisaged the appointment of local para-ministers in every community, no matter how small.

Anyway, interminable discussions with visitors to the Taumarunui parsonage shaped up a vision of the local congregation of the future. It would sustain all the essential elements for adequate worship and witness on the barest minimum of ordained ministry. It would become more vigorous and outreaching. It would be more active and participatory. It would be transformed.

It is perhaps of interest to note that the fulfilment of much of this dream came about not only in Dunedin some years later. It happened in Taumarunui almost immediately after I left. My successor, Ashley Corlett, served one full-time year in that circuit. He then obtained a position as a Probation Officer with the Justice Department while continuing as a part-time unpaid minister in the circuit. The people experienced some relief from the pressures of "viability" for full-time ministry and the parish developed in some interesting ways. For some years it provided a significant model for the Connexion to evaluate the advantages and disadvantages of the concept.

Developing Thinking

When A. Everil Orr of the Auckland Central Mission was coming up to retirement the Connexion took the necessary steps to designate his replacement. Bruce Gordon of the Dunedin Mission accepted an invitation and it was proving difficult to find a replacement him in Dunedin. The Otago-Southland District shared its difficulty with a meeting of District Chairmen and my name was offered by my own chairman. A tentative proposal had been shaped up for a joint transfer in 1973 when Mr Orr's sudden death made it desirable to simply advance both moves by a year. So I found myself thrust quickly into a totally unfamiliar part of New Zealand Methodism in February 1972.

I accepted the new task with a mixture of eager anticipation and very real trepidation. For a small-church minister (which I was, and, I think, always have been) it was a very large job. For a somewhat non-traditional minister it could turn out to be a devastating challenge.

There would be some very different opportunities in this appointment. It would seem likely to take up a number of my particular aptitudes in administration. There would also be a firm link with a worshipping congregation. There would be some involvement in the life of a parish community. Certainly my primary role would be administrative and the associate minister, Stan West, would become responsible for the life of the congregation. There was, none the less, a balance of activities that I found satisfying.

The first term of six years provided much confirmation of intuitive convictions gained in earlier circuit work. It was good not to be on the "payroll" of a local congregation and yet to have some significant involvement in its life and witness. There were opportunities for experimenting with new forms of worship within traditional settings and times. There was also ample opportunity for maintaining what I considered to be a fundamental link between worship and service, between declaration of the word and the administration of the church's caring work of social service.

My interest in more relevant (a question-begging word if ever there were one!) worship led me to persuade my Board of Management that the Mission might have a role in this area. During Lent of 1974 a small ecumenical group met for breakfast and devotions each Wednesday. The programme became known as Ecclesia and was repeated during the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity and again at Advent. In subsequent years further short series were added from time to time. By 1980 ten or twelve such breakfasts were being held each year. Under Shirley Ungemuth's leadership, the programme continued for a quarter of a century. The close relationship of the celebration to the daily workplace was significant for many. The carefully prepared devotionals, almost always involving some element of individual participation, seemed to be much appreciated. Furthermore, many members of the group contributed leadership to the sessions.

On a couple of occasions Ecclesia spilled over into Sunday evenings. At a time when only one Methodist evening service was held in the region it seemed appropriate to offer an alternative. Donald Phillipps, a Methodist appointment to an ecumenical university chaplaincy, assisted in a series of six evenings of "Worship in Community". These highly participatory programmers included simulation games and a variety of activities in celebrations that were very well received.

These and other experiments in worship confirmed my intuitions that the church's attempts to make worship more "relevant" by adding pop music and dancing to the existing Sunday formula were likely to be ultimately frustrating for all concerned. This would be, I considered, especially likely if the setting for worship remained unchanged.

In short, it seemed obvious to me that, sooner or later, there would need to be some kind of division between those who wanted a more or less conservative and traditional celebration of a rather passive mode and those for whom Christian worship was above all a matter of involvement and meaning and active sharing.

This conclusion did not come easily. I had been a small-church minister in every situation before this and had always deplored any attempt to divide up the congregation. However, the response to the Ecclesia programmers left me with no other conclusion. I judged that what we were doing in these events would be unacceptable to many ordinary Trinity Sunday morning people—wrongly as it turned out. Certainly what most did on Sunday then was of lesser interest to many who responded to the Ecclesia style of programme.

I continued in the "auxiliary" minister role at Trinity with a growing sense of frustration and unease. In 1975 this situation changed. The various circuits of Dunedin Methodism were planning to come together to form a single organisation for the entire city. Trinity Church was lifted out of its intimate relationship with the Mission and handed over to the new circuit. Its ministry team was divided up so that the pastorate minister joined the new circuit and financial responsibility for the Superintendent devolved totally on to the Mission's social service administration. I was to continue to be a regular preacher in Trinity Church but all responsibility for the congregation's life and witness passed to the new circuit rather than to the organisation for which I worked, the Mission.

I experienced a somewhat guilty sense of relief. Guilt in that I felt I was now able to avoid what I saw to be a crucial issue for my understanding of local church life and ministry; relief in that the challenges that I saw there were no longer going to confront me personally. What I considered to be the extravagant cost of maintaining Sunday services in the Trinity kind of setting was no longer something for me to worry about.

After all, I rationalised, who wanted to hear from a preacher who could and did tell the congregation that organ maintenance worked out at 73 cents per hymn played on Sunday morning? What comfort was it for the faithful to be reminded that the cost of owning and operating the church was 94 cents per pew sitter every service? And what congregation, used to Methodism's democracy-run-riot, wanted to listen to the arguments for streamlining the administrative structure of the local church if these seemed to imply any measure of centralising decision-making and management?

Further, the fact that this questioner of the status quo was attached to a large management organisation and was only a part-time preacher must have added fuel to the fires of resistance to such a message. So I cheerfully stepped out of these difficulties.

The Challenge

Thus from 1975 I was no longer directly involved with a congregation. This was a remarkable anomaly in Methodist Central Mission practice. Usually the most significant factor in the strategy of the Central Missions had been the intimate link between Word and Deed, between proclamation of the Good News and its fulfilment in social and community service. This was seen in the relationship of the Superintendent to the social service administration and the appropriate congregational pulpit. The concept of a Central Mission that had no congregation of its own was unique, but, for me, comfortable!

In 1976 I attended the Adelaide Conference of Australian and New Zealand Methodist social service agencies. The key speaker was John Vincent of the Urban Theology Unit at Sheffield, England. He delivered a major paper on the problems facing the modern mission in today's cities. He detailed the challenges and outlined "Gospel" criteria by which the success of the work of the church might be evaluated.

Scarcely a point in this two-hour talk was irrelevant to the understandings that had been shaping in my mind over the previous fifteen years. The place of buildings, the nature of administration, the involvement of the worshipping community and its size and place and countless other points all came to life. Feelings which had been growing in me for a long period were instantly confirmed and strengthened. Without doubt, this single presentation was highly important in giving shape and structure to what had been vague and haphazard and ambiguous theories in my mind.

It was a great encouragement for me to find someone, who, from a rather more adequately developed theological basis, could identify with the bald and uncompromising statements that had sometimes issued forth from my impulsive mind. However, there was a problem.

Identifying with the concept was one thing. Carrying it out would be another. For I was locked into a substantial institutional framework for social service and I now lacked an integral congregation to fulfill these concepts in its life. My "visiting preacher" role in Trinity Church didn't lend itself to the initiation of a frankly different form of congregational life. In any case, if one were looking for the nucleus of a small "alternative" church, Trinity did not seem to be the place. (Here, again, I would be proved wrong.) Nevertheless, from that point, the possibility of taking some kind of initiative, even if this meant an element of competitiveness and division, began to take shape.

So another year passed. Although my participation in the events of late 1977 was entirely unpremeditated, the groundwork on which much of my personal style of church-ship and pastoral administration was based had developed over nearly two decades. During that time the church's thinking had been changing quite rapidly and my sympathies lay in the direction of change rather than away from it. A six year period of social service administration, drawing me more and more away from the normal church structure, had done nothing to attract me back into commitment to the ordinary pastorate of a traditional circuit.

Yet a local circuit minister I became once more on Tuesday 29th November 1977. My responsibilities would be part time barely four hours per week and the affairs of a large and historic congregation were to be entrusted to me on that basis. Thus I became intimately involved in the December drama of Trinity Church.

Before the curtain rises on those events, however, I should wait in the wings while we explore other elements in our story.

# 2

# The Central Mission

Word and Deed

In the eyes of most Dunedin people the Central Mission in Dunedin is probably the eleven floor office block standing in the Octagon.

It was not always this way. When Bible Christian minister William Ready commenced the Mission in 1890 it was a work with people. The preaching of the gospel and the work of social service proceeded hand in hand with a rich involvement of one group of people in both activities.

After Methodist Union in 1913 the Mission continued its distinctive emphasis in worship and the essential link between worship and service. The worshipping congregation was never an "established" or" traditional" church; it offered a complementary experience in worship and was an option open to Methodist people who did not wish to worship in the usual kind of Methodist church.

The ministry to people was offered without regard to creed, belief or commitment to any particular denomination or sect. Certainly, the work was Methodist at heart and the usual membership rolls were maintained but the Mission congregation often sat more lightly to Methodist discipline than did the more traditional congregations.

In ways that were appropriate in each generation the Mission gathered up the everyday experiences of people's lives. It then invested them with meanings that were appropriate for their day and age. The varied programmes of the Mission in both aspects of its life reflect the vital relevance of all that it did in the lives of its people.

The Mission demonstrated a remarkable capacity to minister to the fullness of the whole person. There were limits to an understanding of the capacities of the people, but the Mission was active in stretching these limits and helping the people to improve themselves personally and to grow in wisdom as well as grace. In each of the difficult periods through which the church and the community passed the Mission has attempted to provide relevant and meaningful expressions of personal Christianity in a congregational and institutional pattern.

The Changing Image

The first half of the Mission's social service era was marked by personal rather than institutional service. However, from the critical depression year of 1931 when the Mission's Social Service department was formally constituted (this small Jubilee almost escaped unnoticed until Secretary Frank Wilson happened to be doing some research for a newspaper article in 1981!) there began a developing involvement in institutional care. Firewood and meat projects serving up to 2,000 people a day yielded in favour of one of the first Health Camps in the country. After this work was taken over by the King George V scheme it too was relinquished in favour of care of the elderly. The Eventide Horne north gate still bears the legend "Health Home". The concept may be the same but the clientele is different.

Recent developments have included the extension of the Rest Home into an 89 bed combined Home and Hospital, retirement ownership flats, the magnificent Kawarau Falls Holiday Camp, and new premises for the first Child Day Care Centre in New Zealand. The Mission has a substantial commitment to institutional work.

Coincidentally, the development of the institutional social service emphasis occurred in the same period as a general falling-off in support for the religious programmes. Although the Octagon Hall was extensively rebuilt in 1939 to provide the most commodious accommodation the Mission had ever known in its burgeoning days, the congregation was already shrinking. Within ten years of the end of the second world war Trinity Church and the Mission combined in a single Central Methodist Church and Mission. The very title itself expresses some of the uneasiness which was felt. Two decades later people in what remained of the joint congregation were still able to say, "Well, of course, I'm really Trinity (or Mission) myself."

However, the link between a worshipping congregation in the fullest sense and the social service work was retained as a comparatively harmonious arrangement. The congregation was, however, a largely traditional one reflecting the needs for a centre-city Methodist community. It did not have the bold, imaginative, complementary style of worship life that had characterised the early Mission congregations of the Bible Christian style.

From as early as the 1940s there had been a firm intention to place a large, significant building on the Stuart St/Octagon corner where the Mission had been established for so long. The most ambitious plans were prepared, involving a dozen storeys of office and social services accommodation. They constitute a dream more remarkable for its imagination than its potential for fulfilment, but they undoubtedly impressed many people. Fund-raising was carried out at various levels over a long period, though was probably fairly sporadic until the mid 1960s. Then, with substantial transfer of accumulated surpluses from Eventide Home and Hospital, and very heavy borrowing through a debenture issue of half a million dollars, the Octagon office block was finally commenced.

A shadow of the former plans, it was a strict investment building of leased office space almost all of which was pre-leased to the Crown for a lengthy period. It took time to establish itself as a paying proposition. Dramatic changes in interest rates and the unanticipated massive costs of heating fuel made nonsense of the carefully prepared economic forecasts. In time to come, though, it will make a very substantial contribution to social service work.

It had other somewhat unexpected effects. In the first place the Mission assumed the image of a prosperous business. Some resistance began to be felt in fund-raising: "What do you need my money for when you have that big building in the Octagon?" The fact that financing the first ten years of the building's life in the face of rampant inflation and inadequate rent increases was something of a nightmare to the administration made little impression on casual observers who might be deciding to give or not to give a few dollars to assist the Mission's social service work.

There was thus developing a business-like institutional image over a long period. It was not as if the Mission tried conscientiously to rid itself of having anything to do with people. It just happened that in reacting to the needs of the day with what seemed to be the most appropriate strategies, it inevitably placed itself a little further from the hearts and lives of the ordinary people. In the 1960s and the 1970s this trend continued.

In 1969 the Mission combined all its personal social work with the Anglican Diocesan Social Services under the name of Anglican Methodist Family Care Centre. Initially, this organisation was housed in the Mission's own second floor premises in the office block. People who used to come to the Mission for a "hand-out" or advice were more easily attended to with the social workers who were in the same office. However, the administration was separate and in the development of an enthusiastic ecumenical and professional approach to social work a small wedge was driven between the Mission and needy people. The enormous growth of Family Care Centre testified to the greater effectiveness with which people's needs were being served. The very success of the Centre inevitably led to a move to large premises some distance away. Another link between the Mission and the people was severed.

Furthermore, when First Church (Presbyterian) and the Presbyterian Social Service Association of Otago combined to form the Cameron Centre there was given an unwritten undertaking that the Mission would not move into the same fields. So counselling services and education for individual and group life were added to the list of activities in which the Mission had permitted itself to become limited. More fields of potential service were lost to the Mission.

The most fundamental change in the Mission's stance occurred at Conference 1974, when the Dunedin Methodist Circuit was formed and the Mission's Trinity Church was handed over to the new circuit. With this loss of intimate responsibility for the worshipping community, the Mission Board paid careful attention to the way in which they drew up the constitution which was being finalised at the time. They provided for the Mission to be involved in co-operation with the Dunedin Circuit with many aspects of congregational life. And they specifically saw to it that the Mission might interest itself in taking initiatives in experimental and alternative forms of worship. The Ecclesia programmes that had already commenced were thus given a more comfortable mandate and could continue on a permanent basis under the Mission's Welfare Department.

Nevertheless, these considerations did not really mitigate the significant loss of yet another area of activity vital to the Mission's ongoing life.

A New Stance

In the 1970s the Board began to be more aware of some of these trends of remoteness from people. It also realised that the very location of its office facilities on the second floor was a problem. This required the use of either the stairs, which were beyond the capacity of some of the older visitors, or else the lifts which tended to frighten them as well. Not without cause, one might comment, considering that the lifts performed poorly enough to give even hardened riders grounds for trepidation now and then.

Board Members recalled that in the early stages of planning for the building it had been intended that the Mission Office and other facilities such as a large hall and counselling centre would be on the ground floor. This superior site and the extra space that went with the concept was given up to the Broadcasting Corporation when it became a condition of the long-term lease which was vital to the economics of the Mission's project. However, the dream about a ground floor base for the Mission did not go away.

In mid-1977, the Board, after one of these discussions, agreed to write to the major tenant, the NZ Broadcasting Council, offering to accept back any of the ground floor space that might become available before the end of the lease. The Board noted that to do this would involve some financial sacrifice but judged that the areas in question should come back to the Mission for internal use if at all possible. No immediate reply was received, nor was one expected. Casual ongoing conversation with executive staff of the Council suggested that the matter was at least being considered.

The dream did not go away. We discussed with interest and enthusiasm the possibility of a substantial space behind the Stuart Street foyer. We could link the Friendship Centre tea and coffee lounge with facilities for offices, meetings, personal and social work offices. A kind of church centre could be set up witnessing to the involvement of the church close to the street front where people passed.

Although there was no special reason to believe that the dream might be fulfilled, the Board's thinking was already moving towards the willingness to make a substantial loss on that part of the premises in order to use it for more people-oriented activities. Attendance of some of our members at the dedication of the Open Circle in Auckland gave strength to our views. Here the Auckland Mission had provided a building to do exactly what we had in mind. Our building could continue to provide a significant investment income which could eventually be directed towards social service. But the building itself could also be used to provide for some important social and personal and church work right now. A further resolution was passed: any shops that became vacant in the arcade would be re-let in the light of a policy of social service objectives for both ground and lower ground floors.

The matter was, however, only academic. As long as nobody wished to move out there would be nothing we could do. The dream receded into the background of the daily routine towards the end of 1977, only to be unexpectedly thrown into focus by a dramatic development in November of that year.

Radio New Zealand moved out of 60 square metres of ground floor space. The Broadcasting Corporation, as official lessee, was still paying the rent and the Mission would not normally have been involved in what was an entirely internal arrangement between the corporation and one of its subsidiary services. The space would be reallocated to one of the television channels or sublet to another organisation in due course. Only the latter step would require even the formality of the Mission's permission.

However, in the Mission's policy, this was a crucial moment. It provided a significant link in the chain of events that was to shape new strategies for centre-city Methodism. Without delay we contacted Wellington and pressed our offer to reclaim any ground floor space that became available. The response was sympathetic but it was clear that the two television channels were being given first refusal and that there was no urgency from the Broadcasting Corporation's side.

In mid-November, that was where the matter rested. But a highly significant element had been added to the situation that was shortly to develop.

We must now turn to the third major element in the December drama.

# 3

# The Dunedin Methodist Churches

Methodism does not always receive credit for its bold beginning in Otago. The Waikouaiti Mission Station was commenced in 1840, several years before the first Scottish settlers arrived. A cairn at Karitane commemorates the place where the foundations of religion were first laid in southern New Zealand.

Methodism's first foothold in the south was a precarious one. The distance from other stations and workers was appalling but the early missionaries held on. It is some small source of satisfaction to present day Methodists to recall that one of their ministers met the arriving Scottish immigrants in 1848. But it is less satisfying to realise that for a vital three years this southern Methodist outpost was left without a minister at all.

Thus it was that when gold was discovered in Gabriel's Gully in 1861 Methodism was very thin on the ground to deal with the deluge of non-Presbyterian immigrants who now flooded into the region from all over New Zealand and the world. However, within a matter of months, Rev Isaac Harding was appointed and in 1862 the first Methodist church was erected in Dunedin.

It was not due to any want of enthusiasm or energy on behalf of the vigorous little community that insufficient allowance was made for the exposed nature of the site. The church stood on Bell Hill with a commanding view but successive gales in October of the same year first weakened the structure and then broke its back. Repairs were ineffectual and it had to be ultimately abandoned altogether. It was a discouraging beginning.

Some years later, after more herculean efforts on the part of the embryo congregation, the stylish Trinity Church was erected in Stuart Street. In 1870 the gold boom had already passed and the initial enthusiasm somewhat waned. The church's opening saw a debt that would take more than thirty years to extinguish. During the construction phase itself, while heavily committed, the trustees acquired an enormous piece of land nearby. It was the triangle between Stuart and Smith Streets and York Place. "The only wise and far-sighted transaction in the history of the church" said the Jubilee Booklet, but the trustees sold it a year after purchase for the price they had paid.

Again, a parsonage erected in York Place was "wholly marred" by building into it a two-roomed cottage that stood on the section. Rev Wm Morley, who lived in it, speaks rather more kindly of the project, but drew attention to something of the immediacy and, perhaps, shortsightedness of the decision-making. He was later quoted as commenting—

That (Otago) Methodism survives its property transactions says much for its vitality, while the evident want of continuity of purpose illustrates the fearful cost of the itinerancy.

In spite of these difficulties, Methodism expanded vigorously throughout Otago and Southland from the 1870s. The province was growing fast, having consolidated on the gold boom. It established itself as the New Zealand leader in industry, commerce and education. The church followed this lead and shared in it.

Significantly, however, Methodism developed a different character from that of the rest of the country. It was clearly influenced by the Presbyterian principle of one-minister-one-parish. The immense circuit which in 1864 had stretched from Dunedin to Queenstown with some 23 preaching places was being rapidly cut up into small parish packages.

Each such "circuit" in the main centres boasted a large and adequate worship centre together with the usual ancillary hall, schoolroom, parsonage and other facilities. By World War I a large number of these well established plants characterised Dunedin Methodism. At the same time, the peak of population growth for the city was all but achieved. The importance of the large number of circuit units and the slower growing population must not be overlooked in any analysis of Methodism in this part of the country.

In a sense, the Otago church, at Methodist Union in 1913, was remarkably well equipped to meet the future. In other ways, its decline had already begun. The lack of population growth that was to characterise the south would ensure that the existing buildings would be adequate enough for decades to come. Indeed, within half a century, the disposition and condition of these plants began to dictate strategy instead of serving it.

Threats to Survival

In the period after World War II it began to be apparent that many circuits were likely to be less able to support their own ministers. A protracted period of "consolidation" set in, a policy which was to continue into the late 1970s as small units felt the pressures of declining support against inexorably rising costs. In the same period additional impetus was involuntarily given to consolidation through a dedicated movement towards Church Union. One by one the developing areas of the city were handed over to the growing Union Parishes. The ecumenical dream was commendable. But the cost was high.

Each re-arrangement left the remaining circuits more unsettled and insecure. They were less stimulated by any responsibility to growing edges of the metropolitan region. Furthermore, Methodists who entered Union Parishes made a contribution of leadership out of all proportion to their membership numbers. Invariably, however, they were a serious loss to their parent causes. Long before the Connexion became aware of the danger, Otago Methodism had already made a commitment to Church Union that was to change completely the identity and viability of the remaining circuits.

Successive consultations and commissions examined these problems. In various ways they tried to adapt the circuits to meet the changing situation. One even sat in a quasi-judicial capacity and called witnesses to "testify" independently, listened to the "evidence" and then went away and reported some time later. Its suggestions may have been quite practicable but they seemed remote and failed to win grass-roots support.

It was hardly surprising that some of these exercises generated considerable opposition. Others were merely tolerated. None could be said to have achieved more than palliative treatment to a basically maladjusted system. The people were neither obstructionist nor wayward. They were merely victims of circumstances for which the Connexion was unprepared. An audiovisual report we prepared for Methodist Conference in the mid-1970s commented of this period:

Woodhaugh was quietly closed and the building became the headquarters of the Deerstalkers Assn. Mosgiel and Wesley and Caversham were linked together in a strange alliance. St. Clair died a controversial death. And Maori Hill was passed around from circuit to circuit.

Of course, all churches in the 1960s and 1970s became aware of the need to rationalise their resources. Inflation was taking its toll throughout the Connexion long before church leaders could dignify it with a name. It hit the smaller causes first in every situation and it dealt the hardest blow to Dunedin Methodism because of the low-growth society and the fragmented nature of the local church's polity. In northern centres it might have been relatively easy to close down small uneconomic units but the Dunedin congregations with their large, complete church plants far in excess of their current requirements were harder to deal with. The walls of commemorative plaques recalling braver traditions of better days were a silent rebuke to the current generation of confused and discouraged churchgoers. Such churches were not comfortably eased out of their problems.

A final factor that threatened the survival of the southern city's Methodist groups was undoubtedly the crisis of belief of the 1960s. The general religious decline that set in after World War II came to a head about that time. The dreary statistics of membership and attendance had been telling a story of a certain kind long before Lloyd Geering brought Dunedin into the limelight and polarised religious opinion within the church. The vocational expectations of many ministers began to move subtly but significantly away from the understanding of their people. The resulting conflict of expectations about the minister's role caused dissatisfaction that culminated in many resignations. Dunedin had more than its share of these.

The region shared the general trends in church life of the time but it also had some significant components of its own. Some of its people responded with a naive optimism which declared that if we truly trusted God everything would work out all right. Others saw certain realities of the future more clearly and were rather apprehensive. Many took up neither position but went ahead doing what they had become accustomed to doing without much thought as to the meaning or the consequences.

Whatever their attitude, most Dunedin Methodists found it easier to reflect on the "good old days" than to get to grips with the present and the future. Their attitude was understandable, but it sometimes made them appear despondent and even demoralised.

Five into One

Dunedin Methodism was down to five remaining circuits by 1972. Central Mission circuit consisted of Trinity and Maori Hill and a small fellowship of Methodists 56 kilometres away at Palmerston. St. Kilda and Broad Bay were linked together across an awkward gap spanned by Grants Braes Tomahawk Union Parish at Waverley. Wesley, Caversham, Mosgiel and Abbotsford comprised the Dunedin South circuit with two ministers. Mornington looked after itself in typically Otago Methodist fashion. Dundas Street and Glenaven were combined together in North Dunedin.

Central Mission circuit was living well. It had a strong congregation and had behind it the rich resources of the Central Mission Trust since the Mission and Trinity circuit had amalgamated a decade or two earlier. This meant that much of the maintenance of its church properties— not to mention a considerable amount of the major alterations project of 1966—was contributed from Mission funding rather than from the people's offerings. The district was able to take advantage of this situation by levying the Mission circuit fairly heavily for the Connexional Budget allocation. Trinity people claimed to be glad to do this but usually overlooked the reality that the generosity was on the part of the Mission Board of Management rather than themselves!

Mornington appeared to be able to stand on its own feet. In fact, however, the incoming minister remembers that it was rather exercised as to how to find $180 for a spouting bill in early 1972. Later on, it was a relief to share its minister—and the relevant costs!—with North Dunedin. At the same time, however, Mornington enjoyed a small section of the younger edge of the city and seemed to have good buildings that would be adequate for some years.

On the other hand, North Dunedin had just given two of its small preaching places to the new West Harbour Union Parish and was able to continue at all only because of a highly fortuitous arrangement whereby its minister became available on a part-time basis while studying and teaching at university. It was a stop-gap and the future was uncertain. St. Kilda was having difficulty meeting its commitments and was having trouble with its morale. Dunedin South was reaching the point where the awkward gap between its two constituent parts was becoming more difficult to bridge at the same time as the rising cost of ministry challenged its two-minister status. However, the people of the south would survive. There was a sheer determination even in discouragement and faith even in doubt.

After all, the difficulties were, by and large, historical and demographic in character rather than matters of commitment or devotion. The disposition of the churches related to factors that were relevant half a century earlier. Modern transport and communication made nonsense of most of them. The movement of the developing edge of the population had resulted in several churches finding themselves in well-established suburbs from which most of the young had long since moved.

It became very difficult for officials in any congregation to avoid the "I remember when" syndrome. Fascination with the past assumed an even larger part in church life than it does in most congregations—which is probably saying quite a lot. Nevertheless, through the late sixties and early seventies some very patient pastoral and administrative work by ministers and people alike was setting a foundation for the events that were to come. It had never been easy to persuade ministers to come south but the city had some good appointments. Dunedin had always boasted a solid core of devoted lay leadership and many of these people did not desert the church in her times of challenge and doubt.

The great days of the past might be past: but there was a quiet confidence that a future of a hopeful kind was always still around the corner. Some, to be sure, thought in terms of a revival of one kind: "We can't possibly sell the Sunday School Hall: what if we have 200 children again in a few years?" Others had rather more modest (and realistic?) hopes for the future: they would be content to simply be the appropriate church for the age and would meantime set their hand to whatever needed to be done. Between both groups and their varied commitment to the church, the circuits struggled quietly and hopefully on.

From the early seventies attempts were made by ministers and leaders of several churches to generate a community of interest among the congregations of the region. No major strategy was envisaged but a small committee was constituted to help the five circuits share in joint functions from time to time. Several events were held in the early seventies and confirmed the willingness of the circuits to move a little closer together. Gradually it became evident that the challenge of viability and effective deployment of ministerial staff would dictate another substantial review of boundaries for the Dunedin circuits. This time the informal discussions included the bold possibility of linking all five circuits in one. Other combinations were considered but the flexibility inherent in one single organisation for all the churches was appealing. Nobody wished to be seen to take an initiative so while it seemed to be a good strategy it remained an idea until a new circumstance raised it once more—the Mission was planning to be incorporated as a charitable trust.

This novel proposal had been suggested by the President's Legal Adviser. He considered that the scale on which the Central Missions were borrowing and investing demanded rather more protection than was available under the Methodist Model Deed and local trustees. This operation would draw Trinity, as the Mission's "own" congregation, out of administrative and organic relationship with the other circuits into this new constitution.

The threat of this eventuality was not great; it would not necessarily make an enormous amount of difference to the Dunedin Methodist church scene. However, it did serve to stimulate the circuits' growing confidence in each other. In a very short space of time proper negotiations were concluded and the necessary enabling resolutions passed by the various circuit Quarterly Meetings. Thus there came to Conference in 1974 a rather strange proposal. A new circuit would be created out of all five of the existing ones. Because of the short space of time for completion of plans it would be constituted in July 1975 rather than in February, the beginning of the connexional year.

Significantly, Trinity and the Mission would part company again. The largest congregation in the city could thus be used to provide a strong worshipping community at the centre of the new circuit's life. Evan Lewis would superintend the new circuit from his Mornington base. The Mission Superintendent and Deaconess would be associated with the circuit ministerial staff on a loan basis. They were to have special responsibilities in the Trinity congregation.

For simplicity the stipend arrangements were separated. Whereas the two Trinity ministers, Russ Burton and myself, were paid on a proportional basis from both social service and circuit accounts within the Mission (the proportions were more or less appropriate to the amount of time spent in each sector) we would both now be funded by our substantive employer. He became a circuit staff member, paid from the new circuit's funds and I was salaried entirely from the Mission's administration section.

The Trinity properties, including Russ's Mulford Street house were made available at no cost to the new circuit. There was, however, a clear understanding that when it was no longer required it would revert to the Mission. The responsibility for all these former Mission properties required some kind of administrative body so the circuit planned the formal registration of a Trinity Methodist Trust. Ten trustees were duly appointed and may have come close to making a new kind of record: When before did a Methodist trust administer so much property for such a short space of time? These and other minor details of the proposal required considerable thought and planning and all were accomplished with a minimum of difficulty.

The scheme to draw all Dunedin Methodist churches together was a bold and imaginative one. The fact that it did not enjoy entirely wholehearted support in the Connexion or, indeed, in Dunedin itself should not detract from it.

A few would have wished to go further and amalgamate the entire new circuit and the Mission's social service work. There was real resistance to this, especially in some quarters where a "Mission takeover" was feared. The new circuit therefore developed as a step along a probable road that some hoped and others feared would end in ultimate union for the whole of the Dunedin Methodism.

At national Conference the strategy was not immediately apparent. Both Connexional and NZ Social Service Association officials were mystified and disturbed. It was without precedent to separate Central Mission social services from a congregation. The idea that Trinity could be a part of the new circuit under a circuit minister and its pulpit "loaned back" to the Mission Superintendent from time to time was not easy to grasp.

However, neither the members of the M.S.S.A. nor the Conference Committee of Detail felt able to stand in the way of what probably came across as a determined move from the local people. If the recommendation didn't congratulate Dunedin people for their far-sighted vision neither did it try to stop them. The resolution was less thoroughly examined on the floor of the Conference when the Committee of Detail reported its recommendation. Unasked questions hung in the air but the vote was taken and carried and Dunedin Circuit was born.

One would like to feel that the Conference readily recognised the powerful need for the churches of Dunedin Methodism to be unified in their witness and administration. But, even in Dunedin there would be a few for whom the reasons were purely economic and sadly defeatist, so Conference could hardly be expected to see the entire vision. It would be over to the local people to solve their problems in their own way.

In modest celebrations, then, Dunedin Circuit was launched in mid-1975. A hopeful new era commenced.

The "Great Consultation"

To put the resources of five struggling circuits together into one large complex mass was no way of creating financial viability. No one pretended that it was; most recognised that they were rather pooling their joint deficits. But some very significant efforts were made and a healthy spirit of co-operation developed rapidly so that the new circuit met its essential commitments for the first financial year.

This result was achieved, however, with further downwards adjustment in the ministerial staffing. The very part-time John Salmon moved to Auckland; Russell Greenwood moved from St. Kilda. Neither was replaced.

By 1976, Ewing Stevens, a Presbyterian minister "on loan" served Caversham, Wesley and St. Kilda. Superintendent Evan Lewis was responsible for Mornington/Broad Bay/Dundas Street and Glenaven, Russ Burton had Trinity/Maori Hill and Colin Jamieson continued to care for Mosgiel and Abbotsford.

The large number of small churches formed rather unwieldy pastorates, and when both Russ Burton and Ewing Stevens each had to have extended sick leave the work was hard to cover. There was casual talk about rationalising all Dunedin ministry into single entity so that the ministers in the social service work would also be able to assist with congregational life. Mostly, though, the demanding work of the churches and the unwillingness of the Mission to appear to be making anything that looked like a "takeover bid" prevented any proposals coming forward. It was felt that the time might come, but it was not yet.

In February 1977 the whole matter of ministerial strategy was again thrust forward. The President of the Methodist Church appointed Ewing Stevens to be editor of the connexional paper The New Citizen. No replacement minister was offered although the Methodist year had virtually begun.

With a sense of desperation the circuit approached the Mission and obtained my services as part-time minister in the pastorate left vacant by Ewing Stevens. This was scarcely an adequate arrangement but the people rallied round and began to take considerable initiatives in pastoral care and general church work. The regular preaching of the Mission Superintendent in the very churches that had been most uneasy about being "swallowed up" by the Mission "octopus" was, in hindsight, fortuitous.

In an historic memorandum on March 17, 1977, Circuit Superintendent Evan Lewis finally took the plunge. He gave formal shape to the conviction that had been growing among ministers and officials for several months: the entire witness of Dunedin Methodism needed to be brought into one single organisation. The complementary resources of congregations and social service administration should find their future together. A Circuit Executive met with Barry Jones who was visiting the district as Superintendent of the Development Division. The intention was to explore the problems created by the removal of Ewing Stevens and to see what resources of ministry could be deployed to assist the circuit through the vacancy. In the short discussion that night Barry assisted the members spell out the needs for their circuit:

The structure of Dunedin Methodism needed to

a.—affirm aged congregations

b.—facilitate the production of second generation Christians

c.—recruit additional disciples for mission.

Barry's offer to return for a two-day strategy exercise was subsequently accepted by Quarterly Meeting. This gathering would explore in some detail the resources available to Dunedin Methodism including—incidentally rather than specifically—the presence of the Mission and its ministerial staff. It would address itself to the major problem of how to use these resources to the best possible effect.

Naturally some saw this exercise as a repeat performance of other similar efforts in time past: "We've heard it all before". "It's all been tried before". This time, however, there was a new optimism that an internal review of the whole situation was timely. And, of course, members from the "south" area, who were usually most vocal in their pessimism were more highly motivated to co-operate with the proposal—they now had no resident minister at all!

The Consultation was set for June 11th and 12th. Each congregation was asked to carry out a complete review of its life and work and resources, with a view to estimating the total strength of the circuit. Each was also urged to find a full quota of properly appointed representatives to attend. With only one or two exceptions every congregation was fully represented for the entire twelve hours of the event itself. Some 55 attended in all. Saturday morning was devoted to introductions and detailed exploration of the achievements of the past five years. There was then a careful session setting out goals for the next ten years. At this stage these were not worked out in detail but were put in terms of dreams. After lunch the Consultation got down to a practical strategy of how these dreams might be fulfilled. On Sunday the task was to translate these strategies into specific objectives.

The Findings

* The concept of the Mission Circuit amalgamation was given general support and Quarterly Meeting asked to take some initiative with the Mission Board.

* The ministerial staff would be further reduced from four to three so that Ewing Stevens would not be replaced.

* The congregations were to be asked to reduce their dependence upon buildings by selling or leasing one third of the total plant by March 31st, 1978.

* The Administration Division was requested to bring an independent commission to Dunedin to confer with the circuit in its developing strategy.

* Other recommendations related to administrative workload, giving expression to more specifically "religious" goals, and examining the significance of geographical factors in each congregation.

A special problem was the development of a more manageable circuit preaching plan. It was recognised that this would necessarily involve some changes in frequency of services.

A key resolution, for the purpose of this record, was—

That in response to the special problems facing Trinity, the Trinity Leaders Meeting or congregation be asked to consider effective alternative strategies and report to Quarterly Meeting.

It does not take much insight to appreciate the difficulty in which the Trinity people had already found themselves. Their congregation was occupying the most expensive plant in the circuit: it had recently been insured for a quarter of a million dollars and their trust required $2,800 a year to meet the week by week commitment. They had been advised that $30,000 would need to be spent on general tidying up the structure. Their representatives at the Consultation had actually formally voted in favour of closing down and contributing their membership effort in the suburban churches! The congregation was in good heart but membership was continuing to fall by natural processes and the writing was on the wall. If not in 1977 then certainly in 1987 and probably five years earlier than that Trinity would be a financial headache of disaster proportions.

The Consultation had refused to dictate policy to Trinity or any other congregation. It simply invited people to look at their situations again in the light of the impending visit of the Christchurch team from the Administration Division.

The Administration Division visitors arrived on a dismal weekend in midwinter. They carefully inspected the properties and were suitably impressed with the spectacle of dilapidated structures and shabby paintwork in many areas. They were heard to observe that it was a wonder the morale of the circuit wasn't much worse given the property worries alone. They shared in a very helpful and sympathetic meeting-with key officials from Quarterly Meeting. When their report came through it lacked nothing in its identity with the problems and its willingness to try to assist. The report spelled out a number of issues very clearly (including a number which were by no means within their terms of reference, but that is really another story). The impartial and firm judgments about disposing of certain properties brought confirmation of the general directions in which the Consultation had moved.

Two have special relevance for our story:

**Trinity:** remodel ground floor to provide lounge and kitchen at rear of worship centre and lease basement meantime. One would not lightly sell off central city land.

**Mission Buildings** : If a worship centre was (sic) established here it would provide an alternative worship style and complement that being offered at Trinity

The first of these proposals had already been tentatively considered by Trinity people. It seemed possible to bring water and drainage to the ground floor and an attractive facility could be built into the rear half of the church. The investigating Committee of the congregation had also done some very thorough exploration of the possibilities of leasing the basement. The economics had not proved very encouraging. There was little else to show for several months' discussions as far as the property was concerned. Perhaps use of the basement by the Mission's social service Goodwill Store was a possibility but it also was not impressive from an income point of view.

However, the suggestion about an alternative style of worship in the city centre attracted some people. Though they could not accept the challenge of dividing the loyalties of the modest sized Trinity congregation to bring this about.

Over the weeks after the Consultation each congregation worked at the various findings and reported back to Quarterly Meeting. All could see some possibility of reducing dependence on property. Few could see an immediate attainable goal. Most prospects seemed likely to disadvantage existing users to a large extent.

One brave exception was Dundas Street. It was no easy decision but after careful thought they voted to transfer their entire congregation to Glenaven. It was doubly difficult for them in that some of their key members had only recently arrived from Maori Hill church which had closed earlier and dispersed its membership of about a dozen between Trinity and Dundas Street.

In spite of the problems, the new merger proved to be a thoroughly healthy and stimulating one. The property was leased to a sister church for three years and so a major goal of the consultation was achieved. One significant piece of property was turned into an asset instead of a liability.

A revised preaching plan was able to be prepared, spreading the Sunday workload a little thinly but ensuring that each pastorate had regular service from its "own" minister.

The Mission Board of Management received the proposal for a merger with interest. It indicated that it would certainly delegate the responsibility for church life to the existing Quarterly Meeting so that, to all intents and purposes, the churches would have an independent existence to the extent that they wished. It became clear that this proposal would be able to be recommended for Conference in November.

There was little else to report. It was, it seemed, one thing to resolve to divest the circuit of a third of its property strength: it was something altogether different to achieve it. It was not hard to pass pious resolutions about improving the quality of life in the circuit: it was much more difficult to set up the conditions in which a better quality of life could begin to flow.

Nevertheless a positive report went through to Conference at the beginning of November together with the necessary recommendations to bring the combined organisation into being.

November Quarterly Meeting

Quarterly Meeting on Tuesday 29th November, 1977 seemed much like any other. Evan Lewis had prepared the usual thorough agenda and it outlined circuit needs. The Members proceeded to discuss and vote and fulfil the various items in the best ways possible.

Among the routine items was a proposal that the author be asked to take responsibility for the central city congregation in Trinity Church. It was obvious that Russ Burton's workload was quite unreasonable. He had come to Dunedin three years previously to be minister at Trinity and Maori Hill; now he was caring for these two congregations, Dundas Street, Glenaven, and St Kilda. If there were to be any outcomes of the merging of the Mission and the circuit in the coming connexional year then the sharing of pastoral work load would be one of them. As Russ had just been admitted to hospital that afternoon with a mild recurrence of back trouble it was decided I would become part-time minister of Trinity immediately.

This simple proposal had more background to it than was realised by many of those present and voting. My slender commitment to a traditional centre-city congregational structure was known by some. They must have wondered at my willingness to accept this routine responsibility. One or two obviously thought about it and, quietly, after the meeting asked the obvious question and learned what had been going on behind the scenes.

Conference, three weeks previously, had accepted the proposals for the amalgamation of the Dunedin Circuit and the Central Mission under the broad umbrella of the Mission's constitution as an Incorporated body. One of the essential ingredients felt to be required in the new mix was some congregational involvement by the Mission ministers, myself and Sister Shirley Ungemuth. Various possibilities were considered; perhaps Maori Hill could be a special "mission" church and be re-opened for a special congregation as well as for "family" ministries such as weddings and funerals of unchurched people. (The Mission had some years earlier agreed to make such services available as part of its "Welfare" ministry). Or perhaps the Mission staff should continue to minister to the various congregations of the new organisation on a "visiting preacher" basis; perhaps the Christchurch Committee's suggestion of another centre-city congregation, as an alternative to Trinity would be the way ahead.

By Conference, the thinking of the ministers and Circuit Stewards had clarified to the extent that an informal paper was accepted as providing a basis on which the Mission staff could be engaged in congregational life. The proposal was for Shirley and me to be responsible for an "active" or "intentional" pastorate based on Trinity congregation. This congregation would seek to provide an alternative form of church life to that offered by the evening service and to those available in the suburban churches. It was accepted that some people might eventually wish to move to a more conventional congregation. The point of choice would be approached gradually over a period of at least six months. There would be no major disruption nor dislocation of the life of an already healthy congregation; the main change would be that the pastoral care of the "inactive" family roll would pass to the other ministers in whose area such families lived.

The proposal put to Quarterly Meeting was therefore seen to offer a chance of deploying available ministry to best advantage. It would also involve the two Mission staff with clear congregational responsibilities, and give eventual expression to the suggestion of some kind of centre-city alternative form of worship for the circuit as a whole. From 1st February, 1978 it would be anticipated that these goals would be able to be put before the Trinity congregation and gradually developed. In 1979 or later the congregation might have to take some active steps to redefine its life and worship along more specifically "alternative" lines, but there was no urgency. Events could take their time and people could be helped to explore the possibilities and make their decisions without feeling under pressure.

In the light of the events that began to occur the very next morning it is important for us to note how the "alternative" church concept and the involvement of the social service ministers was carefully and deliberately planned as an unseen backdrop to that Quarterly Meeting decision. It was not in the minds of many who voted that evening.

So, on 29th November, I became once more a parish minister. The arrangement was the slenderest of part-time contracts. Beneath the surface of the resolution a handful of people shared very clear understandings about the possible developments that might take place. It was clear that there would be need for time to build an effective relationship between minister and people. There would need to be tact and sensitivity in handling a situation that might later appear to have been a little manipulated. There were many problems ahead. But there were high hopes as the Quarterly Meeting passed the resolution.

In a decade or so the Dunedin Methodist people had come a long way. From the pattern of one-church-one-minister structures they had come to accept the more usual "circuit" pattern in its best sense. They had moved further and formed a completely new organisation to meet their special situation. They now had at their disposal a wide range of ministerial and lay skills, access to office facilities, substantial property resources and varied congregational emphases. They shared a unifying purpose and their morale was high.

Only such a church organism could have handled the cataclysmic series of events that began with a phone call the morning after the Quarterly Meeting.

# Part II

# The Drama

# 4

# Prelude

By the 29th November 1977, then, a number of coincidental threads had come together in our story.

The affairs of Trinity Church had been entrusted to a minister whose commitment to traditional forms of church life was very slender. He had been promised an informal mandate to develop a new and "alternative" style for the centre-city congregation.

The Central Mission had also opened itself to the possibilities of change in accepting the entire congregational family of Dunedin Methodism into its constitution. Its ministers would take a full share in church life once more. Its administrative facilities would be available should they be required.

The churches of Dunedin Methodism had faced the challenge of the future in a creative way. Their people were open to considering quite drastic changes to bring about a climate for new life and growth in the difficult circumstances that surrounded them.

Next morning a phone call would set in train a series of events that would test the new structure to the fullest. Goodwill, faith and trust would be on trial. Motives would be examined. Policies would be examined with a new intensity. Pious and theoretical resolutions would have to be translated into practical and costly actions.

The story of these events now follows as it was written up a few weeks afterwards. This draft drew largely on a detailed daily journal which I needed to keep track of the tumultuous events as they occurred.

Fortune Approaches

The plans that were so carefully laid to move Trinity gently towards the formation of a new kind of congregation faltered the very morning after the Quarterly Meeting. In two days' they were in ruins.

At about 11am on the 30th November, the City Planning Office rang the Mission—our office tended to take a lot of miscellaneous enquiries on behalf of the Methodist church—and asked who was responsible for Trinity Church. It was easy for them to be put straight on to him!

They pointed out that Trinity was on the city's list of historic buildings and asked if they could inspect it. We met there that afternoon. The building was examined and they asked tactfully about the church's capacity to carry out the major maintenance that was obviously required on the structure. They didn't get any very clear answers—there were none.

There was some casual conversation about the inefficiency of such a large and valuable building receiving so little use. It was obvious that the building could probably not be economically maintained by the church indefinitely. I reported on the proposals that had been considered by the strategy group but emphasised that there was, as yet, no firm plan for any change. We noted that Trinity was to some extent a city amenity and was admirably suited to fit into a complex of useful conference-type buildings for civic and other functions. This would be especially important when the new civic car park was completed in Moray Place.

I expected that the matter would rest there so was somewhat surprised to have a further phone call that day. Could Fortune Theatre officials have a look at the property?

Fortune was the city's professional theatre company and their property problems had featured considerably in recent news. The lease of their very limited facilities in the Athenaeum was falling due and they had been negotiating for some months to find a suitable auditorium. In recent days the news media had announced that they were planning to sign up for long-term use of the State Theatre in George Street. What was not generally known was that the State was not perfectly located and was too large and expensive. The directors were desperate for a new property but they could not quite bring themselves to make the final commitment to the State building. In discussing their dilemma with the city planners a building by building review of the centre city area produced the name of Trinity Methodist church among others.

Two directors of the company made an initial inspection on Thursday 1st December. I tried to make two things clear. First, I would be unwilling to put any proposal to the congregation that did not permit continuing church use on Sundays. We would be unlikely to sell the building if they wished to purchase it. And we would not move out of it permanently for the sake of leasing it no matter how attractive the deal.

Secondly, I did not see that we could make any decision about any proposal in a short space of time. Fortune's time schedule was far too tight for us to be able to move freely with them. It would totally defeat the strategy of my appointment and the way in which we planned for an alternative church strategy to develop gradually.

As to the first of my points, Fortune made it clear that they could not possibly purchase; they were seeking a rented property. In the case of the second, there was no way they could allow the time that I needed. They had to open in a new Theatre by 1st April. Furthermore, they had been granted free labour worth over $10,000 for their new project. This labour was available to them only over the student vacation until about mid-February.

They were very interested in the building and its potential for their use. The sanctuary area seemed to provide room for a stage if the organ were shifted. Would we be interested in a shared-use arrangement whereby we had exclusive rights on Sundays and they the rest of the week?

Was there a basis for negotiations at all or was there simply no point in discussing the matter? Where did we stand? I was torn in two. On the one hand this could be the only opportunity Trinity people might have in years to turn their fine building into some kind of economic unit. It could be a happy solution to all kinds of problems that were bothering us about Trinity as a building. On the other, the order of events was all wrong for the development of Trinity as a new congregation. This discussion should be taking place after the congregation had made their decision about Trinity's future in the light of the needs of their new worship and church life. To raise the building issue at this point would confuse the real issue for which I had accepted the Trinity appointment.

Reluctantly, I conceded that if Fortune wished to make a formal approach to the trustees it would certainly receive attention. If a careful agreement could deal with all the issues involved in a joint use arrangement some kind of long-term lease might be able to be negotiated. We each went off to do our homework.

I spent some considerable time talking to various officials to try to take the temperature of reaction to any proposal that might come forward. There seemed to be more than enough support to justify the work involved in a modest exploration of the possibilities of a suitable heads of agreement.

It must be remembered that many people had been involved in lengthy financial and property exercises on Trinity Church. The substantial costs that would face the trustees in years to come were no secret. Indeed, several people were most keen to follow the suggestion up with some commitment. Perhaps, had everyone known of the enormity and variety of the structural problems that were to be revealed in the next four months there might have been even greater support for talking with Fortune.

But, at this point, there was little understanding of the exact nature of any joint-use agreement that might be negotiated except that the congregation's future use of the church auditorium seemed quite secured. We would still have a usable worship centre and a reasonable rental with which to maintain the whole property.

It seemed, at the very least, worthwhile to go on talking, so negotiations were informally opened.

# 5

# First Thoughts

In an optimistic frame of mind I commenced drafting an heads of agreement. When Alex Gilchrist, one of Fortune's Directors appointed to negotiate, phoned to say they indeed wished to discuss a basis of agreement our side was ready with some basic points of concern. A tentative discussion on Friday 2nd December produced a substantial degree of unanimity. I recorded the salient points and distributed notes to both parties immediately afterwards. The general provisions were for a lease of five years with right of renewal for a further five; for Trinity to continue to use the church on Sundays, and Fortune all the rest of the week; for a rental of $7,000 to $9,000 per annum plus rates; and there was a variety of other details.

The agreement also stated, and this is important in the light of dramatic changes that were to take place in the next few days, that Fortune Theatre would simply remove the organ and sanctuary screen and install a stage and ancillary equipment. It was understood that Fortune would probably re-use the pews and that the general lie of the floor and layout of the basic building would be retained.

Now a problem of Methodist polity arose. Properly, Methodist trustees under the Model Deed could argue that they had the final and binding say on all matters of property, especially in respect of Leases. But the hastily assembled Trinity Trust numbered only nine, of whom one was inactive, one the outgoing minister of the pastorate, and three were members of Maori Hill church whose properties were also incorporated into the Trinity Trust on its formation two and a half years before. Furthermore, most of the creative discussions that had taken place during 1977 did not involve the trust very directly at all. The issues at stake were congregational in import and would impinge on the activities of the trustees only when the strategies of the congregation were finally determined.

In consultation with appropriate officials of the Connexion, I therefore opted to continue the discussion in the arena of the Leaders' Meeting rather than the trust. A meeting was called for the following Monday night 5th December, and the Trinity trustees were invited to be present and to take full part in the discussions. A brief letter to all concerned outlined the developments of the three days. I expressed my disappointment that the urgency of the matter would cloud the issues relative to the commencement of some alternative church strategy. There was also a fairly clear recommendation that the meeting at least give some serious consideration to Fortune's approach.

Letters were delivered so that members had them prior to Sunday's services but it was suggested that the matter not be immediately made public to the congregation.

On Sunday 4th December I conducted my first service as "the" minister of Trinity. Ordinarily the first Sunday of the month Communion would have provided a fine opportunity for the commencement of what I had hoped would be an exciting relationship. It was not to be. The events of the week, overtaking my new people and me before we had even sealed our work together in a service of worship hung like a backdrop to everything said and done. The service used the simple order prepared by the Faith and Order Committee in 1970 enabling the Communion to precede a period of lecture presentation. This reviewed the work of the Strategy Consultation and especially the report of the Christchurch team. It led on to expectations of the new pastorate and its renewed link with the Mission as a serving and outreaching community. It discussed the various proposals that had come forward to that point for Trinity property and it made brief mention of the possibility that an alternative worship centre might be an eventual development.

The new format for the pastorate was obvious cause for concern to many. They might have been relieved if they could have known how soon this matter would fall from the local list of first priorities! At the moment, though, they had enough to cope with, and those who had already been summoned to the Leaders' Meeting the following evening had problems enough of their own.

It was an uneasy group of people that separated that morning. Some leaders had a few words of conviction on one side or the other. Most seemed willing to at least examine the situation. Some said "See you tomorrow night" as if we would be discussing the flower roster for the month. Probably most of the congregation that morning knew what was in the air. Perhaps many realised that within four months the sanctuary area might present a very different appearance. But not one of us, certainly not me, entertained for a moment the thought that we might have just knelt at the polished communion rail for the last time. Not one of us could have conceived that we were already caught up in a movement of events that was to sweep us on a wave of conviction into a situation that a year previously would have been considered quite unthinkable.

Leaders' Meeting

Monday night saw a good attendance of leaders, together with a couple of trustees. Two people were welcomed to their first Leaders' Meeting, and routine reports from the Pastorate, Evangelism and Worship Committee and Education Committee were received. A special children's service was planned for the Sunday before Christmas and consideration was given to a proposal that a family service be held on the fourth Sunday of every month. It might have been all rather ordinary in any other circumstances, but everyone knew that we were present for more important purposes. Routine business was dealt with in a few minutes and the discussion on the real agenda commenced.

We turned to the Fortune proposal. A time limit was now agreed upon; we would not deliberate past 9.30pm. If we could not come to a decision within two hours after all the debate already held during 1977 we would prefer to meet again or agree to allow the proposal to lapse altogether

Having not been involved in the issues prior to that week I was in some difficulty about how to proceed. I finally opted for a review of all the year's discussions and proposals in respect of the Trinity buildings. We sketched out the trust's finances: about $2800 a year was required to meet operating costs. We explored alternative proposals for raising income: converting the basement to a small car park and leasing it to the Mission for a Goodwill Services project had both been considered. Now Fortune's offer was placed before the meeting according to the details of the draft heads of agreement. There were some very clear expressions of support almost immediately.

It took more time for the negative feelings to come through. They were harder to express and seemed to be less convincing because facts and figures could not so readily support them, but real concern was expressed by two or three people. The conversation took these feelings more into account and several folk articulated their own shock and fear but stated that they felt that nevertheless they would want to support the suggestion.

In the whole of that debate there was neither acrimony nor resentment. Several members were puzzled, hurt or confused, some were impatient and over-businesslike and perhaps a little intolerant. Overall there was a powerful sense of commitment to explore the issues at whatever cost. That is what the meeting did.

While the whole exercise was to debate the lease issue without pre-judging the "alternative church" proposals this was not possible. The introduction of this further element did not make the discussions easier for everyone. But those who were already keen and those who were surprised and confused once more held out metaphorical hands to each other in a dramatic way. Only people who have sat through boring or frustrating or fractious or inconsequential meetings of local church officials can really understand the overwhelming goodwill that can sometimes occur among a group of people who have a deadly serious issue to debate and give themselves to the debate in love and fellowship knowing that when all is said and done some will be hurt.

For it seemed certain that Fortune's approach could never leave us as we were. Some would suffer. We were not meeting to discuss whether or not we would allow any of our people to be hurt; our meeting was rather to decide who was to be asked to carry the greatest pain—those who earnestly wished to change for a new kind of church life that might not be possible in Old Trinity or those who could not conceive of any kind of church life outside of our cherished, stately and worshipful home.

At 9.25pm the meeting was coming to a point of consensus. The motion seemed unlikely to get full support but there was agreement that it should be put. Every person in the fully attended meeting had contributed directly in the discussions and the viewpoints of most were now clear. The formality of the vote would enable us to express quite decisively our personal feelings and we agreed to signify For, Against, or Neutral by show of hands.

The motion was that the trust be asked to explore the possibility of leasing the entire church plant to Fortune Theatre (or any other organisation) on the basis suggested, with unrestricted use of the auditorium and associated facilities by the church on Sundays. There were 14 votes For. No one voted Against. Three people signified Neutral.

It was a remarkable debate and a brave decision. In a sense it was only opening up a way to carry out policies that had been suggested by the consultation a few months earlier. But it was none the less an awesome moment.

In a few days we were to discover that much more would be asked of us. On Tuesday morning, 6th December, I conveyed the meeting's decision to Fortune's Directors pointing out the normal steps of decision-making that would need to be taken before any lease could be signed. I emphasised in particular the connexional nature of Methodist polity. I offered the opinion that a decision could be made before Christmas by using the normal channels. But I stated that a detailed and comprehensive heads of agreement could be the only way in which the general principle could receive urgent consideration at the various levels. We met for another lengthy session to discuss the kinds of details that would be in such a document.

Immediately after this discussion I circulated a memorandum to all leaders, trustees and district and connexional officials to gather up the points made so far and the decision taken the previous night. Trustees were asked to respond to me personally concerning the methods by which we were trying to reach some finality. It was suggested that negotiations continue on an informal level until there was a fairly firm proposal to meet over. This would be in a few days. I also forwarded to them complete resume of all that had happened to date and specially a copy of the draft heads of agreement as far as it had been prepared.

It is important to note that this document was in the centre of the minds of all concerned at this early stage. The draft shows clearly that all that was envisaged was the removal of (some) pews and replacement with theatre-type seats and the removal of the sanctuary screen and the organ to make way for the stage. These requirements had been spelt out with care so that the congregation and trustees would be quite clear as to exactly what was anticipated.

Among them, the biggest problem was the organ. It became an almost insuperable difficulty in most thinking and planning and questioning over the next few days. On Wednesday 7th December we copied its specification from the stops. I went to Christchurch for the two-monthly meeting of the Board of Administration armed with the trust document and the notes on the organ. Over the Board's tea hour I was given opportunity to explain events to members of the Church Building sub-Committee and received a guarded but willing hearing very supportive of the general concept. It seemed likely that this support would have every chance of becoming general. At the same time, there were obviously many questions still to be asked; a friendly chat over tea—especially with the person who appears to be an enthusiast and might or might not be adequately representing the opinions and feelings of the local church members—is not at all the same as a decision taken in the cool of the officially convened meeting. It was a useful public relations exercise for Trinity but I probably wasn't the right person to do it!

There was, however, some interest in the organ. Everyone wanted to know how big was it and could it be shifted? Who knew? After the meeting I was phoned by Derek Laws and one of his local church officials returned to Dunedin with me next morning. We flew to Timaru airport and were met by Garth Kattle of the South Island Organ Company who had regularly maintained our organ over recent years.

Garth confirmed our suspicions. The organ had not been significantly rebuilt in 1966 and was not in good shape. It was not built into a case and would therefore have to be completely dismantled and rebuilt in another location. It was also very large and in his opinion had a considerable proportion of pipe work of less than high quality. He suggested it could be built into a good single manual instrument at a cost of $15,000, but that its standing value was negligible.

We proceeded to Dunedin where Ross Weir of Christchurch carried out a careful inspection. For the first time I gained an idea of the sheer size of the instrument. It occupied a space of 8 metres wide, 4 metres deep and up to 6 metres high. It now became clear that we had a substantial problem on our hands. Whatever else seemed likely to remain of the 1966 alterations, the organ was doomed to go if we were to join hands with Fortune.

The next day we received a formal letter from the Theatre asking for a lease and commenting on the draft agreement used so far. We were now negotiating "for real" and hypothetical questions were about to become practical and relevant at every point. Dates which seemed a long way off were now measured in days: a decision "before Christmas" now meant less than three weeks, and occupation for alteration work in January was only three or four weeks away. What had been discussed in a theoretical background of idealistic theology was now likely to be experienced in the cold facts of reality. Now that a firm approach was received we would have to consult with the whole congregation as soon as possible.

The rest of Friday 9th December passed in further consultations about the details of the heads of agreement for presentation to the congregation. An advertisement was placed in the local papers to gauge any possible interest in the purchase or the organ. Detailed notes on its availability were prepared and circulated to one or two people likely to be interested.

Congregational Meeting

On Saturday 10th my preparation for worship was dominated by the proposal that was to go to the congregation. Special worship bulletins were prepared and plans made for a careful presentation. As the Sunday School required the church auditorium to practise for a special service on the following Sunday the hall downstairs was readily selected as a suitable venue for the whole service.

However, the local Rose Society Show was being held in the hall on Saturday and casual conversation with two Trinity stalwarts from "way back" in connection with access to the hall for the Society led me to offer them a lift into town. At the Sunday School hall, in their hearing, I was drawn into conversation with one or two very enthusiastic Rose Show people who had heard about Fortune's proposals. Thus forearmed, the two Trinity members were very interested in developments and what became a lengthy conversation with them turned out to be a highly valuable piece of groundwork. The immediate sympathy of these two people for the project would not have seemed likely, and this "pre-release" of information helped them to catch the vision more readily than might otherwise have been the case. As it turned out, this was highly fortuitous.

The remains of the very attractive Rose Show display were still in position when the Sunday morning congregation found themselves directed downstairs to the hall at worship time. Worship was based on the theme offered us by the international lectionary. It was dramatically apposite:

My dear friends, do not be bewildered by the fiery ordeal that is upon you, as though it were something extraordinary.

It gives you a share in Christ's sufferings, and that is cause for joy; and when his glory is revealed, your joy will be triumphant. If Christ's name is flung in your teeth as an insult, count yourselves happy, because then that glorious Spirit which is the Spirit of God is resting upon you. If you suffer, it must not be for murder, theft, or sorcery, nor for infringing the rights of others. But if anyone suffers as a Christian, he should feel it no disgrace, but confess that name to the honour of God." (I Peter 4: 12-19 N.E.B.)

The theme was expounded in terms of possible criticism and abuse we might receive and the inevitability that some of us would be hurt as a result of steps we might take in the near future. It went on to suggest that we should see ourselves as sharing in some small way in the sufferings of Christ. We should always trust God and press on to do the best that we could in the light of the knowledge that was ours.

The Rose Society display and the compact nature of the 50-strong congregation in the downstairs room could have made for a lively, novel and pleasant occasion for all. But in the minds of many was the resolution from Monday's Leaders' Meeting. There was strain in the air and there were tears in some eyes already.

After worship the overhead projector was switched on showing the church plan with Fortune's needs superimposed on it. The air became electric. Discussion was opened with an introduction of the Leaders' Meeting resolution and comments flowed freely. Several who hadn't participated in talks to this point were able to have their say. They confirmed, overwhelmingly, but sadly, the general feeling that had emerged among the officials. It was as if six months of careful preparation in small meetings and discussions and reports was now all at once blossoming into harvest. It says much for the diligent work performed by the previous minister and his officials that such a congregational meeting, faced with such an appalling prospect at such short notice, was able to discuss it at all rationally, let alone come to a mind within half an hour or so.

I had, of course, come late into the exercise and only shared in the previous thinking because I happened to be married to one of the small Trinity property strategy committee. For me, that Sunday morning, it was easier to identify with the hurt and the agony than with the quiet determination to proceed. Perhaps that was helpful. Certainly, many found themselves able to express their sorrow, but they expressed also their willingness to pay the price and grasp the opportunity that presented itself. There were no attacks on individuals; there were no outbursts of rage or frustration; there were no complaints about procedures and especially the haste in which things had to move.

Two or three speakers seemed to be firmly against the recommendation and when one of the two who had been let in on the proposals the day before stood to speak her deep hurt was immediately evident. Few would have counted her in favour. As she developed her speech in support of change she carried many with her. Her final suggestion that we put ourselves in God's hands won a warm response. She ended by quoting the last lines of the hymn that I had already chosen to end our meeting:

We'll praise Him for all that is past

And trust Him for all that's to come. (MHB 69)

Her contribution was decisive.

Whereas the meeting had not been formally constituted members now moved that this be done and firm resolutions passed and recorded. There was a discussion about how quickly and firmly the trust should move. The meeting's mind was clear; get on with it and do everything possible to come to some agreement with Fortune. Within a matter of moments people declared themselves ready to vote on the recommendation now put from Leaders' Meeting.

A show of hands indicated 42 in favour, 5 against and nobody actually voting neutral. The hymn was sung, brief prayer shared and the congregation dispersed. Immediately afterwards the trustees met and in eight minutes passed the necessary resolutions. They needed one to get over the legal technicality that the meeting had not been called with the required seven days' notice: they agreed that if the minutes of the meeting were not challenged by any trustee within the ensuing seven days it could be considered a legitimate meeting. They passed a simple resolution authorising the minister, a trustee, with a member of the Leaders' Meeting who had been immensely helpful in the strategy discussions earlier, to act as a Committee.

These three were given full power to act on behalf of the trust and the congregation in all matters pertaining to the proposed agreement with Fortune Theatre. In less than an hour an historic Methodist congregation had committed itself to dramatic and complete change in the flow of its life. And it had done this in response to a proposition that had been first conceived only twelve days earlier.

John Vincent would have called it a vote for the Gospel, a vote for faith. For me, it was just unbelievable.

Surprise!

It was, of course, a set-back for the social service work which could have benefited from the use of the basement. This could have provided enough by way of rental to maintain the main floor for continued use as a church. But it seemed an unlikely proposition after the feelings expressed that morning.

On Monday morning, 12th December, the trend of the congregation's thinking so far was conveyed to Fortune with the request that we meet immediately to draft out some firm heads of agreement. They agreed, but failed to come. It was if any details of our broad understanding were of no interest to them. I proceeded to draft a substantial document myself, researching all the Mission leases running into several dozen pages and listing possible provisions that might be submitted for consideration.

Next day our solicitor was handed my tentative draft and he responded in favourable terms but suggested that we sign as complete a lease as possible rather than a mere heads of agreement which would carry much less weight than a formal lease. He felt that we could write a document to include a final clause stating that it would be the intention of the signatories to produce a revised Agreement to lease as soon as possible but that the present one was signed in good faith to enable us to proceed. This was doubly important in view of the unusual nature of various provisions relating to the limited nature of maintenance, Sunday use, insurance, and other factors which were not typical of ordinary agreements and yet were essential issues for acceptance prior to any occupancy by Fortune Theatre.

His advice turned out to be well-founded. The final arrangements by Fortune Theatre departed considerably from what was anticipated at this time and the provisions considered to this point would have been scarcely adequate to provide a good working framework for the parties' relationships in law.

Three or four individuals had now responded to the organ advertisement in the previous Saturday's classified columns and much time was taken up in demonstrations and discussions. I rapidly became acquainted with a principle that was to haunt me throughout the next few weeks: no church group would be able to make a decision to purchase the organ as fast as we had to decide to sell it. Yet its removal would be fundamental to Fortune's proposals. In between demonstrations of the organ a great deal more work was done on drafting and redrafting suitable clauses for the agreement. More letters were prepared and distributed to all leaders and trustees to keep them up to date with events.

The week rushed by and there was no word whatsoever from Fortune about a joint discussion. At last, around 2pm on Friday four directors presented themselves and it became obvious that they also had put in a fruitful week.

After dealing hitherto with directors who were employees of the Theatre we now found ourselves fronting up to the recently appointed Chairman of the shortly-to-be formed Theatre trust. Roy Walker had been intimately involved with the development of Mercury Theatre in Auckland and his removal to Dunedin in connection with the building of the new Hospital Ward Block was fortuitous indeed for Fortune. He knew his way round the theatre and he could turn his experienced hand to a magnificent design at short notice. However, he was not at all inhibited by agreements that had been reached earlier.

What he now placed before us was breathtaking and astounding. Without apology we were offered a totally changed concept. All the main conditions through which we had been delicately picking our way were altered.

* The rental offer would be only $4,700 p.a. as they had discovered that they couldn't release some space already being used and therefore hadn't as much money for rent as anticipated.

* The entire interior of the church would be gutted and the stage placed at the opposite end from the sanctuary.

* The pews would be removed and theatre seating would be installed on a steep rake rising 40 cm every 90 cm row of seats.

* The interior walls would be darkened and the stained glass windows blacked out (though it was thought they could probably be illuminated from inside.)

They seemed surprised that we found difficulties in these matters but were adamant that this was the only design that could meet their purposes. There were no other ways that the building could be altered to provide a satisfactory theatre.

Perhaps we over-reacted. Certainly the design was imaginative and was obviously likely to produce a superior auditorium with some quite outstanding characteristics. But, after experiencing the agony with which the congregation had come to the point of being willing to allow the "invasion" of the "secular" activity of the theatre on weekdays and the total loss of the organ and sanctuary for the sake of the new stage, I for one could not see any way in which it might even be reasonable to put the new proposals to the people.

We did not wish to choke off negotiations altogether so finally put with some firmness, our conviction that the Methodist Church of N.Z. would be likely to reject any proposal which failed to make provision for continuing Sunday use by the congregation. The proposed steep rake of seating would surely have this effect. We also stated that we thought the rental offer was inadequate. But we assured Fortune that the new conditions would be considered by the proper people over the weekend.

Quick toll calls followed, to bring connexional and district officials up to date with the latest developments. It became clear that the general feeling in the church at large was indeed as we had indicated. A fortuitously timed meeting of the connexion's Church Building & Loan Fund Committee that evening would consider the issues and report back as soon as possible. Meanwhile matters would be aired with the congregation on Sunday.

Advertisements for the organ had now been placed in most national dailies on Saturday and there was a little more interest. But, as with the local enquiries earlier, nobody seemed to be able to make any kind of move over the coming holiday period. The most promising interest was shown by two individuals who were building instruments for private use and could perhaps use the major components between them.

The days passed slowly as I turned over in my mind every conceivable approach to the situation. If the Church Building Committee were to refuse to consider the new proposals there would be no point in getting the congregation to even face the latest shocks. Yet some people had indicated the greatest enthusiasm for the opportunity of new life that seemed to be inherent in the concept of a congregation that was freed from the strains of maintaining an expensive plant and had some more flexible premises for Sunday use. Would Fortune's proposed supper lounge make a suitable "home" for the new congregation? Should we move out and find somewhere else altogether? Could we possibly find another likely user if we abandoned the church building in a year's time instead of right at this unpropitious moment? Should the Mission's requirements be pressed more firmly as a less drastic alternative for producing income? What did the Trinity people really want? How many who voted FOR were in fact just seeking an easy way out of the coming headaches over maintenance and were just using the whole exercise as an opportunity to slide out from under their responsibilities?

And, above all, to what extent had the issue already created an inevitability that folk on one side or the other were going to be deeply hurt? To go ahead on the new basis would be distressing to many. To withdraw from the precipice might cause others to be hurt. In a way, we were still in the position where we had simply to decide which way to direct the pain.

After much thought and helpful discussion with several people I realised that the mandate given with my association with Trinity was for ultimate change. The congregation must at least be given the opportunity to consider the matter.

The children's Christmas Service on Sunday 18th was followed by a brief get-together with officials and members of the congregation who waited around after the service. It was every bit as bad as we'd expected. Some became firm and said it must still be done, that we were kidding ourselves if we thought we could go ahead as we were and we must take the opportunity while it presented itself. Others were desperately shocked and hurt at the enormity of the changes Fortune sought and at the apparent willingness of the minister and officials to allow such a thing to happen. There was a general feeling of helplessness as if we were caught in the grip of a current against which we could not move. Perhaps some who had voted FOR the previous Sunday had already regretted their choice. Even they may have found it difficult to express any conviction about reversing a decision that had apparently been arrived at by democratic process.

There would not seem to be much point in assembling the Leaders Meeting. However, there were some very difficult issues: what would happen if Christchurch did, in fact, give approval to the unbelievable scheme? What was the status of last Sunday's resolution in the light of these changed circumstances? Was there, indeed, any mandate for real progress?

Minister and people greeted each other at the door in anything but the customary formal manner. There were words of frustration that we might not proceed; there were expressions of concern that in proceeding we would cause considerable distress. And there were many tears. The depth of feeling was clearly measureable on both sides and if we appeared to be in some degree of agreement last Sunday now we were clearly polarised with good points and inadequate ones, positive feelings and negative ones, well-expressed opinions and poorly articulated ones on each side.

It seemed to be a classic no-win situation, and I withdrew from it. By Monday morning after a sleepless night I just wanted to be quit of the whole deal. The suffering that many people would go through whatever now happened was all too clear. All my instincts rebelled from having to go through with the administrative responsibility for what was already under way.

When the Christchurch answer came through that afternoon I was only too happy to get the Leaders Meeting together to wash the whole business up. Their reasons were obvious enough. Sunday use seemed impossible in Trinity and no other "recognisable" home was available for the congregation (although it had been noted that space might ultimately come to us in the Mission building). Less importantly, the rent was not really adequate. The Church Building Committee could not be expected to give permission for the Lease to be signed on the proposed terms.

A Vote for Faith

It was as late as 4.30 on Monday afternoon when the decision was made to call the Leaders and Trinity Trustees together. The Chairman couldn't come, but said "Dave, if this can't go through I'm going to go to another church". He represented those who looked for change and would be hurt if it did not come. Another apologised and said "Well, as a matter of fact, my wife and I have already decided to transfer to St. Kilda so perhaps I shouldn't come". He represented several who for one reason and another made a minor exodus out of Trinity about the time of the change of appointment.

Seventeen members met, everyone being accounted for. Evan Lewis was present again to chair the meeting when the time came for proper procedures. We began with another complete presentation of the overall situation and a careful look at the issues that now confronted us. The discussion again drifted in the general direction of the "alternative" church as a major key to the whole issue of Trinity building itself.

As long as we stayed with the building issue I felt myself wanting to have only a decision—any decision—so that we could get on with the business of being the church. But when the conversation moved back to the implications of the new kind of church life I could not help but get more personally involved in the issues: here were matters in which I was much less than impartial and could speak with some enthusiasm. The lease was not vital for the "alternative" church proposal but if the latter were to be fulfilled, something like the suggested lease would almost certainly be sought in the future.

How could we delay the decision about the lease so we could make a relaxed and unbiased decision about "alternative church"? What possible options were open to us in the future if we rejected this proposal now? Fortune wouldn't be waiting in the wings for another proposal in a year's time if by then we had decided to quit Trinity for the sake of a new kind of church life. Yet, what kind of new church could we hope to build if we always stood under the judgment of having made the move because the financial attraction of Fortune's offer was the key reason. Others might not necessarily accuse us of doing the right things for the wrong reasons but we would always be able to accuse ourselves.

Well, we would have to be the best judges of that possibility. The feeling of the meeting now centred on the chances of being physically able to commence the "alternative church" concept from 1st February, 1978. We figured that if the Radio New Zealand Newsroom could not be made available we could perhaps use the Mission's own Friendship Centre. Or we could possibly negotiate for the use of the large Broadcasting Council cafeteria in the Mission Building. These possibilities seemed to answer one of Christchurch's objections to finalising the lease with Fortune: we could find an alternative home and we could commence the new church programme by 1st February. Furthermore, in one of these centres we could have more or less traditional worship for January so that, in effect, we could vacate Trinity immediately if we wished to.

The meeting was now unmistakably coming to the point where this was a general consensus. We returned to the proposition that seemed to be forcing us into a premature commencement. If the Administration Division was saying to us that we could not sign a lease with Fortune simply because we were using the church for a couple of hours a week then the sooner we vacated it the better. Once we resolved to cease using Trinity as our "home" then, surely, there would be only gain in obtaining a reasonable financial advantage from it. Only Christchurch's anxiety about a replacement home for the congregation seemed to be holding us back. We came to see that we were ready to move out but not quite able to see a new home as clearly as the Administration Division wished. It was then that one member blurted out, "If they don't let us sign a lease we'll send 'em the key".

At five minutes before 9.30pm, Superintendent Evan Lewis assumed the chair, the motion was formally put and voted upon. This time the meeting was virtually unanimous in support, only one or two people voting NEUTRAL and nobody AGAINST. It was all over in three minutes.

Having approached this meeting with a fervent desire to wind down the whole controversy, I was quite stunned. Now swept along on a current of determined enthusiasm I found it hard to acknowledge my feelings of three hours before. There was agony to come, to be sure, but we were apparently determined to suffer it. There would be criticism, but we would live with it. There would be misunderstanding of our motives, but we didn't have to answer to others, only to each other and to God. This we had already begun to do. We separated from each other with a mixture of shock and relief, of dismay and elation, of fear and faith.

Busy Days

Now we had to try to get the hierarchy of the church "on side" with what appeared to be a reckless disregard for their authority. We had to convince them that in the exigencies of the situation our action was responsible. We had to try to persuade Fortune to amend their plans so as to make the auditorium a little more suitable for worship use on the assumption that we would be requiring it again after the alterations were completed. We certainly had to finalise a more attractive financial deal with them as well as a great many more details for the actual agreement itself. We also had to try to obtain temporary accommodation for our congregation from immediately after Christmas. And of course we were concerned that some sort of communication should go immediately to all families on the Trinity pastoral list.

Next morning I phoned the District Chairman, the General Secretary of the church and the Superintendent of the Development Division. I had to explain to them that the people were determined to move out of Trinity and to manage without it altogether if necessary. It was not an easy task. How do you explain the unexplainable?

Nobody gave us permission, but there was a warm and sympathetic resignation to our importunity and no one told us to stop. Considering that there was no way proper meetings of the appropriate committees could be called at district and connexional level this was inevitable, but it was also significant. Several officials went out on a limb with us that morning, just by not insisting that full and proper steps be taken in their accustomed order. We would be ultimately answerable. But, for the moment, there was trust.

Consultations with Fortune occupied a large part of that day, Tuesday 20th December. We were able to agree that the value of Sunday use was around $1,000 a year in relation to the rental. This helped us revise our estimate of the value of the rental. The front four rows of seats could be adjusted to provide access that was a little less steep than the rest. A basis of valuing the alteration work was sketched out in brief. It was agreed that Fortune be given an option to purchase in the event of the trust intending to dispose of the property.

Lengthy discussions were also held with Radio New Zealand and the Broadcasting Corporation on the use of the Radio New Zealand News Room. It needs to be remembered that the country's state broadcasting services had not long before been savagely split into three separate entities that later became TV1, TV2 and Radio NZ. Staff who had been used to working together in a joint newsroom and cheerfully sharing joint facilities, had been suddenly told they were working for separate organisations. There was huge upheaval in the Mission Building which was tenanted to the Corporation but in 1977 still had elements of at least two of the three services.

Technically, then, we were dealing with the new Broadcasting Council in Wellington, as signatory to our lease. It held the property for all its media services. But the details around our property affected the people who actually used it. We had to keep up to date with every nuance of the relationships between the services. And their plan for dividing their joint news space was seen as a possible key to the future of Trinity congregation.

It would be practicable to make a "home" for the removed congregation, in say, the Friendship Centre, which was capable of seating 40 at tables but this would be not at all desirable; the shape of the coffee lounge left a lot to be desired and the gross contrast between it and Trinity would militate against the chances of a comfortable transition for the distressed congregation. The news room was a much more suitable venue. If we could secure it.

Senior executives of the district office of Radio New Zealand were therefore apprised of our situation in some detail. We requested immediate use of the newsroom, and a promise that it could be eventually transferred back to the Mission permanently. Television One management was also interviewed about the possibility that their adjacent newsroom and associated areas might also be released to the Mission in the long term. It was made clear that this deal was not of much urgency as long as there were some assurance that it could be discussed. The difficulty for the Corporation's two services lay in the proximity of the two rooms to each other; it was not easy for them to agree to relinquish one space when the future of the other was not perfectly clear. Changes taking place throughout the building as a result of the proposed move of the entire radio service to Albany Street were in so much of a state of flux that the time for firm and binding decisions on any area was obviously not just at this point.

However, Radio New Zealand was perfectly willing to allow us interim use of their own newsroom. The Broadcasting Corporation would go along with this if the Television One were prepared not to make any claim for the space. After discussions with local executives and many toll calls to Wellington the way seemed to open up: Television would waive any claim to the Radio Newsroom and would also move out of its own newsroom to the 4th floor if the Mission would provide partitions to their requirements. It was a major breakthrough: an immediate "home" for the removed congregation seemed assured.

I therefore spent a lot of time estimating likely costs of taking over this space. It was all very well for the Mission Board to talk airily of reclaiming space from its major tenants, but, having done so, would it release some for a predominantly Sunday-only use? Would the loss of rents be bearable in our fragile property accounts? What sort of contribution should be made by the church for semi-permanent use of Mission space?

The revised agreement was due from Fortune's solicitors any hour, together with, hopefully, a more attractive offer of rent. Several enquiries up to midday had not resulted in any response and I gradually drifted back into some of the backlog of Mission work that had piled up since the beginning of the month.

After lunch, this work was interrupted by a phone call. The enquirer had seen the advertisement for the organ and wanted a few details. He skilfully elicited the information he sought before revealing that he was the chief reporter for South Pacific Television. One of his staff had noted the advertisement and they were looking for a story. Now we had a media crisis on our hands.

This necessitated a personal visit to South Pacific Television where lengthy interviews with news staff opened the way for a carefully prepared item that went on the national network in the evening. There was a demonstration of the organ and a brief discussion of the problems of maintaining it and the church itself. There was also a clear reference to some kind of changed use for the church by a "community organisation".

It was obvious that the telecast would arouse considerable speculation so a detailed "Anti-News Release" was circulated immediately to all six local media. We laid our cards on the table and indicated which parties were negotiating and asked for a period of media silence in case discussions should be prejudiced at this very delicate stage. We promised to make a full release of all information as soon as there was some finality in the arrangement and sought the co-operation of all concerned in not speculating on the issue.

To the credit of the local news media, it must be stated that the trust's request was honoured without exception, though not without the odd reporter phoning to scratch up a few more clues to the non-story. There were also one or two fringe church people who phoned at this time and they were given the whole story for their personal information. Such enquirers usually also received the various information papers that were circulating to leaders and trustees.

The Leaders' Meeting had already realised that some kind of direct communication should now be sent to all of our large "family." Now that a hint had been given in the public media this was of crucial importance. We printed a special newsletter containing a note from the new minister, a statement about the leaders' intention in opting for the "alternative" church worship style in new premises. It also contained the bald principles of the Fortune proposal, together with a request for reasonable secrecy until the agreement was actually finalised. Fortune needed confidentiality as, should the Trinity deal fail, it might still need to fall back on the State Theatre.

We needed it for less worthy reasons; we were not enthusiastic about sorting out the issues with our "fringe" Methodists in the arena of the public media. Better for us to deal with the problems after the event than try to secure a lease in the context of public squabbling. So the newsletter needed to be done immediately.

It was written, printed and delivered to the mailroom at the Post Office by midnight on Tuesday. It would be distributed to all our people the following day in good time for them to be forewarned during the critical period in which we expected that our Agreement would be signed. As it turned out we were in more of a hurry than we needed to be on this occasion. But it was just another one of many jobs done to a tight timetable with willing co-operation from many hands even last thing at night.

For those inactive members who were not in close touch with the events of the past month it must have come as quite a shock. They were the people who might have been feared most. Many of them had long connections with Trinity and their very lack of vital involvement in its current life might well have dictated that they should be most offended about the proposal. Significantly, though, only three or four people rang to ask questions or to make comments at this stage.

Next day, the draft lease arrived. And life changed again.

# 6

# Problems! Problems!

It seemed Fortune had not only changed their negotiator but had got themselves a new solicitor as well. The lease was heavily re-written with the effect of totally changing some clauses or successfully obscuring their intended meaning. The language was doubtless legally more exacting than mine but the effect was, in several cases, disastrous. Important provisions, designed to describe a special and unconventional situation had been re-written into traditional landlord/tenant terminology and concessions hard-won in lengthy discussions had been just quietly removed. Only a thorough comparison of the new draft with the former ones revealed the extent of the changes and a detailed statement had to be prepared to draw attention to the alterations and classify them as "desirable", "necessary" and "unacceptable" and circulated to the leaders.

This work was in full swing and conversations and negotiations were going on in several different directions, when, just about 4pm Television One phoned from upstairs. They were very sorry but their undertakings of the previous day could not be taken as firm at this stage and they thought we'd like to know. Their commitment to our permanent use of their newsroom was not important to us, of course; we were counting on only the Radio NZ suite. But, it seemed, Television now wished to review their possible use of the Radio newsroom as well. We could be in it from next Sunday, but without any firm assurance of a future.

All our moves had hinged on the immediate and permanent possession of this room. We were at a stalemate once more. Three long calls to Wellington took place within the hour. These were obviously interspersed with contacts from the Corporation's Central Services Division to the Avalon and Dunedin offices of Television One. There is no doubt that we had ready sympathy in Wellington. But obviously their hands were tied by the right of their subsidiary services to have every opportunity to avail themselves of accommodation the corporation was already leasing in preference to using more limited space or renting new premises altogether. However this situation was not able to be decided in the leisurely manner of the public service bureaucracy. The possibility that a decision might not be forthcoming until after the holidays was unthinkable. I put a lot of pressure on our sympathetic friends in the Broadcasting Council and they agreed to try again with their sub-tenants. We would talk again in the morning.

Sleep came hard that night. At 3 am I gave up the unequal struggle and went into the office and for five hours drafted a whole series of alternative strategies that might enable us to proceed without the assistance of the radio news premises. Given the Connexion's general concern that we have a suitable place to be identified with the new congregation, the difficulties were profound.

Another lengthy toll call with the Methodist Church's General Secretary in Christchurch secured informal agreement that we might be able to initiate the congregation in the Friendship Centre if all else failed.

In the middle of the morning Broadcasting Corporation New Zealand phoned from Wellington. The situation was confused. Several broadcasting officers themselves under a lot of strain from the recent re-organisations were involved in making decisions about use of office space in the whole Dunedin area. An answer could still not so far be given. A firm promise was made that, one way or another, there would be a decision within another 24 hours if we could wait. Nothing else could be done that day, and there was only one more working day before the Christmas holidays. Could we wait?

We would have to. But we were fast running out of time, and more alternative strategies now had to be explored. Members of the sub-committee discussed several points and a number of leaders dropped into the office or were phoned or visited. By mid-afternoon it became evident that general agreement favoured a "go ahead regardless".

The expected call from Wellington came next morning. The Corporation was making immediate arrangements to drop the Radio Newsroom from its lease from 31st December and would negotiate a moderate settlement for the cost of the partitions and carpets in "as is" condition. Furthermore, a firm undertaking was given that the Television One newsroom together with ancillary areas on the east side of the ground floor be released to the Mission at a later date to be arranged. The understanding in this case was that the Mission's own 2nd floor area would be made available to the Corporation for a replacement-newsroom for Television One. This arrangement was later modified to permit the Mission to alter Corporation premises on the 4th floor in simple exchange for the newsroom. The modification was more acceptable to us in that it would enable us to gain a better rental for our own office space and better for Television One in that it assisted the consolidation of its various sections into a smaller area of the building.

All that was needed on that last working day of the year was for Fortune to come back with their solicitor's latest amendments to the draft lease. It was anticipated that this would be signed as soon as it was to hand together with Fortune's accountant's statement of their capacity to pay for the alterations that would be required. We felt justified in asking for this latter so that we could guard to some extent against getting left with a half-altered and useless church should Fortune's fortunes fail.

Late morning saw the delivery of a disturbingly informal document from Fortune's directors concerning their financial position. It had been expected that their accountants would provide a certificate but this had not been obtained and their office was now closed for the Christmas holidays. All we had, in effect, was a letter of good intentions signed by a director of the company. However, their solicitor phoned up out of the blue, having apparently just got round to examining our alterations to his draft. He queried several points and generally acknowledged our concern and rang off.

More encouraging news was to come. On that last, desperate day, Fortune had also done some rethinking. They now offered $5,500 a year in straight rental plus a bonus of two-thirds of any rates rebate granted by the Council. It took only a few minutes' work to ascertain that the rates payable on the Trinity property would be about $2,000 less rebate of 50% which meant that we could probably count on a further $600 a year in due course. Furthermore, that amount would be inflation-proof as it was related to the rates actually paid. Later they were to claim that their offer was for two thirds of any extra rebate over and above the 50% to which they were entitled as of right, but the agreement clearly states the former case. It was the only major point of disagreement arising out of the entire negotiation.

Further lengthy telephone consultations with all the Methodist parties yielded reluctant agreement that we could not expect any more at this stage in the light of the very large commitment Fortune was making by engaging in the Trinity project. The lease provided for reviews every two years and these would not be necessarily related to the initial rental which was acknowledged to have been set "in the dark" without the advantage of comparison with other similar properties.

This final agreement about rental, and the vital breakthrough with Broadcasting should have provided a fitting climax to the year's work. In the first place, they were the last vital links in a great chain that stretched back into the early months of the year through an incredible series of coincidental events. In the second, it was midday on the last working day of the year and the order of the day everywhere else was not protracted negotiations but office parties.

However, Fortune needed to be able to move into Trinity with its large force of free labour immediately and we would not permit them to move until something was formally signed. Where was the agreement?

Early in the afternoon we contacted them yet again to say that the way was now clear for us to sign and we could do this as soon as they presented themselves. Later on, further messages and calls elicited the rather unbelievable information that their solicitor had the only copy of the agreement with him and was reported to have disappeared off to his farm for the weekend. If he was merely seeking peace and quiet for a final wrestle with the details this was not immediately clear: that he wished for peace and quiet and a relaxing Christmas weekend seemed rather more likely.

We had come so far in 24 days. Now we were at a complete standstill again. And there we remained. Most of the Mission office staff drifted off for the holidays around mid-afternoon. I stayed, and desultorily tried to mop up work that was unfinished from three weeks ago. I made another phone call to Fortune to emphasise that I was available anytime at the office or at home to sign the document as soon as they had located it. I also stressed again the need for urgency for all our sakes. At 6pm I closed up and went home. I eschewed a last-minute shopping trip (a small sacrifice, actually; I hate shopping) in case Fortune should ring and spent a fitful evening in front of television.

Saturday came, and with it the responsibility of preparing for the final worship service in Trinity Church. It was difficult to start: how do you prepare for the last service in a church when the Leaders' Meeting only made the decision five nights ago and some of the congregation may not even know about it? And, worse, when there isn't even the consolation of a firm signed agreement that in fact, this really is the end of Trinity as we knew it.

It was the uncertainty that crippled. If the congregation could be sure that in fact definite commitments had been made we could have better faced up to the situation. But the awful possibility that we might go through the entire exercise and move out and then have the whole arrangement fall through because Fortune had changed their minds again was always in the air. Everyone was under the impression that we were pressing ahead with almost indecent haste because Fortune was under pressure to act immediately. If they were in so much of a hurry why hadn't they finished the revised agreement? How could things proceed so breathtakingly fast at our end and so apparently slowly at theirs.

So Saturday drifted by and Christmas Day dawned.

# 7

# A Bleak Christmas

The Christmas service was themed on the lectionary passages of Hebrews Chapter 12, the "cloud of witnesses". The Advent candles were lit to remind us of the prophets who believed in the dark days and pointed people to the coming of better things; of Mary who simply and gladly responded to the call of God; and of John the Baptist who called people to change their efforts to make religion meaningful for its day. All these now surrounded us with their presence. All watched to see how we would run the race before us.

So we were called to lay aside every weight—even perhaps the ponderous weight of our dated church properties and institutions—in order to run with perseverance the race to which we were now urgently called.

Forty three people are present, a large congregation for Trinity on Christmas morning, and we are all what John Wesley would have called "much affected". Phrases of hymns, prayers, lessons and sermon spring at us with new and intensified meanings in the light of the enormity of our seemingly casual relinquishing of 116 years of history. Christ's emptying of himself in order to be found in human form seems to be taken into our being as we prepare to turn our backs on our lovely sanctuary for the last time to venture into a plain room in an office building. The unspoken feelings of many in the congregation are profound. The atmosphere is like no other we have experienced. There is too much happening for anything to do justice to what people are going through now. The most earnest advocates of change, the most hardened iconoclasts, the vehement arguers for progress are now silenced in the anguished shock of the loss that is felt by all.

Our last candle is lit, reminding us that Christmas is for us as we join with all of God's people in welcoming Christ into today's world. The thrust of our service is a reminder that we're entering into a new phase of our life with a dramatically different awareness of what it means to be faithful. In a final act of dedication we yield ourselves up to God's will, with thankfulness for all the history that is enshrined in our sanctuary and will be soon left only in our hearts, and with determination to go on to create a new and meaningful incarnation of Christ's body in the new centre.

It is a dramatic moment as we bless each other together and I make a final exit from the lectern. There are few dry eyes, mine least of all. Some shine with cautious hope for our newer, more intimate future, but some are clouded by the misery that comes of doubt and the dullness that is born of uncertainty and lack of conviction.

But we bear each other up and say Happy Christmas at the door.

How do you say "Happy Christmas" at a time like this? How else, but in faith? We had no official permission to confirm us in the step we were taking. We had no general consensus that this was the only right thing to do. We had not even the certainty that things would work out as they had been negotiated. But we celebrated the incarnation by closing Trinity. We said "Happy Christmas". And we wept. I remained until the last people left and returned inside to collect my books and notes. At the lectern I broke down and wept like a child.

I hadn't been here just over a decade earlier when $58,000 was invested in the alterations that so transformed the interior. No sacrificial gifts of mine contributed to that beautiful organ screen or the carefully polished rimu panelling or the immaculate pews. All my theories would have been against those developments even at that time so I had no vested interest in them. But it was not so for many others, and my oft-repeated claims that church buildings were "just plant—you put 'em up and when you don't need 'em you pull 'em down" were now being tested. But the pain was being carried by others. I grieved for their hurt. I felt their doubt and pain. I marvelled at their willingness to put their belief to the test and their faith into action.

The rest of Christmas Day passed in a meaningless blur. Local people withdrew into their family groups and talked events over with concern but little rancour. Fortune's directors were presumably celebrating the festive season with something other than consultations with their solicitors because nothing more was heard from them once more. The parsonage family circle was depleted by the absence of a 14 year old daughter holidaying in Australia and this did little to brighten spirits that were already somewhat faint. Having promised Fortune I'd be available I was reluctant to leave the house but we sat around all, day in vain.

Boxing Day isn't a day off for ministers handling a crisis but it is for Theatre directors and their solicitors. All the urgency in the whole arrangement was on Fortune's side and we had bent church rules and regulations left right and centre to accommodate them. Now they were on holiday and we were left in a no-man's land of indecision and doubt. Were they even still interested? Had they also been negotiating with someone else with whom they'd now finalised a different transaction? Were they really in as much hurry as they'd insisted throughout these last four weeks? Had we pulled strings to no purpose at all, and was the communal heartache of our people a totally pointless experience?

I desultorily tried to draft a possible news release for the media. We had put some pressure on some reporters to keep their speculations quiet on the understanding that as soon as there was something to report we would make a full release. With that time presumably drawing nearer there was need to make some initial drafts of suitable material. It was a hard task as a couple of days of complete silence lengthened yet again. The telephone remained obdurately silent at our end and rang unanswered at theirs. The dramatic impact that the news would inevitably have was difficult to conjure up in the selection of phrases that would inform without shocking and enlighten without antagonising.

On Tuesday 27th December Alex Gilchrist appeared at the parsonage. The lease had been altered considerably, in line with most of our requests. Two or three key clauses had not been changed or else were worded in quite unsuitable fashion. Alex and I were in agreement as to the intended meaning in each case and proposed to simply paste over what we considered to be satisfactory corrections. But to my horror the only copy he had brought with him was already signed by Fortune Theatre.

We did the best we could: we re-typed and pasted up the offending sections and hoped for the best. Fortune didn't want a copy at all, it seemed, so I made a couple of spares for the Administration Division and others and proceeded to put the original into safe custody. I was willing to sign it but wasn't asked to do so and, in any case, I knew well that my signature on what was essentially a trust document wouldn't carry any weight. The proper majority of trustees' signatures could be obtained later.

In retrospect, it was not without significance that Fortune didn't request a signed copy for themselves. The church was satisfied to have something and that was what mattered in this helter-skelter race against time. Privately I speculated about the kind of job they might make of the alterations when their business negotiations were conducted so casually. Would they be able to meet their own deadline of 31st March? Would the building ever be respectable for either purpose?

On Wednesday 28th we made a joint news release to all the local media. It was newsworthy all right! Naturally, the emphasis was on Fortune, so that some people gained the impression that the congregation had been facing appalling expenses in maintaining its building—not entirely untrue!—and had simply given up an unequal struggle—not at all true! One paper, however, printed almost all the material submitted by us, providing quite a hopeful story on the future of the congregation as an aside to the main story.

Very supportive leader articles appeared in both papers. The Otago Daily Times:

There will be widespread satisfaction that the Fortune Theatre Company has leased the historic Trinity Methodist Church... Churches pose one of the biggest problems in the efforts being made to preserve worthwhile old buildings... Together with the completion of the restoration of the ANZ Bank building in Princes Street, and approval for the preservation of the original tower block at Otago Boys' High School, the new use for Trinity Methodist Church is another successful architectural step in the city.

Action

After keeping us in suspense for so long Fortune now waded into their demolition with almost indecent haste. By the time South Pacific Television—first on the scene once again—had their national news item prepared for that evening they were able to include shots of the pews being unceremoniously dumped out into the street and the pulpit panelling being smashed apart. For many Methodists in Dunedin and elsewhere, for whom there had been no previous indication of events this was a distressing experience. Not that it was easy for those of us who had any part in permitting it. A television news slot of 180 seconds doesn't provide for explanations, only images. Trinity's was not a good one that night.

There was much talk of the challenge facing Fortune in taking such a step and committing itself to finding $40,000 to complete its alterations by April 1st. Photographs showed the Minister of Internal Affairs, who had worshipped in the church as a lad, and other dignitaries inspecting the premises and the renovations.

Over the next couple of days several dramatic problems had to be solved with great urgency. The pews so simply carried out the door for the television news camera, had to be given a home. We persuaded Glenaven Methodist church to try half of them out for size in replacement for their much older and less comfortable forms on the understanding that the remainder could be stored in their old hall until it was needed for the opening of the indoor bowls season in late March. The arrangement was satisfactory and the new pews made a considerable improvement to the interior of the Glenaven church. The leftover ones later found a welcome home in the Catholic Church at Clinton. Fortune staff and volunteers did the removal of three pews at a time balanced precariously on the trailer behind the small Datsun van borrowed from the Mission.

Neatly labelled boxes of choir music occupied our cupboards in the organ loft area and were all pulled out, evaluated and sent up to Mornington church to be retained in case they might ever be required by the circuit. Material of lesser value went to St. Kilda church hall for storage. It was hoped that it might later realise a small sum from some ambitious but not too up-to-date choir.

On Friday Bishop Peter Mann looked in the church door at the shambles which had been made of the main floor. He listened to the briefly outlined plans for the Theatre and went out shaking his head: "It'd break my heart". He was right; it broke all our hearts.

The two Christchurch amateurs who tendered for the organ were advised that their offer was accepted. A detailed agreement was drawn up for signature to ensure that it would in fact be dismantled and completely clear of the building by January 31st. Occupancy of the organ loft would be vital for Fortune's tight construction schedule. Some bits and pieces would be picked up immediately but the purchasers would be camping in the church for the last week in January and expected to be able to do the whole job in four or so days. They did, and Fortune's schedule wasn't interrupted.

# 8

# A New Beginning

It was Saturday 31st December, 1977. With the first Sunday "after Trinity" only 24 hours away a good team of church volunteers met at the church. There were trailers and plenty of willing hands and in a short space of time the comfortable parlour chairs were retrieved from downstairs and loaded up. Together with the sanctuary furniture they were taken down to the Mission Building to the former Radio New Zealand News Room.

Already it was nicknamed the "Good News Room", a name that was destined to stick. Adopted nicknames must be a vital sign of the Gospel! The sanctuary furniture from the church was all carefully placed in the room at the narrow end so that the congregation faced the same relative direction as it did in Trinity. Instead of the great organ screen before our eyes there was now a living background tying together man's and God's handiwork. Seagulls and pigeons wheeled in the sky over the silver birch trees of the Octagon and a nearer backdrop of overhead wires, street lamps and Christmas decorations. It was a stimulating view and everyone commented on it as the furniture was pushed into position and a mini-Trinity emerged.

Barry Jones visited us soon afterwards and commented on the traditional arrangement of the sanctuary furniture with the congregation's chairs in several rows aside a centre aisle. He wondered if we had failed to grasp the opportunity to use a layout more suited to people-meeting-people. Well, on New Year's Eve we were just shifting Trinity with as gentle a transition as possible. There would be plenty of time and opportunity for innovation.

The work party left after a short day. The Good News Room was as clean as its rather dilapidated condition could possibly permit and it at least looked as though we could make ourselves at home in it. The space would seat at least 30 and probably 40 without crowding.

That night, at 11.30pm, seven of us met for a traditional Methodist watchnight service. There was room for all of us to sit around the large communion table. All the New Year traditions of making a new start were heavy on our souls. Three or four of us wept as we shared our convictions about a Gospel that called us to go on from where we were and demanded from us courage to face the unknown in faith. We traced once more the heritage that was ours. We followed once again the faith of those who had brought us to this dramatic change of direction. And, very simply, while the Octagon outside reverberated with another way of seeing in the New Year, we dedicated ourselves to whatever future God offered us in our new life together. It was a moment that we will treasure who shared the travail that preceded it.

On the Saturday as we moved into the Good News Room we had discussed many things: will someone arrange flowers as we used to do? No, we said, let's not burden ourselves with a duty that requires someone to make a special trip into town every week. Let's see if there's something else we can do instead. Will we have a large brass cross on the wall? No, we said, but perhaps a simple one in rough-sawn timber. On Sunday morning Neil McLeod brought it, and the service made a late start while we suspended it in the window that faced out on the Octagon and the "world" in which we'd suddenly found ourselves so intimately placed. A couple of bits of nylon string and some car keys jammed in the ceiling tiles and it was in position. It was as though we'd had a formal service of recognition. The Good News Room is commissioned and we are in business.

Sunday's liturgy is the communion. Its familiar language helps us to "find" ourselves as we adapt to the new environment in which our close proximity is at once a strength and a challenge. For we can bear each other up when there are 28 of us seated close. But the closeness also reveals the hurt that we are bearing. There are many tears but there is a new quality to our distress. We can now see the possibilities for a new kind of life. We can anticipate some of the joys that can come to people who move together through a great challenge and end up closer to each other than they were before. We can envisage how the chairs could be re-arranged and our congregational life and activity re-shaped by that simple action. We still feel deeply for those for whom the loss remains an enormity but we are committed now. If we hold each other up we will come through. The service ends again with Hymn 69.

We'll praise Him for all that is past

And trust Him for all that's to come.

Four Months Later

On 1st April, after a prodigious effort which is a story of its own Fortune Theatre opened Roger Hall's Middle Age Spread in the new auditorium. The city was captivated. Excellent acoustics and good sight lines for every one of nearly 230 seats had been accomplished with work to the value of nearly $100,000. By mid-year a project to add further facilities was already in the pipeline. Attendances were approximately double those of the former theatre and the company's position looked most encouraging. Its highest ambitions were paying off.

By comparison with this success story the life of Trinity congregation got very little media attention. But the people were also enjoying the fulfilment of their hopes and those who led the congregation through the traumatic days of December 1977 were encouraged. The people elected to retain the name "Trinity" but were unanimous in their resolution to continue in the Good News Room when the opportunity came to return to the church/theatre for Sunday-only use. The commanding Octagon site for the Good News Room had been altered to include part of the former Television News Room and refurbished with glass walls separating it from the new Mission offices.

The formerly minister-oriented service had been supplemented with lively leadership from a team of worship leaders. Seven or eight people established a pattern of monthly lunch-hour meetings to allocate leadership responsibilities for each Sunday. Almost every member of the resurrected congregation was involved in reading a lesson, offering a "focus for worship"—the imaginative alternative to the flower roster—sharing ideas for prayer, or commenting on a personal, or international event.

Worship retained the traditional structure, but came less wedded to it than before. Members of the congregation learned to be free to interject with a comment or to applaud a special contribution. Circular or hollow square seating arrangements facilitated intimacy and avoided having rows of more than three deep even when up to 60 people were present.

As was expected, a few people left for the suburban churches in the first two or three months. On the other hand, several new people drifted in as they used to from time to time in the old Trinity. But they now opted to stay with the new Sunday lifestyle.

The Trinity Trust met once or twice in the year after the move. A small group of ex-choir committee members had to make decisions about selling choir gowns. A few of the congregation participated in Quarterly Meeting. But, for the most part, decisions affecting the life of the congregation were made as part of the Sunday morning gathering by whoever was present. Few demands were made on people to turn out for other occasions. However, it became interesting to observe that many of them were heavily involved in wider programmes through the Mission's Social Services, Women's Fellowship and other activities in church and community.

By the end of 1978 nobody in the congregation talked about the old building any more. Many scarcely knew where the rent would be going nor what it would be used for. Certainly nobody asked, "When are we going to move back into old Trinity?"

Perhaps the hardest thing to handle was the loss of many good friends who left to seek rather more traditional worship. This was especially true of those who strove with us to find the answers that would best serve the needs of the majority, the whole church and the inner city, and finally voted for a programme that they would not be involved in. Yet even this sorrow was being overcome by the strength of the fellowship that was being built up Sunday by Sunday. The conviction that mattered was the overall good of the whole fellowship of Dunedin Methodists within the Kingdom of God. The new "Trinity" had its place in that total picture.

So, for the congregation, it became true as Jesus once suggested it of individuals, that "...he who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for my sake will find it."

Some time after these events, congregation and theatre company found themselves in considerable discussion once more. Fortune applied for a liquor licence for their supper room. The first the trustees knew of it was what they read in the papers. This unfortunate approach did not make the ensuing discussions any easier, especially when it was alleged that I had given the impression to Fortune that they should in fact proceed in this way. (I had, of course, encouraged them to step softly over the Liquor Licence they would doubtless seek; I thought that we could probably negotiate something if it were handled with the same kind of care that we managed the actual lease. What they thought I meant was that they should not discuss it with anyone at all!) The spate of letters and phone calls which were received by minister and trustees did not help.

In the event, the trustees immediately notified their intention to object to the application as did about a dozen other individuals and parties. Meanwhile, negotiations over rentals and a formal lease continued to occupy a number of people from time to time and negotiations were dragging out. After two or three adjournments the liquor licence application finally came to a hearing but by then most of the objectors had lost interest and declined the opportunity to appear before the Commission.

On the eve of what should have been the final hearing, someone started two fires in the theatre causing extensive damage to both floors. With the embarrassment caused by the Liquor Licence hearing and aware that the congregation were well settled in the Good News Room the trustees embarked on another feverish month of negotiations. This time they were able to gain the necessary approvals from the church in the proper fashion and all agreed that the Methodist Church should quit the re-damaged building. The price negotiated was less than some valuations of the land alone but a satisfactory insurance payout for the damage left the church with a reasonable capital fund which could be used to facilitate development of appropriate Dunedin Methodist work in years to come.

With good support from the Dunedin Community the Theatre Company managed an herculean rebuilding task and reoccupied the main theatre auditorium within eight weeks.

In 1981 the Trinity members—they still call themselves that—continue in the Good News Room. Their fellowship is deepening and strengthening, but also always changing. They remain vigorously committed to caring fellowship and sacrificial giving and service. But they haven't rekindled any need for Leaders Meetings or the usual "church" structures. They are aware that the Good News Room is becoming a permanent home yet they own only the chairs, the hymnbooks, a portable electronic organ, some communion ware, and a fine set of five-sided tables which can be arranged in a variety of shapes.

For the present, the congregational life of all concerned has vitality and meaning. For the future, they are still open.

# Part III

# Review

# 9

# The Decision

The foregoing was drafted in January 1978 when the events were still fresh—not to say painfully fresh—in mind. It was compiled from notes made at the time with the deliberate intention of assembling a record from which history might be able to make its own judgments.

At an early stage in the discussions of December it became obvious that years later the order of events and the balance of opinion and the reasons for decisions and steps taken might be anything but clear. All too many people would be willing to attribute the wrong motives to those who were directly involved. Many who discussed the issues were conscious of profound criticism that was in the air if not always directly offered. And of all those in the "hot seat" none felt this more than the writer, whose declared philosophy that led away from the traditional churchmanship of old Trinity was coupled with a major, if unpremeditated, role in the whole affair.

So, as much in self-defence as for any other reason, this story first took shape. Three years later, when the pain of transition had been worked through and the renewed life of the Trinity people well established in the Good News Room it seemed appropriate to draw some threads together and to shape up a draft of the events.

While the intention was to make the record available to the people who had originally been involved, it soon became clear that there was more that needed to be said. What is the good of passing through such an experience if one does not reflect on the meanings involved? Of what use can Trinity's trauma be to the whole church if it is not shared as an event with some theological implications? If the Dunedin congregations' problem is becoming more widespread as cost of ministry escalates, and efficient use of church buildings declines, what can this account suggest by way of possible solutions for others?

Deciding

One of the first questions that has always rolled around in my mind since this episode has been, "How was the decision made?"

Certainly the normal processes of decision making were observed as fully as possible in the key meetings that were held. Yet, throughout my service in the church I have observed the phenomenon wherein a properly constituted meeting democratically votes for a certain decision but fails to carry it out. The members have not made the decision a part of their later action. They have not "owned" it. Furthermore, the well-known tendency to make a certain decision under the influence of the chairperson or one or two enthusiastic individuals seldom has effective outcomes even when the decision is the best that could be made under the circumstances.

I have tried to explore some of these implications. At the time I wrote,

I felt I was not in control of the situation... it seemed to me that people were making a decision that I welcomed but had no part in... Indeed, on 19th December I was quite convinced we could not possibly proceed. My intention was to wind down the whole controversy as cleanly and tidily as we could... But there was no going back....

Naturally, anyone who knew my convictions about church life came quickly to the conclusion that I had closed down Trinity and led the people out of it at the first opportunity. Years later I am still occasionally blamed for the whole episode. There are sometimes opportunities to talk about it and to share a few more details than are often available to everyone. Often, though, these criticisms come at second or third hand and are thus left unchallenged.

I was always aware that this kind of criticism would appear. It was of concern to me that the way we were dealing with our plans and the events was all wrong. I wanted the Trinity people to explore the "alternative church" concept and then to decide if they wished to leave the building... everything happened in the wrong order...

I guess I'm writing this diary in an attempt to defend myself and my part in the affair...

Referring to the time and special skills needed for the December negotiations, Russ Burton commented that if he had still been the minister at Trinity the outcome could not have been the same. He is probably right to a point, but there is also another factor operating. It has to do with how people vote and how they make decisions in the church.

People in any meeting, and perhaps especially in a church meeting do not normally start out trying to be obstructive and difficult. They commence with considerable goodwill and they usually want to arrive at a constructive conclusion which will benefit the majority. They are normally anxious to co-operate in doing the thing that seems right. So they will often vote on their conviction about what is right for the whole group rather than what they individually feel is their own choice. They tend to vote for a principle which they sense the majority prefer rather than according to their own particular opinions. From this collective voting it is usually fairly easy to find a balance of opinion. It is not always quite so easy to arrive at a balance when entirely individual freedom is given full reign. People feel justified in voting for what they think the majority prefer rather than voting for their own personal choice and counting the votes in each direction to obtain a finding.

I tend to this latter position. I prefer to think for myself and vote in that way. Anyone who has been sitting near me in a Synod or Conference will testify to my uninhibited capacity to vote audibly against any motion about which I am not perfectly convinced. Some will recall an occasion on which I was invited to explain myself to the chairperson for voting "No" when everyone else voted "Aye"—an interesting sidelight on democracy within the church!

However, I am satisfied that relatively few people vote in this way in most church meetings. So there were plenty of votes in favour at the two Leaders' Meetings and the Congregational Meeting in December 1977. Each could have been considered to be overwhelmingly carried, and, indeed, they were taken as a clear mandate to proceed on each occasion. Nobody challenged the situation. I think, though, that a secret—or postal—ballot might have yielded different results; a majority still, perhaps, but nothing like the majority that appeared to emerge in those meetings.

Again, people in a church meeting will usually wish to co-operate with what they understand to be the express wish of their minister. If relationships are reasonably sound and the project is not totally harebrained they will be anxious to "support the minister". If they do not know what his/her opinion is they will probe tentatively to try to find it, and, if not successful with a little tact, will even ask quite directly for guidance before they are able to vote.

This tendency is less observable in the larger courts of the church and seems to be closely related to the pastoring role of the person who also happens to be the executive officer of the meeting if not also its chairman. In this context I cannot help observing that the practice of expecting the minister to be the "executive" person who promotes ideas and programmes which then have to be voted on under supposedly neutral chairmanship of the same individual is one of the least attractive principles of Methodist polity. It was, in fact, very important to me that the decisive votes in the Trinity affair were taken under the chairmanship of the circuit Superintendent, Evan Lewis, on each occasion. Although I had not been the duly appointed pastor of the congregation for more than a few days I was not the right person to minister impartially to the meeting so that proper decisions could be made. The presence of another chairman gave me, of course, a little more freedom in expounding my own aspirations than would have been the case had I been in the chair.

When it came to the proposals about the buildings I was able to maintain reasonable impartiality in presenting the various facets of the problem. It was not so easy for me to be impartial in the matter of the "alternative" church. Significantly, here was a point at which the meeting sought my opinion: they wanted to have full information about the new church that was in the backs of the minds of a few of us before the major issue could be resolved. It was as though the vote on the buildings issue was taken for the reasons for the envisaged changes in church life. The order of events at the first Leaders' Meeting on 5th Dec. demonstrates this clearly. In a sense, the people seemed to be voting for what they felt their new minister wanted. They might not have voted that way had there been a proposal about the building. The proposal was for total change. Quarterly Meeting had granted a mandate for change. Change was what they were going to vote for. Did not their minister want to do it? Were not "all the others" going to vote for it?

I would like to disown direct responsibility in the awesome decision that was taken that night. I cannot. No minister can be involved in any congregational decision without his/her own opinion and feelings and concerns becoming a part of the issue, a part of the voting, a part of the decision. The vacillators will look to a key person in any meeting for opinion and for leadership. In a church meeting, the local minister is likely to be that key person. We who bear the responsibility of leadership in the local church must shoulder this burden and live with it.

A Pastoral Context

There are real dangers in this burden. How does a meeting know it has made a "democratic" decision that will be wholeheartedly implemented by all concerned if there is a large number of members who voted "Yes" only because they sensed that others wanted it? What responsibility attaches to those who influenced voters—by rousing speech or quiet conviction or whatever other means—to vote as they did? Who is actually responsible if the decision is ultimately shown to have been wrong? This may happen at any time and all too often those who voted for it will later claim that they knew all along it would fall down at the last. How can people be helped to accept a decision in which their own convictions may have added hardly any weight at all?

I believe this substantial problem is essentially a pastoral one. There is a highly specific requirement for pastoral ministry to the decision-makers in a local church. This is never more urgent than in the context of a terrible decision of great consequence—no matter how substantial the apparent majority. There are people who will need to be lovingly helped to "own" the feelings that they continue to have after they have voted with their heads and against their hearts. There are sometimes hurtful differences of opinion as to the reasons for voting this way or that. There are always heartaches. These must always be worst for those who voted "for the good of the church" and against their own personal desires. In the case of our decision it became apparent that everyone was carrying pain and hurt for weeks and in some cases for months and years. Who is to handle this massive pastoral task?

The obvious answer is that the minister is supposed to do this—isn't that the job for which he or she is appointed? It is not so obvious to acknowledge that the minister who is at the centre of the decision-making process is probably at a grave disadvantage in mobilising the kinds of helping resources that are needed. These limitations were especially apparent in my experience on this occasion.

Firstly, my relationship to the congregation was for only about four hours per week. Not an exhaustive amount of time for extensive personal pastoral work. Secondly, immediately after the events of December almost everyone was away on holiday, including me. The Mission Deaconess, Shirley Ungemuth, was able to do a limited amount of visiting and this proved to be important. But because of my central role in the decision-making process I felt under some pressure to help the new congregation to get off to a good start in the new premises. It was a shattering experience to be "grounded" with bad flying weather at Omaka airfield on the last Saturday in January, the day before our first really important service. By telephone I had to hand over responsibility for this event to Shirley and it was a chastening experience to have to do so. It was a much worse blow to my morale to return to Dunedin to find that she had given magnificent leadership and the occasion had been a resounding thrill for all concerned. So much can one's own needs get in the way of ministering to others. It is not easy for the minister to exercise effective and meaningful pastoral roles in situations of such controversy.

However, there are some very hopeful alternatives. One of the threads that held the congregation together in those early weeks was the Good News Room itself. The very place of our meeting Sunday by Sunday opened people up to each other. It enabled them to express their tears or their frustration or their anger as well as their happiness and fulfilment among each other. Elementary community-building exercises helped; effective worship helped; individual pastoring helped. But the fact that the people grew through this experience was first and foremost a tribute to them. They brought each other through by simply being there for each other at each gathering.

Some of the best moments in our community life together occurred when the leaders deliberately structured some "remembering" around some of the things we used to do differently. It was most significant to note that most things recalled dated from a much earlier period than the last phase of Trinity's life since the 1966 alterations. It took some time for the most recent experiences to be integrated into the present and their loss to be finally accepted.

Major decision-making in the church needs a lot of time and skill to work through. Where the decision is one that requires a lot of ongoing activity afterwards, such as erecting new buildings or instituting extensive new programmes it would be all too easy to bury oneself in furious effort of this kind rather than to pay attention to the mutual pastoring that is required. In our case we had little to do except care for one another so we could hardly fail. But it is nevertheless an important learning that the making of a fateful decision is not the end but really just a part of the total process.

In all this the place of the minister is paramount. It is one thing to assist a meeting to discover all the information it needs to make a decision. It is something else to call for the vote. It is something else again to bring all concerned "on board" with the decision and the courses of action that must follow. It is another thing altogether to minister effectively to those for whom the decision is a grievous hurt. That the same individual is likely to have to perform all of these roles is a challenge indeed.

Nevertheless, I believe that the ultimate strength of the congregation that has come through this episode lies in the bond which people have forged with each other. There could hardly have been a more minimal part-time arrangement for ministerial pastoral care in the Methodist Connexion than my four hours a week. The drastic limits of ministerial time available to the congregation seem to have been the stimulus to them to take extra care of one another. A very small amount of professional pastoral input seems to be sufficient to keep alive this sense of mutual concern and to help it to grow.

### Summary

Who made the decision? The people didn't decide alone. The minister certainly didn't make the decision for them. They decided together; they acted together; they supported each other and they maintained a nurturing community. So they helped each other through the agony. And they grew.

# 10

# Other Learnings

Having set down the details of the Trinity story and discussed the main issue involved—the making of the decision itself—we now need to explore what else can be learned from these events.

Of course we will draw heavily on others' experience and writings and naturally we will run the risk of anti-climax after reviewing what was, after all, a rather remarkable adventure in faith. Perhaps, indeed, some readers might not feel an obligation to persevere with what follows.

Yet, without reflecting on what happened and what may be learned from it, Trinity's could be a pointless tale. Unless we can examine the motives and the theology and the insights behind what took place the drama profits us very little. There may be some encouragement for people to continue pressing for change; there may be some relief from the criticism that continues to fall from time to time on the hapless heads of the Trinity people. But there will be no real and lasting benefit from recording the story unless we make an attempt to set down what we and the wider church may learn from it.

It will be readily recognised that the notes that follow do not pretend to be an adequate theological statement. They are not even listed in order of considered importance. They do, however, reflect on some of the truths that have been confirmed in our experience. We would like to think they may perhaps help others.

**Not for Everyone**

First, Trinity's experience is not given to every congregation. Many a congregation may be troubled by the problem of maintaining a plant that is far too large for the group using it. Few will have a readymade tenant or purchaser to hand at the right moment.

The point may be, however, that when the time is right and the opportunity presents itself there needs to be action. Trinity had little opportunity to chew over the matter and consult all parties in the time-honoured (and ecclesiastically legal!) manner if it were to take advantage of the possibility that appeared. Decisive action was called for and appalling responsibility was entrusted to just three people on the local scene. This is not the way in which the church at large conducts its affairs. Radical actions may require radical procedures.

Changes do come by slow growth within the boundaries laid down by regulations and conventions. Sometimes, however, they can come only by movement in ways that are not provided for in the rules and through actions that have the hallmark of dedicated disobedience upon them. It is to be hoped that procedures will become more flexible as time goes on so that anarchy does not reign. But now and then the formalities have to be set aside. This was one of those times.

There is another reason why Trinity's experience is not a model for all congregations. It may sound simple to move out of the expensive commitment to an elderly structure into rented accommodation. It may appear to be a substantial saving. The fact is, though, that although the Good News Room rental is not expensive its cost remains an ongoing commitment and must inevitably rise with inflation.

The running costs will soon approximate—at least in dollar terms—those of old Trinity in 1977. If a congregation can achieve the same flexibility of use in owned premises that is implied in a rented property may be better to own the property itself. It may then seek tenants for weekday use. The key issue is not simply whether or not the congregation has title to the property but rather what use is being made of it when they don't require it.

In that sense the 1977 proposal that Trinity and Fortune share property belonging to the Methodist Church would have been very satisfactory. It could even have been economically more favourable than the present arrangement.

A third reason for expressing caution about applying Trinity's lesson to everyone else relates to the nature of the congregation. It was of the essence of the "contract" with the incoming Minister that the congregation would be an intentional, active and highly voluntary one. The "inactive" pastorate of people who did not choose to attend the services or otherwise participate in the church's life would not be attached to the new congregation. The intention was that all such families should be transferred to the nearest Methodist pastorate. The choice was to be theirs and carefully prepared information and invitations went to all inviting them to be associated with the Good News Room. This was an invitation by inertia—those who didn't reply were simply transferred to the appropriate pastorate.

Naturally this had some negative effect upon some of the people involved. They thought they belonged to Trinity but it apparently failed to accept them. Some had been brought up in the life of old Trinity and could recite lists of forbears who were pillars of that church. They could not readily see that their own lack of participation in this new experiment justified what they saw to be their rejection.

These resentments might have been almost unnoticed if this selection process had been all there was to it; but the fact that the building itself was also being set aside aggravated the resentment. While families who were fully involved in the life of the church were hurt but knew what it was all about, many who were on the fringe of the pastorate knew least and made the most fuss.

Happily, many inactive families saw the point and made complimentary and accepting remarks. They claimed to understand our difficulty which they saw in purely financial terms. Some were enthusiastic in the re-use of Trinity building for a worthwhile community cause. But, unless they chose to enroll in the Good News Room they too were transferred to the suburban pastorates.

This process has not had an entirely satisfactory outcome. By definition, the effective integration in new congregations of people who are inactive anyway is a sort of contradiction in terms. Many are probably still unaware that they have been transferred—indeed the Good News Room ministers still occasionally receive the odd enquiry from fringe adherents who want something of "their" minister. The importance of a properly defined inactive pastorate in providing a field for evangelism and outreach cannot be too highly emphasised.

The loss of this group to the newly formed congregation was significant. It could have occurred only in such a setting as Dunedin where the people concerned were in fact located geographically within the suburban pastorates around the metropolitan area. It was a simple matter to define the new Trinity on the basis of "intentional" membership because there didn't need to be an entire pastoral vacuum for those who opted not to join.

Few other congregations would have such an appealing option open to them. It was a key to the success of the new Trinity that it consisted of a small group of deliberately intentional members served by an absolute minimum of paid ministerial hours. It could not have happened without adequate pastoral provision for the non-active group of perhaps as many as 80 other families.

There will always be arguments for and against the concept of the "gathered" church. There are advantages and there are losses and some of each should now be readily apparent. Each congregation must make its own decision as to the balance of its constituency. A radical revision of membership of the kind undertaken by Trinity may be possible—or desirable—only when there is some provision for ongoing responsibility for that part of the pastorate which ought to offer a cutting edge of the congregation's outreach into the lives of the wider community.

Even when the most favourable circumstances are present this needs to be a move of very great delicacy. At the same time, however, the signs seem to be that the church may be able to recover a sense of vitality as it invites people to stand up and be counted. The losses are not as great as is sometimes supposed and often there is real growth. For instance the degree of involvement of the new Trinity people in terms of church attendance and finance—those rather over-used criteria by which we tempt ourselves to assess the strength of a congregation—is much greater per family than it ever was before. The new move brought about a depth of commitment that measurably increased in ways that would not have been possible had the whole membership been transferred as a body. An invitation to personal commitment always includes both certain dangers and definable rewards.

If the "inactive" pastorate is truly a field of mission for the active ministry of the membership it may be that both concepts can be clarified by a more precise dividing line between the two. The church's 1963 re-definition of Membership in "electoral" terms moved somewhat in this direction. The Trinity move could be justified in almost exactly those terms so far as "members" were concerned. What remained was the problem of pastoral care and Trinity's drastic solution was one that could not inevitably be an answer for every other congregation. Other alternatives need to be explored for them.

So Trinity's experience is not therefore a model for every other situation. What may be learned is that there comes a time when something has to be done if an opportunity is not to be lost. Each congregation faced with that opportunity should come to its own conclusions in its own way and should act on that basis.

**The Essential Ingredient**

The Trinity-Fortune affair involved me in a large amount of extra work. The daily log kept at the time suggests that I did about 150 hours over and above my normal work during the four weeks. In that period I lost seven kilos in weight—though that is not necessarily a relevant measure of work done!

Few regular parish ministers would have been able to make this amount of time commitment even for a priority project although it is not uncommonly achieved when necessary. Fewer still part-time or self-supporting ministers would be able to permit such intensive inroads into their time to provide administrative assistance of this kind. Yet, this was an essential ingredient in the project. It is my contention that the church should not hesitate to involve its trained ministers in this kind of role in specific situations. Nor should it feel apologetic or defensive about it. The person, the background and the skills are what matter.

It is a proper question to ask if someone else could not have done this work. The answer may be found in the oft-repeated assertion that "lay people ought to do the administration to leave the minister free to do his/her proper job." However, lay people with the necessary skills, the confidence of the connexional hierarchy and some theological base to their visions are as hard to find as clergy. Their time, also, is likely to be heavily structured by their employment or other factors.

On the other hand, it should be noted that the other two people who were most involved in the project were both lay. They contributed unstintingly of their time and consideration and advice when these were called for., One, indeed, was going through a similar process with another venerable institution in the city at almost exactly the same time. The other has since accepted entire responsibility for administering the vast complex of properties which have been released as a result of the Dunedin Strategy Consultation and subsequent events.

In addition to the time of these three, most people would also acknowledge that the operation was greatly facilitated by the resources of the Mission office. Without some administrative backup, Trinity's capacity to sign a reasonably adequate document in time to meet Fortune's deadline would have been seriously compromised.

After the negotiations were concluded the need for administration continued. With only about four hours' work available for the congregation each week it would be an easy conclusion that the paid ministry should be put into pastoral activities. Voluntary lay people could surely look after the administration. Such a conclusion fails to acknowledge the pastoral function of administration in the congregational setting. While undoubtedly a number of administrative matters are simply left undone in the Trinity congregation today—some circular letters do not get replies and some projects go unassisted—the administrative functions which will stimulate the congregation to take up tasks of ministry and mission continue to get full priority. When there are severe constraints on available time there seems to be a law that ensures more use is made of what time there is. If the part-time minister's other employment offers some secretarial facilities there is an even more effective use of his/her time.

It is not only in the new Trinity that substantial administrative work is required. As indicated before, all the churches in Dunedin now share in a very large property management task. By 1980 five churches had been vacated since the 1977 Consultation. Of these, two have been sold outright and three are committed to community-use leases. The administration of most of these assets has not fallen to a minister but to one layman who gives significantly of his particular skills and interests to manage this large enterprise on behalf of all. As the church often asks too little of its lay people it can also, sometimes, expect too much of them. Furthermore, it can use them quite improperly in some tasks that make totally unrealistic claims on their specialist skills. In the present Dunedin scene it would seem likely that some basis ought to be found for professional administration of this large estate.

Here we need to note that there are still theological implications for administration. For unless a coherent philosophy of mission develops the use of substantial cash resources could become a matter of responding to whichever suggestions are most skilfully put forward. This characteristic can be seen at connexional level where those who know what resources are available can easily make a convincing case for using them in a certain way.

Furthermore, some people would even wish to claim that the presence of so large a nest-egg held by one single group of small congregations is a real challenge. What price the fulfilment of "he who saves his life shall lose it and he who loses his life for my sake shall find it" if the outcome is a fat balance in the bank? Who will shape the policy by which these enormous resources are developed and expanded? Should they be simply frittered away in supporting paid ministry for a few more years after the congregations have stopped being able to afford it? Should they be subject to the "redundant properties" resolution of Conference and be taxed for use in developing specialist ministries elsewhere in the country? Should one congregation be encouraged to apply for a large part of the fund to add to or renovate its existing plant? The Administration Division has tried to offer guidelines but Quarterly Meeting merely "received" what it totally failed to comprehend and the exercise was at something of a stalemate as late as mid-1981.

No mere "administrator" will necessarily be able to sort out the implications of this situation. Rather, the congregations must do their theological homework and examine the real issues of their wealth, their valid reason for existence, and the best fulfilment of their overall mission in the region.

Such pastoral administration calls for different skills. It may once more be an entirely legitimate use of theologically trained people to share in this task. In any list of the tasks of ministry for which a trained, ordained minister is required for the local congregation, the pastoral functions of administration must be prominent. This should not be taken to justify the pushing of papers around the study desk and the painstaking setting out of complex agendas and minutes which can well be done by someone else. It is a declaration that in making much more effective use of its highly expensive paid ministry the church must re-examine its priorities to ensure that it obtains the best possible value for funds expended. Much of this will be found in specific administrative functions.

**The Place of Property**

The Church Extension movement of the 1950s strove to meet dramatic housing developments with multi-purpose buildings that could be economically erected. However, there was often an underlying wish for permanent materials as better expressing the realities of the faith. Many parishes mortgaged themselves into this theology. They were encouraged by the adoption of organised stewardship programmes which could sell bricks and mortar more effectively than persons and programmes. Many modern, graceful buildings adorn our land as a result but they are by no means an unmixed blessing.

What was learned about Trinity was not that the old building had outlived its usefulness simply because it was more than a century old. Rather, its designed purpose was out of date. Even the expensive alterations of 1966 did little to render it more flexible than when it had been erected at such great cost in 1870. Indeed, this would have seemed scarcely relevant to the Mission's architect in the mid-sixties when this work was commissioned. His brief was to modernise the interior, not to change its basic purpose.

It could perhaps be pointed out that even in the 1960s many people were seeking for more effective use of church buildings. St. Paul's Church in Palmerston North was dramatically transformed into a far more useful meeting place than Trinity in Dunedin. And plenty of thoughtful people were looking for something more creative than was being modelled in Dunedin.

The point is that in today's age the multipurpose type of concept of the postwar period has a great deal more usefulness. If permanent buildings are desired—and can be justified on the basis of real expectations of use—they need to be more flexible than they have been. Where they cannot be justified, rented premises of quite modest proportions and design can meet the needs of a fair-sized group if used with imagination.

The sheer cost of church property raises theological questions these days. If the church's use of its plant (in terms of people-accommodated at any one time and frequency of use of any kind) is reduced due to changing circumstances in its surrounding community these questions become that much more acute. It is perhaps a little facile to measure these "efficiencies" in terms of dollars-per-service and yet it is hard to escape from the economic realities. It is glib to declare that buildings are an expensive luxury for the church, yet in a starving world the Christian Gospel is witnessed to by some very extravagant plants which have minimal use. It is always a matter of degree, of course, but for Trinity the point had come where the economic cost clearly outweighed the benefit to the church. It had been so for years.

Significantly, at that moment in time, the plant was also caught up in two important considerations. The market value of the venerable old property was rather more in the land than the building. It later took only 70% of fire damage to negate the value of the building so that the trustees sold it "as is" at a price of less than some valuations of the land alone. Any building which becomes worth less than the land on which it stands is a problem of some kind. When it is a church building of some historic importance and widespread emotional attachment for many people the problem is that much worse. To quit Trinity in 1977 by any other means than Fortune's offer would have been a highly unlikely contingency. It was worth so much and yet so little.

At the same time, however, to continue to use Trinity as a church seemed likely to cost an appalling amount. The 1966 alterations had not been completely paid off. An amount of some $3,000 was still owing. While there seemed to be no immediately pressing need, an architect's report on the condition of the stonework was extremely pessimistic about its future life. The building was suffering extensive effluorescence from damp in the mortar. A major sealing job done in 1966 was found to have been done at less than the recommended standard so that the usual 15 year warranty was not valid. In 1977 a piece of interior plaster fell to the floor of a downstairs Sunday School room; it was too heavy to pick up whole. Some estimates to put the buildings into reasonable order inside and out ran as high as $60,000. The officials resolved to leave the work undone rather than spend that sort of money. But it was a difficult issue to decide, and Fortune's offer undoubtedly won some votes for these reasons.

These problems are not uncommon among ageing inner-city church plants. The wider church must find some better solutions for the necessary housing of congregations. It must reflect on the vital conditions for effective congregational life and the economics of providing these in the light of wider situations than the location of the present buildings and the requirements of the existing users. Flexibility of design should include planned potential for disposal when redundancy occurs. Congregations should not be painted into corners by the ambitious brushes of earlier generations who do not see beyond their own immediate needs.

**Small is Good**

Even in mid-1977, Trinity was a comparatively small congregation. Under Russ Burton's ministry it had built up worship numbers in the face of declining membership but 50 persons was probably the average on Sunday morning. By the time of the strategy consultation and the events that followed a significant number of these regular worshippers had left Dunedin or transferred their allegiance to suburban Methodist churches or, in one case, a Union Parish. The Leaders' Meeting numbered 21 or almost half of the Sunday morning attendance.

The fact that the congregation was so compact was of considerable advantage in the transition that took place so suddenly. It was comparatively easy to keep everyone informed of what was going on Most active members became involved at some point in the decision-making and the thinking that had preceded it. The closeness of the congregation assisted in the processes of acceptance because everyone had someone to talk to about the issues. Several had actually participated in the Strategy Consultation and the discussions which followed it. Good communication flowed relatively freely throughout the active pastorate. A co-operative spirit was the only style in which the people were working. No residual wrangles from critical or divisive issues were hanging in the air. All the membership who were involved in Sunday worship were looking for ways in which the church could best shape itself for mission.

It says much for the painstaking pastoral work of the previous years that the congregation was in such a healthy position. There was, of course, quite a smattering of casual attenders in old Trinity and some of these sat rather loosely to the local church networks of care and responsibility. To the extent that they were less willing to be involved they probably paid a higher price in not sharing so directly in the crucial decision that would soon affect them particularly. On the other hand, some of those who had been loosely attached to old Trinity made a much firmer commitment of themselves to the new congregation. This is the only explanation for the fact that attendance in the Good News Room together with the active members transferred to the suburban churches accounted for more persons than used to attend old Trinity.

But Trinity continues to be a small church. When it was re-constituted in the Good News Room only 27 members signed in out of about 140 on the electoral roll. Subsequently others joined. In 1981 the roll hovered around 40, and the average attendance on Sunday mornings was about the same. So before and after the event Trinity was a moderately small church.

The issue about smallness is that whereas the 200 seat Trinity building inhibited the congregation, the Good News Room has had a positive effect on its life. There is something psychologically significant about having to bring in extra chairs on occasion, of having all members within eye contact of each other, of being able to speak to each other and to contribute to the whole group without unduly raising the voice or adapting to electronic amplification.

The use of nametags was resorted to when we found how few of us actually knew each other's name even after sitting in church Sunday by Sunday for several years. The proximity of the new congregation has overcome much of this loss of personal contact. The nametags aren't used in 1981 and we still have to work at learning new names but it can happen in the more intimate setting.

Smallness in our setting also enables the necessary business to be conducted on Sundays by the whole group. This does away with the need for a Leaders' Meeting which requires a separate trip into town and has to act in a representative capacity which has little relevance for such a small congregation. In this way, the business affairs of the congregation are conducted in open fashion and everyone may have a say and vote.

Smallness is also a strength in stewardship. It is interesting to observe that while the congregation's direct financial needs are now smaller than they ever were, their capacity to respond both in regular stewardship giving and in special extra efforts has been greatly enhanced. The small church probably provides better opportunities for learning than a larger one. It may also guard against the feeling that "everyone else will do their bit and it won't be noticed if I don't". It certainly seems to engender a more significant sense of involvement in a personal sense of challenge. There is nothing so morale-sapping in the average stewardship programme as the worldly-wise member of the Quarterly Meeting who calculates that "if every one of our 200 families gave only $1.73 a week we'd meet our budget." Where there are only 25 families you can readily recognise that little game for the nonsense that it is.

The smaller congregation needs, however, an appropriate setting for its life. It is of great importance that Trinity in the Good News Room is substantially people who were in old Trinity. The difference is the setting. Its physical size is a limitation that has stimulated growth. The people who moved into it were a most unlikely congregation on whom the church might have wished to press a special experimental, alternative style. Many of them had been around Trinity and the Mission for much more than a decade or two and while they regretted the declining statistics they had no thought of drastic action prior to the strategy consultation in June 1977. They despaired about the cost of maintenance but they did not consider moving: they worried about "what's going to happen to us in a few years"? But they didn't see that they were part of the answer. The Sunday-by-Sunday routines of the lovely old church building prevented real face-to-face communication. This discouraged any possible discussions about the future because the worship centre itself was simply a "given". It was not up for discussion.

Today the same group of people has a different outlook. They don't actively seek further dramatic change but they are open to most possibilities. They enjoy sharing ideas and are gaining confidence in expressing themselves. They sometimes still offer quite conservative ideas about the church and its mission but they recognise these more readily and can discuss them as opinions rather than as facts. They are free to express contrary opinions in occasionally quite vehement terms without feeling inhibited by their surroundings. Tears of sadness or hurt or anger or resentment can still flow.

More and more of the Trinity members are taking significant part in leading worship and study. They seem to be experiencing a growing understanding of the purpose behind the fellowship and the Sunday liturgy. Even those for whom churchgoing is still a very traditional obligation seem to be finding the Good News Room a comfortable place in which to express this duty.

The matching of the smallness of the worshipping community with the smallness of their place of meeting seems to be of inestimable worth.

**Church and News Media**

Whereas the advent of Trinity in 1870 was of some considerable interest to the local print medium of its day the manner of its sudden demise in 1977 was not. An observant reporter, smelling out a news story in the For Sale advertisement relating to the Trinity organ was sympathetic about a certain amount of confidentiality during the actual negotiations. He would not be put off saying anything at all, however, and it was fortuitous that the resulting TV item did not cause any more concern than it did. The resulting Anti-News Release circulated by the trustees was successful in enabling negotiations to continue without the debate occurring also in the public arena.

It is interesting, though, that when the story was finally broken to the media, Trinity's part in it was of little interest. The newspapers made the only attempts to present our side of the story and even then submerged the church's viewpoint beneath the coup carried off by Fortune. Had we been rescued from financial ruin by Fortune's generosity it would have been newsworthy; that we conceived a better kind of worship life in new premises was hardly of general interest.

So "TRINITY FINDS A FORTUNE" said the Otago Daily Times, and our carefully-worded news presentation was relegated to some miscellaneous column-centimeters below Fortune's hopes for the future. It was hardly surprising that the general impression was that the congregation had disappeared off the face of the map. It was certainly simpler to ignore us than to explain us! That may be an important learning for the church.

Trinity had a more vigorous brush with the media over the Liquor Licence affair in 1979. As soon as the formal notification appeared in the papers media representatives set out to create a confrontation between Fortune and Trinity. If this couldn't be done by setting the minister and church trustees against Fortune there were plenty of other people offering trenchant views from the sidelines. Indeed, it was interesting to observe the number of critics who found some advice to give the trust.

The message seems to be that the media—and, probably, the general public—are not interested in the small-scale adventures of a church that may be seeking new relevance for its life. Perhaps that is as it should be. It may be that the church has to tolerate not the hurt of persecution and attack as much as the indignity of not even being noticed. The church needs to live with that and to see that Jesus never cultivated the right people to see that he got the best possible media exposure.

The events also suggest to us something about the church's own communication processes. It was of the greatest significance that the most hurtful criticism for the entire affair came from within the borders of the church's own life. The general public, once they understood what was going on, appeared to be in wide acceptance of what seemed to be the church's support of a deserving community cause. But from church people in Dunedin emanated all sorts of reports to other parts of the country where the recipients had only what the public media told them to compare with what they were hearing on the grapevine.

Much misunderstanding was the consequence. It was even reported around the country that members of Trinity congregation arrived at church on Christmas morning to discover that this was Trinity's last service. Such a disturbing possibility existed, of course, for not all the newsletters prepared were necessarily delivered to or perused by the recipients. But, if it happened, it was not revealed among the people there that morning. Whether or not it happened, the wider church lacked any means of communicating accurate and reliable information through its own people. The particular significance of this event may have been of relatively little importance to many people but the wider church family is often highly interested in affairs such as this.

It is unfortunate that the denomination lacks a reliable and efficient means of disseminating such information through the Connexion at short notice. In such a vacuum, inaccurate news is not only easily transmitted but is also readily believed and quickly judged.

**Death and Resurrection**

It is a truism that resurrection comes about only through death. However, what Trinity people discovered as they reflected on what they had been through in the revitalisation of their congregation's life was that the kind of death that brings forth resurrection is really a kind of suicide. Merely to have permitted old Trinity to fade quietly away would not have produced the outcome of December 1977. Rather, the congregation, while it was still in a moderately healthy state, had to make a definite commitment to end that phase of its life in order to bring about something else.

Thus we explored new significance in the living and dying of Christ. We came to see that we had the option of avoiding death but deliberately chose it because to die in that way would make new life possible. Merely to die is not the significant element that makes resurrection possible. For us, the painful processes of decision-making and planning and suffering which led ultimately to the death of Trinity as we knew it were like suicide. We were quite deliberately cutting ourselves off from all that our heritage and tradition would have said were significant for us.

Often those who were quite close to us understood this least. At the last, the Leaders' Meeting stood entirely alone as it made the fateful decision to close in the face of the Connexion's unwillingness to permit such an action.

There may be a word for other congregations in this. Nobody really wants to close churches down. Hardly anyone warmly commends the uprooting of congregations and their re-arrangement with others in other places. These are always traumatic events and they invariably result in dissension and division. They are seldom pastorally effective. Yet there come times when decisions have to be taken in ways that look like inviting the congregation to admit total failure and commit mass suicide. Sometimes, these steps may be appropriate entries into new life. Sometimes the only way forward is to completely extinguish the way of the past.

To encourage a congregation to wither from attrition will not open it to resurrection. Only the deliberate, calculated agreement to surrender what life we do have may lead us to anything better. Even then, there may be no assurance that new life will, in fact, come about. It may even be that the one certain element in the process may be the uncertainty that anything will ever come of it. Perhaps that is what faith is about.

So the Trinity message is that the only certainties in congregational suicide are pain and hurt. But it testifies also to the fulfilled possibility of new life and growth. It was abundantly worth it for us.

**Pain**

A fundamental lesson of Trinity's experience is that pain needs to be expressed. Again, a truism, but while the principle is well accepted in terms of individual experience it is often overlooked when we deal with corporate bodies such as church congregations. Indeed, there are still many good, Christian souls for whom the expression of pain, hurt or anger in a church setting is some kind of evidence of lack of faith. I don't see it like that and we worked hard to try to help people deal with their hurt throughout the whole exercise. One of the ways was to avoid assuming that a decision made was a decision owned equally by all. Time was allowed for hurt to begin to express itself.

It would have been easy for Trinity Trustees to have proceeded into the final action on the basis of the first Leaders' Meeting and the Congregation Meeting which followed it. After all, voting in each case was overwhelmingly in favour of the decision. Would it not be reasonable, that, having made the decision, everyone could proceed to carry it out? But, as has been discussed earlier, our humanness is such that we vote with our heads while our hearts try to absorb the pain. So the congregation were kept in touch with every move made by the negotiating committee and they were encouraged to talk with each other and with the trustees. Many dropped in to the office to talk with me about how it was going for them. They often came for other reasons but no opportunity was lost to permit the events to intrude into the conversation. These strategies seemed to provide for a large amount of discussion to take place outside of the official meetings. They probably also helped the painful processes of assimilation.

Later on, with the new congregation established in the Good News Room, we recognised that a lot of pain and hurt still needed to be expressed. We introduced a kind of "personal testimony" to each of the first couple of dozen services. Many members found it a creative exercise to have to prepare some notes on their own expectations for the alternative church. Again and again they found they had to delve into their feelings of what had gone on before. Considering that many of these contributors had never before spoken in church these were precious moments for everyone. They were not tidy little discourses on a point of academic theology: they were often fumbling and tentative attempts to put into words feelings that were close to the heart. Again and again they touched responsive chords in others. Many times they brought a tear. Always they helped to build up the fellowship and strengthen the commitment of all.

It was a long process. Many people needed a considerable amount of time to be able to come to accept what had happened as a reality. They were slow to accept that they each had some responsibility for what had happened. Many who had wholeheartedly declared themselves in favour of the new operation later said that they still found themselves thinking that the past was the "real" life of the church. It was fully two and a half years before the trust secretary—a Trinity stalwart from way back but firmly convinced that we must make the change and an active advocate of the 1977 decision—confided to me that she was only just then coming to accept that what had happened was really for the best. It is sobering to realise what a lengthy pastoral task is involved in such gradual acceptance of what seemed in December 1977 to be so clear cut a decision.

Any congregation contemplating radical change of its lifestyle ought to learn from Trinity's experience. The difficulties don't all appear at the point where the decision is made. Living with any decision of this kind is a more delicate pastoral task than has been generally recognised. The exhilaration of the "honeymoon" may pass quickly or may disappear more quickly for some than for others so that ongoing grieving may seem to be somehow out of place. Only a truly sensitive, caring fellowship will be able to encourage these varying feelings to be expressed, accepted and absorbed into growth and healing.

A congregation usually has far greater resources within it than it permits itself to acknowledge. But it may also have a surprising capacity to hold onto its grief rather than work through it. Ministers and their people need to be aware of the possibilities of real damage and real growth.

**Acted Parables**

John Vincent's concept of the acted parable has some relevance in the Trinity-Fortune story. I had been associated with the Trinity congregation, in one way or another for several years. While it was never my intention to make a major issue of it, I had drawn attention to the limitations of the design and structure of our worship centre in occasional sermons and discussions. Some of the congregation readily recognised that the magnificent bluestone walls and the French polished rimu interior symbolised a very effective screen between the congregation and the world "out there". The symbol had been used in prayers and acts of dedication and commitment and the congregation was aware of the need to bridge that barrier and to break out of their protective shell into the world.

Some members came to share the view that the symbol itself was in fact one of the barriers facing the congregation. Some shared the vision of a congregation that would bridge not only the metaphorical gap between church and community but would actually bring their worship and service into the closest possible relationship with each other in a new and different meeting place. They used to talk of it. They built up a parable about a foolish congregation that broke through the walls that kept the needy outside and the caring church inside. The parable itself became a teaching tool to remind all members of the need to inter-relate worship and service.

That parable was never so profoundly preached as on Christmas Day when we moved out. Until then, it had been a story, an idea, a concept. It inspired, rebuked and encouraged. But when it was acted out in faith it spoke more than all the sermons and discussions had done in years.

Other parables can be seen in the Trinity story. The congregation has explored the implications of several. They have discovered the price of bearing suffering in faith. They have counted the cost of sticking to a principle. They have tried to set aside the "worldly-church" values of owning a piece of property in favour of a fragile life in rented premises with "nowhere to lay their heads". They have embarked on a journey the end of which they cannot be sure about. And they know what it is to be a pilgrim people, travelling light rather than sitting comfortably as those who have arrived.

They have endured insults and misunderstanding. They have sacrificed security and permanence. They have found that Good News really does mean liberation and freedom since they have experienced it in their own life instead of merely talking and listening about it. And in becoming poor in some of the things they formerly valued they have found themselves rich in undreamed-of ways.

The events that made up the transition from old Trinity to the Good News Room abound with practical illustrations of the Gospel in action. Not all of these were undertaken with the deliberate intention of acting out parables but they sprang from such real events. Trinity people tried to put their understanding of the Gospel into action. It led them to act out the Parable of the Foolish Church.

**The Place of Preaching**

Parables-in-action are not always readily apparent. However, when they are introduced in sermon or discussion to illustrate a point they have a new and vital freshness about them that communicates effectively. In this context it is important to see that the place of people who are trained in theological reflection is a vital one. It is possible for a parable to be acted without any of the participants being aware of it. A significant task of ministry (I do not say "the minister") is to say "Let's look at what's happening here; isn't God saying something to us in this situation?" Some of the congregation's most significant moments have come out of such experiences. God's word is never more powerful than when it comes through the medium of the congregation's own experience effectively reflected upon and interpreted back into its life and thinking. This may be one of the most relevant forms of preaching for today.

Someone in another part of the country said to me about the Good News Room, "Oh, that's the church that doesn't have any preaching." Indeed, this was one of the fears of many Trinity people, that preaching would be replaced with discussion groups. There have certainly been a few occasions when a Sunday morning observance has not been marked with anything that would be recognised as preaching in the usual sense. However, the experience of those who lead worship is that preaching has assumed a new importance it didn't have before. The possibility that the preacher may—very occasionally, to be sure—be interrupted by someone who wants to illustrate the point being made or differ from the conclusion being drawn gives a new immediacy to communicating the Gospel in this intimate atmosphere. The less formal surroundings seem to provide a more comfortable climate in which to share and to receive the relevant Word. If a group discussion or question session is to follow, or a dialogical presentation is being used, the method may further sharpen the opportunities for effective presentation.

At the same time the congregation has developed a generous capacity to accept less auspicious attempts at preaching. It has willingly given learners a hearing together with those who are not so regularly planned as some of the circuit's more qualified preachers. The advent of the personal statements of early 1978 has encouraged many a member to make a first attempt at this most formal means of Christian communication. The outcomes have been on many occasions, quite inspiring. The sharing of the Word has come into close and meaningful focus.

Although all the normal business of the congregation is done on Sundays as part of the up to one-and-a-half-hour worship period, one meeting has become necessary. The worship team meets for a lunch-hour once a month. Members discuss the services for the coming month and plan who will be convener of each occasion and who will assist. Usually one person is responsible for worship of about 45 minutes and the other leads an education section for up to 30 minutes. However, this hard-and-fast division would occur only about twice a month; on most occasions there is a blending of the elements of worship, learning and fellowship right through the time available. The formal planning of this meeting enables the work to be spread evenly and the appropriate emphases introduced or maintained.

The team makes a fairly conscientious effort to stick to the Lectionary. Copies of preachers' resources are owned by the congregation and passed on to each preacher Sunday by Sunday. Indeed, it could be said that there is a more systematic attempt to do justice to preaching in this congregation than there is in many more traditional worship centres.

The worship responsibilities are shared around so that the two ministers share convener-ship of about two-thirds of the services between them and lay people are fairly heavily involved. (Both ministerial and lay preachers also contribute significantly to other worship activities in the Dunedin-wide Mission.) This shared work in worship preparation helps to maintain the balance between traditional and experimental styles, between passive and active congregational involvement and between worship and learning and so on.

In all these areas of concern the place of presentation of the Word is a central factor. Preaching has more faces to it, and it remains at the heart of the new congregation's life.

**Shared Pastoring**

Long before stipend inflation became an accepted threat to the continuity of full-time ministry I used to argue that the church could extinguish itself quite easily by using too many ministers. In the late 1960s I reckoned that about one fifth the number of ministers would probably produce a more virile church life. The 1977 strategy put my theories to the test, of course, as there was no way the December negotiations could have been carried out on a commitment of, say, six hours per week. However, the Good News Room people now have become keenly aware of the very slender hold they have on the services of their ministers. They take considerable care not to put forward unrealistic claims for pastoral assistance. They seem to be fully reconciled to the principle that the traditional form of "cup of tea" visiting will not be performed.

When the question of chairing the Annual Meeting of the Women's Fellowship arose in 1978 the answer to the question "Is this two hours that the paid minister should usefully spend for the congregation?" prompted a short search for a better solution. On the other hand, some significant pastoral opportunities have arisen in that kind of setting and there is no one answer for all time.

As the congregation is becoming much less dependent upon the paid ministers, it is also developing a more profound responsibility for all its members than is often the case. Certainly the inactive "fringe" membership was handed over to other suburban churches, so there is not the usual demand for visitation contact with non-attenders. Also, there is a Sunday-by-Sunday attendance register kept so that absentees on any Sunday can be readily accounted for. Furthermore, a feature of most Sunday celebrations includes a period in which the congregation check out any absences and share their mutual concerns. If someone is known to be sick or is unaccountably absent it is a simple task to allocate a nearby member of the congregation to call in and report back to everyone the following Sunday. This informally structured arrangement is now being complemented by a developing sense of responsibility. Although there is no "lay pastorate" as such there is a regular and caring visitation among the membership all the time. Only those who specifically ask about it become aware of the extent to which it is going on.

Where a pastoral crisis does arise, either minister is usually available to give priority to a necessary pastoral call or any other appropriate function. Four or five funerals have been held, usually in another church or the undertaker's chapel but, once, in the Good News Room itself. On each occasion the subsequent Sunday service has been linked into the funeral ministry because, with an intentional congregation, the worshippers are invariably among the bereaved. It would seem that other pastoral functions could also be carried out without much difficulty because of the ready availability of both ministers and the compatibility of their substantive employment.

These points are perhaps worth noting as the national church moves to more self-supporting and part-time positions. Part-time ministry of such miniscule proportions would be difficult to operate effectively if the person's main employment required the keeping of strict hours that were always inaccessible to the congregation. In a congregation which is learning to manage without substantial input from paid ministry there can develop a highly effective partnership in pastoral care. The lay members can build up a spirit of caring which can quite adequately cater for almost all of their needs.

Even the most specific crises of the pastorate may gradually be undertaken by lay people who accept the challenge to special training and extra responsibility. The advent of self-supporting ministries as spheres of equipping and serving which can be commenced by trainee presbyters and deacons means that there may be a continuing clericalism about much crisis pastoral work but this need not necessarily be so. Plenty of lay people can be trained to high levels of performance without feeling the need to offer for recognition in ministerial functions. The point seems to be that when the need becomes clear the answers can be found. In Trinity's case the presence of two ordained Methodist ministers (as well as a third who maintains links with his own denomination) and a large team of experienced worship leaders and lay preachers, together with the will to reduce dependence on paid ministry was all that was sufficient.

As long as the church spreads its existing ministry thinly over its entire pastorate, the minister-dependent congregation is likely to continue. It is only when rigorous restrictions are placed on the activity of paid ministry that new solutions begin to suggest themselves. Otherwise the unwritten and unspoken philosophy that "the minister will do it of course" is likely to persist. An interesting illustration may be seen in the Gore Methodist Circuit. With the deliberate strategy of educating the local congregation to introduce itself to reduced paid ministry the Connexion introduced a highly skilled lay person who acted as full-time "supply" for two years. It was anticipated that Graham Kane's special skills in lay ministry would encourage that congregation to move rapidly towards acceptance of a self-supporting minister within two years.

The initial outcome was not at all what had been planned. As long as Graham was on the payroll the parish attributed to him all the qualities and capabilities of the ordained minister and responded to his work with that set of expectations. Fortunately, two specific things changed that situation. One was the requirement that he travel to another centre some 80 km away one Sunday a month: this demanded that the Gore people accept some worship leadership responsibility themselves. By and large, they responded to this very well, and some significant congregational gifts were uncovered.

The second event, the one which really contributed to the growth of the people's thinking in the direction of self-supporting ministry, was highly significant. As Graham attempted to introduce the concept of self-supporting ministry it became clear to him that his very full-time presence militated against the concepts he was trying to commend. After two years on the parish payroll he returned to his school teaching vocation and became the self-supporting minister. The people were thrown firmly onto their own resources. They have continued to develop new capacities. Their congregational life thrives and there is widespread satisfaction with most aspects of the whole experiment except the way in which the Connexion is relating to it and Graham's own aspirations to ordained ministry. Gore was a little ahead of its time, perhaps **.**

However, the point is made. In Gore, in Taumarunui, or in Trinity, massive changes in people's expectations of paid ministry only take place at the point where it is actually withdrawn or drastically reduced. To talk and plan may be helpful to set the stage but it does not change expectations. A minister-dominated church will not talk itself out of its need for what it has come to expect; a minister-deprived church will find answers to meet its situation. This is not to suggest that the ideal strategy for the whole church is to sack its ministry. It does seem, however, that there is a desperate need for the church to be redeploying its ministry where the significant skills of the trained person will bear fruit in change and growth.

This may not be the role for all ministers, indeed, it could be argued that where this role is required those concerned may need to be intensively re-trained. Perhaps the church should deliberately plan to raise up a special branch of presbyters whose roles will be more in line with those of Wesley's itinerant preachers than with the parish chaplain concepts which have come to be so widely recognised as the normative form of presbyteral ministry in our denomination.

With such a ministry, the pastoring work of the congregation does become a shared responsibility. Members assume much greater awareness of each other's concerns. The special gifts and skills of those who have had some appropriate training (whether ordained or not) are released to be used in the most relevant and vital ways.

Summary

The things that may be learned from Trinity's experience in the transition from a traditional worship centre and congregation to rented premises and reduced ministry are complex and varied. Some lend themselves to ready application to other situations; others do not. Some are quite obvious; others are only seen after some analysis of the situation. In summary we find—

* In any congregational crisis the local minister will be one of the focal points around which any decision is made. He or she cannot opt out of this responsibility and the internal stresses which can result.

* Trinity's experience cannot simply apply to every other church's situation.

* The place of the "Pastor-Administrator", is significant, and the administrative gifts of lay and clergy alike must be cultivated to achieve a pastoral benefit.

* Buildings should be planned for maximum multiple use, and for eventual redundancy.

* Smallness in a congregation is a desirable condition for growth as is intimacy in the worship setting.

* The church must reconcile itself to accept that it is of little significance in the public media but it must improve its own internal communication.

* Totally new congregational life is more likely through radical change (death) than through gradual processes. Yet there is no guarantee that congregational suicide will bring results.

* Congregations, like individuals, need to be helped to express pain and hurt if they are to grow through it.

* The congregation preaches best when it acts out the parables of the Gospel.

* Preaching when re-defined has a most important place in the experimental congregation.

* Ministry is a shared responsibility; when ministers are required to withdraw, lay people will assume much greater involvement.

# Postscript

The Trinity people have not sought to tell their story. They have not tried to get any publicity out of their rather bizarre experience and they certainly don't readily recognise themselves as a model or an example for others.

Their story deserves to be heard, not because of the dreams they once had, nor even for the sake of recording the timely negotiations that secured for them an opportunity that comes to all too few congregations these days.

What is significant is that they were ordinary people who were gripped with an extraordinary conviction and who acted upon it.

When traditional values might have slowed them down they turned their backs on the past. When hesitant administrators advised caution they listened and then ignored them. And when the unbelievable actions were taken and criticism was received they carried their pain with dignity and silence.

It is easy to say now, in 1981, that everything turned out for the best. That is yet to be proved and only history will be the final judge. But, at the time when Trinity was closed its people were laying a century's heritage on the line for the sake of a dream.

They acted in faith. They are heroes of faith. What more can be said of them?

This book was originally published by Trinity Methodist Trust. Dunedin. N.Z. in 1981 and a few of the first edition copies are still available.

PHOTOS: Michael de Hamel Studio, Evan R. Lewis & Author

Cover Painting: Acrylic by author. Cover Design: Lauren Spencer

About the Author

Retired Presbyter of Methodist Church of New Zealand. Passionate pioneer in Local Shared Ministry, consultant in small churches, publisher of niche market books, producer of prosumer video, deviser of murder mystery dinners and former private pilot.

Dave trained for the Methodist Ministry at Trinity Theological College and eventually completed MA, Dip Ed as well. He and Bev married just before his first appointment in Ngatea where their two children arrived. They went on to Panmure and Taumarunui. Longer terms followed at Dunedin Central Mission and the Theological College. During this time he was also involved as co-founder and second national President of Family Budgeting Services and adviser to the (government) Minister of Social Welfare in Home Budgeting.

Dave's final four "working" years were part-time, developing the first Presbyterian or Methodist Local Shared Ministry unit in this country and promoting the concept overseas. Retirement has brought a whole lot more opportunities and challenges including publication of over 100 books of which he wrote about ten and a blog in which he tries to write fairly seriously on a range of topics.

An ongoing adventure with prostate cancer brought Bev and Dave to the Hibiscus Coast Residential Village near Auckland in 2014 but in early 2015 his prospects seem much improved.

Contact Dave

colcom.press@clear.net.nz

davemullan35@gmail.com

**Visit Dave on**  
http://dave-mullan.blogspot.com  
http://www.colcompress.com

### Dave's books on church and ministry

**Diakonia and the Moa**. Although published in 1983 this book offers a distinctive understanding of the role of the "permanent" Deacon in the modern church. A5 170p From: Trinity College, 202 St John's Rd, Meadowbank, Auckland. trinitycollege@stjohns.auckland.ac.nz ISBN 0-9597775-0-4

**Ecclesion — The Small Church with a Vision.** Reflections on the contemporary church and suggestions for revival of the small church in vigorous new styles of Sunday church life, mission and ministry. This book introduces the thinking behind the Lay Ministry Team concept developed for Methodists and Presbyterians in the Bay of Islands Co-operating Parish in 1992. It is being completely revised and updated for e-publication in 2015. A5 140p 978-908815-08-5

**Fresh New Ways — Emerging Models for Mission and Ministry in the Local Congregation**. Ed. Dave Mullan. Papers and reflections from a significant Australian conference, this book details (a) new structures for the church or parish and (b) innovative styles of ministry. A5 130p From: Trinity College, 202 St John's Rd, Meadowbank, Auckland. trinitycollege@stjohns.auckland.ac.nz ISBN 0-908815-76-X

**Koru and Covenant** : With J J Lewis and L.W. Willing. This book offers biblical reflections in Aotearoa and note some links between the Christianity of the 19th Century Maori and the religion of the Hebrew Scriptures. Warmly commended by authoritative reviewers and some years after publication still very relevant. A5 120p. From: Trinity College, 202 St John's Rd, Meadowbank, Auckland. trinitycollege@stjohns.auckland.ac.nz ISBN 0-908815-60-3

**Mital-93—The Church's Ministry in Tourism and Leisure.** Ed: Dave Mullan Presentations at an Australian Conference are supported by dozens of flax roots ideas that have helped. "A fascinating study... an enabling resource" (Pat Gilberd). 82p. 220p From: Trinity College, 202 St John's Rd, Meadowbank, Auckland. trinitycollege@stjohns.auckland.ac.nz ISBN 0-908815-22-8

**The Cavalry won't be coming**. Dave Mullan. Introduction to the concept of Local Shared Ministry in which a team of volunteers spearhead the mission of the small church which is discovering that all the resources for ministry are held within its own membership. Lightly revised for digital version in 2015. A5 134p, From: Trinity College, 202 St John's Rd, Meadowbank, Auckland. trinitycollege@stjohns.auckland.ac.nz ISBN 0-908815-99-1

**The Trinity—Fortune Affair** is the story of the momentous decision made by the Trinity congregation to quit their stately centre-city church in 1977. It chronicles the day by day events of the month of negotiations and includes a substantial section of learnings about a small congregation which faced impossible costs in maintaining a costly and historic suite of buildings. "An invaluable and most moving record" – Rev LJ Gibson, President, Methodist Church of NZ, 1981. Print version still available: A5 149p ISBN- 978-1-877357-20-6

As indicated, these books are available from Trinity Methodist Theological College, Auckland.

trinitycollege@stjohns.auckland.ac.nz

Dave's other general books

**A Small Qango** Dave's account of the Home Budgeting Advisory Committee to the NZ Minister of Social Welfare, 1978-1988. This small committee had 120 meetings and ran seminars, consultations and training events. It functioned like to no other Quasi-Autonomous Government Organisation with a degree of independence that left some of the Head Office boffins breathless. It achieved huge financial support for family budgeting volunteers throughout the country. A5 978-1-877357-17-6

**Attwood of Hepburn Creek**. The life of Thomas William Attwood, who settled in the Mahurangi 1907, initiated the NZ Fruitgrowers' Federation and represented NZ fruitgrowing interests in South America and UK 1923-1925 and then went on to found the NZ Alpine and Rock Garden Society. Lady Anne Allum of Auckland was his daughter. A5. 134p. ISBN 1-877357-01-4

**In and Out of Sync.** Dave's life story up to 2013. Extracted from a more substantial text, this book presents Dave's personal family background and professional life and ministry. Reviewers have said it offers a significant and insightful view of the Methodist Church of New Zealand in a turbulent and challenging time. A5 220p. ISBN 1-877357-10-3

**John Roulston, Grazier of Calkill & Runnymede**. With Val Mullan of Brisbane. Our attempt to trace the life of the mysterious and very distant relation from the Upper Brisbane Valley. He left a fortune to family members in four countries when he died in 1929. Most of them had never met him. A5. 122p. ISBN 1-877357-00-6

**The Almost Attwoods.** Ed Dave Mullan. Personal stories of the 143 descendants in the first three generations from James and Emma Attwood of Lewisham. A5. 220p. ISBN 978-1-877357-4-9

**The Saga of Wasp.** Revised and enlarged collection of Dave's short stories, 2014. Some include significant historical material from his early working life with the New Zealand Forest Service. But all were written mainly for fun. Also available as epub, 2015 180p ISBN 978-877357-12-X

These books are available from ColCom Press stock or printing on demand. Some are soon to be made available in eBook format through Smashwords

Contact Dave

colcom.press@clear.net.nz

http://www.colcompress.com

### Other ColCom Books

During the last 25 years Dave has published well over one hundred titles for other writers under the imprint of ColCom Press. Most were done in very short runs for niche markets and were delivered to the authors. Some may be still retrievable in some form.

