Harbour Faith Community

02/06/2026

ECCE HOMO

As we enter pride month, we invite you all to reflect on Brian’s excellent IDAHOBIT sermon from St George’s in Belfast.

It is a thoughtful and powerful reflection on faith, q***r dignity, and what it means to really see one another. https://open.spotify.com/episode/27RBoPK3cbbMKFFehPVK2w

Rewilding Faith Podcast · Episode

07/05/2026

As Christians ourselves, we know this is not a “dark day for Christian freedom.” It may be, however, a wake-up call to a particular kind of assumed and entitled Christian privilege.

And that’s what Christian lobbyists like the Christian Institute are really afraid of losing. Not freedom, but privilege.

To be clear, Clive Johnston was not persecuted for preaching the gospel. He was held to account for intentionally breaching a designated safe access zone.

Safe access zones exist for a reason.

They are there to protect people accessing legal healthcare from harassment, intimidation, pressure, and unwanted confrontation at moments that may already be deeply private, painful, complex or vulnerable.

Christians should welcome such protections, not seek to undermine them.

Yes, of course Christians have the right to hold religious convictions. We have the right to gather, worship, pray, preach, organise, campaign, write, speak and advocate.

But that right does not mean we are entitled to impose our religious views on people in every public space - especially not by amplifying them at people who have not asked to be our audience.

We all know the kind of obnoxious street “preaching” that mistakes volume for courage, bravado for witness, and public nuisance for faithfulness. And many ordinary, faithful Christians are just as fed up with it as the rest of the general public.

And more often than not, we don’t even recognise the words being shouted as anything like the actual message of Jesus. It is usually just a narrow, fundamentalist version of Christianity, propped up with a scattering of carefully selected, out-of-context Bible verses.

We know that Jesus did not coerce. Jesus did not harass. Jesus did not dominate. Jesus did not force himself upon the vulnerable.

So yes, Christians should care about freedom of religion. But we should also care about freedom from religious intimidation. We should care about the difference between sharing actual good news, and just shouting bad theology at strangers.

And we should be honest enough to admit that much of what passes for “bold Christian witness” in public is not brave, not loving, and certainly not Christlike. It is usually just fundamentalist entitlement with an amplifier.

A sincerely held faith does not need to be obnoxious. Deep religious conviction does not need to be intrusive or combative.

And Christian freedom does not give us the right to ignore other people’s dignity, vulnerability and boundaries.

Safe access zones should be respected by everyone.

Not because Christianity has nothing to say (it absolutely does) but because real love knows how not to make itself the centre of the story.

15/04/2026

Rewilding The Cross: Why did Jesus “have” to die?

All welcome for an interactive discussion about the cross, atonement and what it all means for us today.

7pm - 8.30pm, tonight at Harbour Faith Community in Carrickfergus.

31/03/2026

HOLY WEEK

As we enter Holy Week, we're delighted to share a unique Stations of the Cross resource from Brian and our friends at First Church. Feel free to use it in your own space at a time that works for you.

Grace and Peace ❤️🛟

While we move through Holy Week, as part of our ongoing Rewilding Faith series in collaboration with Harbour Faith Community we developed this version of the Stations of the Cross that enters into conversation with our current contexts.

(Link in comments)

——

“The Stations of the Cross is an ancient practice — a way of walking, in imagination and in
body, the road that leads toward death. It emerged from pilgrims who longed to walk the
streets of Jerusalem but could not make the journey. So they made the journey where they
were. Fourteen stopping points, fourteen stations, each marking a moment in the story of a
man being executed by an occupying empire.

The practice is most familiar to our Catholic and Anglican friends, but it belongs to no single tradition. You do not need to hold any particular belief to walk this road. You do not need to be certain of anything. What the stations ask is simpler and harder than belief: they ask you
to look. To stay present. To refuse, for a little while, the comfort of turning away.

Let’s be honest about what that costs. Most of the people closest to Jesus could not do it.
The disciples — the ones who had followed him for years, who had shared meals with him,
who had made large promises — most of them were gone by the time he was crucified. They
had scattered. What remained at the foot of the cross was a small, unlikely group. A few women. A beloved friend. People who perhaps had less to lose, simply could not
bring themselves to go — or perhaps the ones who had the courage to remain.

These stations are drawn from what is happening right now — in our city, across these
islands, and around the world. Some of what you will encounter here is contested. People of genuine goodwill disagree, sometimes sharply, about what should be done. The stations are not asking you to resolve those disagreements or to abandon your own views. They are asking something different, and something harder: can you remain? Can you keep your face turned toward those who are suffering, even when the questions around them are ones you
are still working out? Can you stay at the cross, even without the answer?

Very few people managed that in the story of that Friday. But some did. That is what this
practice is asking of us.”

25/03/2026

A joy to practice some gentle seaside contemplation on Saturday. In the words of John O'Donohue:

When the rhythm of the heart becomes hectic,
Time takes on the strain until it breaks;
Then all the unattended stress falls in
On the mind like an endless, increasing weight,

Weariness invades your spirit.
Gravity begins falling inside you,
Dragging down every bone.

The tide you never valued has gone out.
And you are marooned on unsure ground.
Something within you has closed down;
And you cannot push yourself back to life.

At first your thinking will darken
And sadness take over like listless weather.
The flow of unwept tears will frighten you.

You have travelled too fast over false ground;
Now your soul has come to take you back.

Take refuge in your senses, open up
To all the small miracles you rushed through.

Become inclined to watch the way of rain
When it falls slow and free.

Imitate the habit of twilight,
Taking time to open the well of colour
That fostered the brightness of day.

Draw alongside the silence of stone
Until its calmness can claim you.
Be excessively gentle with yourself.

Gradually, you will return to yourself,
Having learned a new respect for your heart
And the joy that dwells far within slow time.

13/03/2026

A group of Harbour and Corrymeela members and friends would like to invite you to a welcoming, inclusive weekend which is an extension of the recent public theology course Becoming Holy: Q***r, Trans and Women’s Lives as Sacred.

Based at the Corrymeela Centre by the sea on the North Coast of Ireland. The weekend will offer time for retreat, a range of theology sessions including Decolonising Faith, Q***r Theology and Embodiment Practices.

Come with comfortable clothes, a journal and good pens, and enjoy time with other folk eager to share, rest and learn together.

1st - 3rd May, 2026
Cost only £100, from Friday 5.00pm until Sunday 2pm. All meals included!

(Additional cost for single room supplement.)

Subsidised places available - please email [email protected]

For general enquiries - email [email protected]
To book, click here: http://forms.office.com/e/tk6yTiFwv3

Grace and Peace ❤️🌿

04/02/2026

A chance tonight to have a non-defensive, thoughtful, open conversation about the Bible. (How often does that happen??)

If you’ve ever felt that struggling with the Bible meant something was wrong with you, or that you had to choose between honesty and faith, this is for you.

- Tonight (Wed 4 Feb), 7pm
- First Church Belfast (Halls), Rosemary Street (city centre)
- Free, no booking required

Just bring your curiosity, grab a coffee and gather round the campfire 🔥

More details:

Many people aren’t confused about the Bible — they’re just tired of it. Tired of being told it’s inerrant. Tired of watching it used to control, exclude, or shame. Tired of feeling that honest questions mean faith is slipping away. This Campfire is a space for people who still care about fai...

24/01/2026

For the month of February, we’re offering an extended opportunity to renegotiate our relationship with the Bible.

For far too long, brittle fundamentalism has kept the raucous pages of scripture on a tight leash of insipid literalism and flat “inerrancy” - and too often it’s been used to control, exclude, and shame.

But the Bible itself never asks us to treat it that way. It’s far more inspired, spacious and wild. As Lewis might have said; it’s not a tame book, you know. 😉

No wonder so many of us get stuck in the cul-de-sacs and dead ends of “but what about evolution?”, or “why is God so angry in these pages?”, or “what’s with all the arbitrary rules about cloven hoofs?”

But what if the problem was never the Bible itself, but our overwrought assumptions about it? What if we’ve completely missed its inherent wild wonder, and found ourselves instead among those who simply “stuff their cups with parchment and critique the taste of ink,” as Hafiz would say.

So if you’ve struggled with the Bible (or avoided it) or been wounded by how it’s been weaponised… then you’re not alone. And you’re right to question what you’ve been told.

This February we’ll be exploring Rewilding the Bible: From Rule-Keeping to Wisdom. Not to “solve” scripture, and definitely not to replace old certainties with new ones, but to learn instead how to read these texts with honesty, humility, and imagination… and to recover them as a rewilded wisdom tradition for the ages.

You’re welcome to join us on Sundays at Harbour in Carrickfergus throughout February as we begin this journey. And if you’re church-wary but still faith-curious, consider this a gentle on-ramp back into conversation.

Each month thereafter, we’ll reflect on a new topic such as God, Heaven & Hell and Body & Desire. If you’re interested in the wider, year-long journey of “Rewilding Faith”, see the link in the comment section.

09/01/2026

Ready to have another go at discovering a more thoughtful, kinder, open and altogether freer Christian faith? There's a chance that your faith might not be lost after all.

It might just need to be rewilded.

We know there are lots of people who are still curious about faith, but who don’t live near us, don’t fit easily into traditional church spaces, or are rightly cautious after past experiences.

We also know that for many people, exploring faith after deconstruction can feel a bit stop-start and haphazard.

You read a book here, listen to a podcast there, have a few deep conversations… but it’s hard to find a coherent path that doesn’t come with pressure, or expectation.

So in 2026, we’re trying something a bit different.

𝐑𝐞𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡 is a year-long conversation space that takes one big theme a month and explores it slowly and thoughtfully through a mix of clear teaching, open discussion, and simple nature-based contemplative practices.

It’s designed with multiple points of entry: different locations, a variety of formats, and the freedom to dip in and out as life allows.

We’ll be taking on some of the subjects many people find hardest to navigate after rigid or fear-based Christianity, including things like the Bible, God, s*x and gender, suffering, hell and hope, and what faith can look like in a pluralist world.

These aren’t just random topics. They’re very real pain points that have come up time and time again in our conversations, surveys and experiences over the years. When people are struggling to make sense of their inherited Christian faith - this is usually where it hurts.

Rewilding Faith is aimed at those just starting (or restarting) a journey of progressive faith exploration - or for those who’ve been on the journey for a while, but want to fill in some gaps.

It’s for those who want to explore faith in a more structured way, without having to commit to a church, sign up to anything, or pretend they’re more certain than they are.

Some people will join for a single theme. Others might follow along more regularly. Both are completely fine - as long as you go wild with it :)

So if you think you might like to stay in the loop, all we need is your email address at the link below. (See comments section)

We’ll then reply with occasional updates with what’s happening, when, and where.

It doesn’t commit you to anything, and you can opt out at any time.

Grace and Peace!

08/01/2026

GRACE, HYPOCRISY AND WHY SO MANY ARE DONE WITH CHURCH

You might have heard news that Philip Yancey, one of the most widely read and trusted Christian writers of the last few decades, has confessed to a long-term extramarital affair and is stepping back from public ministry.

(For those unfamiliar with his work, Yancey’s writing especially “What’s So Amazing About Grace?” has shaped the faith of many Christians over the years.)

Whilst there’s nothing to be gained by adding to the performative grief, personal attacks, or hot-take pile-ons, there is still something important to be named here in the way this conversation is playing out online.

You might have noticed that a lot of evangelical commentary has followed a very familiar pattern: shock, sadness, eloquent reflections on human brokenness… and then an abrupt pivot to grace and forgiveness.

Now let’s be clear - of course grace matters. And it matters more than probably most of us realise.

But there is a kind of “grace talk” that functions less like good news, and more like a protective coating - especially when a respected spokesperson within evangelical Christianity is involved.

As Yancey himself said: “Grace is unconditional acceptance”, which is quite rightly a big and beautiful claim.

And so you would think it should show up most clearly where people have been most marginalised, shamed, or policed.

And yet, when it comes to LGBT people, women in leadership, survivors who won’t stay quiet, those who question, or anyone who doesn’t fit evangelical norms - suddenly the tone is very different.

Then there is much less grace talk, and it’s all “the Bible says” or “church authority” or “we can love you but not affirm your choices”. Way less grace, more “holiness, accountability, repentance, obedience" etc.

But when yet another male, evangelical figure sustains a nearly decade-long deception while publicly teaching about faith and morality?

Now the language is suddenly: “We’re all broken”, “Let’s not judge”, “Grace, grace, grace”.

Where was all this radical, scandalous acceptance when we're talking about everyone else?

All too often, the church suddenly wants to 'get grace right' when it applies to one of their own. But even then, there is far too much minimising of the fallout, and the harm caused.

Remember, this wasn’t just a mistake in a one-off moment of weakness. It was a sustained, 8 year deception - all whilst making the daily choice to continue a public, high profile, Christian ministry.

So this isn’t even the church upholding the principle of grace, because grace (amazing as it is) does not excuse minimising harm, or rushing past betrayal, or using theology to shield institutions and male reputations.

So when grace is only invoked when it benefits those who already have the microphone - grace itself becomes diminished, and people are right to be suspicious.

Again, this is not an attack on Philip Yancey and it is certainly not an invitation to stone anyone.

But it is an invitation to stop and reflect.

About honesty, about power, and about the hypocrisy of evangelical culture that so often reaches for the Bible and “authority” when it wants to exclude, but for grace and forgiveness when it wants to protect its own.

If we as the wider church can’t see that, then we shouldn’t be surprised when people walk away.

If the church wants to be credible, then grace can’t be something we reach for just to protect the institution.

For grace to actually be grace, it has to be consistent, especially toward those we have historically made to feel least worthy of it.

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(*Quick Post-Edit for Clarification*): We’re not comparing LGBT relationships, women’s leadership, or survivors telling the truth to an affair and deception, as if they’re the same kind of moral problem. They’re not. One involves clear harm and betrayal; the others are not “sins to be forgiven” but lives and callings to be welcomed and affirmed. Sorry if the earlier version of this post blurred that line.

The point we’re trying to name is the inconsistency: how quickly evangelical culture can loosen its grip on legalism (show grace) for insiders, even when real harm has been done, whilst tightening it for those it has historically kept at the margins, where the “issue” is simply their existence, love, or calling.)