Musings #1 - An Australian Christianity

As we return to our ongoing posts on discipleship, I am starting a new sub-thread called Musings. This is where I want to share with you some of my latest emerging thinking about faith and discipleship. I am also interested in your thoughts, so please send them in.

On my recent trip to Central Australia, I was struck by the vastness of our continent. We drove about 2500km from Melbourne just to get to Alice Springs, and along the way, we saw the landscape change dramatically, from the greens and yellows across the rolling farmland of the Mallee to the Mars-like wasteland of Coober Pedy and the majestic rock formations of Uluru and Kata Tjuta. 

As we walked the 12km circuit around Uluru, I was overwhelmed and, dare I say it, moved spiritually by the immense beauty of the 550 million-year-old rock. 

I wondered what is unique about Australian Christianity. We are fed so much by the frameworks that come from Europe and North America, but what is—or could be—unique about the way we do Christianity? 

How are we, for example, shaped by our vast continent and its glorious landscape? In the early 1990s, Australian composer Geoff Bullock wrote a worship song that became hugely popular called ‘The Great Southland.’ The first verse and chorus go:

This is our nation, this is our land

This is our future, this is our hope

A land of reaping, a land of harvest

This is our land, this is our home

This is the Great Southland of the Holy Spirit

A land of red dust plains and summer rains

To this sunburnt land we will see a flood

And to this Great Southland His Spirit comes

While that song was pretty daggy and full of cultural clichés, maybe Bullock was on to something. Why shouldn’t we try to search for a uniquely Australian expression of faith? 

One danger could be veering towards American-style Christian Nationalism, where our faith becomes jingoistic and we start hanging our national flag above the communion table. To avoid this, we should also own the darker aspects of our cultural history.  

For example, how does our colonial past impact our perspective? What does it mean to be worshipping on lands that were stolen? And how do we spiritually respond to the cultural and physical genocide of our First Nations peoples? 

Also, Australians are generally relaxed people who love the outdoors, sport, and coffee culture. Australia is a prosperous and safe place to live (apart from the brown snakes and red backs), but what does our peak economic privilege mean for our faith?

There is much more to consider, but there’s a start. Please send me your thoughts. 

Peter Carolane