Christianity, a Generation Away From Extinction? The Wisdom of the Old

Lord Carey, former Archbishop of Canterbury

Here I am, chatting to my elderly Dad (87). He’s just out of hospital, foot bandaged and propped up on a stool, but still  a keen reader of the Daily Telegraph. 

‘Here you are, this will interest you,” he says and hands me an article headed: ‘Lord Carey  warns that Christianity is a generation away from extinction in Britain.’ It’s all rather depressing ... the Church of England, indeed Christianity in our country, on the brink of demise?  A gloomy picture.

Now Dad has been a church-goer for much of his life and he says to me, in his old-age wisdom: ‘I think people these days just can’t see the point of Christianity – that’s the main problem.’ Before you know it, a letter is crystallising in my mind, I write it and check it with Dad (because really it all started with him) – and so here it is, editor! 

Lord Carey has warned that Christianity is, "a generation away from extinction" in Britain.

‘So what is the problem? We can blame the apathy of the masses; we can blame ourselves for our lack of zeal for evangelism.

For me, one of the keys to unlocking the difficulty we’re facing is this: people have to see the point of Christianity. After all, it’s not just about maintaining church services, important as they are for replenishing and encouraging spiritual life. 

People have to see that Christianity, the embracing of the teachings of Jesus, receiving Christ and all He is, makes a difference.

When the church can be shown to demonstrate Jesus’ teaching in action, it has every chance of growing ... but people must see it first.

I both work and volunteer at a church-based drop-in centre in Coventry. What we do is minuscule compared to the great need that is all around: we supply free breakfasts several times a week, offer help to find homes, run small skills classes to equip and enable people to be ready for work, however low-paid and offer a hand of friendship. We don’t evangelise much; we just try and serve, meet a need where there is one - and people come.

For many homeless and vulnerable people, our centre is their church; people come to help and join us.  You see, they can see there is a point to it all; a true embrace of Christianity issues in love for all, particularly the disadvantaged and poor.

Small expressions of such church-service to the surrounding community are common; where they exist, the boot is on the front foot; we’re moving forward. It’s our small way of replicating Jesus’s story of the ‘Good Samaritan’ – a call to practical love.

So, what’s the point of Christianity?  – “Don’t tell us,” they say, “we can see!”

The letter, somewhat abbreviated, was published in the Daily Telegraph on the 23 November. Daily Telegraph letter 23 November

Love Is Never Intentions Only: William Booth's Legacy

Simple stories sometimes say everything you want to say. Jesus’ story of the Good Samaritan, simple, uncomplicated as it is, never fails to reach my heart; it searches me, inspire me, galvanises me and directs my gaze – to others.

The other Sunday morning I had to tell our folks about how ‘Your Learning’ (Skills project) is progressing at Coventry Jesus Centre and I couldn’t resist telling them the following story: 

William Booth died in 1912 and his funeral cortege brought London to a standstill. 150,000 filed passed his casket to pay their last respects and his funeral was attended by 40,000 people. 

William Booth: Funeral Procession

Queen Mary, wife of George V and an admirer of Booth, attended the funeral at Olympia. She did not come as a dignitary; rather she sat unnoticed near the back amongst the vast crowd of, 'thieves, tramps, harlots, the lost and outcast to whom Booth had given his heart' (The General Next to God: Richard Collier: Collins 1965). Next to her sat a shabbily but neatly-dressed woman who had once been a prostitute and when the coffin passed by, the woman placed some red carnations on it. Turning to the queen, she said, “He cared for the likes of me.”

That’s it. Love is expressed in care and care has hands and feet and is never intentions only. At the Jesus Centre we can theologise on what we do, not always a bad thing, but let’s hope the people we work amongst can similarly summarise our work:  “They care for the likes of us.”

Up The Mountain: Teach Us Your Ways

And it will come about in the last days
That the mountain of the house of the LORD
Will be established as the chief of the mountains.
It will be raised above the hills,
And the peoples will stream to it. Many nations will come and say,
“Come and let us go up to the mountain of the LORD
And to the house of the God of Jacob,
That He may teach us about His ways
And that we may walk in His paths.”

Micah 4: 1-2

It’s great to have hungry people around, people you haven’t got to entice to eat, dangling morsels before them in case they  may just fancy a little something, but people who are hungry, hungry for the word, the ways, of God. 

There’s nothing much better in life, as far as I am concerned, than for people to come to us mountain dwellers (see above verses) and say, “We want to learn God’s ways so that we may walk in His paths.” It was happening last night at the New Friends course at Coventry Jesus Centre. 

We asked our new Middle Eastern friends if they had managed to read anything from the Bible this week. “We’ve been very busy this week,” they said. “We’ve only managed to read Luke and John’s Gospel.”

I remember days when, at school as a teenager, I could not put the Bible down. Bible verses were written in my rough book, pondered and learned; it was food for a hungry soul. I longed and longed for God, to know Him more. Yet, last night I felt a little ashamed: my new friends are hungrier than me.

Such appetite is a mark that God is doing 'His thing' - creating passionate followers of Jesus who long to love and know Him and love all that He loves. 

Healthy babies guzzle and grow - very quickly in fact. If we need anything, it’s hungry babes. No, they are not streaming to us, not yet, but they’re coming, and in my heart, I find little more exciting.

Diamonds in the Rough - Addicts, Prostitutes, Old Ladies

Diamonds in the Rough - that’s the name of my blog. It’s called that because I believe, I know, that sitting in the garbage-littered streets, sheltering in the dark alleyways where men bed for the night, tucked away in the secret places where people are abused, raped, imprisoned, paralysed by fear or overcome by deep grief, yes, there, in the deep, darkened places of the earth, are the hidden 'diamonds in the rough'.

Some may describe these places as god-forsaken but that is far from true - God hasn’t left them at all; here He walks, calls out to His lost people; He’s doing His thing ... and He wants us, His people, to do it with Him.  

Now, to illustrate my point, here’s an account of a few 'diamonds in the rough' I have met in the last week or so.... 

G... was helping his friend  who was intoxicated, asleep and lying on a bench, sorting out his clothes and stuffing them into a bag which unfortunately had split. Now, G... had had a few drinks himself but wanted to talk and asked us if we could step aside to talk alone. He told us he was homeless and really loved Jesus, that Jesus had never left him, was always with him - even in his present plight. He had been to Bible college, been baptised in the Holy Spirit and even belonged to Hillsongs  Fellowship but his life had taken a downward turn. “Can I pray for you?” he asked us. (We don’t often get asked that!)  “Of course,” I said. He put his arms around us, prayed and then we talked.

G... confessed his life was not given fully to Jesus at this present time. We all knelt down on the grimy, sunlit pavement and, at his suggestion, sang together, “I surrender all.”  I’m not the best chorus leader but what a moment it was! It was my birthday too and what better moment than to sing that old-time hymn again.
 
                                               *         *         *
Then there was A..., sitting alone and passing the time of day in the last of the autumn sunshine. A... told us he had had an out-of-the-body experience a few years ago when on drugs. He saw sparks, human souls, leaving the earth. Was this his time? A voice, official-sounding, like the bank manager, announced, “This one is not ready yet.” That had jolted him to ponder eternal matters. 

A... was interested in Islam and wondered if Jesus and Mohammed would be friends if they had lived at the same time. We explained that being a Christian is not about following a code; it is primarily about meeting and having a friendship with Jesus. One of my friends with me was once a Muslim and A... was intrigued. She must have travelled a long way in herself to convert, he commented.

As we talked to A..., an old lady appeared, broached and smartly dressed. “Can you pray for me?” she asked. Her brother-in-law was very ill. Tears rolled down her cheeks. A..., my two friends and I held hands in a circle with her and prayed. She thanked us sincerely and we hugged  and then she walked humbly away. A... shook his head; he was clearly moved. “I felt the power of that prayer,” he said.

 Leaving us, A... said he would go to a church he had connections with. 

                                        *         *         *
"'My son, you are destined for better things than this. It’s time to get yourself together.' I’m a Hindu but the Holy Spirit spoke these words to me in a dream a few months ago,” C..... told me as we sat and chatted and added,  “I know it was the Holy Spirit.”

“Following my broken marriage, I’ve been homeless for ten years, sleeping rough on a piece of cardboard somewhere. In the past two years I’ve had ten friends who have died.  Two died of hypothermia under the bridge when it was very cold (-7). When you have alcohol in you, you can’t feel the cold.

“I’ve had a huge capacity for drinking but, after my dream, little by little I cut back. I’ve not had a drink now for 2 1/2 months."

                                    *         *         *

And the end of my week I was pelted with an egg (glad to say not a rotten one) and suffered a bruised and cut face but you know, I’m glad. That’s what happens to the prostitutes round our way and, we know, there’s plenty of rough diamonds amongst them.  In fact, two days later I met one of them, sitting in tears in the bus stop opposite where we live. “I’m selfish, I’m broken,” she sobbed, “and I feel alone.” I prayed with her and, you know what? I knew Jesus had already been there, with her, in the darkness, doing His thing.

 
 Rough diamonds? They come in all shapes and sizes - respectable old ladies, alcoholics, drug addicts and prostitutes included. They're God’s speciality! I only pray that we, Church, will not leave them in the dark places but work with our Father who longs to mine them and bring them up, out of the darkest places, into Light.

Eternal Home: September Flight

When my mother was pregnant with me and overdue, my grandfather (a doctor) told her I would arrive the day the swallows left his garage to make their arduous journey south. He was no man of faith but, for sure, what he said came true. I was born on the first day of autumn. Maybe that’s why I always get excited at the sight of the returning swallows every spring. Certainly, contemplating the awesome, dangerous journey these tiny creatures (weighing around 20g) make to South Africa across the Pyrenees and Sahara fills me with wonder.

Even the psalmist gives a special mention to the swallows. Expressing their own love to be in God's presence in His Temple, they clearly felt at one with these tiny, fragile birds - commenting that even the swallow had found a nest for herself to lay her eggs within the sacred temple precinct (psalm 84:3).

A little while ago, I wrote this poem about the swallows:

Swallow .. where will you fly to
Now that summer's gone?
The leaves have turned,
The autumn chill
Sweeps though your summer down.
Your chicks have flown,
Prepare, prepare
To make an uncertain journey
To that far-off place - of warmth and light
A welcome land - your home.

My soul ... where will you fly to?
When winter 'last shall come
The time to shed this tired old shell
And lay it in the dust.
Your spirit soars
Upon its rapid course
No uncertainty now
Your time has come
And like the swallow
You find your welcome home.

Biryani and the Bard: A Kurdish Picnic Besides The Avon

It was their idea: a trip to Stratford. And so it was ... the other Thursday we took ten learners from Coventry Jesus Centre to Stratford – from Iran, Iraqi Kurdistan, Latvia and France. The Kurdish ladies were attired in their best clothes; indeed, I felt positively under-dressed. The best costumes in the theatre exhibition we were later to see were barely an equal match to theirs!

None of them had ever been to Stratford before. Everything was exciting! Everything was interesting. How good to see the obvious pleasure in their eyes at observing, for so many of us, quite ordinary things! It’s strange how you look at the old familiar sights with fresh eyes when you are with people who are seeing those things for the first time. The old heron sitting in the tree, the gracious swans and narrow, summer barges, the ancient, timber-framed buildings; even the word ‘royal’ takes on an exciting new meaning as RSC (Royal Shakespeare Company) has to be explained.

Threatened with a thunderstorm which never happened, we jumped off our transport and wended our way through the crowded streets up to Shakespeare’s birthplace, taking countless photos, and then onto New Place and back onto the riverside park.

Lunch was the best; it’s got to be the finest picnic I ever had; I’d bought some honey sandwiches but I certainly didn’t need them! Our Kurdish mama had bought a picnic for fifteen and more!  This was Siti from a previous blog The silver tray was bought out and we all were given abundant portions of biryani and a highly colourful dolma dish. It was a feast and the likes of such a splendid picnic can rarely have been seen before on that park besides the Avon. Passersby's heads turned - intrigued at the unusual sight.

After that, we walked along besides the river to the parish church to see the bard’s burial place, then back across the ferry - pretty exhausted actually.

For all our faults, the UK has a brilliant heritage; when you get to know these Iranians and Iraqi Kurds and what they have suffered, you realise just how fortunate we are on this little isle of ours. We have known civil wars about the very things they have – who is going to rule – but we’ve come out on the other side.

 But for all our rich heritage, we have so much to learn from our friends ... their appreciation, their pleasure at the simple things of life and above all their hospitality and open-hearted friendship. Teachers only have students for a short while.  For us, to know them for this brief spell in time is a privilege.

Sanctions, Sanctions and the Vulnerable Poor

food bank

Life at Coventry Jesus Centre

It’s Friday afternoon and, letter in hand, they walk into the training room; heads are bowed, spirits low. They speak little English and don’t understand: they’ve had a letter from Jobcentre Plus to say they will receive no JSA (Job Seekers' Allowance) until October; that’s several weeks and they can’t make ends meet ....

 I ring up Spire House (home of Coventry city council offices); are my friends eligible for a Community Support Grant? No, not if they are on sanctions. Are they on sanctions? The trouble is, they don’t seem to know. I ring up Jobcentre Plus on their behalf and after a wait, yes, I find out, they are on sanctions - definitely. What’s more, they’ll be on sanctions for three years if they don’t do what is required. The trouble is, my friends don’t seem to have a clue as to what is required or even why they’re on sanctions.

Sanctions aren’t necessarily bad. It’s no good for anyone’s self-respect to live off benefits if they’re fit for work. And, believe me, I come across very few people who don’t want to work. They’re desperate to work.

But who’s worked this one out?  There’s a very vulnerable group of people who find the new benefits system and this new system of sanctions a bewildering maze, simply because they don’t understand: their English is not sufficient. And they end up destitute.

It’s not the first time I’ve heard this story.  A few weeks ago a young African walked into the centre; he was on sanctions too, simply because he had not understood what was expected of him.

There’s only one thing I could do: write to Jobcentre Plus on my friends' behalf: a Polish interpreter is needed - please. I just wish someone had thought of it before. And yes, a form please for a Hardship Payment.

They’ll be in the food bank queue, next week, most likely.

But, who will stick up for these voiceless people? They're being overlooked, misunderstood just because ... English is not their mother tongue and they have not understood.