Pheonix: Reflections on Christianity in England

It’s a Monday night—the first Monday after my arrival. My friend, Melissa and I are in the throes of a deep conversation, a little odd considering our surroundings. From outside the room we hear what can only be the drunken clamor characteristic of Manic Mondays at York St. John. Inevitably, my silent, closed door seems an open invitation. I answer the knock and am met with the smiling face of an unknown intoxicated young English boy. After a few moments conversation he looks at me quizzically and asks, “Are you religious? Are you Islam?” And suddenly, less than a week of being in England and with less than a handful of British acquaintances, Melissa and I find ourselves in the midst of a theological discussion about the existence of God. Despite his alcohol-tainted logic, our young Englishman tried to convince us of the absurdity of Christianity: “God is really just a cloud –just water and vapor floating up in the sky. And Jesus Christ? Christ! Do you believe in Jesus Christ? Or Muhammed? The prophet? Or Hinduism?” His questions and his speech began to blur together but we answered him as best we could (all the while fighting the irresistible urge our lips seem to have towards upward mobility).

I’ve heard it said many a time that Britain is a post-Christian nation. Telegraph News ran a story recently titled “Christianity: Will it die within the century?” Polled popular opinion answered in the affirmative. In a nation once defined by its Protestant identity other religions--such as Islam--are outstripping Christianity in rising converts. Friends, too, warned me that this semester might be spiritually challenging without a strong or vibrant Christian community. So I came to England expecting just this—a society in which Christian values hold little sway whose landscape is littered with churches now empty save for a handful of aging congregants. And while Christianity does seem much less prominent here than in American society, I have been surprised and humbled to find my own preconceptions about the state of Christianity in England challenged.

The undoing of my preconceptions started small. I spent one of my first Sundays of the semester at the local Anglican Church, St. Thomas with St. Maurice. Externally, this church fulfilled every characteristic of the dying English church; the majority of its congregants were over fifty and in fact, the already small congregation was a fusion of two church congregations. Though the church was small, its earnestness and hospitality was clearly evident. The passing of the peace was not the contained affair of my home church in Grand Rapids. No, at St.Thomas’ the invitation to pass the peace is akin to the unleashing of the floodgates of heaven. The few dozen congregants poured out of their pews, descended upon us, the American visitors. Looking straight into my eyes, many congregation members introduced themselves saying “Hi! I’m _____. May the peace of Christ be with you” After the service, multiple people came over to me and welcomed me into their congregation showing a genuine interest in my life. And St.Thomas is not alone in this trend; all of the churches I’ve attended whether it be small-- like St.Thomas--or larger--like St.Mike’s--exhibit a strong sense of community that is missing in so many North American churches. Church announcements are particularly telling; whether it be through cell groups, house churches, charity organizations, or church socials, the congregants are actively involved in their church community outside of weekly Sunday services. The leaders of the churches I've attended strike me as approachable—as if there is little distance between pastor and layman; their sermons are delivered with informal, conversational language giving the impression that the man speaking them is as ordinary as you or I. (This is not to say these sermons are not well grounded in biblical text or theology). Services, even the highly liturgical ones, are often conducted in a relaxed, informal (though not irreverent) manner that for me parallels what I imagine a small gathering of the early church to be.I’ve been to churches of high Anglican liturgy and to churches with evangelical contemporary feels and in each of these churches I’ve been met with a sense of community and earnestness that I never expected to find.

One such church that I've been blessed, challenged and humbled by is St.Mike's. While I could speak about St.Mike's at great length, I will share with you just one small example of the way this church has humbled and taught me. The church services I'm used to attending appear seamlessly planned (in so far as that is possible); there is very little within a given service that occurs spontaneously. From sermon texts to songs to prayers, the majority have been preapproved and rehearsed. I understand the reasoning and importance of planned services for I can attest that disorganized services can be simply distracting. However, my experience at St.Mike's has revealed to me that leaving room for the Spirit to speak through one another is a vital component of worship and Christian community. Frequently, St. Mike's reserves a time in its service to invite people to give testimonies of God's faithfulness in their lives or to share with the congregation a prayer request or concern. These testimonies are nothing big by some standards; very rarely do people speak about experiences akin to Paul's Road-to-Damascus conversion. More often than not the testimonial time consists of sharing stories of God's hand in the day-to-day lives of Christian people. What an encouraging way to foster an honest church community that is attentive to one another's needs and bridge the gap between small groups and larger church community.
England could be deemed a post-Christian world, to be sure. My experiences with non-Christians since that first Monday night have not been dissimilar; where God is not disdained, the Bible is regarded as little more than mythological literature. Yet within this post-Christian world, Christianity is bubbling up in new and vibrant ways--one just has to be attentive to hear the gentle, whisper of invitation to come to the cross. St. Mike's provides the perfect example of the power of such a whisper. It’s easy to miss this small church cowering it seems beside the gothic cathedral that is York Minster--now more actively a tourist site than a congregation. Though seemingly small, St.Mike's staunchly and faithfully bears witness to the Christian faith. Pass by the church on your way to city centre on a Sunday morning or evening and you’ll surely hear the sounds of praise music rebounding off the walls and out of the doors. Go inside and you’ll observe a few hundred people, men and women, young and old, some with arms raised, some with bodies swaying or some with heads bowed in praise of their Savior.