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Is the Church Relevant? An Observation from the UK

British church folk all know that when it comes time to pontificate upon Christianity’s future in Europe, invariably someone will trot out two old chestnuts.

Both assertions, usually treated as unassailable dogma, are always met with much hand-wringing (though often little else). The first is that all denominations face an uphill battle eking out relevance in a society that largely reckons it’s grown beyond organized religion. The second, a corollary, is that the church is more and more a club for little old ladies; young folk just don’t care anymore, and we have precious little idea of what to offer them. I raise these points not to perpetuate such pessimism, but simply to describe the challenge of this ingrained conventional wisdom.

Of course, we can’t deny the kernel of truth within the pessimism. In recent decades, British churches have indeed struggled to address, prophetically yet compassionately, an increasingly post- Christian, hyper-capitalistic society that no longer seems to share core values with Christianity, yet nonetheless leave a spiritual void in the wake of rabidly individualistic, monetarist mantras. Yet the hand-wringers too often fail to realize that far more goes on under the surface than meets their eyes.

Under the Surface

For a bigger and truer picture, a couple of observations are wholly in order:

The first, I should mention in passing, is that in no way can I discount the value of the hard-headed “pepperpot brigade.” Last year I saw a 20-person parish in South Wales, mostly octogenarian pensioners, raise an astounding half-million pounds to restore their crumbling church building which had lain unused for 15 years. If that isn’t a lesson for our students about the power of tenacious faith and prayer, then at least it ought to be a model for the adults who work with them.

The second is that in the area of youth ministry some of the brightest signs of hope occur for this church in its birth pangs of redefinition. Even if our institutional leadership has been hard-pressed to find apt words for teens, the suggestion that Christ has no appeal for the younger crowd is patently false. People of my 30- ish generation are few at Sunday worship. Yet attendance at Soul Survivor (an annual youth convention of worship, workshops, and fellowship) has grown exponentially. Just a few years ago, the same kids put the worship band Delirious in the secular top-20 charts more than once. And even in my octogenarian parish—a congregation bereft of 20-and 30-somethings—the youth group was growing. Parishioners’ kids and grandkids turned up faithfully, not out of obligation, but desire, bringing ever-larger numbers of friends.

Yes, British churches have a way to go in finding youth, but the evidence suggests that these kids are thirsting for something and that, in those who find us, there’s often a willingness to search and learn and build the Church.

A Different Image of Church

My favorite image of British youth work has been through Ty-Bronna hostel for homeless youth. Begun a decade ago by a Cardiff priest who came home one evening to find a pair of abandoned teens on his doorstep, Ty-Bronna is run by the Church Army (an Anglican service and evangelism agency). On the surface, the hostel seems to have far more in common with social agencies than the parish youth club. Day-to-day they teach their kids less about the Bible than about living skills. A couple of residents are churchgoers, but most aren’t nor may ever be. And yet what was Christ’s primary ministry, if not one of healing both body and spirit? And what more could he do except plant a seed of love in those around him?

In the end, I want to suggest to the handwringers that, despite the surface truth in their pronouncements, Christ still moves amongst us more powerfully than the secularist tide, building his work in teens, both privileged and dispossessed. It doesn’t take much observation to learn that British kids are searching, and that we do have something to offer—even though we’re still re-learning how to articulate that something’s relevance.

In a post-Christian culture, this realization is a gift that we cannot afford to take for granted. It is, to be sure, a small gift at this moment, one that needs to be nurtured by the Spirit, through us. Yet I see ample reason to suppose that, with faithfulness and prayer and time, it can and will be.

William Ingle-Gillis, a Texas native, is a seminarian at Westcot House, Cambridge, with sponsorship from the Anglican Church in Wales. Having lived in Britain for the last seven years, he has worked with homeless youth in Cardiff and served as a parish assistant, worship leader, and preacher at St. John’s, Hyde Park in London. He’s presently on placement with the chaplaincy at Downing College, Cambridge.