Whatever Happened to the Rich Young Man?. Keith Foster
surrounding it.
Easy Pickings: Entering our Communities
It is not surprising to see many churches using the measurable needs within their local community as a platform upon which to serve and minister to it. As it says in the chapter title, the squeaky wheel gets the oil. The UK Office of National Statistics (ONS), and the United States Census Bureau, provide a wide range of data by which our local communities can be measured. Statistics around health, education, employment, income, housing, etc., are collated to create a “league table” of deprivation. Communities can then be categorized as “deprived areas” depending on their “league position.” The basic flaw in this sweeping categorization of a community is that deprivation is a “people” measure and not a geographical one. A 2015 UK local government report states:
A geographical area is not deprived: it is the circumstances and lifestyles of the people living there that affect its deprivation score. It is important to remember that not everyone living in a deprived area is deprived—and that not all deprived people live in deprived areas.4
This can leave whole rafts of people in every community ignored and neglected by the local church as it seeks to respond to the measurable and published needs.
Filling the Gap
It then stands to reason that the church, armed with its local data, can swing into action to meet local needs. The benefit of doing so is twofold. Firstly, it can position the church within its community as a key player and stakeholder. In its attempt to recover central ground, the church is (understandably) keen to do this. Secondly, these are often very real and pressing needs—needs that the church is well-positioned to meet. Add to this the backing of a theological mandate to demonstrate the Kingdom within our communities, this seems like an easy gap to fill. The church can put itself back on the local map. Elaine Graham and Stephen Lowe in their book What Makes a Good City? affirm the church’s central role. They write: “Christianity has been an urban religion since its very beginnings.”5 Baker and Beaumont add:
The neoliberal turn and the stripping down of the welfare state have returned us to a condition where public charity once again is called upon and charitable welfare has always been a calling of faith-based organizations.6
Is this “mission accomplished,” or are we missing something? What about the “unmeasured,” those I have referred to as the New Marginalized, who exist within all our communities? How are their needs being met? In fact, what are their needs? Jesus spoke about a level of deprivation that is not measured by any national statistics office, yet one that impacts everyone: that of spiritual poverty. Again, within that famous Sermon on the Mount, within the section referred to as the Beatitudes, the very first quality he lists as a characteristic of a Kingdom citizen is “poor in Spirit.” Those who are “spiritually bankrupt.” They are indeed “happy,” or blessed, “for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven” (Matt 5:3). Here’s a simple interpretation: “How happy are those who acknowledge their spiritual bankruptcy and need for Christ, whose values subsequently change, who from that point seek treasures in heaven.” While the church can and must fill local welfare needs—both material and social deprivation—there is a deeper, more pressing spiritual need within every heart and community. If not met, it will have eternal consequences. As the value systems within our communities crumble and lose their shine, it is time for the community of God’s people to both demonstrate and communicate Kingdom values and Christ-centered allegiance: those things that Jesus told us do not perish, spoil, or fade (Matt 6:19-21).
More Than Welfare
The church’s biblical mandate to minister to the marginalized, vulnerable, and materially poor is well-rehearsed and accepted. To give credit where credit is due, the church (in general) does this well—so much so that it could be understood that this essential “filling” of the welfare gap in response to the holes in governmental safety nets is deemed (by the casual observer) to be the church’s central purpose. This caricaturing of the church into a neoliberal welfare provider can only serve to enhance any “imagined boundaries” or irrelevancies of the church that the non-welfare (New Marginalized) perceive to be the case. This can then become a “comfortable” arrangement for all parties: The welfare demographic is grateful to receive help and support; the New Marginalized quietly admiring the “charity” of the church; and the church itself is then happy to accept its defined place at the table. As long as this remains the collective understanding, all is well. Yet as an evangelical,7 the centrality of conversionism (i.e., lives transformed in Christ) lies at the heart (or arguably should) of every project. When visible, this can (and often does) develop a hermeneutic of suspicion, and in some cases can cause the church’s “place” at the community table to be brought into question. The fear of losing such a privileged place can then lead to one of two responses: for churches to create their own spaces, or to resume their perceived and accepted role.
This gives rise to several questions and challenges that the remainder of this book will seek to answer and demonstrate:
1 Is it possible for the church to unashamedly possess a gospel intentionality yet keep its place at the community table?
2 Can this be achieved in the very heart of our communities, without having to revert to the tactic of creating our own spaces?
3 Can such spaces be created that engage with a much broader demographic, beyond welfare?
4 Can all of this be achieved while maintaining our identity as unashamed Christ-followers and at the same time enhancing and contributing to a sense of local community?
I believe the answer to all these questions is a resounding “Yes!” My doctoral research sought to investigate and personally embed myself into two such projects, whose overall aims and desires were to enhance their local communities, yet do so with a gospel-centered intentionality. I wanted to know what tensions, imagined or otherwise, existed within each project. Spending two years conducting ethnographic research, I wanted to know the answer to other questions, too:
1 Was there a difference between the “espoused” theology (this is what we say we do) and “operant” theology (this is what we actually do)?
2 Were all church staff on board with the objectives?
3 Did the New Marginalized who frequented the projects perceive any tensions?
4 Is there hope for the rich young man?
The remainder of this book will detail some of my key findings from my research. Yet in order to carry out this important piece of theological research, I needed to look to an academic “friend” from the secular academy for assistance: sociology. I wanted to know if bringing theology and sociology together within a practical theology doctoral project might jointly provide answers to the above questions. I was not disappointed.
4. MHCLG, “English Indices of Deprivation.”
5. Graham and Lowe, What Makes a Good City?, 5.
6. Beaumont and Baker, Postsecular Cities, xiii.
7. David Bebbington’s classic Evangelicalism in Modern Britain: A History from the 1730s to the 1980s outlines the four key tenets of evangelicalism: Conversionism (desire to see lives transformed for Christ), Biblicism (the Bible informing the whole of life), Activism (faith in action), and Crucicentrism (the centrality of the cross).
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