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Chapter 2

The Squeaky Wheel Gets the Oil: The Welfare-Dominated Church

The importance of looking out and caring for the most vulnerable amongst us is a value, and thus a “metric,” that lies at the center of any civilized and morally grounded society. Even the most irreligious societies are founded upon the central principles of (at least several of) the Ten Commandments. It is illegal to murder or steal in every society. Additionally, the Bible’s teaching on looking after the vulnerable, the widows, the orphans, the marginalized, are also widely embraced and accepted—at least in principle. Fundraising events hosted by celebrities, charity appeals for famine-torn countries, email campaigns to support the local hospice, all vie for our attention. The challenge is what to say “no” to. For Christ-followers, this is amplified further, since they are told “Whoever is kind to the poor lends to the Lord, and he will reward them for what they have done” (Prov 19:17). Plenty of ink has been spilled by authors and theologians with regard to our obligations to the poor. Herein lies the problem. While there are many obvious and basic needs that all should be able to access (food, shelter, etc.), how might we define the “less well-off”? Wealth and possessions are relative and contextual. By that, I mean that the things we possess only hold their value within a given context and within the balance of our life experiences and inner well-being. Let me explain: For years, my parents struggled to get by. My father was in and out of jobs, and my mother did what she could as a low-wage auxiliary nurse at the local hospital. Until my teens, my parents rented their home from the local government authority. We lived in an area where most people around us had managed to purchase their home; so contextually, for my parents, being able to purchase their home would be a measure of success and relative “wealth.” Well, a few years into my military service, my parents did just that. With incentive discounts from the local authority offered to long-term tenants, my parents proudly purchased their home. Sadly, within only a few short years, my father passed away. While my mother had the security and legacy of a long-term home, I remember her saying, as a relatively young widow, “I would rather have an orange box and your father back, as pleased as I am with this home.” Against the context of sudden loss and grief, the comparative value of a house had lost its shine and appeal. As I write this chapter, the world is gripped by a global pandemic—COVID-19. Within the current shutdown, many of the possessions and pursuits that people value and allow to dominate their time and attention are off-limits. Stories are emerging of people being released out of critical care centers with new perspectives and insights around the value of “other things”: family, friends, mental, and physical well-being, etc. What is valuable to us can change quickly.

Jesus had plenty to say about the things we value. One of his most famous challenges is found in one of his most famous sermons:

Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also. The eye is the lamp of the body. If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness! No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and money. (Matt 6:19–24)

Jesus tells us that within and against the Kingdom context, the things we value now will lose their shine. The church is not exempt from the challenge, either. In his appraisal of the seven churches in the book of Revelation, Jesus brings a reality check to the church at Laodicea:

To the angel of the church in Laodicea write: These are the words of the Amen, the faithful and true witness, the ruler of God’s creation. I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth. You say, “I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.” But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked. I counsel you to buy from me gold refined in the fire, so you can become rich; and white clothes to wear, so you can cover your shameful nakedness; and salve to put on your eyes, so you can see. (Rev 3:14–18)

An impoverished church, blinded to its poverty, is in no position to see the real poverty of the communities and people 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).