Finding Jesus

I always find it odd that so many non-christian outsiders view the United Kingdom as overtly Christian, while many Christian outsiders consider it fundamentally secular - the reality perhaps is somewhere in-between. While the history and the heritage of the UK are intimately intertwined with Christianity, if you think it’s a country of softly spoken vicars and pious do-gooders, a quick walk down the main street of my hometown may awaken you to a new reality. While my experience of growing up in Wigan was not overly Christian, it was very human; very broken, very real, yet incredibly beautiful. It was home, a home I still love to this day.

My earliest memory of church was when I was seven years old, my older sister (then nine) insisted that we attend after she’d been invited to a Holiday Bible Club (Vacation Bible School to our friends in North America). My parents, who’d been distant from church for several years, couldn’t seem to think of a good reason to say no, and so my older brother and I sacrificed our Sunday morning cartoons for this new religious pursuit. If memory serves me correctly, church wasn’t overly fun, it was a very calm experience, welcoming, and kind, but nothing to get excited about. I only recall having one major protest, and that was that I would rather listen to the sermon than venture back to Sunday school.

Two years later, when I was nine years old, my sister and I attended the last day of a large evangelistic event. I remember the experience clearly, I know I was young, but in my memory I’m sat there as fully present and rational as I am today, mulling the Gospel narrative being presented to me carefully. All my life something had been missing, nothing really made sense, I vividly remember laying in bed at night, or, if I'm honest, sitting in the bathroom, pondering my own existence and trying to rationalize why anyone was on this planet. I had heard Bible stories, and met loads of Christians, and I must have heard the Gospel before, but on this night it hit home. Jesus died for us all, despite our rebellion and brokenness (of which I was naturally well aware), and he invites and welcomes us all to newness of life, to fullness, abundance, life in relationship with God. My sister jumped up and headed to the front to pray with some leaders, and I joined her. I remember sitting on the floor in a circle with some adults in yellow t-shirts, and together we prayed. I accepted Jesus’ free gift, I turned from brokenness, and I looked forward to life in it’s fullness, life with God.