Article
Ambition
Comment
3 min read

Hopes and fears for the year

Standing on the cold threshold of a new year, Graeme Holdsworth recalls past audacity and whether his aspirations are too timid.

Graeme is a vicar of Marsden and Slaithwaite in West Yorkshire. He also cycles and juggles.

A starry night sky below which a signpost is silhouetted.
Luca J on Unsplash.

Standing in the Vicarage garden, under the clear winter sky, I feel cold to my bones, as though Jack Frost has thrown his coat over my shoulders. I’ve been successfully shedding body-fat since early October when I began to cut out ‘added sugar’ foods from my diet, but it has come with a downside: I need some third-party insulation, preferably lightweight, breathable, wind, and waterproof. I love cycling under clear night skies, pausing away from towns and lights to let my eyes adjust sufficiently to see stars more in number than the sands of the sea, but my enthusiasm for winter riding is dampened by this bitter cold. 

My first truly long-distance bike ride was an overnight cycle across the North Pennines, about 300km. A good friend had turned 40 and invited me to his party at a nightclub in Glasgow. I lived in Teesside at the time and thought it would be great fun to cycle there. I loaded my bicycle bags with party clothes, a change of shoes, and an appropriately expensive bottle of whisky as a gift, then set off into the early evening sunshine. By Bishop Auckland it was raining. Passing across Yad Moss to Alston at midnight, it was snowing. 

I’m older now and experienced enough to know that there is a point where the discomfort of endurance tips over into the endurance of pain, but I still long for the adventure. Like Tolkien’s elderly Bilbo Baggins torn between the comfort of his hobbit hole, and his yearning to see mountains again: my mind returns to summer cycling and riding through the night in shorts and short sleeves. Bilbo’s first journey was one of inexperience and unpreparedness, but he faced his dragon and returned home with tales to tell. Moreover, he didn’t do it alone, he also shared the journey with those who were older and wiser, those who knew what to expect but travelled anyway. 

Will I limit my resolutions for the new year to those that can be achieved beside my metaphorical fireplace? 

As I reflect on this, I think about our church community: those whose faith has been tested by experience, and those who are afraid to take their first steps into a wider world. A mixture of people who tell stories of spiritual wonder and joy, and others who seek comfort and refuge in the familiar. I’m also reminded of the people in this local community who have needed comfort during times of suffering. My soul has become filled with experiences, and I know that there are more frightening ‘dragons’ out there than those I encounter on a long bicycle ride. 

As I stand in the Vicarage garden, shivering, I wonder if I’m at risk of becoming timid. Do my experiences, and those I’ve learned from others, teach me to tread more carefully in the year to come? Will I limit my resolutions for the new year to those that can be achieved beside my metaphorical fireplace? Do I hang up my cycling shoes for those furry lined Crocs my son bought me this year? 

As I type this I realise, I have no desire to surrender to slippers just yet: my aspirations for the year ahead are to fly recklessly in the face of my own painful experiences, to embrace boldness in cycling, faith, and ministry once again. I pray for joy in my heart, and youth in my soul. I hope that my faith filled foolishness will be infectious in our church and our community as I stand hand in hand with the Divine, on the edge of eternity… and jump together. And as for wisdom born of experience: next time I take the dog into the garden, I’ll put a jumper on. 

Article
Comment
Economics
Generosity
5 min read

This year’s Budget won’t define your future

Dare to be generous in a time of constraint
Rachel Reeves holds a red briefcase up.
Chancellor Rachel Reeves preps.

There’s been much speculation about what Chancellor Reeves will announce on November 26, and it seems the country is holding its collective breath, fearing the worst. As a nation we’ve been privy to the disorganised to-ing and fro-ing of our politicians for a while now (but to be fair to the current government, waffling and backtracking aren’t unique to them).  

For many weeks, the political news reporting hinted strongly at Reeves breaking her election promise and raising income tax. With less than two weeks to go, Reeves decided to scrap the idea of raising income tax, which I’m sure is a relief to many. But the fact that she was steadfastly planning to go back on her word before retreating at the last minute does little to nurture public confidence.  

So, we’re left in a fog of uncertainty and confusion, with very little good economic news to look forward to. Do I paint a bleak picture?  

The real question is, how should I respond as a Christian?  

Living in tension 

So much of the Christian faith is about holding two seemingly contradictory truths in tension. We live in the natural world with all of its limitations, but we also live in a supernatural reality (what Christians call the Kingdom of God) where naturally impossible things become possible.  

One of the tensions surrounding this Autumn Budget – and our present moment – is that despite the government clearly not being able to offer viable solutions, the public’s dependence and expectation on the government to offer such solutions seems to be increasing. The result is perpetual disappointment in our politicians.  

But this shouldn’t surprise us. Democracy’s biggest weakness is that elected politicians are incentivised to say they are making decisions for our benefit, all the while making decisions that are in their own best interest in order to stay in power, offering the public the occasional short-term win at the expense of long-term gain.  

God operates in a different way entirely. He genuinely plays the long game for humanity’s benefit. Though at times it may appear that he is slacking on his promises (i.e. why is there so much sickness and abuse in the world if he is our healer and protector?), but he holds the big picture in mind. We might ask for something and not get it, but he will give us something better because he knows what we really need. He might allow us to fall flat on our faces, but he has a bigger redemption plan waiting for us. Our earthly government does not.  

In that light, we can trust God when his arm appears to be too short, because we know that he will work all things together for our good. His character does not change and His principles aren’t sacrificed on the altar of survival. He’s seen the end from the beginning, and he is committed to his purposes and plans. Unlike our earthly government, God is able to provide above and beyond what we can ask or think. He is able to supernaturally multiply meagre resources. He is able to make a way where there seems to be no way.  

The hard part is, he does require of us to walk in trust and obedience. But this is what true freedom is.   

Dominion  

For Christians, this bleak economic environment presents a great opportunity to be encouraging personal agency and creativity. This is a time to be leaning into entrepreneurship and collaboration, a time to challenge the pervasive narrative of scarcity. In other words, it’s a great time to exercise dominion to a greater degree than we ever have before.  

Considering how badly various parts of the Church have handled this mandate throughout history, it’s understandable that the word dominion might raise a few eyebrows. I want to be clear that dominion is not another word for imperialism or colonialism or any other ‘ism’ that seeks to exercise control over people. Biblically, exercising dominion means to make all of creation flourish, to create order out of chaos, and to bring all things under the Lordship of Jesus Christ. It’s what God commanded human beings to do at the very beginning of our existence, and it’s what Jesus reaffirmed in the Great Commission.  

We do this by modelling a Kingdom way of doing things that brings about righteous results. We do this by thinking differently, by being transformed by the renewing of our minds. We do this by moving in the opposite spirit to the one that is driving the rest of the world.  

Generosity 

We cannot exercise Godly dominion without pressing into generosity. This one is hard, because as so many of us can attest to, budgets are tight, our pay checks aren’t reaching as far as they used to, and it’s incredibly tempting to give in to fear and worry that we won’t have enough. I certainly struggle with this.  

The tension is: when we believe that our God is generous beyond measure, we confidently take a step of faith to continue giving. With the complete understanding that how much we give may need to vary depending on what kind of season we’re in, the truth is that we have resources to share, monetary or otherwise.  

I want to emphasise that generosity isn’t just about giving money. It’s a much fuller picture that furthers the ministry of reconciliation. By giving of all that we have and are, including our time, our hospitality, our attention, our emotions, and our power, we are inviting people into a reconciled relationship with God and man. Our generosity should ultimately be about reflecting the profoundly generous nature of God and the way He consistently brings hope and restoration where things have been badly broken.  

Our response 

It’s crucial to remember that we cannot reflect God’s generous nature without the Holy Spirit. He is present to help us discern how to make God’s Kingdom known in this fog of uncertainty and confusion. He is with us and will lead us.  

We don’t know what’s ahead; the Autumn Budget may or may not have a significant impact on your situation. But if you’re feeling worried about how your finances are going to stretch to the end of the month, God is with you in your lack. And if you’re feeling secure in your ability to remain financially comfortable and weather the storms, God is with you in your abundance.  

Regardless of which category we find ourselves in, our best response is to hold things lightly before the Lord, knowing that everything we have is from him, and everything we have is to be stewarded for his glory.  

Ultimately, our freedom isn’t determined by government policy or the Autumn Budget. Neither is our freedom determined by how much or how little financial security we have. Our freedom is found in maintaining a posture of trust and obedience, and a heart that dares to be generous in a time of constraint. 

Stewardship UK sponsors series 8 of the Re-Enchanting podcast. Find out more.