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Comment
Community
Economics
Hospitality
3 min read

Third Space: the gym that offers belonging, but at a cost

The real third spaces are not about cost and exclusivity.

Jessica is a Formation Tutor at St Mellitus College, and completing a PhD in Pauline anthropology, 

An exercise class underway in a smart gym.
Third Place.

In the past 25 years, London has been overrun by a new luxury health club chain called Third Space. There are now thirteen sites across the city - and one just opened down the road from where I live. You can probably guess what happened next. 

I was in the market for a new gym, so I enquired. And I must admit, it was stunning. There’s a beautiful reformer Pilates studio, a state-of-the-art gym floor, spin classes, even a spa. All of which made sense of the monthly fee. But there is also a two-month waiting list to join. 

Living in London, where waiting more than five minutes for a tube feels outrageous, this was baffling. When I asked about it, I was told the list was to prevent overcrowding, as spots were “limited.” But when I visited, the gym was nearly empty. 

This wasn’t about capacity—it was about exclusivity; a classic case of the scarcity principle: the idea that things become more desirable when they’re harder to access. It’s a tactic brands like Crocs and Stanley have famously used—make something hard to get and everyone wants it. 

In its recent report, The Quiet Revival, the Bible Society noted how society has recently lost community “third places” such as pubs, libraries, and local clubs. Home is the first space; places of work are the second space.  The loss of traditional third places—those informal, accessible gathering spots—has left a vacuum; we are becoming increasingly fragmented. Changes in work patterns and costly financial barriers to recreation mean fewer people feel rooted in their communities.   

As humans, we are wired for connection. Research confirms what we intuitively know: deep community strengthens mental health, reduces loneliness, and brings a sense of purpose. With traditional third places in stark decline, many will now look to curated, branded “third spaces” like exclusive gyms, co-working lounges, or members-only clubs. These new spaces offer belonging—but at a cost. They are often expensive, exclusive, and subtly suggest that you need to be someone to gain entry. There is a bitter irony in Third Space’s success, built as it is on the exact opposite principles of what its namesake was all about.  

The Church, by contrast, is radically different. It is not about earning access but receiving grace. There’s no waitlist to get in. No premium fee. No scarcity model. In fact, the more disqualified you feel, the more welcome you are. Grace doesn’t limit access—it throws the doors wide open. 

While I have kept my Third Space membership (it really is incredible), I have tried to step more into community life in other ways. I take part in my weekly Parkrun and recently joined my local library. These things have been a gift to me in allowing me to connect with people in my local area in ways that everyone can access.  

And I am a big fan of Church, too. Where Third Space focuses on my endeavour to be better, fitter, or stronger, it – and the Parkrun, and the library – encourage community, connection, and mutual care for other people. They are a reminder that grace isn’t scarce, community isn’t earned, and you don’t need a membership card to be welcomed. The doors are wide open—everyone is invited.  

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Care
Culture
Mental Health
3 min read

Separating mind and body still stigmatises mental health

Our minds and bodies are meant to be inseparable.

Rachael is an author and theology of mental health specialist. 

 

 

Two bird sit on wires facing in opposite directions.
Eduardo Soares on Unsplash.

I recently had a somewhat surreal experience whilst trying to get two consultants to agree to some treatment I needed to have.  

One was a cardiologist, the other a psychiatrist - both consultants, working in the same geographical area - and I found, to my surprise, that there was no recourse for my physical health records to be viewed by the psychiatrist and vice versa.  

And as I went through the process of trying to mediate between these two professionals, it made me reflect that whilst in theory there is agreement that our minds and our bodies are one and that they cannot be treated wholly separately, the reality is something rather different.  

Mental and physical health problems are, in fact, treated as entirely separate entities, with different trusts and funding models in place to deliver care and treatment for mental illness and physical illness.  

Now, there is probably a bureaucratic reason for this, but I believe it uncovers a perhaps unconscious belief that our minds and bodies are distant relatives at best, and not only that, but our mental health is still the poorer relation - best ignored unless it’s particularly bothersome.  

I think this separation sits at the heart of the stigma that mental health problems still face - a stigma that persists even in the mental health system. It has ancient roots. Go back to ancient Greece and its philosophers. They held to a  doctrine where the body and soul were completely separate - our bodies are simply houses for our souls. In a way, the stigma that exists about mental health is the inverse of this- that our minds are less important than our physical bodies and that caring for mental health always comes second to caring for physical health. 

Yet, also in those ancient times, the Bible's treatment of humanity shows that we are creations of mind, body, and soul—all equal, beloved, and cared for by God. In Mark’s gospel, we read that the command to love God and one another is multi-faceted: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength.’ The second is this: ‘Love your neighbour as yourself.’ There is no commandment greater than these.” To love one another, then, means we need to care for one another’s mental health as well as physical health and strength, as we love with our minds and bodies. 

In truth, we cannot care well for ourselves or one another without considering both our mental and physical health. To ignore the mental strain of physical illnesses like cancer, and ignore the physical pains that mental illnesses cause, such as their effects on digestion and blood pressure, is to ignore significant parts of people's suffering.  

In the Old Testament of the Bible there is the story of Elijah, one of the great prophets who flees from a murderous ruler and, whilst spiritually and physically exhausted, begs God for death. “I have had enough, LORD,” he said. “Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.” 

These are words of desperation that echo those who struggle with their mental health, and God’s reply to Elijah’s pain is to meet him with an encounter with an angel who urges him to sleep and eat, comforting him with the words “the journey is too much for you”. There is no reprimand for Elijah’s suffering, simply comfort for a tortured mind and provision for an exhausted body. 

The answer, then, is to treat ourselves and others as the embodied creations we are, with mind and body inseparable and interconnected in ways that even science cannot quite explain or articulate.  

The answer is to trust in the embodied hope of Christ, who chose to save us through not only his bodily crucifixion and resurrection, but through experiencing the breadth and depth of human emotions so that we may never again feel alone in them. 

Both our bodies and our minds matter to God, and we need to see that reflected in society, where we care not just for single ailments, but the whole person. We need not just an awareness of our minds, but an understanding of what it means to be mentally healthy, as well as a recognition of the horrors of mental illness. Only then, I believe, can we see a society which cares and serves those most in need not simply as isolated symptoms, but as valuable creations.