Reflections on a curacy
Looking back on my time at St George's
I have now come to the end of my time as a Curate. It has been an eventful three years, and so I wanted to write some honest reflections on my time serving in the parish of St George’s, Edgbaston.
There has been a lot of talk recently about a so-called ‘Quiet Revival’, a culture change across the UK when it comes to matters of faith and belief. Much of this was based on an optimistic report on levels of churchgoing published by the Bible Society, and so it was a disappointment to find out recently that this report relied on flawed data. Nevertheless, I do believe that there is something going on out there: maybe not a revival, but certainly a few green shoots emerging from the long winter of secularism. I believe this because I have seen it during my time at St George’s – a church on the edge of Birmingham city centre, growing slowly but steadily, particularly amongst younger people. A church which has leaned into an Anglo-Catholic identity, and as a result drawn people through its doors who are in search of meaning, transcendence, and depth. A church in a superdiverse parish with high levels of deprivation, which has thrived as a hub of Christian learning and discipleship. In short, St George’s is a church which defies the assumptions that are often made about the future of Christianity, by those both inside and outside the Church.
And who are these people who are coming through the doors? Well, just about everyone and anyone you could imagine. I have seen children who have initially come to church out of duty, bored and apathetic, gradually learning to articulate a personal faith of their own. I have seen young adults growing in leadership and exploring vocations. I have seen dozens of Iranians joining our fellowship of faith, and inviting their friends, at great personal risk – these have been some of our most effective and enthusiastic evangelists, with personal stories that are both awe-inspiring and deeply humbling. I have seen older church members, who have been attending St George’s for most of their lives, welcoming people and sharing their love of the church with these newcomers. St George’s is a place where intergenerational, intercultural friendships are not just a nice idea, an abstract virtue, or an aspirational goal, but a lived reality at the heart of church life.
That isn’t to say that everything has been harmonious. St George’s is a church in a time of change, moving from one chapter of its life into the next, and that isn’t always easy. Some people have found this change difficult; others have chosen to leave. There have been moments of heartbreak as we have mourned the loss of beloved stalwarts, and, as in any church congregation, there has been sickness and ill-health. But St George’s is, I believe, a family that cares. It has been a place that has held me in the good times and the bad, and a place filled with fun, laughter and joy, even in those tender moments. This is largely down to the people who faithfully serve this church on a daily basis, a wonderful, diverse, quirky family of Christian people. But it is also because St George’s is, first and foremost, a place rooted in prayer and praise. In the Daily Office, the Mass, and the rhythms of the liturgical year. It is not a closed social club, a stuffy museum, or a political party at prayer – it is a vibrant house of worship where the Gospel is taught, where Christ is made present, and where the Holy Spirit is at work transforming lives.
I will miss St George’s a lot. I will miss the laughter that pervades almost every church activity, even PCC meetings! I will miss the friendship of my colleagues, particularly my Training Incumbent from whom I have learned so much. I will miss the congregation who welcomed me into their church and into their lives from day one. But I leave St George’s knowing that my faith has been nurtured here – I only hope that I have played a small part in nurturing the faith of others too.