ViaMedia

Category: Young People

  • Young Christianity Today

    by Sorrel Christian, a student and a multiply-disabled queer Christian. They enjoy writing and are particularly interested in crip theology and ecumenism

    My name is Sorrel Christian, I am a student in my early 20s, and I am a queer disabled Christian. I became a member of the United Reformed Church a few years ago. However, due to the only URC in my area not having approved same-sex marriage, it having been allowed on a church-by-church basis since 2016) when I’m not at university I’m currently worshipping with a local independent church community. I also attended a Roman Catholic sixth form college, and have had both helpful and harmful experiences in the Church of England in my ongoing journey to a committed faith.

    It will come as no surprise that the established church as a whole tends to have a poor reputation amongst my peers. Years of anti-LGBTQ+ and anti-disabled rhetoric and action from powerful churches has led to a deep mistrust and fear within these overlapping communities in all age ranges, particularly when it comes to the Roman Catholic Church and the Church of England. And it often seems like the powers that be do little to help themselves. Sex education and compulsory RE in Catholic sixth form was entirely heteronormative, with no mention of any other type of potential sexual encounter, gender non-conformity, or even an acknowledgement that the many LGBTQ+ youth at the college existed. One of the most powerful and well-known Church of England churches in my university town does not accept same-sex marriage or women in ministry. Such experiences give a strong impression, even amongst young people who are not part of the LGBTQ+ community, that organised religion is backwards looking, limited, and not in sync with anything they care about.

    Having said all that, I have found my non-Christian peers to be largely respectful of my personal faith, if somewhat baffled on occasion. Many would also describe themselves as spiritual in some form, and mutual respect and understanding goes a long way. Despite this, I find myself “caveating” my faith when meeting new people. “I’m a Christian but…”. As I’ve started expressing myself using queer fashion and rethinking the binary concepts of gendered clothing, it’s becoming less and less necessary – yet at the same time, the Church of England is in the news for still not having approved same-sex marriage. I pray for a world where I don’t have to consider “how queer” I look to my peer group before deciding if I need to justify and explain that my faith is not one of exclusion and hatred. Maybe it’s partly egotistical. I don’t want people to think, even for a moment, that I’m exclusionary. Maybe my sense of self-worth is too much based in how people may judge me. I feel the need to caveat my faith, even as I am aware of how God knows me. A more charitable view of this need to caveat would be that I do it to protect others. Whenever I try online dating, I state my religion on my profile. Whilst it’s true that this is partly for simple reasons of compatibility, there’s more to it than that. Being non-binary, if the apps do their job, my dating pool is entirely made up of LGBTQ+ young people. I haven’t met a single person of faith in the LGBTQ+ community who does not also hold religious trauma. Many more have left the church and their faith due to spiritual abuse and hostile churches. Still others have never held deep convictions, but associate church schools with a place they were never safe to be themselves. For the sake of both parties, I choose for the cross around my neck to not come as a surprise on the first date.

    Speaking of surprises, my first experience of an exclusionary church when I moved to university came as a complete shock. My experience of the Church of England up until then consisted of occasional services at the parish church in my small hometown. It was a fairly standard semi-rural set up, family-friendly, with a primary school attached, and also happened to be a part of the Inclusive Church network. With a family tradition of non-conformist churches, I naively assumed that all Church of England churches were much of a muchness when it came to societal viewpoints, if I considered it at all. I wasn’t even out to myself at that point. I was mostly just desperate for somewhere to belong. I started attending a popular church in my university city without even thinking to google it or find out it was a conservative evangelical branch of the CofE. I knew that the “party line” at the CofE didn’t include same-sex marriage, but I had no idea of the strength of anti-gay and anti-woman sentiment that could be found in some churches; something which SCM’s Honest Church campaign is trying to make visible. The wake-up moment was an anti-abortion rant from the pulpit. I kept going until the end of term though, because I didn’t know how to leave. Eventually, in the holidays, a family friend from the parish church explained the wide spectrum of belief in the Church of England, and how I needed to use critical thinking to find a church which aligned with my values of how to treat others.

    What confused me at the time, and frankly still baffles me today, was the popularity amongst students of a church which doesn’t accept female ministry and whose rector has openly written that same-sex relationships are sinful. All the students I met outside the church seemed to be in favour of the rights of women and LGBTQ+ people, and yet, this narrow-minded preaching attracted enough devotees for an entire separate student congregation. My theory is that is that it’s a question of resources and priorities, and a question of connections, of insidious roots throughout the university structure. Right from freshers’ week, the church works with a large Christian Union to attract new students through the tried and tested formula of free food. The promotional materials promise that everyone’s welcome, no strings attached. The leadership structure is carefully designed to disguise their views on women preachers at first glance. Once in, the usual mechanisms of organised religion slide greasily into action to keep you there. Guilt, shame, fear. A cult of personality around the rector. Upbeat music and a free student lunch. If you leave now, you’re going to Hell. By the time you discover the anti-gay rhetoric, you’re supposed to have bought in to believing everything the rector says as gospel truth. This dangerous machine is funded and legitimised by the powerful institution that is the Church of England.

    And yet, there is hope. The following term, just down the road, I found a wonderfully inclusive URC church. We’re smaller, less well funded, and much less powerful than those that can afford an entirely separate service for the student congregation. But by working with the other local non-conformist churches, we’re making changes in the city. I believe ecumenism is key in youth Christianity. I don’t understand the strict divides between denominations, the ‘us’ versus ‘them’. At the Student Christian Movement National Gathering this year, there were Quakers, Catholics, Anglicans, Methodists, Lutherans and more, all coming together to share ideas and theology and inclusive Christian love. Of course, there were differences in theology. But not rigid divisions. No one young person seemed convinced that they were more in the right than anyone else. That’s the spirit we need to take forward into the future.

     

  • Emerging Adults: A Priority for the Churches

    by Rebecca Glover, Digital Communications Coordinator at Youth for Christ. Her first degree is in Youth Work, Communities, and Practical Theology

    Picture this. You are nineteen years old, too old for the youth group now. You have spent the last few years leaving the main church service part way through to join the other young people in a programme aimed specifically at those at your age stage. You have learnt key Biblical stories as well as practical life lessons through a varied mixture of role play, discussion, reading, activities and games. There have been leaders around you whose specific job has been, at the most basic level, to take an interest in you. But more than that, these people have been around to mentor you, grow you, and facilitate these learnings.

    However, now you are an adult, so you stay in the main service with the rest of the adults. The preacher today is providing practical application for the Scripture, but they keep mentioning jobs and family. You are a student; you’re not yet sure what you want to do for a long term career, and you don’t have a spouse or children. In fact, your parents and siblings are over one hundred miles away, back in your hometown. Ahh home. It’s okay; “I can make this message transferable to my own life, fill in the gaps”, you think to yourself.

    Throughout the sermon, there have been a couple of references to popular culture… in the eighties, that is, so these references have gone straight over your head. The sermon is 50 minutes long – almost as long as tomorrow’s morning lecture – so you sit and listen, trying to take notes. But you miss the games and the discussion, even if you were beginning to feel a bit too old for it.

    Eventually you stand to sing the final song and you enjoy the lyrics; perhaps you recognise one of the choruses from a psalm you read. But these songs don’t sound much like the music you listen to outside of church, and you are not sure what some of the lyrics mean. Never mind, you make a mental note to Google ‘cherubim and seraphim’ later.

    Everyone gets up to mingle with their coffees and teas in hand, but you feel somewhat out of place. You try to wiggle yourself into circles, but you end up saying the same things – what you’re studying, where you’re from – and can’t relate to what everyone else is chattering about. There are not many people your age or at your stage; not like when you were in youth group.

    This was similar to my experience of church as an emerging adult. Too old for the youth group but feeling too young, too out of place really to feel part of ‘adult church’. Some recent stats show that I wasn’t alone in this feeling.

    For example, YouGov has carried out a range of surveys on whether Britons believe in a god or in a spiritual greater power. The 2022 figures gave 39% saying they did not believe in either. And it’s the younger generations who are most likely to think there are no greater forces out there. The Evangelical Alliance says “the Church is missing a generation of young adults from our congregations” and, in 2018, as part of its ‘Young Adults Conversation’, employed for the first time a Head of Missions to Young Adults.

    My own contribution to these discussions has been to write a Grove booklet, entitled How to Engage Emerging Adults in Church. That phrase, “emerging adults”, is widely discussed, but generally means about the ages of 18-25.

    It’s short – just 27 pages – but explores the key themes of emerging adult engagement. First of all, attraction, and briefly whether it’s okay to be attracted to a church; we need to have that conversation about church as part of consumer culture. Secondly, I look at creating community, including inviting emerging adults to serve and join small groups. Thirdly, I discuss critical mass: it’s important that emerging adults see that there are people like them. They need to belong, and I suggest producing for them a Freshers’ Guide. Before concluding (I’ll leave that part for you to read yourself!), I explore intentionality, and how youth workers, pastors, and the church alike need to take responsibility.

    I’ve included case studies, statistics and guides, as well as an ecclesiology based on the first church in Acts, and vision based on Ephesians 1.

    This booklet is based on my dissertation, and I used the same title for that. I chose it because this was my lived experience as an emerging adult, and I felt I had something to say on the matter; stories to tell, pointers to give, questions to ask. So often, I think, the church notices they are missing a demographic (often those under 25), and instead of asking people in that age group what would attract and engage them, they come up with their own ideas during their members’ meetings. I suppose that’s better than not noticing at all, or not doing anything about it. Perhaps you’re in this position now? If you’re looking at how to engage emerging adults, may I ask that you ask emerging adults? My booklet doesn’t provide all the answers, but I hope that it begins a conversation, asks the right questions, and points you in the right direction.

     

  • An Argument for an Honest Church

    by Naomi Nixon, CEO of Student Christian Movement

    There aren’t a lot of blogs written by progressive Christians about matters affecting LGBTQ+ people which can open by declaring that their basic premise isn’t very controversial. But I really believe that honesty is something we can all agree on. Honesty, for most if not all Christians, is not a very controversial subject.

    On a deep theological level we know ourselves to be freed by truth (John 8:32); it is one of the ways we understand our very salvation. Knowing that we are loved by the one who created us liberates us. There is nothing truer for us than the gospel.

    Added to this is the imperative to share our truth: faith is not a private thing, it is outward. However, it manifests itself in each of our traditions. None of us want to hide our faith, instead we are compelled to show it and to share it.

    In the practice of discipleship, we sit with each other, or just with our Bibles, and wrestle with difficult questions, because we are seeking God’s truth for us. Likewise, the reverse is true. It’s a widespread Christian understanding that hiding things is wrong: look at what the New Testament tells us about hiding a light under bushel (Matt 5:15), or at the problem of cloaking and dissembling described in the Book of Common Prayer.

    Arching across all of this is the shared understanding that honesty is a virtue, a moral good. ‘Be honest’ is the positive contrast of the Old Testament’s repeated prohibition of lying. And here we get into where it can be tempting to split the difference: not to lie, but not to be fully honest either.

    Not all honesty is comfortable. If a church doesn’t affirm LGBTQ+ people, that is hard for a queer person to hear, but they’d rather know before they join. Finding out later can be devastating. In this case, even if it isn’t nice, we need to know.

    The Student Christian Movement’s Honest Church campaign is not everything we’d want to say about LGBTQ+ people’s welcome in church. In truth, we wish all churches were affirming and celebrating of queer people. But that’s not where we are, and we have to be honest about that. There are a lot of reasons why honesty in this area matters. But at its heart we grieve for every person who drifts away from church and sometimes from God because they didn’t find a congregation that communicated the boundless love of God in a way that met their heart and soul. At SCM we hear stories all the time of how this happens, and we don’t want to be the last refuge of rejected young people (though we’ll do that if it’s needed). We want to be empowering student and graduate Christians who are a full part of local churches, receiving and contributing as they worship God in community.

    But here’s what happens all too often. An 18-year-old arrives at university, waved off by their church back home. They go along to freshers events including church pizza nights. People are fun and kind and there are other students, so they start going along on Sundays. A couple of months in they are feeling uneasy that cis/heteronormativity is everywhere, and they stop mentioning anything about their queer identity; they make themselves less fully themselves so as not to stand out. There is a call for people to volunteer for the worship group. Our student used to do that from time to time back home, so they volunteer. Someone takes them aside and says it’s not appropriate for someone with their ‘lifestyle’ to have a leadership role because it goes against the teaching of the church.

    If we took this story as a case study, conservatives and progressives and everyone in between could argue back and forth about what happened and where right and wrong lie. But to the student it isn’t a case study, it is their church rejecting them. They had no way to know that the church which initially welcomed them would do that. They expected church to be a place of safety, and now they are hearing that they are unacceptable. Many LGBTQ+ people choose to worship in churches like the one above, and no one should tell them they can’t, but it is important to know what you are getting into. Stories like this happen in real life constantly. I wish those churches accepted people like this student, but at the bare minimum I want them to avoid hurting the student by making them think they belonged and then withdrawing their acceptance. We want to ask these churches to be honest: to use clear language about what they mean when they say ‘everyone is welcome’.

    Let’s imagine that our young Christian here is bruised but not broken, so they pick themselves up and go looking for a church where the same thing won’t happen. There’s one next to where they work and another that they pass on their way to the bus. Their websites say nothing about inclusion, and they are nervous to try again. Inside those church buildings are worshippers who have gay children. In one place there’s a trans woman who was just quietly welcomed and no one makes a fuss. At another there’s a chap who frowns if the rather woke churchwarden mentions equal marriage. As it happens our student comes from a church just like these, and would have felt at home. But if you have already been hurt it is really hard to take a risk. We want to ask these kind of churches to be honest too. You don’t need to be the church in town that has a stall at Pride, just let people know something about where you honestly are in terms of LGBTQ+ welcome.

    We agree about honesty, so why can’t church be honest?

     

    Find out more about Honest Church here or follow the hashtag #HonestChurch on twitter

  • Lambeth: Colonialism, Power and Pawns

    by the Revd Dr Charlie Bell, Fellow at Girton College Cambridge, and Assistant Curate, St John the Divine, Kennington

     

    It’s fair to say that the Lambeth Conference hasn’t – I think – worked out quite the way the Archbishop wanted it to. For months – years, even – we were told that it would focus on the things we share in common, rather than digging the sexuality hole all over again. Much water has gone under the bridge since 1998, and the facts on the ground show that Lambeth I:10 is no longer a serious statement of how things are within the communion. That ship has sailed.

    Yet there it was – that pernicious and unhelpful 1998 resolution – back in view as the Archbishop released his Calls, for which one could vote yes, or ‘sort of yes’, but not ‘no’. And now the Lambeth Calls team – a seemingly impenetrable (and very male) group unable to answer simple questions like who finalised the calls, or did the Archbishop see them before publication – have had to strike the totally unnecessary and divisive ‘reaffirmation’ of Lambeth I:10 from the drafts. It didn’t have to be this way. Someone made the choice that it should be – and whoever that is (and we may never find out, given the disgraceful lack of transparency) should really take some basic lessons in crisis management and avoidance.

    Of course, we are where we are. We find ourselves in a place where the damage has mostly been done, yet only a naïve Anglican-watcher would believe that the story ends here. We await more manoeuvrings, more angry words and more kicking around of LGBTQI people as the political football they so conveniently and often are for the Church of England.

    Yet out of the ashes of this monumental bin-fire, some good has come. For once, LGBTQI people have heard bishops – yes, really – standing up for them. Strong, prophetic, pro-LGBTQI voices have come from across the pond, but also from provinces outside of the US and Canada. Even in our own Church of England, a number of bishops have also stood up and been counted. This is a most welcome sign, and one which I hope and believe will be reflected once again during the conclusion of LLF. Perhaps this is the turning point. That said, those bishops who chose silence – remember, silence is never a neutral position – have also cemented their place in the history books when this sorry saga is finally over. This was not a time for behind-the-scenes machinations – LGBTQI people, and their tears, need to be seen, acknowledged, loved. Not to even bother sympathising with the pain of LBGTQI people – whatever episcopal theological perspective is held – is inexplicable.

    Yet there have been two quite malign themes that have been flowing through the dialogue from those who oppose LBGTQI liberation. The first, which is quite simply not true, is that young people are drawn to churches with an oppressive view on LGBTQI people and marriage. There is absolutely zero evidence that this is the case, but – as usual – if you say it loudly, robustly and often enough, people start to believe it. The key thing, of course, is that even where these ‘conservative’ churches have more young people in them, that doesn’t account for the millions of kids and young people who don’t go to any church. Are we seriously arguing that they are more likely to attend a church which tells them that their queer friends – or they themselves – shouldn’t get married? That is likely to be about as welcome to them as sticking pins in their eyes. Only an inward-facing church would reserve its rejoicing for those who are already within the tent. Meanwhile, LGBTQI people (and increasingly their allies, friends, relatives) are failed and won’t come within a mile of a church, however good the music or lighting.

    But the second line that has been taken relates to colonialism. This one takes more unpacking but, once it is unpacked, the deeply unchristian and disingenuous ground beneath it begins to reveal itself.

    Noises have been made – and were made, during the recent discussions to nominate more people from around the communion to the CNC – that a western church favouring LBGTQI inclusion should not dictate to the rest of the communion. It has been for this reason – however well intentioned – that nobody (or at least, almost nobody) in the Church of England’s hierarchy appears to have felt able to say anything positive about LGBTQI people or their marriages. There is – and there should be – a real sensitivity to colonialist language and actions from those in the Church of England. Racism and colonialism remain deeply embedded in our church. The problem is that the recent solution at General Synod – strongly supported by the Archbishop of York – will do nothing whatsoever to address this.

    The reality is that the Anglican Communion – or rather, a Communion that claims ‘by right’ that the role of primus inter pares belongs to the Archbishop of Canterbury – is institutionally racist and colonialist. It doesn’t matter how many people you add to the Canterbury CNC (and please note, the point that the new members from the Communion won’t have a majority was trumpeted as good news, a deeply concerning example of white power not quite being given up): so long as the Archbishop of the Province of Canterbury inevitably remains the head (using that term with much caution) of the Communion, we are stuck. England rules the waves. The change was nothing more than deckchairs on the Titanic – not that you would have gathered that from the crowing in the aftermath of the General Synod debate.

    Both LGBTQI people and Anglicans from the Global South are being reduced to pawns in a nasty little English power struggle. The fact is that whilst the Archbishop has an inevitable Communion role, the Church of England has no leadership of its own. Yet what is also true is that whilst England holds the position it does in the Communion, there will always be the risk of colonialism. That’s not about LGBTQI people – it’s about the underlying structures and nature of the Communion itself. It suits those who oppose LBGTQI liberation to focus on the ‘Communion’ role of the Archbishop – but this is nothing whatsoever to do with the lives of ordinary Global South Anglicans – it is all about power. In this worst of both possible worlds, England is silent – and yet holds all the strings.

    TEC, Canada and the rest did indeed make a big stink about what happened with the Lambeth calls – as they should have. This was not because they were forcing their will on the assembly but because they were advocating for their queer disciples against a Call sprung upon them with no notice, and against which they could not vote. Bait and switch. Those who opposed them were welcome to disagree. The issue is that the President of the Lambeth Conference – the person who takes ultimate responsibility – is … the Archbishop of Canterbury. It’s Colonialism 101. It is surely time for that to change – yet so often the English people calling ‘colonialism’ to beat down LBGTQI people are the same as those calling for the Archbishop’s primus role to remain. It is all about power.

    It is now time to call an end to the pitting of LBGTQI Christians against the Global South. We need a root and branch review of how we operate, and to reimagine the Communion for the twenty-first century. We must lay down our claim to power and instead move to a communion built on true equality, solidarity, friendship and companionship. Yes, people may leave – from all directions. But at least it will be built on honesty, and not on the backs of the oppressed.

    Ends, not means, as Kant once said. If we can’t do that as a church, then we cease to be a church at all.

     

     

  • Young Adults – The Missing Generation?

    by Annika Mathews, former Church of England Youth Council member and rep on General Synod

    Hi there, young adult Anglican speaking. Who’s that you ask? It’s me, but not just me, as there’s quite a number of us actually if you look more closely! We may seem like a ‘missing generation’ in the Church, but we do exist (including on ‘Anglican Twitter’). You’ll find several of us in the big resource churches or town centre churches which offer not just activities but also pastoral care tailored to us and our needs. Some smaller churches have some young adults too, but many lack 18-35 year olds. The national Vision and Strategy project quite rightly prioritises under-18s and their voices are starting to be heard; see the recent press release on this work given to the House of Bishops) But I believe that the 18-35 age range are just as important to engage, not least as emerging leaders in Church and society with much to contribute in action and word. Some of us will have recently come to faith and need adequate opportunities for discipleship and fellowship.

    At diocesan level, the picture is mixed. Some dioceses have very good provision for young people, including youth councils; for example, Worcester.  Vocationally, things are better. The ministry experience scheme runs for 18-30s and a few new monastic communities, such as the Tree of Life in Leicester, have been a success.

    Nationally, the situation is bleaker. The Church of England lags behind other denominations. Alongside their national engagement with young people, the Catholics have many religious communities holding events for young adults. The United Reformed Church, Orthodox and Pentecostal churches all organise national events for young people. The Methodists have a team engaging with young adults and asking their opinions on aspects of church life, including at their Conference. They run a popular annual event, 3Generate, for young people as well as supporting events like Cliff Fest.

    Yet the C of E used to have a Youth Council (CEYC). Known as its ‘best kept secret’, it was shut down a few years ago, though its memory lives on in this webpage. You can read more about that in the excellent article by Ed Cox here. CEYC had some good support (mostly by Mary Hawes, National Children and Youth Adviser and a few others in the Education Department), but was not allowed to advertise its events through main church comms and the allocated budget was limited.

    As a result, its reach was regrettably small, although like others I benefitted hugely from my time on it. I only found it by chance after seeing an advert for General Synod observers and duly being selected. I then ended up standing as a Youth Rep and joining the core team. Both being on Synod and attending the CEYC residentials helped broaden my knowledge of the diversity within the Church of England and enabled me to worship with and learn from those within completely different traditions to those I was used to. Most importantly, it gave me other young adults to worship with and connect to, as my ‘home’ church at the time had hardly any.

    Although it was never enabled to reach its full potential, the Youth Council occupied an important space in and outside the Church. I gained in leadership and speaking skills and my first months on the Youth Council solidified my desire to be confirmed. Others who attended found or fulfilled their vocational calling in a multitude of directions; some are now clergy. It gave young people a voice at General Synod through elected reps and also had a connection to some other denominations through event exchanges as well as a space on the British Youth Council. Most importantly, the events were run for young people by young people in a peer-for-peer model. With its demise, no national engagement with young people currently takes place.

    A new conference model similar to the Methodists’ provision for young people was briefly proposed but Covid and the restructuring of the NCIs ended that. When the youth reps left at the end of the quinquennium, there was a clear change in the responses given at Synod to questions about provision for young people in Synod representation and beyond. Compare the response to Question 1 from a Synod session in November 2020 (Q1) and those given to Questions 42 and 43 in February 2022. While a few young adults have been elected by dioceses, there are no youth reps anymore on Synod. Yet the Spirit is stirring. The Anglican Communion have just launched the Young Adult Theology project. A small group of young adult Anglicans in the UK meet, network and worship together occasionally online. There is a long running (though invite-only) group for Young Priest Theologians.

    The 2030 Vision and Strategy process includes the decision to ‘grow younger and more diverse’ so there is still some hope that the missing generation will not be forgotten but will be properly included in Church of England structures and decision making, not only as a tokenistic add-on or as staged representatives in church campaigns or staged photo opportunities, as sometimes feels the case (my photo was used to promote the Synod election campaign). Though there has been some great work done by those in the Education Department collating written responses from teenagers at schools on their hopes for the Church, and a few young people joined a fringe group to present their ideas at the February 2022 Synod, it is time to take things up a level and provide more opportunities for young people to interact with the rest of the Church at different levels of its structures (following appropriate safeguarding measures of course). The restructuring of the NCIs meant the loss of two jobs directly connected to young people: will there now be action by the national Church, as well by dioceses and parishes, to engage with young adults? We need to support ideas financially from a marketing and comms perspective to successfully reach the right people. One good place to start is through the National Church connecting more with chaplaincies at universities and colleges.

    National initiatives to engage young adults could include coordinating regional days for Anglicans from different church traditions to come together for fellowship and worship; organising or at least facilitating a pilgrimage or trip to a holy site, either in the UK or abroad – to a retreat house, Taizé or the Holy Land; a presence at Christian festivals like Greenbelt; and more observer and participatory opportunities for young adults on national Church bodies. In particular we need an accessible online space to advertise opportunities for young adult Anglicans; for example, chances to apply to be part of Churches Together Forum, or to steward at World Council of Churches events. I was fortunate to have these opportunities through becoming known on General Synod, but it shouldn’t only be ‘who you know’ which opens doors to these oportunities. We need inclusion, not exclusion. Including all young people (across a whole diversity of identities, a true representation of the body of Christ) is of paramount importance.

    Young people need to be seen as a priority now, valued for their gifts and personalities as well as the prophetic voice they bring to the Church. It will be too late when the Church realises that a dearth of under-35s now will spell a dent in the coffers of parish funds in 20 years’ time.

    Young adult Anglicans exist, and we are watching. We are already joining in with what’s happening on the ground and are keen to partner with the rest of the Church in broadening its reach to more millennials and Gen Z and amplifying their voices and participation in the Church. SOS. Church, listen and respond with urgency now!