Risk
I tried to take part in the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award between the ages of 14 and 16. I wouldn’t say I failed exactly – I completed the Bronze Award.
My lack of organisation, determination or something-else-tion (I wanted to say far-sightedness but I was enjoying the Bono-esque line with lots of ‘-tion’ words) meant that I never actually did the necessary to get very far. I was probably too busy smelling bad and being unsociable or something.
Anyway, my brother (a sort of immaculate nemesis – better looking, better job, better person) (I think I’d beat him in a dance-off though) got the Gold Award and went on to become a sort of Duke of Edinburgh’s Award champion. He’s sometimes parachuted into failing governments as a sort of interim head of state.
That last bit wasn’t true.
When the Scheme reached the news this past week, I thought it was pretty strange. Prince Edward (has a lot to do with the Scheme these days because his dad, the actual Duke of Edinburgh, is too much of a loud mouth to trust with teenagers) was in Australia, where a young man recently died while completing the expedition (hiking the wilderness) section of his award. Edward was being interviewed and the death of this guy came up. The Prince said that he thought the risk of death involved with the Scheme was actually attractive; the fact that ‘you could die doing this’ made it more serious and seemingly important to young people. The media gasped. The Award Scheme started squawking about ‘exemplary safety record’.
Now, this wasn’t the best-planned response to the death question. Obviously, there will be parents out there who say ‘Our little Jimmy isn’t going near any death awards…’ Prince Edward would probably ‘clarify’ his statement if it wasn’t for the fact that it would be an admission of stupidity.
But what he said is actually true.
We all love risk. Why else would we walk into dangerous, wild environments and stroll around? I went and climbed some mountains in Wales recently with some blokes. Much of my time was spent in situations where there were very real possibilities of falling hundreds of meters onto rocks. This would lead to death in most cases.
And I loved it.
It made me buzz with an excited energy that I rarely feel.
Kids are doing that stuff all the time and risking their lives for fun. Okay, so people like my brother and other instructors are managing the risk. The young people go onto the mountain equipped and trained to a suitable standard. But it is still a mountain.
People die on mountains.
So when I heard this news story, I was reminded how we are so immensely risk-averse in the UK. It seems that, after doing the dutiful, important work of reducing unnecessary risk, we close our eyes to the very real risks that can’t be neutralised. The press reaction to the Prince’s statement reminds us that we sometimes actually take part in risk for enjoyment’s sake while closing our eyes to these very risks.
It seems as if we do a similar thing with drug misuse. The government advisor on drugs, Prof David Nutt, was sacked this week because he had said some things that were too controversial and embarrassing. For example, he informed the world at large that cannabis and ecstasy are less harmful than tobacco or alcohol.
This is statistically true. Tobacco and alcohol kill you slowly, whereas there is a lesser (but still present) risk involved with cannabis and ecstasy.
But this is politically ‘un-say-able’. Not only does it sound like illegal drugs aren’t risky enough, it also reminds us that we run a risk of seriously damaging ourselves with more socially acceptable habits.
It seems the idea that clean-living, middle class types might run risks is suddenly slightly taboo.
I think that risk aversion is part of the reason for people’s negative attitude to emergent and fresh expressions of church. These ideas and expressions are all about how we as the Church can open ourselves up, allowing ourselves to be and do the things that make us purposeful in the context of our society. How do we address the people and communities that we’re with everyday without looking like the irrelevant fools we have been and without compromising our beliefs?
There is great risk involved here. There’s the risk that, as we shed our religious sensibilities, we might lose the security we find in routine. The risk that, as we meet real people and take their ideas seriously, we might find that we’re often very wrong. The risk that, as we become more accessible and available, we might meet people who aren’t like us – and worse – we’ll have to welcome them and begin to understand them. There’s the risk that, as we’re exposed to these new ideas and new people, we might even be changed.
My own church is trying to begin to take these risks in the realisation that standing still will never build a Kingdom. I’ve blogged before about the model for cafechurch we’ve been looking at. This started last month and is looking interesting and maybe even exciting. We’re only beginning to take small steps though.
I’m really of the opinion that current models of church are increasingly outmoded for large sections of our society, while still holding great value for others. There are swathes of people who we should never expect to see at a church service. The problem is knowing what would be relevant for these groups of people and how to begin.
One of my old youth workers is a really dynamic guy who has tried to address this. He lives in (and loves) Medway, the area where I grew up in north west Kent. It’s a very urban setting, with very urban needs. Rob says:
I have had a dream for a good few years; a dream of connecting with people who long, maybe are even too scared to dream, of church being a place which really connects with people outside, but also with themselves. People who dream of a church where differences are celebrated, where diversity adds to the community’s flavour. They are not worried so much about what people believe, but more concerned about how people believe: how they live out faith, how they are Christ-like. People who don’t care so much about worship style, but rather, are interested in something that’s authentic and enables them to connect with God where they are emotionally and spiritually.
It’s clear that there are huge risks involved here. In gaining a place for these people, Rob is likely to lose so much. But he takes these risks, with the help of some traditionally risk-averse organisations (Rochester Cathedral for one) and produces a brilliant – incredibly dangerous, maybe sometimes shaky, but still brilliant – model of Christian community.
I would highly recommend this frank, honest article about Rob’s progress in his work and also his blog, which is far more regular and consistently interesting than mine. I’m personally hugely excited by Rob’s work and would love to have the same opportunity (although, as becomes clear from the article, it’s taken a very particular set of gifts, maturity and perseverance through difficult situations for Rob to get this going). I’ll be praying with Rob in his situation. I’ll also be praying for my own community that we, the church in my town, learn to take the risks and make the movements that will get us more deeply involved in God’s mission.
Going back to the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award and drug misuse, it seems pretty clear that we are more than willing to take risks for our own benefit. In these cases, risks are taken with personal well-being in the hope of some experiential benefits.
As the established Church begins to take risks, like Rob has with the cathedral at Rochester, the benefits could be more adaptable, effective communities who can work for the Kingdom of God, worshipping and learning together. I know I’m a ridiculous optimist, but I wonder what is placed at risk here, other than our own self image.
My wife directed me to a post on a friend’s blog today. It was a really interesting piece about cafechurch and churches in cafes (not completely synonymous!). I tried to write a comment on his post but accidentally ended up writing a whole post.