Soul Survivor ministries sent shockwaves through the UK Christian world recently with its announcement that 2019 would be the last year of its summer festivals. Aimed particularly at young people, Soul Survivor is known for its impressive contemporary worship style, relevant and engaging Bible teaching and powerful prophetic ministry. What's less well known is that many young people don't engage with this side of the event.
To be sure, the vast majority of Soul Survivor participants do attend these main meetings and have a great time doing so. However, a considerable number don't. Proportionally speaking, this 'considerable number' appears incredibly small. Negligible, even. But in the Kingdom of the God of the parable of the lost sheep and the lost coin, no number is negligible.
It was for people like this that Soul Survivor developed what it calls its 'Fringe Team'. This small group of 15 or so volunteers are deployed in pairs during the main meetings in order to do 'detached youth work', engaging with those on the event's periphery. These people find themselves on the fringes for a host of reasons: they are not Christians, they suffer panic attacks, the venue was too hot, they are the recent recipients of bad news, they needed the toilet, or they were affected by something and needed space. The list could go on: each has their own individual story. The aim of the Fringe Team is not to get these people back into the meeting. It is not to fix them, nor is it to convert them. The aim of the Fringe Team is to love them, care for them, and witness Christ to them.
Here's what I learned from the Fringe Team.
First, jokes about hairstyles get very old very quickly. I have nonetheless included one in the title because I believe that it is true: the moment we turn our backs on the fringes is the moment we turn our backs on the Gospel of Jesus Christ.
Even though I did sign up for it, I was a bit worried about serving on this Fringe Team. I study at London School of Theology. Sure, I have been doing youth work for the past five years – but mainly I enjoy the teaching side of that. Books are my friends. I study alongside people training to be counsellors and pastors – but that's not me! I specialise in thinking, not chatting. I am a book person, not a people person. That's what I tell myself anyway.
That's why I consider the entire week a witness to the grace of God and a testament to his power being made perfect in our weakness.
In realising I could trust nothing but God himself, I was able to get my own self with my doubts and inadequacies entirely out of the way and let God be God. That is, after all, what he does best. I let God lead (because I knew that I really couldn't), and that is what he did. This was a common experience across the whole team. As we became less, he became greater.
Every time we went out on shift, we were each led to exactly the right people at exactly the right time. It soon became clear that this was not an exercise in displaying our own pastoral or evangelistic abilities (whatever they were); this was an opportunity to showcase the divine care and compassion of our Father in Heaven. The sooner that we got out of the way, the better – for us and for those we were speaking to.
It struck me very early on that this was likely to be exactly the kind of work Jesus would have been doing. Of course in the Gospels we see Jesus leading the disciples, instructing crowds and teaching in the Temple and synagogues. However what we also see in Jesus' ministry is a radical inclusivity that actively led him to those on the outskirts of society. Zacchaeus the tax collector and the woman at the well are two notable examples of this. Jesus came to seek and to save the lost, and he did it quite a lot. It is likely that this involved slightly more than the polite smile and hollow small talk (followed by a hasty retreat to our 'safe' and 'standard' social circles) that can all too often pass as an acceptable level of inclusivity.
In embracing the awkwardness of talking to strangers (because really there is no other way around it), actively approaching those on the fringes and being prepared to spend considerable time with them, there was a real sense that we were doing all that we could to 'seek the lost'. And as for the saving? Well, that is God's job, not ours. But the very least we could do was smile, laugh, listen, pray, advise and refer on to professionals where necessary, all with the hope that as we did so the light and life of Christ would shine through us.
We led four new people to faith over the course of the week. Maybe even more. This was cause for wild praise and celebration. In many ways what we were doing was 'power evangelism'; witnessing to people through the power of the Spirit. We saw healings, prophetic words and countless other miracles. We were even able to buy someone their first Bible! We certainly experienced the 'spectacular' side of the supernatural – although perhaps our most powerful encounters were our simplest ones. Listening. Laughing. Caring. Gently praying.
In a world that is both hurting and indifferent, what some people need is not a dramatic sign but a listening ear and an empathetic heart. This is often a miracle in itself. It is also something that we can all do every day. Whether close family members or distant fringe strangers, we can only ever effectively minister God's grace and proclaim his word if we have first humbly and intently listened. And, sometimes, that very act of listening is help and encouragement enough. More often than not the God-who-cares shows himself through those to whom he is also the God-who-sends.
Engaging with those on the fringes is an awfully awesome task, and it is desperately needed. I choose these words carefully. 'Awful', because it serves as an intensifier. But mainly because the fringes involve awful situations and devastating stories. 'Awesome', because this is seriously awesome and important work. But mainly because in doing it you are left in awe of God's great care, compassion and majesty. And 'desperately', because of the urgent and pressing nature of this call. But mainly because those on the fringes find themselves utterly desperate, destitute and in need of a Saviour. We can no longer stand by offering only prayers and blessings; we must be prepared to get our hands dirty and love these people for the Gospel of Christ.
It is difficult. It is draining. It is entirely necessary.
Archie Catchpole is a student at London School of Theology.
