This is the next instalment of the serialisation of my book – The Teeth of our Exertions – full details of which can be found here.
Although there is undoubtedly a cost in going to deprived communities the fact is that being a disciple of Jesus Christ is costly. When we become followers of Jesus, we yield control of our lives and give ourselves wholly to him to do with as he sees fit. As Mike McKinley puts it, ‘we don’t get to say “no” just because ministry to the poor might be costly or scary. Following Jesus means that we might lose our lives, and anyone who is unwilling is unfit to be his disciple’.[1] That is the crux of the matter.
However, it would be untrue to think that ministry in deprived communities is all cost, danger and frightening duty. In fact, many of the fears and worries we have in coming melt away over time as we see the Lord at work in our neighbourhoods. Having taken an honest look at some of the costs, let us now consider at some of the joys and encouragements of working in deprived communities. Let me outline six things you will gain when you come.
Cheap as chips
Let’s start with the most vulgar “benefit” before moving onto the more godly stuff. Without putting too fine a point on it, everything in deprived areas is cheaper so your money will go further. Moving to a deprived community you will generally find cheaper housing costs, petrol, food, goods and services. Almost without exception, you name it and it will be cheaper. The same size house will cost you a fraction of the price, your grocery bills will be cheaper and even takeaways cost less too, including the chips! Last time I was in London, I bought a pint for myself and a friend and needed more than a £10 note to pay for it. Two drinks! Near my home, you can buy double that amount and still expect to receive substantial change from your £10 note. Let this most British way of accounting for the cost of living serve as the clearest example I have that you will be financially better off moving to a deprived community.
No judgement
But I know you’re obviously not motivated by such base things, so let’s consider the second benefit: reduced social pressures. I’ve tried thinking of ways to dress this up, to give it a snappier name, but I just can’t think of one. Instead, let me explain what I mean. Middle class culture is nothing if not competitive. It comes out in the houses and cars people buy (and show off), in décor, clothing, education, the food you eat and, perhaps most emotionally charged of all, parenting. Everything is an opportunity for somebody to say, ‘that’s not how you should be doing that!’
But in deprived communities, whilst there are measures of success, generally people have more relaxed social attitudes. Don’t read that as code for socially liberal, they’re just more relaxed about the way to do things. One of the things my wife has valued is few people querying the way we raise our children. We’ve been in middle class churches where everything from sleep patterns to meal planning is scrutinised and agonised over. Without being crass about it, most people in deprived communities simply couldn’t care less about how you do these things. That brings a real freedom to family life. The tendency to competitive social one-upmanship – whilst not obliterated – simply isn’t as prevalent in deprived communities.
Flexible friend
A third thing you will gain if you come as an outsider to a deprived community is cultural flexibility. I have always struggled to explain where I am from. I was born in one place, started school in another, finished school somewhere else before going to university in another place yet again. As a child, we moved home frequently, and I never had a very settled view of home or a clear sense of identity. This, I am told, gave me cultural flexibility. I understand this to mean that I can engage with people from a range of cultures being as I am not from any given one myself.
My wife, by contrast, grew up in the same house, in the same village, her entire life until she left for university. She has a clear sense of home and identity, which she left behind to come to a culture that is not her own. Although there is, undoubtedly, an adjustment period required, my wife has also developed cultural flexibility. She is able to converse and welcome people from middle class and working-class backgrounds, from Britain and from abroad. Whilst many of us assume we have this cultural flexibility, the reality is that few us really do. But when you come to a deprived community, sticking with it and learning the culture, it gives you an ability to communicate and welcome a much wider range of people.
[1] McConnell & McKinley (2016), Op Cit., p.189