More than statistics

LET’S start with a tricky question. Is Britain still a Christian country? This is one of these questions that appears simple on the surface but is actually very complex. In order to answer a question, you need to know what the question means in the first place.

Is this essentially a question about numbers, about bums on pews? If so, we need to do some maths – and for the maths to make sense, we need to do a bit of digging. Context is everything here.

When the 2001 census was taken, it found that 72 per cent of those in England and Wales were nominally Christian. Ten years later, the census revealed that 59 percent identified themselves as Christian. In Scotland in the 1950s, more than 1.5 million adult Scots were signed-up members of the Church of Scotland alone; today, the figure is below half a million.

When I was growing up in the 1950s, it was often alleged that most people went to church because it would help them to get a job – or because they wanted to show off their best clothes. Going to the kirk on Sundays was portrayed as some kind of ecclesiastical catwalk. As a fashion icon in Fife at that time, I can identify with that.

(Mind you, my motivation was not simply about piety, as I splashed on gallons of aftershave before setting forth to bellow the Psalms of Scotland tunelessly to the greater glory of a deity who already knew that the comely Youth Fellowship lasses were the main attraction. Hey, God’s omniscience has always been a bit of a problem).

Anyway, what is beyond dispute is that in the 1950s churchgoing was extremely socially acceptable, even desirable.

Fast forward to today and the situation looks quite different. Going to church is routinely portrayed as an odd thing to do. Indeed, Christians are often stereotyped, in the media and elsewhere, as weirdos. This is a major cultural shift in our land.

So should we despair? Well, despite my hard-earned reputation as the Nostradamus of the North, I am not about to deeve you all with newly minted prophecies – there are enough batty nostrums out there already without me adding even more battiness. But I do want to commend to you a brilliant book titled Unapologetic by the superbly irreverent, dazzling writer Francis Spufford. Here’s how his book opens: “My daughter has just turned six. Some time over the next year or so, she will discover that her parents are weird. We’re weird because we go to church.”

Here’s the thing: It could be reasonably argued that those who are regular churchgoers these days do so primarily because they are personally committed to the Christian faith. Paradoxically, Britain might be a more genuinely Christian country than it was in the days when churchgoing figures were much higher.

The history of the Christian church over aeons shows many ebbs and flows in the tides of Christian belief and practice. In talking about Christian faith, how people practice their religion is much more significant.

To be honest, I don’t regard churchgoing statistics as being all that interesting. The history of the Christian church over aeons shows many ebbs and flows in the tides of Christian belief and practice. In talking about Christian faith, how people practise their religion is much more significant. For instance, in an era when churchgoing figures in Britain were particularly high, children were being sent to work up chimneys.

Was that, then, an era when Britain was a more Christian country? Statistically yes, but in terms of real Christianity, maybe not.

So is Britain a Christian country? Don’t ask me. Ask God. In the meantime, Sell your granny and buy that book. ¤

This article appears in the September 2020 Issue of Life and Work

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